Eight

Late spring, 1817

There was an elephant residing inside Jane’s body as she accepted Theodore Foote’s assistance to rise from her seat.

“Are you quite well?” He asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

The Baron’s staff had been most attentive in recent weeks. They too were excited for the arrival of the heir. Mr and Mrs Gardener had kept the estate in plentiful supply of food through the winter, thanks to an abundance of root vegetables. The apricot trees were blossoming, and the sound of bees was a welcoming balm.

The sound of horses echoed from the drive. Not so welcoming a sound as the bees. Jane cast a look to Theodore, who raised a brow in reply.

“Shall I inform whoever it is that you’re not accepting visitors?”

“I have a feeling that will be the Jardines, and I also have a feeling Epiphany won’t accept the designation of visitor anyway.”

Waddling to the vestibule, Jane arrived in time to see Stone the butler open the door.

“Places, everyone!” she called out.

A few minutes later, a series of Jardines and their entourage welcomed themselves into the estate and moved of their own accord to the various rooms they’d occupied the last time they were here. The infant boy Jardine had grown, as had his shockingly bright hair, and was being carried by a different nanny this time. The nurse also arrived in tow, with her hair tied closely under a wrap and a mewlingly recent, completely bald. addition to the family.

The nurse looked exhausted.

Lady Jardine must have kept her own condition a closely-guarded secret the last time they’d been in the estate.

“It’s another boy,” Lady Jardine said as she approached Jane and placed dry as dust kisses on each cheek. “Take me to the Baron immediately, I want him to recognise this one as well.”

“That will be difficult,” Jane said.

“Let me guess, he’s sleeping again?”

“Permanently,” Jane confirmed.

“What?”

Jane had rehearsed what she’d needed to say. The entire estate was on board.

“He passed within a week of your leaving, from the cough. It was a shock to all of us. You may pay your respects to him in the church graveyard.”

Lady Jardine’s face reddened as the rest of her family and staff bustled past them. Some of Jane’s staff took the nurse and her newborn directly to the kitchen for some tea and muttered about getting her some rest.

“How did he die?” Lady Epiphany Jardine demanded.

“The cough took him. Many of us fell ill around the same time. We had to close the estate to all. I nearly succumbed myself, even though I had previously survived an episode in my youth.”

With a huff of disapproval, Lady Jardine said, “You did not write.”

“I was unable. I did not recover until Autumn. By then I had,” and here she patted her distended stomach, “other things with which to be occupied. I sent a letter at Christmas, but perhaps it did not arrive?”

Jane knew the message had not arrived, for she’d never bothered to send it. Why invite inspection from the Jardines before she had to?”

“Take me to his grave, now.” Epiphany said.

“Very well,” Jane nodded. “Stone, would you fetch a footman to accompany Lady Jardine to the church?”

Before Stone could answer, Lady Jardine said, “You’re coming with me.”

“Lady Jardine, I am in no condition to walk that far. My time is almost upon me, as you well know, for that is why you are here, is it not?”

“You will accompany me to my father’s eternal resting place right this minute. Fetch my father’s wheeled chair if you have to.”

Not a bad idea, all things considered.

Within a few minutes, Theodore had the chair and they set off on the short walk towards the church. It wasn’t a smooth walk, and the chair bumped and jolted along the pathway.

“Mister Foote, it would be kinder on my spine if I walked the rest of the distance. Please hold my hand so that I do not trip,” Jane said.

Holding his hand, in public, felt so lovely. If anyone saw them, it would be easily explained as a dedicated member of staff helping his mistress. There would be no untoward looks or gossip. Except for the shock of seeing the Baroness so great with child out in the open.

A jolt of pain stole Jane’s breath.

“Are you well, My Lady,” Theodore asked.

“Merely a twinge, Mister Foote.” She breathed through the next one. Stronger than the last. She must have hurt her back on all those bumps. It was so lovely to have him by her side, even if she could not publicly acknowledge everything he had done for her. Privately, she thanked him almost every night.

Lady Jardine stalked off ahead of them, reaching the churchyard.

Mister Foote kept his voice low, “I will give nothing away.”

“I trust you. Thank you for keeping our secret safe. I will forever be in your debt.”

“And I yours,” he said.

That could not possibly be true. He was at far less risk of public disaster and shame than she. He may be personally irreplaceable to Jane, but he also had the benefit of being an anonymous man in the world. If their secret were exposed, he would be able to move on and find a life and employment elsewhere. Perhaps move to the colonies? She would be a fallen woman, forever shunned in society, with no way to support herself. She’d die in debtor’s prison; Lady Jardine would see to that.

Another thought struck her about whether she too may have to leave for the colonies herself. Her parents would take her in, would they not? To the rest of society, she was a widow, her loss tempered by the miracle of carrying her late husband’s child.

Another pang stole her breath as she passed through the gate to the churchyard. Her feet faltered.

“My Lady?” Concern writ large over Mister Foote’s features.

“Oh,” Jane cried, leaning against him for support as her knees threatened to bring her low.

Lady Jardine turned and shouted, “What a carry on!”

“Must you always be so callous!” Jane had reached boiling point.

“Shall I carry you home, My Lady?” Mister Foote suggested.

“Hang it all, yes.”

In one fluid move, Theodore lifted her across his body, his arms wrapped securely under her legs and lower back. Jane clung to his neck for purchase, smothering her screams into his shoulder as another spasm took hold.

Lady Jardine called back, “Where are you going?”

Mister Foote did now slow. He called back, “My Lady’s needs come first.”

He travelled swiftly, leaving the wheeled chair behind. His long legs consumed the distance between the church and the estate. Before long, the familiar walls came into view.

“We are nearly there, My Lady,” he cooed as Stone the butler came running towards them.

“What is amiss?” Stone asked, panic in his voice.

“The babe is on the way.”

“Her mother has arrived at the right time in that case,” Stone confirmed.

Mama was here? Hope surged through Jane. Mama would know what to do.

* * *

Mister Foote delivered her to the birthing bed, then he promptly left her to cope with the ensuing events. She felt his loss, but could otherwise do nothing about it as the Jardines were everywhere. Mama was here, holding her hand, as was a maid and a kitchen hand, who had clean cloths and warm water. One was ready with a cold compress for her forehead, and the other was packing swabs of fabric down near her legs ‘to catch the flood’ she’d said.

The flood? Oh dear. Jane really had not been paying much attention to things and had no idea what would happen.

The Jardine’s nurse came into the room, an air of grace and calm over her. “All will be well, I’ve done this a few times myself.”

So reassuring and soothing. Oh goodness, if only it wasn’t so hideously painful! Another burst of agony ripped through. Could this event be any more awful?

Of course, it could. Lady Jardine strolled in.

“This is not the Baron E’s babe!”

No, no, this could not be happening. Not now.

“Get out!” Mama shouted as Jane had no breath to do that.

“It’s arriving far too early to be the Baron’s,” Lady Jane declared to all the women in the room, then compounded her insult with, “She must have lain with another man before the marriage!”

Hysterical laughter erupted from Jane. “I assure you,” Puff, wince, pant, “I lay with no man before the Baron-n-n-n-aaaaahhhhhh!”

She had not intended to scream, but scream she did. One of the maids dabbed the sweat from her brow and face, while the Jardine’s nurse checked under Jane’s skirts.

“The babe is crowning! Lots of black hair, Ma’am!”

Jane cried as another belt of pain took hold. Black hair. That was a good sign.

“One more good push,” the Jardine’s nurse encouraged.

Epiphany yelled at her nurse, “You shouldn’t be helping. You should be tending to your own babe!”

What did she just say?

Jane tried to breathe through another stab low in her spine and grunted, all the while completely sure she’d heard Lady Jardine say ‘your own babe’ rather than ‘your duties’.

Mama spoke for all in the room, “Who’s babe, Lady Jardine?”

Lady Jardine made scoffing noises. “The babe she must care for!”

“Get out,” Mama said once more.

Lady Jardine made more strange noises and then added, “I need to ensure it’s a girl and there is to be no sleight of hand!”

Jane gritted her teeth and pushed with all her might.

“Huzzah!” the nurse and kitchen maid cheered at once.

A mewling cry rang out through the room.

“It’s a boy!” The nurse said.

The kitchen maid held the wet babe aloft. Its face was crinkled and its mouth distorted in annoyance. There was a purplish cord connected to its belly, and between its legs, the very obvious truth. It was indeed a boy.

Lady Jardine said a curse word that Jane had never heard before, and collapsed on the floor.

“At least she’ll be quiet for a while,” Mama said.

Jane chuckled, exhausted, and held her arms out for the babe. The nurse and maid wiped his little face, tidied him and wrapped him in cloth.

“My Lady,” the nurse said, “The next Baron Ealing has arrived.”

“Fetch Mister Foote,” Jane said.

“Is that wise?” Mama asked.

Epiphany was out cold, so she wouldn’t tell.

“Why yes.” Jane said. “The next Baron Ealing needs a dedicated footman, and there is none more dedicated than he.”

When Theodore entered the room, he was the only man amongst a sea of women all bustling and cleaning and helping the new mother.

“Mister Foote, my dear man,” Jane said, knowing everything she said carried a double-meaning, “Come and meet your new master; George Warner, The Seventh Baron Ealing.”

“I am delighted to meet you, young man,” Theodore said, giving the babe a respectful bow. “I shall care for you as if you were my own son.”

Exhausted, Jane breathed a sigh of relief. Their war with the Jardines would most likely never end, but this battle at least had achieved a hard-won victory.

“Welcome to the family, my little Lord,” Jane said, as the babe gave a lusty cry.

* * *

I hope you had a fabulous time at Baron E’s estate with Jane and Mr Foote.

I have some exciting plans coming up, and I think you’ll love them.

I Like Big Dukes And I Cannot Lie is a fabulous new anthology I’ve joined, with a host of incredibly talented authors. We are having such a wonderful time putting this together.

My contribution is called Duke Around And Find Out.

A jaded lady declares herself ‘unshockable’. A Duke hell-bent on making her blush. A series of escalating dares turns the season on its head.