‘Very well, madam. Have it ready by morning.’
Edgar returned to High Fell shortly after Michaelmas Day, full of news for his mother of invitations he had received as the acknowledged heir to Redfern. But not, Beth realised as she listened to their conversations in silence, any request to visit the Abbey.
‘Lord Redfern may not receive me but there are others who do.’
‘And the money has all gone,’ Mrs Collins replied sourly.
‘I am the heir to Lord Redfern, Mama. I have access to means. Just write and ask for what you need.’
‘Will you not live here, Edgar?’
‘High Fell is too isolated. Milo has his living just outside Leeds. I shall stay with him until I find suitable lodgings. Why don’t you move to Settle, Mama? The Golden Lion is very comfortable.’
Mrs Collins’s eyes became alert at this idea. ‘His lordship
will surely change his mind about you when you have a son. I believe there is a Dower House on the estate.’
‘It will be yours, Mama.’
Beth saw the obsession take over Mrs Collins’s eyes as she receded into her dream.
‘If I have a son,’ Edgar continued, ‘we shall both be installed in Redfern Abbey. Everything rests on a son.’ He glanced in Beth’s direction. ‘The girl is well? Mama! I asked you about the girl.’
‘I can speak for myself, Edgar, if you take the trouble to ask me.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Barden was not totally honest about you. You are wilful. I should not wish to present you to Lord Redfern. However, I shall not need you once the infant is born.’
Will not need her when her child is born?
What was he thinking of doing with her? Banishing her to a convent or worse?
‘Unless my child is a girl,’ Beth said. Even as she said it she wished she hadn’t. She would rather be in a nunnery than be forced to share Edgar’s bed again. In fact the harsh Blackstone regime would be more welcome to her than any more of Edgar’s assaults on her body.
Edgar shrugged. ‘You have proved yourself fertile and in robust health. You will give me a son eventually.’ He walked over to her, tweaked her nose between his knuckles and bent close to whisper in her ear, ‘The bedchamber will be my consolation.’
Beth felt a blush rise in her cheeks and wondered if she could put him off until after the birth. ‘How long will you be staying at High Fell,’ she asked.
‘I shall be here for the birth,’ he replied. ‘His lordship has expressed a wish that he witness the birth.’
Beth’s eyes widened. ‘His lordship will journey here?’
Mrs Collins, too, recovered and expressed surprise. ‘Surely he will not visit!’
Edgar addressed his mother. ‘He has insisted that a trusted servant attend the girl. Where the bloodline is concerned he will not leave things to chance. The birth will be observed.’
Beth had ceased to be shocked by the ways of the gentry, but that did not stop her protesting. ‘I will not have some stranger at my confinement!’
‘You will be quiet and do as you are told.’
‘I shall not, sir, not when you speak so of my well-being! You would do well to remember that my child will need a mother.’
‘Dear God, she is impudent as well as wilful.’
Mrs Collins advised her son, ‘You must take the strap to her after the child is born. I shall do the same.’
To Beth’s horror, he appeared to consider this. He stroked his mouth with his fingers and nodded thoughtfully.
She responded, ‘You would be wise to take great care of me, sir. Even if my child is a girl, you will need me to remain in good health.’ But these words made Beth realise that she was as anxious as he for her child to be a boy. Heaven forbid that she would have to lie with him for years until she produced the necessary heir.
‘His lordship is sending his own surgeon, a loyal and trusted gentleman who has served the family all his life. He is advanced in years but his lordship is insisting that he sees the mother and delivers the child himself.’
Beth felt a sense of relief that the servant would be a medical man, but Mrs Collins seemed affronted by this
explanation. ‘I do not see the need. Does he not acknowledge that you are the child’s father?’
‘He does. Milo presented the evidence to his lawyers and clergy,’ Edgar shrugged. ‘However, his lordship believes that if the child is a girl I shall swap her for a boy born to some local family. Milo tells me it has been known to happen where fortunes are concerned.’
And there is a considerable fortune at stake here, Beth thought. She remembered from her marriage ceremony that Milo wanted the Redfern living and she wondered what other favours Edgar had promised him.
‘Dear God, Mama, she had better give me a son. It will secure me an income, for his lordship will consider it his duty to settle a trust on the boy that I shall control as the boy’s father.’
If her dowry had gone, Beth wondered where his money was coming from at present.
Beth’s favourite spot for her afternoon rest was a window seat on the landing that faced west. Not only was it sheltered from the cold easterly winds but it also had a view of the track down to the stream. While Mrs Collins slept, she curled up and watched for the surgeon’s trap to appear, constantly worried that he had not led it safely over the bridge.
She had eaten as well as she dared for any excess gave her lingering heartburn and she hoisted her feet onto the ledge and covered them with a warm woollen blanket while she allowed her food to digest. Dusk came early as the days shortened towards winter and she had to peer through the gloom but, yes, two riders were approaching. As they neared she saw that it was Edgar and Milo. Milo’s carriage was following at a distance behind.
When they swept into the farmhouse yard below her she heard Edgar say, ‘Leave the horses, Milo. Shipton has taken over from Roberts and he will see to them.’ She remembered that Milo was the clergyman who had married them and a long-standing friend of her husband. The draught from the door rushed up the stairs and riffled her skirts as they entered. She heard their boots echo on the floorboards and then the sound of sparks flying as he added logs to the fire. They were almost beneath her and she could hear their voices clearly.
‘Sorry about taking the carriage back, Edgar old chap, but you know how these things work. I shall need to impress the ladies.’ He laughed. ‘I should have kept Elizabeth Smith for myself.’
‘You’re a vicar with a good stipend. You’ll find an heiress, surely?’
‘I am the son of a brewer and my parish is on the edge of a middle-class town.’ Milo sounded doubtful. ‘Were it Redfern Abbey with its fine rectory and prosperous village, I might be able to tempt some minor aristocrat.’
‘The Abbey living will be yours just as soon as his lordship dies, I promise you.’
‘That could be years away. He is old but I am reliably informed he has a sound constitution. My vocation requires me to take a wife and I have put it off for too long already. Like you, I have no family trust to draw on so I must marry into money.’
‘What about one of the daughters from Fellwick Hall?’
‘I’m afraid they are too coarse and tweedy for my parish. They like their country pursuits too much to settle in a town.’
‘Then you must look to the towns for your bride. Redfern coal mines have been feeding manufactories all over the South Riding. Many fortunes have been made already.’
‘Indeed. Commercial and trades men like my father have prospered as a result. A successful merchant would pay well to see his daughter married to a respectable clergyman.’
‘I believe you’re right. Have you anyone in mind?’
‘Not yet. But I shall have invitations over the festive season. The town matrons hold
soirées
in town – musicians and singers, card tables and suppers. I am a presentable bachelor and with my own carriage I am sure I shall be popular with the well-off daughters in my parish. I plan to be wed within the year.’
‘Let’s sit by the fire and drink to that.’
Beth returned to her chamber and heaved her bloated body onto the high bed. It was November and there was a good fire. She had been moved to a large bedchamber next to Edgar’s in readiness for the birth. Although he never stayed more than a couple of nights at High Fell, she was relieved that he had not insisted on his marital rights in deference to the child. But did all women grow so large? Dear heaven, her child must be ready now, and surely only a male child would grow so big. Mrs Roberts had to wait on her and she did so most ungraciously but nonetheless competently. The housekeeper came in and set down an armful of linen on the chest.
‘Leave my undergarments out,’ Beth said. ‘We have a visitor and I should like to dress and come downstairs for dinner.’
‘The mistress won’t have it, you being such a sight. I’ll bring you a tray.’
Probably with poison in it, Beth thought. Mrs Roberts blamed Beth for everything that went wrong with her life including being too ill to see her husband buried as though it were Beth’s fault the bridge had collapsed.
Beth did not argue and kept calm for the sake of her
unborn baby. The days passed, and every day she willed him to appear. He squirmed and kicked so frequently she thought he must have eight legs. But she loved him already and knew he was sure to be a blessing for all of them. She looked forward to and welcomed motherhood. Her marriage was not happy but an infant would give her the fulfilment she needed to survive her life at High Fell Farm. The months of waiting would soon be over and she allowed her excitement to bubble as she listed the names she might choose for her child.
She heard the distant sound of shotguns on the fell. Edgar was staying at Fellwick Hall with other visiting gentry, to stalk deer. He would be back soon though for the birth if not for her sake. Knowing how much he needed an heir gave her the confidence to ignore the rudeness of the other women she lived with. Motherhood was her future and she grew excited at the prospect. Beth acknowledged that she would never be able to love her husband, not even as the father of her child. She had no respect for him so it was impossible. She realised, though, that she did not care because she would have her children. Yes, children. She would have more. A few minutes of Edgar’s brutishness could give her a lifetime of love from a child. Do hurry up, she whispered to the mound under the bedclothes in front of her.
A few days later, she watched through the bedchamber window as Edgar arrived with Milo and the Redfern surgeon, Dr Melville, in Milo’s carriage. Edgar brought the medical man into her bedchamber. He was elderly and dressed in old-fashioned breeches and powdered wig. He had a serious face and brisk manner.
‘Good afternoon, ma’am.’ He bowed his head briefly and turned to her husband. ‘Forgive my intrusion, sir, but when
labour starts I should like a day bed put up in this room so I may be with your wife at all times. I trust you do have your own bedchamber?’
‘I do.’
‘Excellent. You may continue relations as normal before the birth.’
There was a pause of a few seconds while Edgar realised what the doctor meant.
‘But I have not lain with her for months. She said it was for the baby’s safety.’
‘There is no need for that, sir. You will not harm the child. Indeed you may bring on his birth and by the size of her it is time.’
‘Is that so? It will hurry him along?’
Dr Melville nodded seriously. ‘I advise it, sir. It is a tried and tested method.’
Beth despaired of this advice. ‘Is there no other way, sir?’
The doctor’s offended expression told her he was not used to his wisdom being questioned.
Edgar glowered at her and she glared back. He grimaced as though the idea was as distasteful to him as it was to her. ‘We’ll do it after dinner,’ he said and opened the door to leave, adding, ‘Be ready for me.’
When he had closed the door behind him she pleaded with the doctor. ‘Surely such activity must harm my unborn child?’
‘I sincerely hope you are not going to be a difficult mother. You are under my orders now and I know what is best. Now, call your maid so I may examine you.’
Beth threw back her bedcovers and attempted to swing her legs out of bed. ‘I do not have a maid but I am not an invalid. I’ll fetch Mrs Roberts.’
The doctor looked about the chamber. ‘No maid and no bell. I shall speak to your husband. Stay where you are.’ He went out leaving Beth to contemplate nervously how he would examine her. She would have preferred a village midwife, a mature woman who had borne children herself and understood how she felt. But, she supposed she should be grateful that his lordship’s lawyers had seen fit to send his personal surgeon for her benefit.
She was relieved that he didn’t return before dinner. Through the door she heard voices and laughter from the hall below and guessed Dr Melville was dining with Edgar and Milo. Mrs Roberts brought her some soup which she placed on a side table without a word. Beth called a ‘thank you’ but clearly the housekeeper was far too harassed by visitors to acknowledge her. She lay awake listening to the deep tones of the gentlemen’s voices below, then boots on the stairs and landing until, finally, Edgar entered the chamber.
She was prepared for him. ‘Surely you can’t want to do this, Edgar. See how large I am? I cannot seem at all pretty for you.’
He turned down the corners of his mouth and frowned. ‘You’ve not even tried. Look at you! Your hair is tied off your face and not curled, and that nightgown—’
‘It is the only one large enough, dearest. Why not wait until after the birth?’
‘Because Lord Redfern’s surgeon has advised me otherwise and he knows what is best. It is time my son was born.’
‘My baby will come when he is ready. I – I –’ Her voice dropped for she knew she would be disobeying her husband. ‘Truly, Edgar, I should prefer you to wait.’
‘Oh would you? Why should I listen to you?’
‘Because I don’t want you to do it,’ she replied quietly.
‘How dare you insult me? You are my wife. It is your duty to want what I want and do as I wish.’
‘Please understand, Edgar. My body is uncomfortable and I am weary. You are – well, a large gentleman and too heavy.’