Prologue
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1870, Cornwall, England
‘Has it started?’
‘Four hours ago, Doctor Birch,’ replied the butler, taking the man’s hat and coat and immediately handing them on to a passing footman.
The doctor ran a trembling hand through his short white hair. ‘Where is she? In her room?’
‘Yes. The same room as you saw her in yesterday.’ The doctor headed for the staircase with the butler hurrying in his wake. ‘Let me show you the way,’ he offered.
‘I know the bloody way!’ snapped the doctor. Much to his annoyance, the butler continued to follow him. ‘You don’t need to trail me like a puppy dog,’ he complained loudly, without turning round.
The experienced butler faltered like a novice on the stair, his cheeks burning red by the reprimand. The doctor did not notice or care and continued to climb the stairs alone.
Doctor Birch had come to know Cedar Lodge well. Originally built in Tudor times, it had been extensively refurbished and modernised by its owner, Howard Pendragon, and was now an elegant country house, far grander than its modest name. Recently installed large bay windows encouraged more light into the rooms, which had been prone to darkness in the past, and a new wing had also been erected. However, despite Cedar Lodge growing in grandeur, compared to Carrack House, which belonged to his older brother, Sir Robert Pendragon, it would always be found lacking both in size and position. Cedar Lodge would always remain the smaller and more isolated of the two, and have the stigma of being the property of the ‘spare heir’ who had no role to fill.
‘Doctor Birch, you are here!’ The doctor’s steps slowed at the sound of Howard’s voice coming from the hall below. His grip tightened on the handle of his bag and he braced his shoulders. He silently waited as the owner approached him.
‘Today is the day we have been waiting for, Doctor Birch.’
The doctor turned and smiled, his poor humour vanished, his bad manners replaced by a professional front.
‘Indeed it is, Mr Pendragon. Indeed it is.’
Taking advantage of the diversion, the butler discreetly withdrew as Howard joined the doctor and proceeded to climb the staircase with him. Both men were in their forties and prone to portliness, but only one was in good spirits.
‘I think it is time you called me Howard. Today, the Pendragon family will have an heir.’
‘A happy day indeed,’ agreed the doctor in a measured tone.
‘More than happy,’ replied Howard. ‘This day will mark a major change.’
‘Change?’
‘For the future of Carrack House, of course.’
‘Your brother’s house?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Doctor Birch’s smile faded. He had spent the past six months tending this man’s wife. No one, not even Mrs Pendragon herself, felt the pressure of delivering a live male heir as keenly as the doctor did himself. He stole a glance at the man by his side. He was beginning to resent ever setting foot within this splendid home, for over the past few months he had come to know about the bitter feelings that lay between the Pendragon brothers.
He had yet to meet Sir Robert Pendragon, 7th Baronet and owner of Carrack House and a vast acreage of Cornwall. The man who sought his skills now was his younger brother by no more than two minutes. The doctor had come to realise that despite today’s bounce and swagger, beneath was a man filled with bitterness, a man who envied the inheritance and title his older brother had as his right. As if hearing his thoughts, Howard stopped, forcing the doctor to do the same out of politeness. A woman’s cry came from one of the rooms above them, but both men ignored it.
‘Give me a live boy, Doctor Birch. My wife is getting older and this might be our last chance. Do not fail us as other doctors have done.’
Doctor Birch felt the weight placed upon his shoulders. Howard Pendragon’s wife had endured four pregnancies, none of which were carried to term. Doctor after doctor had walked this staircase, each assignment ending in a dismal failure and their careers blighted by their involvement. Now it was his turn and he had no plans to follow in their footsteps. Even so, a live child did not guarantee this man’s hopes.
‘Your brother may have a child of his own,’ cautioned Doctor Birch.
Howard dismissed it with a snort. ‘His first wife was barren. His second is no better.’
‘She has a few more child-bearing years yet and their marriage is still fresh.’
