“He is very concerned about you and when he asks me what ails you, I will have to tell him the truth, but I shall leave you to tell him the full story. I will merely say that you have eaten or drunk something that has disagreed with you. I will have to tell him you are with child, else he will think me a poor doctor. I will try to give his lordship time to digest the information before I let him come in to talk to you.” Cornelius patted her hand, aware this was not the answer she had been hoping for and then bowed and left the room.
Rollo had wanted to stay with Diana, even though he had been ordered out of the room while the doctor carried out his examination. He paced the corridor restlessly. What had happened to her? She had said she was feeling better this morning. When Cornelius eventually emerged from the room with a grave expression, Rollo feared the worse.
“Come, let us find somewhere to talk in private,” the physician suggested. Rollo led him into his study and poured them each a brandy.
“Tell me. What ails my wife?”
“It appears that she has eaten or drunk something that has disagreed with her. She has regained consciousness now and stopped retching. I think with plenty of fluids and time to rest, she will make a good recovery.” Fairly certain that Lord Brockwood knew about his wife’s pregnancy—how could he not?—he ploughed on, “I am pleased to inform you that the baby appears unharmed and I could hear a strong heartbeat.”
There was the sound of glass shattering as Rollo lost his grip on his brandy. “B-baby,” he stammered. “How? When?”
Cornelius swallowed.
Rollo did not know
. Clearly the news had come as a shock to him. He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder and urged him into the chair behind him, then poured him another shot of brandy.
“Only you can answer that,” the doctor said solemnly, but could not prevent a smile from curving his mouth. “Now, my friend, I think you need to go talk to that pretty wife of yours.”
“How far along is she? When will it be born?” asked Rollo, completely stunned by the news. Why had she not told him? Surely she hadn’t been frightened to tell him? But maybe so, for he had told her many times that he did not want children.
“I think, all being well, you will be a proud father early in the New Year.” Cornelius gave Rollo a congratulatory pat on his back. “I can get Briggs to show me out. You go now and talk to your wife. Be gentle with her, for she is worried that you will not be pleased.”
Rollo entered the room to find Diana, her face pale and her eyes glistening, propped up a little on the bed. “I am so sorry,” she whispered. “I tried to get rid of it, as I know you don’t want it, but...oh, what will we do?”
Rollo tenderly took her hand. “My first thought is that I want you to recover your strength and get well. I admit I was shocked when Cornelius told me you were with child, but look, I am still here with you. I love you.”
“”What about the baby? The doctor said it is too late to get rid of it.”
“You must not even think of such a thing. You shall have our baby and I am sure it will be a fine child that we will both love very much.”
Now that the reality that he was to become a father had penetrated, Rollo found that he was, in fact, quite pleased about it. If the child did develop fits, they would cope with it. One thing for certain—he would not make the child feel ashamed of its affliction, as his parents had done with him,
“But what if the child should have fits?” Diana whispered, voicing their fears.
“We will worry about that if it happens,” replied Rollo tenderly as he picked up her small hand and, lifting it to his mouth, kissed it. “You must concentrate on getting your strength back both for yourself and for our child.”
Diana’s weak smile reflected her fatigue. Relief that Rollo now knew her situation and had not blamed her washed over her, and she allowed her eyes to close and drifted off to sleep.
Rollo remained seated beside her for a few minutes, watching her gentle breathing, before quietly getting up and leaving the room. Having got over the initial shock of finding out that he was to become a father, he now felt deeply saddened that she had not felt able to tell him. Did she find him an ogre? Was she frightened of him? He had thought that they had a close relationship and that she had never been fooled by his ice-cold facade. Perhaps he had misjudged her. It seemed that she had been willing put her own life at risk rather than confide in him. He had come to love Diana deeply, but now had doubts about her reciprocation.
Diana’s behaviour over the following weeks did little to reassure him. She kept mainly to the bedroom and he slept in the adjoining room; nor did not invite him to share their bed. Being sensitive to her condition, he did not press the matter, although he desperately missed the feel of her warm body next to his. On the rare occasions that Diana did venture out of the bedroom, she spoke very little to him, seemed, in fact, almost to avoid him.
* * *
Gradually Diana recovered physically from the failed attempt to rid herself of the baby, but she could not rid herself of her guilt for letting Rollo down. He did not want children. She understood his reasons, and indeed, had a deep fear herself that, like her twin brother, this baby she was carrying may be afflicted. She knew that she would love the child regardless, but could she expect her husband to do the same?
Over the days and weeks, the worry and guilt ate into her very being, and she felt unable to discuss her fears with Rollo, too nervous about his response. These fears, together with the sight in the mirror of her increasingly bloated body, caused her to avoid his company. She wanted to shut herself away and wait until the baby was born when she could see if it looked healthy and normal. If she gave him a perfect baby, she hoped that he would forget that he had not wanted children. If the baby was not perfect, she would take it and leave—and never give it up.
Her strained relationship with her husband persisted, and they had a cheerless Christmas. The dowager countess visited for two nights and was saddened by the unhappiness she saw in her son and his wife. She tried to reassure Rollo that it was not unusual for women to behave strangely and emotionally when they were carrying a child. She spoke tenderly to Diana and tried to reassure her that Rollo loved her and was worried about her. Diana felt so ugly and wretched she could not believe this was possible.
After the New Year, when the last of the snow had melted, Diana’s mother came to stay at Brockwood Hall for the remainder of her confinement.
“It is natural to feel apprehensive pending the birth of a firstborn,” Lady Westbury said soothingly. She tried not to let it show, but she was very concerned for her daughter. Diana she should be looking forward to having a child, not being sad and withdrawn. Rollo, too, seemed unhappy.
It was a dark frosty January evening, and Diana and her mother were sitting in the drawing room, when Diana first felt her abdomen tighten with a sharp pain.
“Ouch!” she gasped, causing her mother to look up.
“Have you pricked your finger?” Lady Westbury inquired, her gaze on the sewing that lay on Diana’s lap.
“No, a pain, but it is gone now. It is nothing, perhaps just the baby kicking a little too hard…Ouch!” Diana stood as a second pain, far worse than the first, forced her to double over in agony.
“Come, dear,” said her mother, calmly reaching for her daughter’s hand. “I think the baby is telling you it is ready to face the world.” She rang the bell for the maid.
When Tilly appeared, she instructed, “Please take your mistress to her bedroom and I will be along shortly.” She gave Diana a kiss as she urged her toward the door. “Get some rest,” she advised.
Lady Westbury then sought out Rollo and found him in his study immersed in accounts and books. “I think it is time to send for the midwife. The baby is on its way.” Seeing the alarm on Rollo’s face, she smiled and said, “First babies are usually slow to arrive, so we will have plenty of time, no need to panic.”
Lady Westbury knew only too well that childbirth was not always straightforward and had her own fears for her daughter, but this was not the time to give in to them. She needed to be strong and keep a calm head.
Poor Diana suffered a long labour, battling through the night and well into the next day. The pain at times was almost too much to bear, and she found it hard to believe her mother and the midwife when the told her that everything was progressing well. At last, as the midday sun cast a weak ray of light into the room through a chink in the curtains, with one final push the baby emerged. After a quick check to ensure all was as it should be, the midwife handed the wrinkled bloody scrap of life to its mother to hold, while she cut the cord and dealt with the afterbirth.
“A boy,” she proclaimed. “And a healthy one by the looks of him.” The baby gave his first tiny cry.
Diana lay back against the pillows and cradled her son in her arms. Her son looked perfect, all his fingers and toes, his little legs kicking and his arms reaching out. His tiny mouth opening and closing.
What now? Only time would tell.
* * *
Rollo had been pacing the corridor all night. He had refused to go to bed, despite both his valet and Lady Westbury’s begging him to get some rest. How could he rest when he could hear Diana crying in pain? He was no longer worrying about the child, only the welfare of his wife. He prayed to God that she would have a safe delivery and vowed that night, should she come through this ordeal, to do everything in his power to make her happy.
Eventually Lady Westbury came out of the bedroom. The smile on her tired face gave Rollo hope that all was well.
“You have a son,” she proudly informed him.
Although her words registered, at this moment the child was not Rollo’s primary concern. “How is Diana?” he asked.
“She is very tired, but there were no complications,” Lady Westbury reported.
Relieved, Rollo could now think about the baby. “A son, you say. When can I see them both?”
Lady Westbury smiled. “Now. I have been sent to fetch you, but you must not tire them too much.”
Rollo nearly knocked his mother-in-law over as he pushed past her to go to his wife. As he entered the room, the sight of her with her baby—
their
baby—caused a flood of emotions to tighten his chest.
Diana shooed the midwife and her mother out of the room as Rollo sat down beside her on the bed.
“I am so proud of you,” he whispered as he gently pushed back a tendril of hair that had fallen over her eyes. “You look beautiful and our son is perfect.” He kissed her softly on the mouth, and then leaned forward and kissed the check of the precious infant in her arms.
Rollo was so overcome with relief, tenderness and love that, as the last crystals of ice melted from around his heart, his tears ran unchecked down his checks. He wrapped his arms around his wife and son.
“I know he looks perfect, but what if he does have fits?” Diana’s voice wobbled as she voiced her fears.
“Then our love for our son will grow even stronger,” Rollo replied without hesitation.
His answer could not have pleased Diana more. The sickening fear that she had lived with ever since she had realized she was with child lifted. She knew that whatever challenges lay ahead they would face them together.
Read on for an excerpt from
by Helen A. Grant
Available in 2017
Chapter 1
Miss Pritchard's Academy For Girls, York, England, 1820
Marianne Granger sat perched on the edge of her bed in the small dormitory. Her bag was packed and her cloak and gloves were lying on the bed beside her. She was waiting, nervously, for the carriage which would take her to a new, unknown and grown-up phase in her life.
She had been a boarding pupil at Miss Pritchard’s Academy for girls in York for the last five years and now at nearly sixteen it was time for her to leave. She would be very sorry to go and she knew she would sadly miss the security and sense of belonging that the school had given her. She had been happy at the Academy and
Tante
Marie-Claire, the house mistress for the boarding girls, had been like a mother to her.
Marianne lifted her small, pointed chin and straightened her shoulders; she was determined to think about her future life in positive terms.
Tante
Marie-Clare said that her guardian, Viscount Edward Granger, must be a very fine and kind gentleman to take on the responsibility for her following the death of his own father, her original guardian. Marianne was less sure. Why had he never even written to her? Her parents had placed her at the Academy when she was but nine years-old because they had been called on to undertake missionary work in a small country in Africa. They had visited her once when she was ten when they were on a brief visit back to England before setting off on their travels again. She remembered how she had pleaded with them not to leave her, to take her with them. But they said the life in Africa was not suitable for a child. Marianne had been terribly disappointed. She had day-dreamed of exploring wild, dangerous places, and encountering the exotic animals she loved to read about. She chaffed for
some
kind of adventure to relieve the humdrum existence of schoolwork and lady-like past-times such as needlepoint—at which she was
dreadful—
and artwork—so
tedious
—that she had to endure. She treasured the occasional gifts from her parents of small animals carved in wood or smooth ivory and wove fantasies around what she would do or say if she happened to run into such animals in the bush. She was certain if she came upon a lion she would be able to scramble up a tree before he could pounce on her. She didn’t think lions could climb trees. Every night she fell asleep with her favourite animal, a small wooden rhinoceros next to her pillow.
But as the years went by the gifts stopped arriving. Marianne made friends and though the dreams of adventure never quite died, she settled into life at the school.
When Marianne was thirteen she was told that both her parents had died of a tropical fever. She had been very upset at the time but, looking back, their deaths had caused her life to change very little. They had left enough money for her to continue her education and Viscount Bernard Granger, who was her father’s cousin, had been appointed her guardian. Uncle Bernard and his wife, Aunt Mary, as they asked to be called, had sent her a small gift on her fourteenth birthday and had visited her very briefly on one other occasion but otherwise had shown little interest in her. School holidays were spent with friends or at the Academy where she remained and helped
Tante
Marie-Claire.
Then suddenly, out of the blue, just before her fifteenth birthday she was sent word that Uncle Bernard had died of a heart attack and that his eldest son, Edward, had taken over her guardianship. Once again nothing had immediately changed for her and she had happily remained at Miss Pritchard’s Academy. Marianne had hoped that when she reached her sixteenth birthday, and was no longer eligible to stay at the school as a pupil, she may be allowed to stay on and help with teaching the younger children. She had never met Edward who was now Viscount Granger and was therefore extremely surprised when the headmistress called her into the office shortly before her sixteenth birthday and informed her that she was to live with the Viscount and his mother, Aunt Mary, at their home, Granger Hall. Granger Hall she knew was just outside York, near Askern Bryan, less than twenty miles from the school, but she had never been there.
“Well, Marianne,” Miss Pritchard looked at her kindly over the rims of her spectacles, “it seems we are going to lose you after all. But this is a wonderful opportunity for you. I do hope you appreciate it.”
Marianne’s heart ached at the thought of leaving the only place and people that she knew and cared about. But Miss Pritchard was right. Living with a Viscount in a mansion, with probably a stable full of horses she would ride, would be a grand adventure—even though it was a little frightening to step into the unknown. “Yes, Ma’am,” she replied. “I do recall Aunt Mary being very nice when I met her, so I am sure everything will be for the best.”
So, here she was, sitting on the bed waiting to be taken to live in a house she had never seen and with people she did not really know. A faint knock at the door startled her but she relaxed and smiled as
Tante
Marie-Claire glided into the room.
“Ze carriage it iz ‘ere for you
ma chere
.
Vite. Vite
. It iz waiting”
“Has my Aunt Mary come to collect me?” Marianne wanted to prepare herself for the meeting.
“I am afraid,
non
. Ze carriage ‘as been sent and a maid and footman are to accompany you to ze hall… Come,
ma petite
all will be well. Your Aunt Mary will be waiting for you at ze Granger Hall.”
Tante
Marie-Clare took hold of Marianne’s small hand and gave her a gentle pull. As Marianne rose to her feet, her slender form was enveloped in the older woman’s arms and pulled into her ample bosom, a place where, over the years, she had sort and received comfort many times.
Marianne returned
Tante
Marie-Clare’s hug and fought to keep the tears from her eyes as it suddenly hit her that this was goodbye. Marie Clare eventually released her and gently pushed her toward the door.
Miss Pritchard and Marie-Claire walked out with her to the driveway where the carriage was waiting. Marianne’s cornflower blue eyes widened as she saw the splendid town carriage with the Granger coat of arms emblazoned on the side. The footman helped her into the carriage and a young maid took up a seat opposite her. The comfortably padded upholstery inside the carriage was luxurious; hot bricks were provided for her feet and the maid handed her a thick travelling rug.
“This will keep you warm, Miss Granger. My name is Daisy and I am to be your personal maid. I ‘ope I will please you, but please be patient because I ’ave only ever helped Lady Mary’s maid up to now.”
The maid, although more well rounded, looked no older than Marianne herself. Her plump cheeks were flushed and she seemed anxious. Marianne immediately reassured her.
“I am pleased to meet you, Daisy,” she said kindly. “I have never had a personal maid before so we will learn together. Have you worked at Granger Hall for many years?”
Daisy smiled widely causing dimples to appear in her cheeks. “Oh, yes Miss. I have been there for almost six years—since I was ten and I have worked my way up from the kitchens.”
“You must be very proud of yourself and I hope that I will not be an over taxing mistress. Pray can you tell me how long it will take us to reach Granger Hall?”
“Oh, since the roads are clear,” Daisy said after appearing to give the matter some thought, “by this evening I should think”.
Marianne settled back to enjoy the journey. She would have loved to question Daisy further about Granger Hall and its inhabitants but realized that this would not be appropriate. She knew from her father that the Granger Estate was quite sizable and that the new Hall had been built by the present Viscount’s great grandfather who was also Marianne’s great grandfather.
They made one stop along the way for refreshments and to change horses. As the journey progressed, Marianne became less relaxed and increasingly nervous at the thought of meeting her relatives. She had been surprised when they had offered her a home and she fervently hoped she would not prove to be a disappointment or a burden to them. She was unsure if her parents had left her any money that had not already been spent on school fees. She wondered if she was indeed being welcomed as a relative or a poor relation dependant on their financial support with no dowry and little hope of marrying. Why hadn’t she asked Miss Pritchard or even her guardian about the state of her affairs? Well, it was too late now. She would remedy this uncertain situation the first chance she got.
Marianne was jolted out of her thoughts by Daisy. “Now, Miss, we are almost there. We have just entered the grounds of the estate and you will soon be able to see the Hall.”
Marianne looked out of the window as they drove down a splendid tree-lined drive. Eventually she saw the Hall come into view. It was a magnificent stone-built structure and the pale stone seemed to shimmer giving it an almost fairy-tale quality. The carriage pulled up into the large circular driveway in front of the Hall and stopped in front of the wide stone steps that led up to the front door. No one was waiting to greet her. The footman opened the carriage door, dropped the steps and helped her alight.
Marianne had butterflies in her stomach as she began to climb the stairs to the massive front doors. Daisy followed behind her, ineffectually trying to brush the creases out of her skirt with her hands. When they were about half way up the stairs the front door suddenly opened and a tall, uniformed man stood at the opening.
“That is William Smithson, the butler,” Daisy whispered to her.
Smithson bowed formally as he held the door open wider to admit her into the spacious, two-storied entrance hall tiled with black and white marble squares. “Daisy take Miss Granger’s cloak and check that the fire is lit in her room,” he ordered crisply. Then bowing slightly to Marianne, “Miss Granger, please follow me. Lord Granger is waiting for you in the drawing room.” Smithson’s voice, not loud but clear, sounded as if he was a man used to having his orders obeyed and Daisy scurried to do his bidding.
Marianne, also, did as she had been bid and soon found herself facing Viscount Edward Granger, who rose from a deep armchair to greet her as she entered the room. Her first thought was:
he is much younger than I thought!
“Miss Granger. My Lord,” Smithson announced. Not a hair on his grey head falling out of place when he bowed low as he left the room, leaving the young girl alone with his master.
Marianne was very self-conscious as her guardian slowly looked her up and down. Although she had dressed in her second best day gown she knew that with its muted grey floral fabric and high neckline it was dowdy and old fashioned. She felt as if she had been appraised and been found wanting and she knew she must be blushing a most unseemly red as she could feel her cheeks burning. She bit her bottom lip, squared her thin shoulders and, ignoring the impulse to turn tail and run back to the Academy, stood her ground. She tried not to feel pinned to the carpet by her guardian’s surprisingly crystal clear blue eyes.
Lord Granger was immaculately attired in a very fashionable dark brown jacket over matching long trousers, a green silk waistcoat, a brilliant white shirt with a high collar and a neck tie fastened in a most complicated style. He was tall, at least a good foot taller than she was, which made him seem to tower over her five feet two inches. With his chiselled cheekbones, aristocratic nose and somewhat shaggy, shoulder length blond hair, he was a strikingly handsome man.
His deep voice broke into her silent appraisal. “As you are aware, I am the son of your late father’s cousin and now I find I am also your guardian. Please sit.” He indicated a plush upholstered chair and after she sat down, took a seat opposite her.
“I am pleased to meet you, my Lord,” Marianne said, “and I would like to tell you how grateful I am for being offered a home at Granger Hall.” She had been rehearsing what she was going to say and so managed not to stutter even though she felt very nervous. She had not expected him to be so young nor so intimidatingly good looking. She had also expected her Aunt would have been here to greet her.
Viscount Granger must have sensed her unspoken question. “I am afraid my mother is indisposed at the moment. She has been suffering with poor health and strained nerves since the death of my father. She sends her apologies for not being able to welcome you to Granger Hall.”
Marianne was immediately concerned. “I trust she is not too ill.”
“I am optimistic that she will be well enough to join us for dinner,” the Viscount hastened to relieve her concern. ” She is looking forward to meeting you and is hoping you will provide company for her as she rarely leaves the house these days.”
Looking at his stern face it seemed to Marianne that the Viscount was not happy at having been left with the task of greeting her so she thought it would be prudent to take her leave of him as soon as she could. “I was sorry to hear of the death of your father and I hope that your mother’s health improves with time.” When this elicited no response she continued in a rush, “I am somewhat tired and grimy after my journey. It has been a long day and I did not get much sleep last night and could not get much rest in the carriage, although it was a very comfortable carriage”—
good Lord she was beginning to babble
, “so would it be possible for me to go to my room to freshen up?”
“Of course, I will ring for your maid to show you to the room my mother has allocated for you. I will expect you to take meals with the family. Dinner is at eight o’clock sharp.”
Edward stood and pulled the bell for the maid as he spoke. Marianne jumped to her feet. She was grateful to get the interview over with and escape when Daisy appeared. Glancing back as she walked toward the door she thought her guardian looked as though he was also relieved.
When Marianne followed Daisy into the room that was to be her bedroom, despite Daisy’s chatter, she was rendered speechless. The room was enormous and a large four-poster bed with gold coloured satin drapes dominated. A fire burned in the hearth giving a warm glow to the sumptuous, cream and gold damask wallpaper covering the walls. She slowly walked across to the windows and found that she had a magnificent view over the formal gardens to the rear of the Hall. In front of one of the two double windows was a small, mahogany writing desk and matching chair. A large, comfortable leather chair had been placed in front of the fire. Turning, she went through a door that led to a small dressing room in which her trunk had been placed. The trunk was open and she could see that Daisy was already busy unpacking and hanging up her modest gowns.