The chairman began the meeting by encouraging members to comment further on those items of their joint party platform – step one as Robert had termed it – that had been raised and more or less agreed upon yesterday. They had had the evening and early morning to mull these matters over, and there were bound to be clarifications required or additional points to be considered. Daniel Bérubé was most happy to revisit the topic of commerce and the myriad ways it could be increased once the double yoke of British rule and priestly interference was lifted. Some useful suggestions were made regarding a common tariff for the canal system and the need to dredge a deeper channel through the St. Clair River. The first new topic was the contentious issue of land distribution. The Clergy Reserves question had been settled last fall in Upper Canada, but both delegations were concerned about the rapacious land-grant companies chartered in the upper province and the vast fiefdoms of the seigneurs in Quebec, where ordinary farmers were little better than serfs. Lots of inexpensive arable land would be required if each half of the new dominion were to grow and thrive. Maurice Tremblay spoke passionately about the issue, but had no more practical remedies to suggest than anyone else on either side of the table. Some headway was subsequently made on squatters’ rights and more reasonable terms for homesteading.
There followed a useful discussion of the nature of the civil law to be adopted in each province. Quebec had already been granted by Britain the right to use the Code Napoleon, but Upper Canada, of course, was governed by British civil law and its jurisprudence. Hincks pointed out that his understanding of the new political structure was that Canada East and Canada West would have separate, designated cabinet posts for both attorney-general and solicitor-general, among others. Such a clear provincial division of responsibility should make the application of differing civil codes workable.
“But will the good English burghers of Montreal not press for a uniform civil law,” Bérubé said with a slight smile, “in order to facilitate a common commerce and maintain them in a position of dominance?”
Robert looked at Hincks, who addressed the question. “I am certain they will so press, but it will do them no good. Governor Poulett Thomson has informed us that the decision about these codes has already been taken. Our Hudson Bay merchants will have to continue to use the Code Napoleon, whether they like it or not.”
“Perhaps they may be encouraged to learn a little French,” Robert said. “At least more than I have managed to.”
“You may be assured, gentlemen,” Hincks added, “that a united Reform party will make certain that this arrangement endures.”
The next topic was the franchise. If power were to be shifted away from the British governor and his appointed councils to an elected assembly and its right to hold any cabinet responsible to it alone, then who was to get elected there and who was to cast his vote for that person became of paramount importance. Bergeron spoke to the need for keeping the property or income restrictions as liberal as possible. Small farmers and self-employed tradesmen must be fully enfranchised, in particular because they represented the natural constituency of the Reform party.
“They also have a natural right to vote for those who are to rule over them, do they not?” LaFontaine said, breaking his customary initial silence.
“Government by the consent of the governed,” Hincks agreed with enthusiasm.
“What about all those who were imprisoned or charged with treason during the rebellion?” Tremblay said with something close to a sneer. There was clearly a lot of anger still smouldering in him, intensified perhaps by the sharp exchange with LaFontaine at breakfast. “Hundreds of my fellows were released before trial or granted amnesty or convicted and then let go. They are in a legal limbo, are they not? Will they be able to hold office? Will they even be able to vote?” That these questions were meant to apply to him and his own situation did not have to be stated.
“My sons would be among them,” Bérubé said, shaking his head.
“Might not Mr. LaFontaine himself be banned from holding office?” Bergeron asked.
“We have a similar problem in Upper Canada, of course,” Robert said, “although most of our so-called rebels have fled to the United States. As well, we went through a reactionary period before our rebellion when attempts were made to have resident aliens from the United States – about a quarter of our population – made ineligible to stand for the Assembly. Even their property rights were threatened, and the waiting period for naturalization lengthened. These measures, prompted by panic and blind prejudice, happily were resisted. At the moment, beneath the heated rhetoric, there is in this province a longing for peace and stability, and a mood of grudging forbearance. That is why it is critical for us to unite as a party right from the outset of the new parliament, to establish both our presence and our commitment to liberal policies.”
“You are assuming, I take it,” Bergeron said, “that such matters will be left to the colonial legislature and that London will not decide them in advance as attachments to the Union Act?” Despite his fatigue, Bergeron had been following every argument with interest and contributing more than Marc had expected he would, given his somewhat narrow band of concerns.
“That is correct,” Hincks said. “Likewise, it will be left to the Assembly and the Upper House to decide on their own protocols, including the use of French, which you can be assured we will press for immediately.”
“I have a more general point to raise,” LaFontaine said. “Like any other human endeavour, democracy must be both learned and practised. In Quebec we have very little experience with elections and local office-holding. In the villages and countryside, we have no widespread experience with the election of mayors and councillors. We have priests and parish officers, and the English magistrate with his quarter sessions. I made several attempts to convince Mr. Thomson of the need to include in the Union Act adequate and mandatory provision for the establishment of a fixed system of municipal governance. Our towns need mayors, aldermen, bailiffs, dog-catchers. Our citizens need to see the consequences of electing some of their own to govern them. But just before I left Montreal, I learned that the Tory opposition of Robert Peel in London rejected these clauses in the bill, and they have been thrown out.”
Hincks’s brow creased with concern at these remarks, the most sustained LaFontaine had so far made, though it was plain that he could have made any of the points raised by his colleagues if he had not preferred to sit back, Sphinx-like, and observe the proceedings.
“I heard the same bad news,” Robert said, “but in my latest communication with Mr. Poulett Thomson, he assured me that, should the municipal-governance clauses be deleted in London, he himself would use his executive authority to establish a democratic municipal system throughout Quebec, as early as September. My impression was that he was as concerned as you that the Quebec people become immersed in local politics as soon as possible.”
LaFontaine nodded his approval, which did not come with a smile, however. Perhaps later, Marc thought.
“Gentlemen,” Garnet Macaulay said into the momentary silence, “we have been at it for close to two hours. My staff have prepared a light luncheon and set it out in the dining-room. May I suggest that we repair to our own chambers to freshen up, then proceed to our luncheon, and meet back here in forty minutes?”
“I do believe we have reached consensus on a basic party platform,” Hincks said happily. “I for one am ready to celebrate with a little food and drink.”
“May I request one brief addition to the platform,” Bérubé said, glancing at Robert, “before we leave step one, that is?”
“It is brief, is it?” Hincks said with a grin.
“Since we are making a sort of wish-list here,” Bérubé continued before he could be stopped, “I suggest that we go on record as a party endorsing Montreal as the natural capital of Canada.”
This abrupt request caught the members off-guard for a moment, as they were already anticipating the pleasures that might await them in the dining-room. But Robert replied graciously, “None of us has any particular liking for Kingston as our capital, Daniel, but I’ve been told that Poulett Thomson has already made up his mind about Kingston, despite its being woefully unprepared for us.”
“I realize that,” Bérubé said, “but I’m suggesting that we raise the issue as soon as we can in the new Assembly, along with the use of French, and move to have the capital shifted to Montreal as soon as possible.”
Robert looked around the table.
“I see no objection to making that a plank in our platform,” Hincks said with some admiration for the Montreal merchant’s willingness to engage freely in the give-and-take of practical politics.
The others nodded in agreement, although no-one other than Bérubé expected this item to be given a high priority or to have an easy passage through the parliament if and when it was proposed.
“Luncheon, then,” Macaulay said, rubbing his hands together.
***
Mrs. Blodgett had recovered from her arthritis enough to prepare the guests a cold repast whose delights kept them in the dining-room a little beyond the allotted forty minutes. The atmosphere was convivial, but the temptation to linger over the mince tart and excellent coffee seemed to be prompted more by a desire to delay the upcoming session in the library than to prolong the gormandising. As they all knew well, step two would make step one look like a walk in the park.
When they had finally reassembled, Macaulay was quick to turn the proceedings over to Robert Baldwin.
“Gentlemen, I need not remind you,” Robert began, “that the unprecedented achievement of this morning’s deliberations will be for nought if the parliamentary system of the new dominion does not exemplify the principles of responsible government. All future governors must select the members of their cabinet from among those elected to the majority party of the Legislative Assembly, from their associates in the Legislative Council, or any others who support the policies and maintain the confidence of that Assembly. Moreover, should said cabinet at any time lose the confidence of the Assembly, its members shall be obliged to resign. This is the definition of responsible government that my father and I have pressed upon successive governors for the past dozen years, and one which Mr. Hincks and Mr. LaFontaine have corresponded about for several months hitherto. Without the adoption of this principle and the evolution of a strict party politics, our agenda of reform will be stillborn.”
When Marc finished translating, no-one responded for a moment. Then Bergeron said, “If you have been unsuccessful so far, what makes you believe that you, or we, can persuade the British government to adopt the principle now?”
“We are a defeated people,” Tremblay added bitterly, the tempering effects of the luncheon having worn off. “And your rebels are in Van Dieman’s Land or hiding out in American slums. Why should the victors offer anything to the vanquished?”
Robert, to whom these challenges had been directed, replied quietly: “We would not have asked you here, and Mr. LaFontaine would not have accepted our invitation, if we did not believe we were moving inexorably towards our goal.”
“My colleague is referring to the secret negotiations that he and I have had with Governor Poulett Thomson,” Hincks added hastily. “As you know, the Tories here vehemently opposed the Union Act and its terms, and they, with their conservative colleagues, held a majority in our Assembly. The Whig government in London refused to endorse the union unless both Canadian provinces approved of it. So, in order to get legislative approval here last November, His Excellency required out assistance. Although we too had qualms about the terms, we secretly agreed to help the Governor by backing the bill and persuading the moderate conservatives to do so as well. In return for our assistance, His Excellency assured us that, in practice, he would adhere to the principle of cabinet responsibility we recommended. So, you see, we have every expectation that when your Rouge and our Reform combine to make up a majority in the new Assembly, it will be our members – French and English – who will form the Executive Council and be in a position to advance our policies.”
“You have some written assurance of this?” Bérubé asked.
Hincks smiled. “We have not, and the reason is simple: such a principle, the bulwark of British parliamentary democracy, has not been written down anywhere in English constitutional law. It is merely a custom, and all the more enduring for that.”
“I don’t follow,” Bergeron said. “If this ‘custom’ has not the force of law, what guarantee do we have that it will not be abandoned as soon as it is expedient to do so?”
“And how do you know the Governor hasn’t played you for fools?” Tremblay said, looking pleased with himself.
“He could have told your moderate conservatives just the opposite,” Bérubé pointed out, “that he would guarantee never to allow responsible government in return for their support. Certainly the fellow has been both high-handed and devious in his dealings with us in Quebec.”
Robert and Hincks looked down the table to Louis LaFontaine.
“These are the very questions we came here to have answered for us,” LaFontaine said softly.
The discussion was interrupted at this critical point by the less-than-unobtrusive arrival of the tea-trolley in the hands of Austin Bragg, subbing for the butler, who was no doubt snooping about the barns in search of a missing bag of oats. As soon as Bragg had served the refreshments and departed, Robert returned to the burning issue of the day.
“At the moment it is a matter of trust and logic,” he said. “I believe that Poulett Thomson wants, and has been commanded, to push through immediate reforms to alleviate our economic woes and unburden the mother country of the expense of propping us up and defending us from the United States. And I know for a fact that he realizes that nothing can be achieved without constant support and real leadership in the Assembly. Moreover, I have been shown correspondence between him and Lord Russell in London, in which he has been told that he must govern with the consent of the populace. Hence, in the short term, he has no choice but to establish an administration selected from, and enjoying the support of, the group that controls the Assembly. And unbeknownst to him or our opponents, we are today laying the groundwork for a French-English party who will present him with that possibility, and, I might add, a party whose forward-looking economic policies coincide with his own.”
“You might even say,” Hincks added when Marc had translated Robert’s response, “that this situation, very much in our favour, is step one of step two.”
LaFontaine almost smiled. “That much I do see,” he said, “though are we not in danger of getting tangled in our own steps? It’s still not clear where we would step next.”
“Let me try that one on,” Hincks said with his customary and sometimes off-putting enthusiasm. “Robert is saying that the time is ripe to establish on a practical basis, in the new set-up, a working arrangement with Poulett Thomson that resembles responsible government as we understand it. Once it is seen to operate to the economic and social benefit of the two provinces and provided that party cohesion is maintained, it will become impossible for the Governor to alter the arrangements. This time the vast majority of the populace, conservative and liberal, will be behind the new arrangement, even if they do not all agree on our policies. To go backwards would bring chaos and economic ruin: too many citizens will have benefited to let that happen. Indeed, we see the extremists on both sides becoming marginalized very quickly.”
“But His Excellency Mr. Poulett Thomson is not our monarch,” LaFontaine said. “Nor is his health good.”
“How do we know that his successor will not be another Lord Gosford or General Colborne?” Tremblay cried, striking the table with his two-fingered hand. “These governors come willy-nilly from anywhere! Your lieutenant-governor, Sir George Arthur, was known as the Executioner of Van Dieman’s Land before he arrived here in ‘thirty-eight to start hanging every rebel he could see.”
“That is a concern,” Robert conceded. “All we can do is make sure that conditions here will make it more difficult for future governors to become tyrants. For now, the Whig government in London is backing us.”
“A Whig government that is close to collapse,” Bergeron said, indicating that he was well-versed on the state of English politics, “with the unsavoury prospect of Robert Peel becoming the new Prime Minister.”
“Facing a Tory government in England will be step three,” Robert said calmly. “Establishing the habit of cabinet responsibility to the majority in the Assembly is step two, and should occupy us for the next two or three years. That is all the grace period we shall need. Step three will begin when the first fresh and unsympathetic governor arrives, and none of us can predict the outcome. But we can’t get to that step without the first two, and their accomplishment lies entirely within our power. With the program of reforms now agreed to, I am asking for a solemn commitment to the formation of a coalition party with the authority to act as such in the new Legislature.”
In the brief silence that followed these remarks, Bérubé said, “In the least we will be able to get the canals improved, the roads built, and the banks brought to heel – before the roof falls in! Right now, we’re all stewing in our own juice.”
“And we could get the French language approved for the Assembly,” Bergeron said, “and legal protections for our Catholic schools and colleges. And local government of some kind – ”
Hincks interrupted to say, with a rush of enthusiasm, “Mr. Baldwin has already sketched out a bold plan for a county governance system that combines the best features of the British and American models.”
Maurice Tremblay startled the room by bringing his maimed fist down upon the table so smartly the coffee cups rattled in their saucers. “Damn it all!” he shouted, glaring at his colleagues and their schoolboy exuberance. “Don’t you see what is happening here?”
Marc started to translate but was waved off by Robert.
“We French are being taken for fools once more! We will be used and tossed aside as callously as Colborne’s soldiers burned my wheat and terrified my children.”
“I think you had better explain yourself,” Hincks said through gritted teeth.
LaFontaine looked slightly discomfited by Tremblay’s outburst, but said nothing.
“We’ve heard a lot of talk here about avoiding the extremes, about doing everything within the letter of the law, a law written for us by foreigners,” Tremblay continued with no effort to conceal his contempt. “But we wouldn’t even be at this table now if enough of us had had the guts to stand up for our families and our religion, had had the courage to look the English musketeers in the eye and dare them to kill those men who only wished to farm the land they inherited from their fathers.”
No-one said a word. Tremblay, alone in this room of lawyers and businessmen, had put his life on the line for his beliefs. He continued his speech, somewhat more moderately: “Let us grant Mr. Baldwin and Mr. Hincks their first step. What happens when we all get together in the new Assembly? There has been much talk of the moderates among the Upper-Canadian conservatives, of how their fanatic Orangemen and High Tories are losing their grip. Do you honestly believe that the English Reformers will not quickly realign themselves with the economic interests of the moderate Tories? Will they not, as soon as we French have served our purpose, find themselves more at home with those who share their moderate policies as well as their language and religion? There will then be one large, middle-of-the-road English party surrounded by splinter groups of diehard English and French Tories and we poor, pathetic French nationalists.”
The logic of this impassioned address seemed to catch everyone off-guard, French and English alike.
But Tremblay was not quite through. He waited for Marc to finish, then said, “This whole business here is about trust. I have heard lots of high-sounding arguments so far, but nothing to make me want to trust people who did not have the courage to take up arms when it mattered or offer public support for the uprising and its goals.”
The ensuing silence was more than awkward. LaFontaine, expressionless, stared hard at Robert Baldwin.
“Let me then give you such a reason,” Robert said slowly and quietly. “When the new Assembly meets, I hope that Mr. LaFontaine and I will find ourselves sitting side by side in the House among those in the majority party. When we are invited to join the cabinet and constitute a true Reform administration, as we certainly shall, its leader and first minister will be Louis-Hippolyte LaFontaine. If not, then I myself will not serve.”
This declaration took everyone by surprise, even Hincks and especially LaFontaine.
“You’re saying that the alliance will be led by one of us?” Bérubé said, not sure whether he ought to be shocked or incredulous. “But you yourself are held to be the leader of the Reform party, are said to be the only man in Upper Canada capable of uniting the scattered liberal elements. How could you think of relinquishing your leadership role – to a French-speaking Quebecer?”
It was a question Hincks might have asked – or Marc.
“I have become a politician by necessity,” Robert said solemnly, making eye contact with each delegate around the table as he spoke, “not by instinct or inclination. I have never wished to sit in parliament or stump the back roads preaching Reform doctrines. I am not an orator like Francis here or Mr. Edwards. I am a widower with four youngsters to raise. I long for a quiet life in my chambers and my home. But circumstance has brought me here, as it has each of you. I will serve as long as I am needed. And serving beside Mr. LaFontaine, who is most qualified to lead our alliance, is the best thing for me and for our party. A LaFontaine-Baldwin administration will make a bold statement to those who oppose responsible government. To them our alliance may seem unholy, but it will be real. It will be here to stay.”
Maurice Tremblay knew that he was beaten. His shoulders slumped and he stared down at the table in a daze.
“What more is there to say?” LaFontaine said. “We have negotiated a set of common policies and laid out a procedural strategy for next year. We are dealing here with honourable men. We shall make formidable allies.”
Bérubé and Bergeron were all smiles. It appeared as if the impossible had been achieved, a coalition of ancient (and recent) enemies – the English and the French.
“Should we formalize the main points of our alliance, as agreed upon earlier?” Hincks said into the buzz of excitement.
“We could do that tomorrow morning,” Macaulay suggested. “Perhaps Mr. LaFontaine and Mr. Baldwin, along with Mr. Edwards as translator, could work up a written document in both languages.”
“That sounds great,” Hincks said, “though we must have only one copy for each group. We don’t want any part of these deliberations made public except by us when we are ready and to those whom we choose. Secrecy is critical at this point, eh?”
No-one disagreed with this statement of the obvious.
“After a hearty luncheon tomorrow,” Macaulay said, beaming, “I’ll have the sleighs brought down here and our guests can begin making their way home.”
Elaborate precautions had been taken regarding the arrival and departure of the French delegates. The sleighs that had brought them to Elmgrove, on Monday and Tuesday evening, had gone with their drivers up to a safe farm north of the city. Young Cal Struthers would be dispatched to signal their return. The Quebecers, in pairs, would be driven to Port Hope, where they would stay overnight with Reform families, and then catch a regular stage, two by two, for Kingston and Montreal.
Garnet Macaulay, still beaming, adjourned the meeting.
***
In the hall outside the library, Hincks stopped Macaulay for a moment and said, “Garnet, I have a frock coat that could use a good brushing sometime before supper. It’s in the wardrobe in my room.”
“I’ll have Chilton see to it, Francis,” Macaulay said, always pleased to be helpful, “the minute he gets back from his late-day constitutional.”
“Thanks,” Hincks said, and hurried towards the billiard-room to catch up to Bérubé.
Marc drew Macaulay back into the recessed entrance to the library. “Your butler keeps to a rigid schedule,” he said evenly.
Macaulay smiled. “Yes. An occupational weakness of butlers everywhere. Since he came here a week ago, he has gone for a fifteen-minute walk just before the rush and havoc of our supper-hour. Can’t blame him, eh?”
Marc was not sure how to phrase the question he had in mind. “And you . . . find you have, ah, complete confidence in him?”
“My word, Marc, you don’t need to be so circumspect. We’re all concerned about security, aren’t we? The answer is that Graves Chilton has given me no cause to be suspicious in that regard. Besides, he’s only been on the continent for a couple of weeks and he doesn’t speak French, as Monsieur Tremblay has discovered to his chagrin.”
“I’m relieved to hear it. Everything is going so well, I don’t want anything untoward happening now.”
“Relax. We’ve got supper and the evening to look forward to.”
“I’ll try to,” Marc said.
***
Supper was served at seven-thirty. Before that, most of the delegates spent time in their rooms, napping or making notes. The renowned bathtub was in constant use. Hincks and Bérubé passed a pleasant hour at the billiard-table, talking finance as best they could. Marc expected the mood at supper to be relaxed and convivial, but despite the excellence of the food and stimulus of the drink, the delegates were strangely subdued. In the place of casual chatter or more friendly and unguarded exchanges, there was an excess of courtly manners and cliché. It was as if, having surprised themselves by reaching an historic agreement with unseemly haste, the participants felt they ought to have second thoughts, that nothing so challenging could be achieved so readily – with only a single dissenting voice.
In contrast to this unexpected formality among the guests was the near disarray among the servants. Priscilla Finch, Austin Bragg and Graves Chilton made such an effort to avoid coming within five feet of one another that their antics bordered on the comical. More than one soup bowl was tipped too far and the pristine tablecloth was further splotched with droplets of misdirected burgundy. So it was with relief rather than satisfaction that Marc heard Macaulay clear his throat noisily and catch the attention of the table.
“Now that our supper is concluded, with our thanks once again to Mrs. Blodgett, please feel free to use the games room or take a brandy and cigar in the parlour. The view beyond the French doors is splendid and not to be missed.” Just as the guests began to move, Macaulay looked over at Bergeron and said in halting French, “You look as if you have not yet slept well, Erneste.”
Bergeron nodded. “Maybe tonight,” he said, without much hope in his voice.
“I have a suggestion to make. My wife takes laudanum for her ailment, and with a full vial from Dr. Pogue to take with her to Kingston, she has left a good quantity of her old bottle here at home.” Macaulay paused while Marc translated. “She keeps it on the shelf above the bathtub beside the oils and soaps. It’s clearly labelled. If you take one small teaspoonful in a tisane or wine before you turn in, you will get a full night’s sleep. I guarantee it.”
“Thank you,” Bergeron said. “I try to resist drugs, but I may have to give in tonight.”
“You have been a most gracious host,” LaFontaine said to Macaulay in English. “We shall not forget your many kindnesses.”
Marc stood beside Macaulay in the hall outside the dining-room, and watched Bérubé and Hincks cross into the billiard-room. Bergeron excused himself and followed Tremblay, who had said nothing during supper, though his sour mood had done little to dull his appetite. The two men disappeared across the rotunda and up the marble staircase. To Marc’s surprise and delight, LaFontaine started walking beside Robert up the hall towards the parlour. As they turned into the doorway there, LaFontaine’s hand came up and rested for a moment on Robert’s shoulder.
Marc steered Macaulay into the billiard-room.
***
Marc and Macaulay had just finished their second hand of piquet when the butler appeared discreetly in the doorway.
“Yes, Chilton, what is it?” Macaulay said, glancing up from his cards.
“There’s some person at the front door wishing to see Mr. Edwards, sir. A rough-looking sort, but he claims he has urgent news.”
Marc dropped his cards and stood up. “It has to be Beth,” he said as panic and excitement rose up in him. “The baby,” he said to Macaulay, who was looking alarmed.
“Ah. Then you’d better go quickly, ol’ chap. Babies don’t wait.”
“I’ll – I’ll try and get back here tomorrow as soon as I – ”
“Don’t give it another thought. A day or two won’t make any difference after the work we did this afternoon. Now, go!”
Marc followed Chilton up the hall to the front door. Jasper Hogg was on the front porch, stamping his feet.
“Is Beth all right?” Marc asked.
“She’s gonna have the baby, Mr. Edwards! Mrs. Cobb’s already there!”
“I’ll get my coat and things, Jasper. Turn the sleigh around.”
***
The skies had clouded over, but the snow on the landscape lit their path as if it were noon on a sunny day. Jasper had few details for Marc, except that Beth’s pains had started coming several hours before and his Charlene had run to fetch Dora Cobb and his sister Etta had come over to watch little Maggie. Marc prayed he would be present for the birth, not wishing to be delinquent a second time. He prayed also that it would be a safe delivery and (not without a twinge of guilt) that all would be well enough for him to return to Elmgrove sometime tomorrow to help with the writing of the historic accord.
Just as they pulled up in the lane beside Briar Cottage, it began to snow.
***
Dora Cobb, swathed in a gargantuan smock, met Marc as he came in.
“How is she?” Marc said, pulling at his gloves.
“Don’t strain yerself,” Dora said. “The lass is fine.”
“And the babe?”
“Doin’ fine also – tucked safe in his mama’s belly.”
“Then I’m not too late?”
“In fact, you’re about a month early.” Dora was grinning from plump cheek to plump cheek. “Beth’s had a bout of false labour. It’s stopped an’ she’s feelin’ a bit peakèd, but otherwise healthy as a horse in hay. Go an’ say hello.”
Marc felt both relief and disappointment as he went into the bedroom and found Beth dozing under the counterpane, the handle of a warming-pan protruding from its soft depths. She turned groggily, opened her eyes and said in a voice barely above a whisper, “Oh, Marc. I’m sorry you had to be dragged away. We figured it out a few minutes after Jasper left to fetch you.”
Marc ignored her foolish talk and clasped her in his arms, sliding one hand down over her belly to make sure his son was truly safe inside.
When Beth decided she’d had enough hugging, she pulled away and said, “Now, luv, you must go back. There’s no reason to stay. Dora’s left a sedative. The baby’ll likely come next month when he’s supposed to, and I’ve got more well-wishers clutterin’ up my house than I can stand. I’m trippin’ over them!”
“Well, it’s awfully late now . . .”
“An’ snowin’ to beat the band!” Charlene said from the doorway. “Jasper’s puttin’ the horse in the barn. It’s a blizzard out there. Even Dora’s decided to sleep next door.”
“Then that settles it,” Beth said. “You stay.”
“I’ll tell Jasper,” Charlene said. “Can he – ”
“He can sleep here,” Beth said. “On the couch.”
When they were alone, Marc undressed and slipped under the covers. He left the bedside candle lit. “You need to go right to sleep,” he said. “You’re looking very pale.”
“The pains stopped a while ago. I feel fine.”
“You haven’t drunk your sleeping draught.”
Beth put a finger to his lips. “Stop stallin’. I want to hear all about it. Every last detail.”
“Only if you’ll promise to take your medicine.”
She rolled onto her side. “An’ you can rub my muscle-cramps while you’re at it,” she smiled.
***
Charlene Huggan took it upon herself to let her master and mistress sleep in. It was a glorious winter morning, all sunny skies and fresh, unstained snow. The blizzard had turned out to be a brief squall, depositing a three-inch blanket of fluff across the cityscape. The trip back to Elmgrove would be quick and smooth.
Marc felt too rested and ready to work to be annoyed with Charlene, and Jasper had got the stove and fireplace crackling. The cottage hummed with heat and the cosiness of home. Who cared if it was almost nine o’clock?
Marc was just about to start in on his second helping of sausages when Charlene’s head popped into the doorway. “Sorry to disturb you,” she said, “but there’s a policeman at the door.”
“Cobb?” Marc said, thinking that Dora had returned home and informed her husband of Marc’s arrival last night. Cobb often dropped by on the way to work – or during his patrol – for coffee and a chat.
“No, sir. It’s Wilkie, I think.”
Marc got up reluctantly, stepped around Maggie who was tottering from chair to chair with a huge grin on her face, and went to the front door. Constable Ewan Wilkie was indeed standing on the stoop, hopping from one foot to the other, and blowing on his mitts. He had a worried look on his face, but that was his usual expression.
“What is it, Ewan?” Marc said warily, having spotted a familiar-looking horse and cutter standing in front of the cottage.
“The Chief sent me, sir. They want you out at Elmgrove right away, if you c’n leave yer missus, that is.”
“But what have the police got to do with Elmgrove?”
“Seems there’s been a murder out there, sir. Cobb went out over an hour ago, with the coroner. Sent the stableboy back into town to tell Chief Sturges to fetch you.”
“My God!” Marc cried, a dozen wild thoughts rushing at him all at once. “One of the gentlemen staying there?”
Wilkie’s face brightened. “Oh, no, sir. Not one of them bigwigs. It was only some butler fella.”