‘So what can be done? There must besomething!’
The doctor had shaken his head. ‘Your wife is of a very delicate constitution and she informed me that she never wanted the babies in the first place. She seems to resent you for that and blame you for what is happening to her now.’
‘I’m quite aware of that, sir.’ Barnaby had strode to the window with his hands clasped behind his back feeling helpless. ‘Do you think it would help if I insisted she got up?’
‘I fear that would do more harm than good. Believe me, I have seen this happen to women of a certain class more times than I care to remember. Some women have no inclination to become a mother and I’m afraid, from what I have gathered, your wife is one of them. All you can do now is gently persuade her to get up when she feels able to, although I fear she will never again be as she was. And I suppose I don’t have to remind you that another pregnancy could well be disastrous for her, do I? I’m sorry I can’t give you more positive news.’
Once the doctor had left, Barnaby had made his way up to the nursery on legs that felt like lead. He had found the nanny tidying the nursery whilst the babies slept in their cribs and as he gazed down on them he felt infinitely sad. He had imagined that their birth would bring him and Louisa together again, but all it had done was drive them further apart and he was wondering if he was paying now for his wickedness in the past.
Charlotte was continuing to thrive, but the same couldn’t be said for David. Despite the wet nurse’s best efforts, he was still a puny, sickly child who spent the majority of his time whining, whilst Charlotte was plump with a ready smile for anyone who paid her attention. She already recognised her father and would reach up her chubby arms to him and gurgle with delight each time he leant over her crib. He never tired of being with her or her brother, which he supposed was just as well seeing as their mother had no time for them. Every day the nanny would go to Louisa’s room to ask if she would like to see them and every day the answer was always the same – she was too tired.
And so it was that on Christmas Day Barnaby made his way up to the nursery to see his children. ‘Any problems, Nanny?’ he asked.
The woman shook her head and smiled. ‘Not with Miss Charlotte, sir. But I’m afraid I’m still gravely concerned about Master David. I’ve asked the doctor to call in again to check him over the day after tomorrow. I hope that meets with your approval? Oh, and a Merry Christmas, sir.’
‘The same to you,’ Barnaby responded, although it certainly didn’t feel like the best start to it. ‘And of course, please feel free to summon the doctor whenever you deem it necessary.’ Barnaby stared down at the little boy. He had always dreamt of having a son, a boy he could teach to play football and swim and ride a pony, but this poor little scrap was so weak he struggled to even feed. ‘I shall be at the shipyard for the next few days but perhaps you could let me know what the doctor says when I return home?’
She nodded and not wishing to disturb the babies while they were resting, he left the room. Soon after he mounted his horse and set off for the harbour. A couple of his whaling ships were late returning and he wanted to see if there had been any news on them. The wives of the fishermen were becoming concerned and only the night before they had carried lanterns up to the Abbey where they could watch for them returning. Up until now he hadn’t been too worried – the whaling ships were often late in, but now he was becoming uneasy.
The whaling ships were at the most risk for they travelled as far as Greenland in appalling conditions and some were lost and never returned when they were trapped by sea ice or crushed. Those that did return would bring their catches of whales, polar bears and seals back and there would be furious activity in the large boiler houses along the quay where the whale blubber was turned into oil. The whale bones would then be cleaned and sold to make women’s corsets, so there was little waste and much higher pay for the men who had risked their lives to catch them.
Barnaby had known men to lose fingers and toes through frostbite and many had been washed overboard in storms at sea. But the boats that were late at present were concerning him more than most because he knew that Amber Ainsley’s father and two of her brothers had sailed in one of them to earn a little extra money for Christmas. This was foremost in his mind as he reached the hill that led down to the harbour. Here he reined his horse in and stared out across the great expanse of sea, looking out for the tall masts of the ships from which the sailors would watch for icebergs or whales in the freezing Arctic oceans. But he was disappointed. So he carefully guided his horse down the frosty hill.
As he rode into the harbour, he saw many of fishermen’s wives gazing out to sea, their faces strained. Dismounting, he tethered his horse and went to join them. Some of them had hungry-looking children clinging to their skirts, their faces gaunt and their noses red with cold. Others held babies in their arms while the older women stood huddled into drab woollen shawls, their faces anxious as they looked for a sight of their men returning. An arrow of guilt pierced through him; they should have been at home celebrating Christmas with their families. He knew they would probably be relying on the wages the men had earned to feed them and making a hasty decision he strode towards his office, which was nestled next to one of the boiler houses.
‘Winterton, give me the key to the safe,’ he ordered the young clerk who was sitting at his desk. Normally he would have had the day off but because of the missing ships he had agreed to work. Now the young man jumped to attention as he fumbled in the desk to do as he was asked.
Minutes later Barnaby withdrew a bag of coins from the enormous metal safe and after tucking it into his pocket he handed the key back to Winterton, telling him brusquely, ‘Make sure that is put away safely, then get yourself off home to your family. There’s nothing more you need to do today.’ With a nod he strode out into the cold again.
As he approached the first woman he came to, the little girl at her side shrank further into her mother’s side and stared at him suspiciously.
‘Mrs Larkin, isn’t it?’ He ruffled the little girl’s hair and was rewarded with a wary smile. It was funny, he thought, until he had had his own children, he’d never taken much notice of anyone else’s.
She nodded. ‘Aye, it is, Mr Greenwood.’
He pressed a silver coin into her palm. ‘Use this to tide you over until your husband returns.’
Tears sprang to her eyes as she clutched the coin. ‘Thank you, but I think yer meanifhe returns, don’t yer?’ She had seen too many men lost at sea in her time.
‘He’ll be back, Mrs Larkin,’ Barnaby said with a certainty he was far from feeling.
He began to walk amongst them, handing out coins, which would no doubt be spent on a meal for them all that evening. He felt it was the least he could do.
Eventually at the far side of the harbour he came to Mrs Ainsley who bristled when she spotted him coming towards her.
‘Good evening, Mrs Ainsley.’
She gave him a curt nod and turned her attention back to the sea.
‘I hope you are well?’ he said, trying not to be bothered by the woman’s reaction to him.
‘I will be when me man an’ me lads come ’ome.’
From her manner towards him, he realised that she had guessed he was the father of her daughter’s child and he felt ashamed as he offered her a silver coin.
‘An’ what’s that for?’ Her voice had a cutting edge to it as she glared at him.
‘I’m merely trying to ensure that the families of the fishermen have enough to get by on until they get back.’
