After stabling his horse, Oliver made his way wearily to the house. It had been another long day and he was so tired that his eyes felt as if they were full of grit. All he wanted now was to fall into bed and sleep till morning but the second he entered the hallway his mother appeared from the drawing room in her nightwear.
‘Well? Has she had the baby?’ she demanded. She had clearly been waiting up for him and looked almost as tired as he felt.
He nodded, running his hand through his thick thatch of fair hair. ‘Yes. It’s a boy.’
‘A boy.’ She flicked the long plait lying across her shoulder and then asked, ‘And is the child all right? Does he look anything like George?’
Oliver had been expecting this question and chose his words carefully as he answered, ‘He looks like a new baby, Mother. They all look the same to me.’ Although, had he been entirely honest, he could have told her that actually the child did have a look of George about him. They’d heard not a word from him since the day he had run away and all they could do now was pray that he was safe.
‘But what colour is his hair … his eyes?’ she persisted like a dog with a bone.
Oliver sighed as he took his coat off and threw it across the coat stand. ‘He’s blonde I think and he has blue eyes but then all babies do, as you know.’
‘George was blonde when he was born,’ she mused as she patted her lip with her forefinger. ‘Do you think I should go and see him?’
‘I doubt you’d be welcome after the way you sent his mother off in disgrace,’ he pointed out and she nodded, knowing that he was right. She had often regretted being so hasty but George had been so insistent that the girl was lying about the baby’s parentage. What if Marcie had been telling the truth? If she had been it was her grandson that had been born. How was she to live with herself if she never got to know him?
‘Well, we can talk more tomorrow,’ she said, seeing that he was almost dropping with fatigue. ‘Go and get yourself into bed. I’ll bring you a nice cup of hot milk up.’
Oliver willingly did as he was told but when his mother tapped on his door minutes later she found him snoring softly.
They were at breakfast the next morning when Connie tentatively raised the subject again by saying casually, ‘Oliver delivered Marcie Dorsey of a baby boy last night.’
Her husband immediately looked up from the devilled kidney he was eating and growled, ‘And what has that got to do with us? I hope I never set eyes on her again or her brat for as long as I live. Hasn’t she done enough damage to this family? If it wasn’t for her wild accusations, George would still be here.’
‘That’s true but what if the baby is George’s?’ she queried, her lip trembling. ‘That would make him our grandson, Johnny, our own flesh and blood, no matter what side of the blanket he was born. And don’t look at me like that! You weren’t averse to a little slap and tickle afore we were wed, if I remember correctly, so don’t go getting all moral on me now. Ask yourself, if Marcie was lying about George being the child’s father why did George attack Eliza and then run away?’
Johnny scowled and dropped his knife and fork onto the plate with a clatter. He had suddenly lost his appetite. ‘How should I know?’ he blustered, dragging his chair back from the table. ‘Just let it go, woman, can’t you? The girl’s been paid off and that’s the end of it as far as I’m concerned. And now if you don’t mind I’m going to work to keep you in the manner you’ve become accustomed!’ And with that he stormed out of the room, his colour heightened and his mouth set in a tight, grim line.
Oliver waited until he heard the front door slam behind him then he asked his mother, ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ she breathed. ‘The trouble is I can’t quite convince myself that Marcie was lying about George being the father, no matter how hard I try. What do you think I should do?’
He shrugged as he too rose to leave. He had a morning surgery to attend. ‘That is for you to decide but I shall be calling in to see the new mother and baby today so I’ll let you know how they both are this evening. But don’t forget, I shall be late back. It’s my surgery at the soup kitchen this evening.’
‘I’ll get Cook to keep something warm for you,’ she promised. In actual fact she was very proud of the work that Oliver did for the poor. She could remember a time when she and Johnny couldn’t afford to pay doctors’ bills. She also had a lot of admiration for Nessie who she knew had planned the opening of the soup kitchen. The girl was now well known and respected about the town for her many fundraising activities, although it was whispered that she was having an affair with her employer, the Frenchman. Connie didn’t actually believe that for a moment. She’d never been one for listening to gossip and the girl had seemed very respectable on the one occasion she’d met her.
With a sigh, she rose from her seat and stared sightlessly across the well-kept grounds. A gardener was already hard at work scything the lawn but she hardly noticed him. She had an awful lot of thinking to do. She was still there when Mrs Bainbridge entered the room a few moments later. She had thought that the family had all left but she asked, ‘Are you all right, Mrs Dorsey?’
Connie turned to give her a weary smile. ‘Yes, I’m fine, thank you, Mary.’ She was always more informal with the woman when the rest of the staff weren’t about. ‘I just have a very difficult decision to make.’
‘I see. Is it anything I can help you with?’
‘No, but thank you for offering.’
Mrs Bainbridge frowned as her mistress left the room, looking as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. But then she hadn’t been properly right since all that awful business with Master George and poor young Eliza, which she supposed was understandable. It just went to show, it wasn’t only the poor and needy who had things to worry about.
In Marcie’s bedroom, Nessie was lifting the baby from his temporary crib. ‘I think he’s getting hungry,’ she said cheerfully, hoping to rouse Marcie from the depression she seemed to have slipped into. Admittedly, the girl had fed the baby each time he had been hungry throughout the night, but she had put him down abruptly as soon as he had finished, leaving Nessie to change his bindings and fuss over him. ‘Have you thought of a name yet for him,’ Nessie went on.
Marcie shrugged nonchalantly. ‘We’ll call him George, if you like. It’s as good a name as any, I suppose.’
Nessie looked troubled. ‘But won’t that cause trouble if it gets back to the Dorseys?’
‘What if it does? George is his father, so why shouldn’t he be named after him?’ Marcie answered despondently. Every time she looked at the baby she saw his father and after George’s betrayal she could hardly bear to touch the mite. ‘Couldn’t we get a wet nurse for him?’ she suggested. ‘There’s always plenty o’ women feedin’ babies in the courtyards who’d be glad to earn a few pence.’
‘Marcie! How could you even suggest it?’ Nessie was horrified as she carried the babe to his mother. ‘He’s your baby, you should be happy to feed him.’
‘But I’m not,’ Marcie stated as she pulled herself up against the pillows and reluctantly took him from her sister. ‘I don’t want him, I never did, so why should I lie? I want to go away an’ make somethin’ of me life not be stuck here in the back of an undertaker’s with a squallin’ brat to look after.’
Nessie was shocked but she clamped her lips firmly together, afraid that if she said anything she might say too much.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs followed by a tap at the door stopped any further conversation and when Oliver appeared, Nessie couldn’t help the smile that lit up her face. But then, remembering herself, she quickly straightened her face and told him, ‘He’s feeding well.’
‘So I see.’ He glanced towards the bed where the baby was busily suckling and gave Nessie a little wink. It seemed his ploy of leaving the baby alone with his mother had worked, although he was forced to admit she didn’t look too happy.
‘And how are you feeling?’ he asked Marcie.
‘How do you expect me to feel,’ she glared at him. ‘I’m stuck with your brother’s brat to look after while he’s off somewhere probably havin’ the time of his life.’
‘I doubt that very much. After what happened with Eliza I’d bet he’s working his socks off somewhere and trying to keep a low profile.’ He waited patiently until the baby had finished feeding, then after giving both mother and baby a quick examination to make sure that all was well he followed Nessie downstairs with a grim face.
‘She hasn’t exactly taken to motherhood as yet, has she?’ he remarked when they entered the kitchen.
Nessie shook her head and he noticed how tired she looked.
‘Not at all. She can hardly bear to look at him, if I’m honest with you, and she says she’s going to call him George.’
‘I dare say she’s entitled to call him whatever she wants,’ he answered, but she could see that he looked uncomfortable about it. An awkward silence settled between them, a thousand words unsaid, until he lifted his bag and told her, ‘Right, I’d best be off. Both of them appear to be doing well so I won’t call on them again unless you’re worried about anything.’ Before leaving he crossed to Joseph who was in his usual position on the sofa and ruffled his hair.
‘And how is this young feller me lad doing today?’ Only the week before when he had examined the child he had felt that there had been a slight deterioration in his condition but he hadn’t mentioned it to Nessie. He knew she would only worry.
‘About the same.’
With a final nod he disappeared out of the door, leaving her feeling empty inside.
Later that morning Maria and Reuben came to visit the new baby, their faces glowing with happiness.
‘Fancy having him on the day we got wed, what a lovely end to a happy occasion,’ Maria cooed as she leaned over the drawer to admire him. Nessie had taken to keeping him downstairs with her, apart from when he needed feeding, so that Marcie could rest. At least that’s what she told the newly-weds. The real reason was because she knew that Marcie didn’t want him near her. Somehow, she was having to deal with the customers who came into the shop and watch George as well as Joseph and chase up and downstairs seeing to Marcie’s needs and she wondered how long she could keep it up. Even so she plastered a bright smile on her face. Andre had been wonderful too, keen to do whatever he could to help, even if it was only to sit and nurse George.
Once Maria and Reuben had left, Andre said, ‘Have you thought any more about what I asked you, Nessie?’
She knew instantly that he was speaking of his proposal and she flushed. It was the first time he had mentioned it but before she could reply he hurried on, ‘I only ask because it seems to me you have too much weight on your shoulders, too much responsibility for one so young. If you were my wife I could hire people to help you.’
‘Let’s not talk about it for now. My mind is too full of other things,’ she hedged. ‘But thank you. I do appreciate that you’re trying to help.’
‘I am not being entirely unselfish,’ he admitted. ‘My mother would be, as you English say, tickled pink if she were to find me a respectable married man when she visits, hopefully at Christmas. My father might even find it in his heart to forgive me if he thinks I have settled down. And you know, you and I get along well. I think we could find contentment together, and of course it would also stop all the gossip.’
Nessie smiled as she lifted George, who was getting hungry again. ‘Just give me a little more time to think about it,’ she implored and hurried away upstairs to deliver the baby to his mother.