Chapter Sixteen

Rebecca looked up from the book of fashion plates at the sounds of commotion coming from the hallway. Within seconds, the study door burst open to reveal an excited Philip. His face was flushed, and he wore no cravat around his neck. It was well after midnight, so his visit could mean only one thing. “Is Elizabeth having the baby?”

“Yes. She is asking for you.”

She nodded her head and followed him back to the entrance, not bothering to change from the yellow satin dinner dress she still wore. Bentley assisted her with a warm velvet cloak lined with wool, and she secured the white bonnet he had thrust into her hands as they hurried into the night air to the waiting carriage.

Once seated, she eyed Philip carefully, noting his forehead was beaded with perspiration, and his hands shook. “How is Elizabeth?”

His smile was shaky, and he seemed to have forgotten how to lift the left side of his mouth. “She is enduring well. The physician sent me from the chambers because he said I was a nuisance.”

She patted his hand, noting he hadn’t bothered with gloves on his way from the Gallow home. “The doctor is quite competent, Philip.”

He ran a hand through his dark hair, which looked as if he had done that more than once this evening. “I know, but I cannot help but worry.”

She nodded. “I, too, am worried.” Would it be awful? She knew nothing of childbirth and had hoped to keep it that way until her own child arrived. “Elizabeth shall be fine, as will your babe.”

He sighed. “Yes.”

Rebecca searched for a means of diverting his thoughts. “Have you been overly burdened with gossip?”

His eyes slid from hers. “We have not gone out in three weeks.”

“How is it for you when dealing with your business affairs?”

Philip’s gaze remained focused on the curtain covering the window. “The talk will fade.” His mouth was firm. “When is Lord Hanover returning?”

Rebecca shook her head. “He said at most a month. It has not yet been that long.” It had been precisely twenty days since his departure. Each one had crawled by so slowly that she thought she might go mad from waiting.

Once word of their marriage had spread, invitations flooded their home, but so far, she had refused each one, along with the explanation that her husband was away on business. “I am concerned.”

“Do not be overly worried. I suspect he is having some troubles at his sugar plantation.”

Rebecca’s brow furrowed. “What sort of trouble?”

“The Maroons are raiding many of the local plantations, stealing supplies, recruiting the other slaves for their militia force, and, in general, being a bother.”

“Who are the Maroons?”

“A band of freedom fighters.” He snorted. “Mostly runaway slaves, chafing at the bit.”

“I see. What has this to do with Alex?”

“There has been talk of emancipating the slaves of Jamaica. It has them riled up and resisting their masters.” Philip sighed. “The day of your marriage, Lord Hanover mentioned he would soon be forced to deal with the matter.”

Relief washed over Rebecca at the confirmation that her husband was not pirating, and he hadn’t lied to her. Rather, he was dealing with a rebellion, which seemed just as dangerous but unlikely to land him in prison or swinging from the gallows.

She looked out the window as the carriage swung around a corner. “We are here.”

Philip clambered from the carriage and rushed forward a few feet before spinning around to return to the carriage. He assisted Rebecca to the ground, blushing profusely. “Forgive my lapse of manners.”

She smiled. “I understand.”

When they entered the townhouse, Philip reluctantly closeted himself in the study while Rebecca made her way upstairs. She knocked on the door and was admitted by Nora. “How is Elizabeth?” she asked as she entered and removed her bonnet and cloak.

“Resting. The physician says she is near delivery and should sleep, if possible.”

Rebecca walked forward to touch her sister’s sweaty brow. The doctor stood near the bed, wiping his hands on a white cloth. He appeared very young, with curly, dark hair and buckteeth, but he wore a studious expression. “Doctor?”

“You are Lady Gallow’s sister?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “She wanted you here.” A chuckle came from him. “M’lady insisted I was not to deliver the baby until you arrived. She refused to accept I had no control over that.”

Rebecca gave him a small smile but was too concerned over her sister’s pallor to muster even a polite laugh. “How is she?”

“Doing well. She has been laboring since early afternoon, but her time draws near. I plan to wake her in a few minutes if a contraction does not do so beforehand.”

Rebecca sat in a straight chair by the bed, lifting her sister’s hand. Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered open, and she smiled down at her. “Soon, you shall be a mother,” she said softly.

“About bloody time,” Elizabeth slurred.

Rebecca gasped at her sister’s language. She sneaked a peek at the doctor, but he seemed unfazed. Nora had departed, so there was no one else to be outraged. With a small shrug, she shifted in the chair. “How do you feel?”

“Tired. Does this never end?”

The doctor lifted her other hand, feeling her wrist. “You are ready to give birth, m’lady. Do you feel up to the task?”

“Yes.”

Rebecca held her hand as Elizabeth grunted, pushed, and cursed her way through the next thirty minutes. The doctor remained calm, seeming to be accustomed to such language flowing from the mouths of ladies.

Rebecca got over her embarrassment as fear replaced it. She watched her sister endure each pain. Her face grew red, and her eyes bulged. Elizabeth looked like she was enduring every torture the fiery pits of Hell could throw at her.

How would she survive the preceding months before her child’s birth, knowing what was to come? She should have refused Elizabeth’s request, no matter how much it would have hurt her sister. She quickly pushed away that selfish thought.

“One more great push, m’lady.”

With a small scream, Elizabeth bore down and pushed her son out into the world. His cry was lusty as the doctor lifted him for their inspection. “Your husband will surely be pleased, Lady Gallow. A fine son.”

Tears streamed down Elizabeth’s face as she reached for him. “Is he not beautiful, sister?”

Rebecca’s nose wrinkled slightly. Young Master Gallow was covered with blood and slime. His head was oddly shaped, and he had a flat, bulbous nose. What skin she could see under the blood was bright red and grainy-looking. Beautiful was not her first choice of words, but she would never knowingly wipe that proud expression from Elizabeth’s face. “Very much so. You are lucky.”

“Please tell Philip. Send him up.”

“M’lady,” the doctor protested. “I have not finished here yet.”

She waved her hand at him. “You shall do so while my sister fetches my husband. He has been too far from me for too long.”

The doctor sighed and returned to his work without comment as Rebecca went to tell her brother-in-law the happy news.

Her stomach knotted with anxiety as she remembered Elizabeth’s harrowing ordeal. For the first time, she fervently wished there was no baby. That thought was fleeting, and she felt guilty for having it. Remembering her sister’s expression when she first gazed at her baby told her it was worth any amount of pain.

* * * * *

Rebecca planned to take her leave several hours later. She was exhausted and longed only for her own bed. Elizabeth and Philip were curled together on the bed, basking in the glow of their son, who lay between them. They made an odd pair—her in a fresh nightdress, and he in knee breeches and a white shirt with billowing sleeves, minus the waistcoat and jacket.

She felt embarrassed to be around her brother-in-law in such a state of dishabille, and she carefully averted her eyes as she approached the bed. “I am leaving now.”

Elizabeth looked up from baby Andrew. “You should stay, Rebecca. It is quite late.”

“I would rather be in my own bed.” She touched her sister’s foot. “I am sleepy and not in the best of moods.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Philip will see you home.”

She shook her head. “There is no need. You deserve some time together now.”

Her sister sighed. “Very well. We shall see you at the christening, in any event.”

“The christening?”

“Next week.”

“Is that not rather soon?”

Elizabeth sighed. “Yes, but the godparents have decided to return to England. Justin is Philip’s dear friend and only agreed to wait until Andrew arrived before taking their leave. Helen is with child herself and wishes to be home with her family before their baby arrives.”

“Oh.” She squashed a dart of disappointment at not being asked to be Andrew’s godmother. After all, she was his aunt and would see him all the time while the godparents would obviously be far away. “I do hope Alex is back in time. I promised not to venture forth until he returned.”

A frown marred Elizabeth’s features. “You cannot miss your nephew’s christening and the garden party to follow.”

Rebecca sighed. “Will it not make things awkward?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “It will be a small gathering, sister. Only our true friends will be invited.”

“Very well.” There was no getting out of the event. She hoped Alex would understand why she had to face society without him. Surely, he would have returned home before the event.