Deceived. Part 15

"I suppose they will want to call him after his father," Cally said glumly. " 'Tis tradition to call the Hawkesworth heir James or Charles. Valerian is the duke's middle name. His first is James, like his grandfather. I don't really care."

"But if you did," Aurora persisted gently, "what would you name this baby if the choice was all yours?"

"Robert, after Papa," Cally said.

"And if it is a little girl?"

"G.o.d forbid!" Cally cried, and then, "Ahhhhh! Why does it hurt so much? I did not know it would hurt so!"

Aurora took a cool cloth that Martha handed her and lay it on her sister's head. "I am certain it is a boy, but if it were a girl? The poor little mite must have a name, and it cannot be Robert."

"Charlotte, after the queen," Cally murmured, ever mindful of the social consequences of naming a daughter after the king's bride.

The bedchamber door opened and the duke entered, coming over to the bed. "Is she in labor?" he asked Aurora.

"I think so, your grace," Martha answered him. "Miss Aurora couldn't know the answer to such a thing. She has never been around a woman in this condition. I have. It's early, but not too early."

"Dr. Michaels has been sent for," Aurora said rea.s.suringly.

"Should you be here?" he asked her gently.

"No, she shouldn't," Martha said firmly.

"Cally wants me here," Aurora replied. "Just until the doctor comes? Please, Valerian. Cally is frightened. It cannot be good for her, or for the baby, if she is in terror." She placed a pleading hand upon the sleeve of his dressing gown, her look importuning him to acquiesce.

"Ahhh!" Cally moaned, and she began to cry. "It hurts so!"

He nodded. "Until the doctor says you must go," he told her. "I will await him downstairs." He leaned over and told Cally, "You are being very brave, my dear, and I thank you." Then he kissed her on the forehead and left the room.

"I hate him!" Cally exclaimed.

"Do not say it, I pray you," Aurora answered her sister.

"I do! If it were not for him, I should not be in such pain. I didn't want a child. I just wanted to be the d.u.c.h.ess of Farminster, and live in London, and give exquisite parties. I did not know I should have to do this. Ahhhhh!" She looked accusingly at her sister. "It is all your fault, Aurora! You did not tell me it would be like this!"

"Keep your voice down," Aurora warned Cally. "I did not tell you it would be like anything. I didn't know what it would be like to be the d.u.c.h.ess of Farminster. I just knew I didn't want to marry a stranger. You, however, were willing to do just that in order to be a d.u.c.h.ess, Cally. I will share the blame, if there is any blame, but I will most certainly not take full responsibility for your actions!"

Calandra turned her head away from Aurora's gaze. They waited now in silence as the minutes ticked by, the laboring woman crying out when the pains overtook her, but there was little they could do until Dr. Michaels arrived. A kettle was brought from the kitchens, filled with water, and set in the coals of the fireplace to heat. Several stacks of clean cloths and clean linens were placed conveniently. The ducal cradle was positioned by the fireplace in readiness for its occupant.

Downstairs, the duke paced back and forth, nervously awaiting the arrival of Dr. Michaels. He was surprised when a total stranger was escorted into the house by one of his grooms. He was a tall, well-set gentleman with a ruddy complexion.

"Your grace? I am William Carstairs, doctor of medicine. I am Edward Michaels's cousin, and his new partner. Dr. Michaels has gone to York to see his ailing father. I was given to understand that her grace was not due to deliver until the end of next month, or possibly the middle of the following month."

"We do not even know if Calandra is in labor, but she is in pain," the duke said, holding out his hand and shaking that of the doctor. "Thank you for coming. It is our first child, and no one in the house except my elderly grandmother really knows about childbirth. We chose not to awaken the dowager, as she has had an active day with my brother-in-law's wedding to Miss Bowen. We had intended calling you in tomorrow at any rate, as Calandra has not looked particularly herself of late."

The doctor nodded. "Let us go upstairs, then," he said.

As he entered Cally's bedchamber, Martha's eyes grew wide with recognition. "Dr. Carstairs," she said, surprised.

"Martha? Martha Jones? What on earth are you doing here?" Then his eye spied Aurora. "And Miss Aurora?"

Aurora arose from her place upon the bed. "It is Cally, Dr. Carstairs. She is in terrible pain with this child."

The doctor nodded, and then said to the duke, "Take Miss Aurora from the room while I examine her sister."

Cally weakly protested, but was scarcely heard as the doctor turned his full attention to her.

"How do you know Dr. Carstairs?" the duke asked Aurora as he escorted her from the bedroom.

"He came from Jamaica with us when Mama married Papa. My father didn't want to lose another wife in childbirth for lack of proper medical attention," she explained. "He was with us for ten years, and in that time taught several of the more intelligent slaves and bondsmen the art of doctoring so we would always have someone to attend to our needs should there be illness or injury among us. Where is Dr. Michaels? Why didn't he come?"

The duke explained, and Aurora nodded. They stood silently for several minutes, and then the doctor joined them.

"Your wife is indeed in labor, your grace," he announced. "It is, however, a difficult labor, and the child is not quite turned properly, so I expect it will be some hours before she delivers." He turned to Aurora. "Go to bed, child. This is not the place for you now, although remembering your bravery, I know you would remain if I let you, Miss Aurora. I will not, however. Cally will be fine in my company, and I will keep Martha and Sally with me to help. We will send you word of your sister's progress as it develops."

"Let me say good night to her at least," Aurora begged, and the doctor nodded, escorting her back into the bedchamber.

"Why did you leave me?" Cally protested to her sister.

"Because the doctor made me," Aurora said. "You remember Dr. Carstairs, Cally? He only left St. Timothy when we were twelve. Dr. Michaels is away, and Dr. Carstairs will be delivering your baby. He will not let me stay, but Martha and Sally will remain."

"I am going to die," Cally said in a strangely calm voice.

"Nonsense," Aurora replied. "You are just frightened, little one. Dr. Carstairs will take excellent care of you."

"I am going to die," Cally repeated firmly.

"Do not say such a thing!" Aurora begged her.

"I do not blame you," Cally continued. "I wanted to be a d.u.c.h.ess, Aurora. I didn't have to do it. I do not blame you."

"Come along now, child," the doctor said, his hand on Aurora's shoulder. "It is time for you to get some rest."

"You will not die, Cally," Aurora insisted.

"I love you," Cally replied as her sister was taken away, and she watched with sad eyes as the bedchamber door closed behind Aurora.

"What a mean thing to say to your sister," Martha scolded Calandra. "Having a baby won't excuse you. Shame on you!"

But Cally said nothing, instead turning her face away from Martha as she had from Aurora earlier. The hours moved on slowly at first, and then with exceeding speed. It was dawn, and then midday. The dowager came to see how Calandra was doing, speaking kindly to the girl, and then leaving, strangely disturbed.

"Why is it taking so long?" she demanded of the doctor as he brought her from the bedchamber. "The child decides to come early, and then will not be born. What is the matter, Dr. Carstairs?"

The doctor shook his head. "I do not know, your grace, but while I am concerned, the young d.u.c.h.ess has been in labor only about ten hours. That is not really too long. We can be patient yet."

"Indeed," grumbled the dowager to Aurora, who had joined them. "Trust me, my dear Aurora, if it were the man having the baby, nine hours ago would have been long enough. Patience! Hummmph!"

"Cally says she is going to die," Aurora said quietly.

"Now, now," the dowager comforted the young woman, "that is just your sister's fear and her sense of the dramatic speaking. By tomorrow she will be delivered, beginning to feel well again, and planning her triumphant return to London, I am certain." But Mary Rose Hawkesworth was not certain at all. Calandra had not looked right for several days now, and this early labor did not bode well. She could easily die. Childbirth was a dangerous business.

The afternoon faded into evening. Aurora had asked twice to be allowed to visit with her sister, but Dr. Carstairs would not permit it. Dinner was a silent affair, and afterward Aurora sought her bedroom. There she found Martha, who looked quite exhausted, sitting dozing by the fire.

Aurora shook her gently. "Martha, what has happened? How is Cally? Is the baby born yet?"

"Dr. Carstairs sent me and Sally away to rest a bit, miss," her servant said. "It ain't good. Oh, it ain't good. Poor Miss Calandra is getting weaker by the minute, and the baby won't be born. She's going to die, miss. I'm so sorry to say it, but she is!"

Aurora ran from her bedchamber and to her sister's room. The doctor came forward as she burst through the door, but with a surprising show of strength the girl pushed him aside and went to her sister's side. "Cally! Cally! Open your eyes this minute," she commanded.

Calandra's hazel eyes opened slowly. She looked at Aurora with a weak smile. "I knew you would come before it was too late," she said. Then she shuddered, and her look grew vacant.

"Doctor!" Aurora's voice was almost a scream.

He came quickly to the bedside, and taking Cally's wrist, sought for a pulse. There was none. He put his ear to her chest, but the young woman's heart was stilled. Looking up, he said to Aurora, "I am sorry, Miss Aurora, but your sister is dead."

"The baby! Is the baby dead too? Oh, G.o.d! Don't let Cally's death have been in vain! What of the baby?" Aurora cried.

"Fetch me my medical kit," he ordered her. "Will you faint at the sight of blood? Go and fetch Martha. Hurry!"

She practically flung the black leather bag that held the necessities of his doctoring skills at him, and then she dashed from the bedroom, sobbing wildly, calling for Martha. The servant stumbled from her chair and practically collided with her young mistress.

"It's Cally," Aurora wept hysterically. "She is dead! Oh, Martha! My sister is dead, and it is all my fault! Go! Hurry! The doctor wants you to aid him. He will try to save the baby."

Martha dashed into the d.u.c.h.ess's bedroom, where the doctor stood staring down in horror at the bed. "What is it, sir?" she asked him tremulously, attempting to see around his bulky figure.

"Come no farther!" he said sharply.

"What is it?" she repeated nervously.

He turned, white-faced. "Look if you will, but it is a terrible sight, Martha Jones. No wonder poor Calandra could not deliver her child. It is a monster, but praise G.o.d in his mercy, it is dead."

Determined but fearful, Martha gazed down upon Calandra, whose belly had been opened by the doctor in his desperate effort to save the duke's heir. "It's two babies," she said softly. "What's that about their necks, Doctor, and why are they so close together? Why, they look as if their poor little bodies are united." Then she gave a little scream. "G.o.d help us! They have but two legs! Oh, Doctor! What is it that poor Miss Cally has borne in her body all these months?"

He shook his head in his own wonderment. "I have heard of such a thing, but rarely. Had they been normally formed, they might have been twins, but of what s.e.x, I cannot tell, for they are conjoined in such a manner to make it impossible. They have two heads and necks; each has a set of shoulders and an upper chest, and each has two arms, but the rest of their trunk is one, and there are but two legs. They have been strangled by their own cord, thank G.o.d! I will sew the d.u.c.h.ess back up, Martha Jones, and we will tell the duke the child was dead in its mother's womb, which is no lie. There is no need to say what we have seen this day. There will be sorrow enough in this house, and as Miss Aurora is to be married herself in a few months, there is no need to frighten her with her poor sister's misfortune, eh, Martha?"

Martha nodded. The sight of Cally's monster would remain with her for the rest of her days. It was horrible. Then she had a thought. "They'll ask what the babe was, Doctor. Tell them a wee girl. There will be so much sadness over this as it is. The duke has been good to us. Don't let him think he lost a son as well as a wife."

"It is no son," the doctor said softly, "but I do not think it is a daughter either." Then he shook himself and said, "Go and fetch the duke, but I do not want him to come into this room yet. Ask him to await me in the library, Martha. And see to your mistress. She was here when her sister died. Calandra's last words were for her."

As Martha left the room, the doctor began to sew up his patient's belly. He was astounded by what he had seen, and wondered what could have possibly caused Calandra to conceive such a creature. Shaking his head, he worked with swift, neat st.i.tches. He didn't want anyone else seeing what he and Martha had seen. Poor girl, he thought. If she had lived, if the creature had survived, what would have become of them all? No mother could surely look upon such a monstrosity and love it. It might have driven her to madness.

Martha hurried down the hallway. Her first concern was for her mistress. The duke could wait. They all could wait. Aurora's earlier words had disturbed Martha, and she had to make her understand that she was not responsible for Calandra's fate. Cally had been offered a choice, and had willingly, nay, eagerly, accepted the responsibility of being Valerian Hawkesworth's wife. No. Not his wife. His d.u.c.h.ess. Cally had not been a true or good wife at all, G.o.d rest the poor soul.

She could hear Aurora weeping bitterly even before she entered the bedroom. The girl was sprawled across her bed, sobbing as if her heart were broken, and in a sense, Martha realized, it was. Going to her mistress, she gathered the girl to her bosom and attempted to soothe her sorrow. "There, miss, there. It was G.o.d's will, and there's no standing against G.o.d's will now, is there?"

"Th-th-the b-b-b-baby?" Aurora queried.

"Dead too, a girl," Martha said shortly.

Aurora cried all the harder. "It was all for nothing," she sobbed. "All for nothing, Martha. Oh, my poor Cally." She looked up at her servant, her lovely face all red and wet. "It's my fault Cally is dead, Martha. It's all my fault! Did you and Mama not warn me that no good ever came of deception? But I would not listen, would I? And now my sister is dead because of my selfishness!" Her weeping began afresh, her whole body shaking turbulently.

Martha drew in a deep breath and then she grasped Aurora by the shoulders and looked her directly in the eyes. "It ain't your fault, miss. You didn't force Miss Cally into marriage. She had a choice, but the silly girl was so overwhelmed with the idea of being a d.u.c.h.ess that she was just as headstrong and willful as you're wont to get. All Miss Cally wanted of her marriage was to be beautiful and acclaimed, wear fine clothing and drive in a magnificent carriage, and give parties that all the mighty would come to after fighting over her invitations. But we didn't know that, did we? Your parents set you both a good example of a Christian marriage, miss. Miss Cally knew what was expected of her, but she refused to be a good wife to the duke. None of that is your fault, and I won't let you blame yourself for it!"

"But I am to blame, Martha," Aurora said woefully. "My father arranged a fine marriage for me with his friend's son, and when I learned of it I spurned it, and would not do my duty. I tempted Cally because I suspected that she would adore the idea of being a d.u.c.h.ess. I was right, and she took my place. By doing so, it has cost her her life. Had I done what my father expected of me and married Valerian Hawkesworth, my sister would be alive today. I do not hold myself responsible for Cally's behavior or actions, but I do hold myself responsible for my own."

"Well," Martha said in hard, practical tones, "you can't change what's done, miss. Miss Cally is gone, and that's a fact." She arose from the bed. "I got to go and fetch the duke for the doctor. Dry your eyes and wash your face. Then go find the old dowager. She'll need a bit of comforting to get over this shock." Martha stamped from the room, leaving Aurora alone once more.

The servant found the duke in his library and requested that he await Dr. Carstairs, beating a hasty retreat before Hawkesworth might ask her any questions. She met the doctor coming down the staircase as she was hurrying back up.

"Find the d.u.c.h.ess's maids, Martha," he told her, "and do what you can to make her look presentable." Then he moved on down the stairs and entered the duke's library.

Valerian Hawkesworth came quickly to his feet, looking anxiously at William Carstairs. "My wife, the child?" he said, but from the look on the doctor's face, he knew the news would not be good.

"I am very sorry, your grace, but they are both deceased. The labor was extremely difficult for your wife. She was unable to birth the child, and her poor little heart just gave out. I opened her belly surgically to save the infant-it was a girl-but it was dead, its cord wrapped tightly about its neck. I sewed up the incision, leaving the child with its mother. You have my deepest sympathies."

The duke nodded silently. Vain, foolish Calandra, he thought. She is dead, and our daughter with her. Poor girl. At least she will never again have to endure my attentions. A daughter. I would have enjoyed a daughter, but I needed a son. "I understand, Dr. Carstairs," he finally said. "We could all see that Calandra was having a difficult time these past months." He walked over to the mahogany sideboard and poured two tumblers of whiskey, handing one to the doctor. "I hope her suffering was not too great. Sit down, Doctor. You look tired."

"I am" came the admission as the doctor sat opposite the duke in the chairs that flanked the blazing fireplace. The fire was warm, and between it, and the excellent whiskey he was sipping, William Carstairs asked the question of Valerian Hawkesworth that he had been dying to ask him ever since he had entered the house. "I was always given to understand, your grace, that you were to marry the heiress of St. Timothy, and yet your wife was Calandra Spencer-Kimberly. How, may I ask, did your marriage come about?"

"I did marry the heiress to St. Timothy," the duke said. The poor doctor was obviously tired and confused.

"No, sir, you did not" came the firm reply. "Aurora Kimberly is the heiress of St. Timothy. I lived on the island, in the Kimberly house, for ten years. I was the only white man of breeding with whom Mr. Kimberly could speak, and we did so each evening after the meal was over. We sat either on the veranda of the house or in his library, drinking fruit juice and rum, and discussing all manner of things. He confided in me the betrothal agreement he and his good friend, Charles, Lord Hawkesworth, had arranged between their children even before Miss Aurora was born. He had not told his wife of the matter, for he hoped to make an equally good match for Calandra one day, and he wanted no jealousy over Aurora's match until he had a marriage set for his stepdaughter.

"I came to St. Timothy from Jamaica with the Kimberlys when they were first married. It was hoped in those days that his third wife might give him the heir he wanted, and so he desired a doctor on the island for emergencies. There had been none when Emily Kimberly died. I watched both Miss Aurora and Miss Calandra grow up. I left the island only five years ago to return to England. I would know them if they were my own daughters, your grace. Your d.u.c.h.ess was Calandra Spencer-Kimberly, Robert's stepdaughter, not Aurora, his daughter, and his heiress, of that I am absolutely certain."

Valerian Hawkesworth was numb with shock, and at the same time he felt a burning anger beginning to arise deep within him. What kind of a deception had been played upon him, and why? "I am as confused about this matter as you are, Dr. Carstairs," he said in a cool, even voice. "I was given to believe Calandra was the heiress, and certainly no part of her dowry was withheld from me. Mr. Kimberly is deceased, you may know. As I wished to marry and return to England as quickly as possible, a minister was brought from Barbados to perform the ceremony. My wife and I departed for home. Aurora and George came nine months later. Mistress Kimberly wanted them to seek out English mates. My brother-in-law married Miss Bowen yesterday, and they are even now on their way to St. Timothy. Aurora is to marry Mr. St. John in the spring."

"I did not know about Robert Kimberly," the doctor replied.

"I would request that you do not mention this matter to anyone," the duke said. "I will wish to investigate it myself, and I certainly desire no scandal at this time. My wife and child must be buried with dignity and honor. Nothing must detract from that."

"Of course, your grace," the doctor said, and finishing off his whiskey, he arose. "I must return to the surgery. With my cousin away, there may be another in need of my services." He bowed politely, and the duke nodded, standing.

"Thank you, Dr. Carstairs," he said, ushering him from the library and into the foyer of the house.

There Peters awaited with his long, dark cloak. Helping the doctor to don his garment, he said, "Your coach is waiting outside, sir. The horses are rested and fed, and your coachman is ready." The butler escorted the doctor outside, and then, returning inside, shut the door behind him, certain in the knowledge that the man was being helped into his coach by the grooms a.s.signed the task.

The duke was already climbing the stairs, and seeking out his grandmother. He found Aurora with her, comforting the old lady, and was torn between his anger and the pleasure he took in her kindness to Lady Hawkesworth. "Go to your room, Aurora," he said quietly. "You look exhausted, and there is nothing more that can be done tonight."

"George?" she said in a whispery voice. "Should we send after George and Betsy, Valerian?"

"I think not," he replied, looking to his grandmother for confirmation, and she nodded. "There is nothing they can do for poor Calandra, and I don't want to spoil their honeymoon. We shall send word on the next vessel bound for the western Indies. It will give them time to reach home and give your mother a little happiness before they must learn of this tragedy. Now, go to your room."

She curtsied to them and departed.

"What is it, Valerian?" his grandmother asked when Aurora was gone. "Something is distressing you, and it is not just the deaths that have happened in this house tonight. What is the matter?"

"Calandra was not the heiress to St. Timothy," he said, repeating what the doctor had told him.