The next morning was damp and grey, but without rain. Yet at breakfast, Harry was still undecided about leaving.
‘I think we should wait another day,’ he said, spreading marmalade thickly on his toast. ‘To be on the safe side. The roads will be in a state.’
After a restless night, I was now convinced that Lucinda had gone into labour and was calling out for me. The thought of her being alone with Mrs Busby and that womanfalling into a trance was making me agitated to the point that I spoke sharply to him.
‘What is a bit of mud, Harry? We have to try! Do you not care about Lucy at all?’
It was naughty of me to say that, but I needed to get it through his thick skull that time was of the essence.
His mouth tightened, and I knew I had offended him by my words. ‘I’m sorry, Harry. I know you care. I am simply anxious,’ I said hastily.
‘I understand your concern, Fliss. But we are of no help to Lucy if my carriage gets stuck. Tilly, what do you think?’
Tilly, wisely, had been keeping out of it and concentrating on eating her breakfast. ‘I can see both sides of the argument,’ she said diplomatically. ‘Whatever you think is best.’
Finally, in the late morning, Harry could bear me pacing up and down the parlour no longer.
‘Let us go,’ he said. ‘If we drive fast enough, we may skim through the mud before it has time to bog us down.’
I could have hugged him.
‘An excellent idea! And one you shall not regret!’ I cried, running off to don my pelisse and collect my luggage. ‘Tilly!Tilly!Ready yourself! We are leaving forthwith!’
We made good time out of London, for although theroads were waterlogged, there was not too much traffic. As Harry said, ‘Who would be foolhardy enough to gad about in such poor weather?’
Who indeed? As we barrelled along the slick roads, hearts in mouths every time the wheels skidded, I envied the people who could look out of the window, debate whether they really needed to travel, decide no (they could wait a few days, even a week if they must), draw the curtains, and turn their thoughts to what to have for supper. But we were not taking a joyride—we had pressing birth business that could not wait another minute.
Fortunately, we arrived at Rochester without incident, where Harry said we would break our journey for the night at the Bull Inn. I was about to protest and say, ‘It is only another thirty miles. We should keep going.’ But from the tightening of Harry’s lips and the firm set of his jaw, I decided not to push my luck. He was right. It was sensible to rest and feed the horses (and ourselves) and get to Godmersham safely.
Besides, for the last few miles, Tilly had been telling us about her brother’s farm in Oxfordshire and the generous roast dinners she had enjoyed there. So my mouth was watering.
The next morning, after scoffing enormous plates of bacon, eggs, and toast, we were back on the road. Butbarely two miles out of Rochester, the carriage ran into some deep mud and got bogged down. We all had to get out and push.
I was beginning to think we would have to walk when, thanks to divine providence, two strapping young gentlemen rode past on horseback. Harry flagged them down. Upon seeing my condition, they were most alarmed that I was overexerting myself and agreed to help immediately. One of them even exclaimed, ‘Madam, we do not want you to pop on the roadside!’ which made me laugh.
The two men removed jackets and hats, rolled up their shirtsleeves, and put their broad shoulders to the side of the carriage. With a few heaving thrusts, it rolled out of the sticky mud. Of course, I averted my eyes and did not stare at their bare forearms or straining thigh muscles in their breeches (well, not too much!).
When Harry assured them the carriage was quite intact and we were not in need of any further assistance, the gentlemen bowed and bid us good day before mounting their horses and speeding off. It was all rather exciting, and Tilly was quite overcome!
I wished Jane and Elizabeth had been there as the gentlemen were very handsome. They would have made a couple of dashing heroes for Jane’s novels. But if Elizabeth had been with us, she would have tried to determinewhether the men were single, rich, and lived near Steventon. Then there would have been a cringeworthy matchmaking attempt for Jane. Perhaps it was better that neither of them was there!
After that, there were no further incidents on the road. We made excellent time, and arrived at Godmersham in the late morning, the carriage covered in dried mud. Yet before I could unlatch the door, Jane came running out of the house and stuck her head through the window.
Her cap was askew. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her hands were trembling on the sill. ‘I’ve been keeping a lookout for you,’ she panted.
I grasped her hands, which were frozen.Oh no! What have we arrived to?
‘Mrs Busby is with Lucy. We need the new midwifenow!’
I looked at Harry, whose eyes were wide. My heart thumped in my chest. I knew it—I knew it was happening!
‘Take Flissy to the house, Mr Hart,’ Jane gasped. ‘I need to do a midwife swap. Good luck, dearest! Act as if your life depended on it.’
Jane blew me a kiss, and she and Tilly sped off around the side of the house. Her words sunk in, and I realised that I couldn’t visit Lucinda too. I had to pretend I was giving birth!
My gut leapt in fright. We had not really discussed this aspect in great detail. There had always seemed enough time to do so. And Elizabeth said most births happened at night, so she would plonk the baby in my arms the next morning and tell everyone that it was an ‘easy birth—so easy, in fact, that Felicity barely screamed. I wish all of mine were like that’.
But now that it came down to it, why should I give the impression that it was easy? It was not easy, and I felt I should be letting Max down if I didn’t at least show that I hadearnedour baby.
