“One of those short flights beside one of the little waterfalls on the upper river. I must have slipped down… oh, perhaps three or four steps.”
“Three or four… but is there any pain?”
Is the baby hurt?
“I am a little achy where I fell… my arm and left leg, mostly. I shall have some splendid bruises in a day or two.”
As they reached the top step, the duke appeared, with the same terrified expression and the same litany of questions, and the unspoken one —is the baby hurt?
“Froggett? Where is Froggett?” the duke cried. “Ah, there you are. Send for the physician at once.At once!”
“Already done, your grace,” Froggett said, wringing his hands.
“And the midwife,” Richard said. “Just in case.”
And there it was, the unspoken fear brought into plain sight.
“Yes, yes, an excellent idea,” said the duke, walking helplessly alongside the little group escorting Rowena, his arms spread wide as if to shield her from trouble. “Just to check that all is well.”
“Ow!” Rowena said, stopping abruptly.
“What is it?” Richard whispered. “A pain?”
She laughed suddenly, the sound echoing in the cavernous entrance hall. “The baby kicked me.”
They all laughed then, in relief. A kicking baby must be a good sign. He was unharmed, then!
“Ah, the little fellow does not like being tumbled down steps, I dare say,” the duke said, indulgently. “He is registering his displeasure.”
Sophia watched them to the bottom of the stairs, but by then half the household had appeared wanting to know what had happened, so, after sending a footman to find Maria and Charlotte, she took everyone into a parlour to tell the tale and listen to the ladies’ prognostications. Cousin Hester was sure the baby would be born deformed, but Mama laughed that off.
“He is very well protected inside his mother, I assure you,” she said.
The midwife arrived first, half running up the drive. A few minutes later, the apothecary arrived in his gig. And two hours later, the stylish carriage of the physician from Brinchesterpulled up outside the house. All three were agreed that Mrs Richard would be somewhat bruised, but there was no serious damage caused and the baby inside her was perfectly well.
“He has a fine, strong kick,” Dr Percival said with a smile, as he sipped Madeira in the duke’s study. The whole household had crowded in to hear the verdict, and now there were sighs of relief all round. Even the duke was smiling.
Dinner that evening was a strange affair. Rowena kept to her room and Richard, too agitated to be in company, stayed with her. The rest of the party was surprisingly merry, aware that disaster had narrowly been averted.
Sophia was less merry. The image of the rake lying beneath the snow haunted her. How long had it lain there, waiting to catch an unwary walker? And what should she do about it? If she told anyone, there would be an almighty fuss, some hapless gardener would be dismissed without a reference and she did not want to be responsible for anyone losing his employment for a simple mistake. Yet she could not leave the rake lying there. Another snowfall would bury it again, and someone else could fall, with more serious consequences.
She had still not resolved the problem when she went to bed that night. She picked up her book and prepared to read for a while to put herself to sleep, but after a few minutes she closed it again. She knew clearly what she must do. Tomorrow, she would retrieve the rake and take it back to the head gardener. There was no need to mention that it had caused Rowena’s fall. Instead, she would just say that she saw it lying and thought it best to put it back where it belonged.
With that thought, she settled down to read, but the house was not quiet.
First, there were rapid footsteps along the passageway outside her room, followed by knocking on someone’s door —Mama’s she thought. Then low voices, and more footsteps. All was quiet for a while, then there was a gentle knock on the door.
“Sophia?” The door opened and Mama’s head appeared, lit by a flickering candle. “I saw the light under your door, so I thought you might still be awake.”
“I am. What is it?”
“Rowena’s pains have started and Richard is in a state.”
“It is too soon, surely!”
“Only a month or so, which is not disastrous. The midwife is sent for, but I have sent Richard down to the library to pace up and down, or get drunk, or whatever men do in such situations.” She sighed in exasperation. “Anything but sitting outside Rowena’s room agonising loudly and distracting her. Will you sit with him for a while? By and by, I will wake Charlotte to come and take over from you, but for now, let the others sleep. Will you go?”
“Of course. What did Papa do when you were labouring?”
