Giles seemed to be amused and surprised by her practicality, Julia thought, puzzled a little by that. After all, he knew she had been a country-dweller for almost two years. He had tried to protest when she had trundled the first barrowload of snow to tip on to the lawn beside the house, but had only shrugged when she had pointed out that the space was too narrow for him to turn it easily himself.
While he filled the next one she took a stiff brush to the cleared section, then sprinkled on cinders from the ash can, in between leaning on the broom and admiring the sight of a tall, fit man using his muscles. Giles might not be used to manual labour, but he clearly did not spend his time lounging about with his feet up either.
Of course, she had seen him without a stitch, but that had been from the front and she had been too surprised and embarrassed to do more than take a fleeting glance. But even dressed, from the back the view was admirable.
And I am a perfectly healthy female and surely I can admire what is in front of me?
Then Giles stuck his spade into the piled snow and straightened up, his hands in the small of his back, groaning as he stretched.
‘You are almost at the boundary wall,’ Julia called. ‘It is only about three feet high.’
‘Halfway, then?’ Giles asked without turning and attacked the snow in front of him until there was the clang of metal on stone.
‘Just about.’ She dropped the handles of the empty barrow and wriggled to his side through the trench he had cut. ‘There are rough stone steps, careful.’
The shovel hit something hard again and Giles began to scrape snow off the stones that projected from the face of the wall, then cleared the flat top.
‘I am having a rest.’ Julia climbed up, folded the thick tails of her coat under her and sat down on top of the wall. ‘There is smoke coming out of two chimneys in Bluebell Cottage. See?’
Giles stood close and craned. ‘So someone is up and about.’ A whir of wings made him laugh as the robin landed just a foot away on top of the wall. ‘Your friend is back.’
Julia peeled off one glove and dug in her pocket for the crust of bread she’d put there. ‘Keep still, I am trying to get him to eat from my hand.’
The robin watched as she crumbled the bread and slowly extended her fingers towards it. Beside her she could feel Giles, stock-still, the warmth of his breath misting in the cold air to mix with hers.
For a moment she thought the two of them together would frighten it, then the robin hopped forward and on to her fingertips, his claws sharp, his beak sharper as he pecked. It tickled and Julia laughed. The robin took off almost vertically, she jerked instinctively and knocked into Giles.
It was not a hard blow, but he sidestepped and his boots, not made for walking on hard-packed snow, slid under him. With an oath Giles skidded and toppled backwards into the snowbank.
‘Are you hurt?’ Julia hopped down from the wall.
‘Only my dignity.’ He stayed where he was, sprawled on his back, arms and legs flung out.
‘You have preserved rather more of it than the last time you fell on your back in the snow,’ she observed. ‘At least you have your clothes on.’
‘Unkind,’ he said and held up his right hand.
Julia took it, prepared to pull, and was tugged forward to land beside him in the drift. ‘Beast!’ She flailed, sending snow flying as she struggled to sit up and get leverage to help her stand.
‘I owed you that.’ Giles was laughing as he took her arm and flipped her over so she was lying on top of him, nose to nose. ‘You are nice and warm and dry now.’
It was disconcerting to feel so much hard muscle under her, to feel the warmth of his breath on her face and to be looking so close into his eyes. She had thought them brown, but they were a dark hazel, she realised, flecked with green and gold.
She could remember the taste of him from last night and that fleeting, accidental kiss, and it was hard not to dip her head the inch it would take to sample his lips again. Julia picked up snow in her right hand, planted the left firmly on his chest and pushed as she dropped the icy whiteness on his face.
He should have let her go, that had been her plan. Instead Giles tipped her over until she was in the snow and he was poised above her.
‘I should roll you over and over until you are nothing but a giant snowball,’ he threatened.
‘You wouldn’t dare!’
‘It is that or kiss you.’
‘Oh.’ That knocked the breath out of her.
‘And I promised myself that I would do no such thing.’
‘You did? Why?’ The question was out of her mouth before she could think. It was a miracle that the snow wasn’t melting to steam about them, she felt so hot and embarrassed.
‘It would hardly be the gentlemanly thing to do, now would it?’ he said, his voice mocking, the look in his eyes rather more serious.
‘And it is hardly the ladylike thing to wish that you would,’ Julia said. Where had those words come from? Her lips?
She was still wondering as Giles rolled again, pulling her with him so she lay along his body again, clear of the snow.
‘You choose,’ he suggested as she stared at the crease his half-smile produced at the corner of his mouth.
We are lying in a snowdrift. Surely nothing too awful can happen in a snowdrift, can it? Men don’t seduce women in three feet of snow...
Julia lowered her head and let her lips brush against his.
Just a touch, only a taste, like last night...
The touch lingered as his mouth moved under hers, as his tongue stroked against the swell of her lower lip. She felt herself sink down against his chest, no longer tense, and his arms came round her and they were kissing.
It was extraordinary, so intimate, so intense, so...trusting. Julia had wondered what it would be like. Wet and embarrassing had come to mind even as she had found herself looking at the mouths of attractive men and wondering. There was certainly moisture involved and heat, but strangely it was not at all embarrassing.
Something cold and wet slithered down her cheek and she realised they must be sinking, or perhaps snow was falling on them, but somehow she couldn’t care, lost in the heat of the man who seemed to surround her.
This was magic. She could hear bells ringing...
‘Miss Chancellor! Oh, Miss Chancellor, please!’
Clang. The sound of a handbell being shaken violently.
Julia sat up with a jerk, provoking a grunt of discomfort from Giles as she elbowed him in the chest. ‘What the—?’ He floundered to extract himself from the drift into which they had sunk and sat up beside her.
‘It is Dorothy, my maid, the one who went to help at Bluebell Cottage. Something must be wrong.’ Julia got to her feet and stumbled to the wall. She could see the top half of Dorothy, auburn hair vivid against the whiteness, one arm waving while the other kept swinging the bell.
‘Stop making that noise!’ Julia shouted. ‘What is wrong?’
‘Oh, miss! It’s the baby. It’s started.’
‘Oh, hell,’ Julia said, and almost sat down in the snow again as Giles stood beside her. ‘We will never get the doctor here, or the village midwife, not in this. How deep is the snow at your end?’ she called.
‘Couple of feet, miss. I could start to clear it. Can you get through?’ Dorothy was eighteen, a tall, strapping county lass used to helping out with the cows and the haymaking. She could certainly make an impact on the path while they dug towards her from their deeper end.
‘Yes, we can get to you,’ Julia shouted back, hearing the edge of panic in Dorothy’s voice. ‘Although what I am going to do when I get there...’ she added to Giles. ‘But of course—you know exactly what is needed. Oh, thank goodness.’
‘I helped an experienced mother with her husband there, who also knew just what to expect,’ Giles protested, even as he clambered over the wall and began to dig again.
‘We have both got common sense, you have some experience, Dorothy’s a practical girl, for all her nerves about it. We’ll manage,’ Julia said firmly, more to convince herself than Giles. ‘There really isn’t any other option.’
They soon got within ten yards of Dorothy as the level of the snow began to lower in the shelter of taller trees and the cottage.
‘Give me the spade and you go and change your clothes,’ Julia said. ‘You are soaking wet.’
‘I’ll finish this.’ Giles kept hold of the shovel.
‘You will be no use if we deliver the baby and you come down with pneumonia.’
‘And there I was thinking you were worried about my well-being.’ Giles handed her the spade and turned back.
I’ve offended him, she thought, then caught the ghost of a laugh as he vanished down the path behind her.
What sort of gentleman has a sense of humour about being made to dig snow, about being interrupted in the middle of a kiss and about being dragooned into assisting at a childbed?
One I rather like, Julia concluded as she dragged her sodden glove across her tingling mouth and began to dig again.
It was easier to focus on each foot of snow in front of her, on placing each shovelful well out of the way, on looking up and smiling encouragement at Dorothy than it was to ponder on what exactly she had done, kissing a man she was stranded with. No one could get through this snow down to the village, which meant they would have to spend another night together.
Or no... If they reached Bluebell Cottage, then she could stay there, leave Beech View to Giles. The thought should have been a relief. Of course it was.
No more star-gazing. No more kisses.
‘Give me that and you go and get changed as well,’ Giles said from behind her. He made her jump and she dropped the shovel, turned and hurried back along the path, back to the warmth and away from those all-too-perceptive eyes, those tempting lips.
‘Good morning!’ Giles called when he saw the red-headed young woman stop shovelling to stare at him.
‘You gave me a fright, sir! Didn’t see you for that big drift on the bank.’
‘You must be Dorothy. I am Giles Darrowby, stranded in the storm yesterday.’ Her eyes widened and, before she could start speculating about just where he had spent the night, he added, ‘I gather we have a baby to deliver.’
‘Yes, sir, that we do. But there’s no doctor.’
‘That’s all right, I’m...er...experienced with childbirth.’
‘Oh, Dr Darrowby! Heavens be praised, you’re a miracle and no mistake. I’ll run and tell them, they’ll be so relieved.’
‘Did you just tell her that you were a doctor?’ Julia demanded, arriving back at his side. She had changed into a dry gown, he noticed, seeing the dark blue skirt below her wrapping of shawls and a long scarf. Her blue mittens matched and for some reason that made him smile.
‘I implied it. If it stops them panicking and keeps the mother calm, it can only help.’
‘I suppose so. But what if there are complications?’ She bit her lip and shot him a rueful smile. ‘I should not borrow trouble, should I?’
‘We probably have enough already,’ Giles agreed with a smile. ‘If there are complications, they will happen whoever I tell them I am. A dozen more spadefuls and we will be through.’
He thought he heard her sigh and glanced down, the snow balanced on the blade of the shovel. Julia’s face was tense, her lower lip caught between her teeth. She looked well kissed and he knew he should feel guilty, but all he was aware of was disappointment at the interruption.
‘Frightened?’ he asked, hoping that his own anxiety was not showing.
‘Terrified,’ she admitted. ‘But that’s not going to help. Come on, Dr Darrowby.’
The Misses Jepson were in the kitchen, one talking soothingly to a scrap of a child who was peeling potatoes at the kitchen table, the other clearly about to go out of the far door with a pile of clean linen in her hands. The elder stood up, a formidably tall woman with a face that, unfortunately, somewhat resembled a horse. But an amiable horse, Giles decided as Julia introduced him.
‘This is Giles Darrowby, Miss Jepson. He has been stranded by the storm on his way to the village. Mr Darrowby, Miss Jepson and Miss Margaret Jepson.’
Miss Margaret, the younger sister, was shorter, plumper and prettier with blue eyes and thickly waving grey hair, rather out of control in contrast to her sister’s tight coiffure. ‘We are so thankful to have your expertise, Doctor. Or perhaps I should address you as Mister. That is correct with surgeons, is it not? I have never quite understood the etiquette of it. One would not wish to give offence—’
‘None taken, ma’am. Mr Darrowby will do excellently.’ He cut her off before she could launch into the distinction between doctors, surgeons and apothecaries.
‘And you are a man midwife?’ Miss Jepson interjected.
‘Er...no. That is not my speciality.’
I know more about breeding thoroughbreds and farrowing pigs, but you do not want to hear that.
‘But I can assure you all the births I have attended have had happy outcomes for mother and child.’
All one of them.
‘I will take you to your patient,’ Miss Margaret said. ‘We’ve had a bed set up in the small parlour on this floor. So much more convenient, we thought. Dear Annie, she has been so brave about everything.’
As if on cue there was a sound from the front of the house that sent a cold shock down Giles’s gradually thawing spine. The girl at the table dropped her paring knife into the water with a splash.
‘You are making a fine job of those potatoes, Molly.’ Miss Jepson sat down again next to the child and began to talk about how they might be cooked for supper. Giles took a deep breath and followed Miss Margaret as she hurried out of the kitchen.
He looked down and saw Julia beside him. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m not leaving you to face this alone,’ she whispered back and gave his hand a quick squeeze.
Touched, Giles fixed his most confident expression on his face, squared his shoulders and marched into the stuffy little parlour.
It was not as dreadful as Julia’s ignorant fears had conjured up. No one told unmarried ladies anything about childbirth, but there were always whispers, murmurings that created imaginings at least as bad as reality, she was sure. Certainly having a baby was painful, messy and exhausting, and at one point, when Annie’s grip on her hands felt as though it was crushing the bones, Julia had a fleeting thought that next time she was in church she was going to have a firm word with the Almighty about organising matters better. But after the first few hours she saw Giles relax slightly and when he murmured, ‘Everything seems to be going just as it should, just as I remember,’ she relaxed, too.
There was satisfaction working together on something as basic, as important, as this and she said so when they were resting by the window and Dorothy was sitting with Annie, talking quietly between contractions.
She wondered if Giles would understand what she meant, but he nodded immediately. ‘I agree. It feels so...essential.’ He smiled and shrugged ruefully. ‘And it puts everything else that I think is difficult or important into perspective.’ He reached over and took her hand. ‘I am glad you are here.’
‘But I know even less than you,’ Julia protested, keeping her voice down in case the words reached the other two women. ‘And if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be here having to deal with this.’
‘You are calm, you are practical and you do a very good job of seeming to believe in me.’ He let his head fall back against the cushions and closed his eyes.
‘That is because I do believe in you,’ she said firmly. Her hand was still in his and she could tell he had not fallen asleep. Should she pull it away? But she did not want to and his thumb was stroking back and forth against her palm as though he was absent-mindedly stroking a cat. It was pleasant, more than pleasant if she was honest, and if it helped Giles relax, would it not be selfish to be missish? The tingle the touch created seemed to travel to the most unexpected place and she shifted uneasily on her chair.
Then Annie gasped and Giles sat up, let go of Julia’s hand and sat watching intently.
‘Listen!’ he said and all three women looked at him. ‘Bells. It must be the church bells.’
‘It is Christmas Eve, of course,’ Julia said, startled to discover that she had completely forgotten about it. She went to the window and opened it, keeping the curtain drawn against the cold. ‘The sound is carrying on this still air—I can hear more than one set in the distance as well.’
She closed the window again. ‘A Christmas baby, Annie. What a wonderful gift.’
Annie nodded, then gritted her teeth while another contraction passed. ‘Wouldn’t want to do this in a stable,’ she muttered, making them all laugh.
‘I know, love, straw everywhere,’ Dorothy agreed comfortably. ‘I’ll go and make a nice cup of tea, shall I?’