Dream Lover Part 33

"She wouldn't accept money from me; she'd fling it in my face."

"Man, her plight is desperate! She's in no position to pick and choose."

Sean's fingers slackened on the pitchfork. "What the h.e.l.l do you mean? Talk to me, Johnny."

"Put that b.l.o.o.d.y thing down."

Sean threw the fork into a pile of straw. "Come up to the house, you're soaked." He unfastened John's bags from the packhorse and summoned a young groom to tend the horses.

As Johnny stripped off his clothes before the fire in the bedchamber, Sean showed him the jewels. "These belong to Emerald, believe it or not. Until tonight I thought she had them with her." Sean's mind winged back to the argument they'd had over the diamonds. He clearly remembered making her promise to keep them.

You have no money of your own; the necklace will give you some financial security, he had warned her. But her reply also came back to him. My darling, you are all the security I will ever need.

Johnny looked him in the eye. "If she had known you were taking her back to Portman Square, she would have taken the b.l.o.o.d.y things fast enough! You didn't tell her, did you?"

Sean almost replied "It was kinder," but he caught his words back. It had not been kinder, it had simply been easier. He had done what was expedient. "When I found the jewels tonight, I went down to the stables and dispatched a groom to Maynooth recalling the Sulphur's crew. We'll sail in the morning."

Johnny heaved a sigh of relief. It didn't matter if he'd persuaded O'Toole, or if Sean had decided on his own. All that mattered was that he was returning. But Johnny wasn't finished with him, not by a long chalk. He had Sean O'Toole on the defensive and it felt good.

"In your relentless quest for vengeance, did you never pause to think what they might do to Emerald?"

"She's more than a match for the b.l.o.o.d.y Montagues!"

"Is she? Think back; were you a match for them that night they had you at their mercy? Was your brother Joseph?"

Sean s.n.a.t.c.hed up the empty whisky decanter and smashed it into the hearth.

"Emerald is his daughter! Surely she's precious to him."

"Precious?" Johnny laughed. "Obviously she never told you of life with Father. She was blamed, punished, and controlled every waking hour until he broke her spirit. She married Jack Raymond in desperation, looking for an escape from Father and her Portman Square prison, but instead she found herself serving a life sentence with two jailers."

Sean felt his blood run cold. Emerald had never once complained of mistreatment, yet nevertheless he had known. Emerald had been stripped of every freedom just as surely as he had. And it was obvious to him. That was why he had taken such great joy in restoring those freedoms. Watching her come alive and return to the vibrant, pa.s.sionate female she had been when they first met gave him the greatest pleasure he'd ever known.

Suddenly, he went icy. Johnny wouldn't be here unless something had happened to her. He didn't want to ask the question because he didn't want to hear the answer. He faced his growing fear; fear he'd thought he was incapable of feeling.

"What did they do to her?"

"Jack tried to push her down the stairs so she would miscarry. She saved herself, but she has a broken leg." Sean's fear was now full blown.

"When my father's doctor came to set it, he discovered she is carrying twins."

Sean's fear immediately doubled. He turned a look of furious incredulity upon Johnny. "And you left her in such a plight?" "No, you son of a b.i.t.c.h, you did!"

When Dr. Sloane was again summoned to Portman Square, he did not expect to be called upon to set another broken leg.

"It's an epidemic," he said dryly to William Montague, who paced about the bedchamber calling down curses on every member of his family.

Jack Raymond alternately howled with pain and swore a blue streak at the servants who were running about obeying orders. When Sloane suggested he should conduct himself with Emerald's dignity as a patient, Jack turned his wrath on the doctor.

"I'm going to sedate him," Sloane told William.

"Is that necessary?" William shouted. "I need him lucid. We have serious problems to discussa"business mattersa""

"They'll have to wait," Sloane snapped. "You'll have plenty of time to talk. He isn't going anywhere for a few weeks."

Emerald, who had been receiving little enough attention before, got considerably less, now that Jack had to be nursed. She had very little appet.i.te, which was fortunate, since Mrs. Thomas had little time to cook. For company, during her days of solitude, Emerald had only her own thoughts.

Fear of the unknown was terrifying, so doggedly she focused on today, telling herself that tomorrow did not have to be faced until it arrived. She told herself calmly that she had two choices: Either she allowed panic to s.n.a.t.c.h away her reason, her very sanity, or she coped with her situation the best way she could.

Women down through the ages had given birth. She told herself that even if she had a dozen attendants at her beck and call, she was still the one who would have to suffer the pain. No one else could do it for her. She also rea.s.sured herself that she had enjoyed good health throughout her pregnancy. Her morning sickness had been nothing more than an inconvenience, easily remedied. She knew she was strong physically, mentally, and emotionally and was convinced that after her babies were delivered, she would rapidly regain her strength and vitality. Since her leg no longer throbbed with heavy pain, she reasoned that it was healing as it should.

As well as talking to herself, she spent a great deal of time praying. She asked for help, she prayed for strength, and she begged for forgiveness. But most of all she talked to her unborn babies. She rea.s.sured them constantly that all would be well, she soothed them with memories of her happy times in Ireland, and she whispered to them of their father, Sean FitzGerald O'Toole, Earl of Kildare.

Sean O'Toole paced back and forth across the chamber like a caged animal.

The frustration of awaiting his crew was killing him. "As soon as they arrive, we'll sail; no matter the hour." To keep his hands busy he began to pack a bag.

"You will sail," Johnny corrected quietly. "I can't go back; I've burned my bridges. By now Father will know my part in all of this. Before I left I attacked Jack Raymond and deliberately smashed his leg."

"I would have enjoyed doing that," Sean said savagely.

"You'll have enough to do. Your duty is to Emerald . . . mine is to Nan."

"Nan FitzGerald?" Sean's dark eyes challenged him.

"Nan is my wife. She's having my child. I've neglected her long enough."

"Your wife?" Sean's eyes glittered in outrage. "When the h.e.l.l did all this happen?"

"You were so bent on vengeance, you didn't see what was going on under your nose. We were married here at Greystones by Father Fitz."

"How dare you scheme behind my back? Am I the only one in ignorance here?" O'Toole crossed the room in two strides, grabbing Johnny by the throat.

John ground out, "I couldn't leave her with a b.a.s.t.a.r.d in her belly. And I love her."

John's words carried more impact than his fists could have. Sean's shoulders slumped and he loosened his vicious grip. Both men turned at a knock on the chamber door. It was Mr. Burke.

"Rory FitzGerald and the crew are here."

"Thank G.o.d!" It was the first time in over five years His name had pa.s.sed Sean O'Toole's lips. "Tell them we're sailing tonight."

Paddy Burke cleared his throat. "Kate and I are ready to come with you. We knew you would go back for her."

Sean stared at him in amazement. He hadn't laid eyes on them in a week, yet they were aware of his every move, his every thought. Their loyalty and support overwhelmed him. Then he had a most humbling thought. They weren't doing this for him, they were doing it for Emerald.

When Emerald's labor finally began, just before dawn, nothing on earth had prepared her for the pain. Mrs. Thomas a.s.sured her she would fetch Dr. Sloane, but she returned without him, explaining to Emerald that a first labor was always protracted and that he would be along in due course.

Due course stretched into twelve long hours, during which Emerald cried, prayed, cursed, screamed, and lost consciousness; then, revived by a pain that threatened to tear her in half, began the cycle all over again.

Before she was done Emerald had cursed father, husband, mother, Sean O'Toole, and G.o.d. Then she cursed herself. Mrs. Thomas stood vigil, talking with her, soothing her, and rea.s.suring her, in spite of the fact that she herself felt overwhelmed by the double birth.

At five o'clock Dr. Sloane came by as if he were dropping in for tea. When he saw Emerald thras.h.i.+ng about the bed, he ordered Mrs. Thomas to tie her leg down so the patient would not do herself or her doctor an injury.

In rapid succession Emerald went rigid with a hard labor pain that proved unendurable, then she screamed and lost consciousness as Dr. Sloane delivered a tiny female child. He spared one glance for the pale infant, which barely showed signs of life, before he pa.s.sed it to Mrs. Thomas without instruction.

That good woman had hot water and plenty of clean cloths at the ready, so she cleansed the tiny infant, murmuring over and over, "Poor wee mite." The baby girl had no strength to protest, all she could do was struggle for gasps of shallow breath.

Dr. Sloane washed his hands and dried them. "I'll go up and see my other patient," he announced.

"You can't leave her, Doctor, she's unconscious!" protested a scandalized Mrs. Thomas.

"It could be hours before she is ready to deliver the next one. She'll regain consciousness fast enough when hard labor begins again."

William Montague was in a vile temper by the time he arrived at Portman Square. He had spent the last few days at the s.h.i.+pping office, trying to salvage something, anything, of the decimated Montague Line. All that was left was one s.h.i.+p, the Seagull, and the only cargo he had been able to arrange was a s.h.i.+pload of coal from Newcastle.

Then, this afternoon, he had received a visit from a solicitor representing the Liverpool s.h.i.+pping Company. The bank draft they had received from Barclay & Bedford for two s.h.i.+ps purchased by Montague was nothing but a worthless piece of paper. The solicitor informed William the s.h.i.+ps already en route would be reclaimed the moment they arrived in London, and told him in no uncertain terms that the Liverpool s.h.i.+pping Company would be pressing charges and suing for damages.

Montague, already livid with his son, John, for having inflicted a broken leg on Jack Raymond, began to suspect he had inflicted far worse damage. The young swine had disappeared into thin air, and by the looks of things John had had good reason to take a powder. To be betrayed by an enemy was only to be expected, but to be betrayed by your own flesh and blood was an abomination against nature.

These last few months had aged him ten years; he felt old, and bitter and very ill used.

Belton informed William that the doctor was upstairs.

"I don't smell anything good from the kitchen," William said ominously.

"No, sir, Mrs. Thomas has been with Miss Emma all afternoon. Her time has arrived."

William felt distinctly peevish. This last week the s.h.i.+pping office had been his only refuge from the bedlam of Portman Square, but after today he would avoid it too. A man's home was supposed to be his castle, but his had been taken over by unwelcome invalids who brought him nothing but trouble, humiliation, and unpaid bills.

William glanced impatiently up the stairs, then checked his pocket watch.

Muttering obscenities beneath his breath, he climbed the stairs and made his way to the wing ack Raymond occupied. He heard the complaining and moaning all the way down the hall. He stepped across the threshold and cursed, "You bloodsucking leech! Living here in the lap of luxury and not lifting a hand to prevent the treachery all about me!" He looked at Sloane and snapped, "Christ, give him a sedative, man, and a strong one. I can't stand all this weeping, wailing, and gnas.h.i.+ng of teeth!"

Suddenly the three men heard a woman's screams.

Jack hissed, "Let her suffer."

Dr. Sloane said, "I must go down to her."

Jack flung, "She's only having a baby, for G.o.d's sake. I'm in agony, Doctor!"

"We all have our cross to bear," Sloane sympathized, rolling his eyes at William.

The two men descended the stairs together. "How long will this take?" asked William, sorry he had come home.

"It shouldn't be too much longer. I delivered one before you arrived. I'll be as quick as I can with the other. You're not the only one who wants dinner, Montague."

The girl on the bed was in hard labor. She was drenched in perspiration and clearly exhausted from her day-long ordeal. Her eyes were glazed and she was as pasty as the soiled sheet on which she lay panting.

Sloane slapped her sharply across the face. "Come on, woman, you have a job to do."

Emerald's eyes slitted open, then they widened at the heavy pain that took hold of her. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Let me die, let me die, she prayed.

"Push, woman, pus.h.!.+" ordered Sloane, and somehow she did as he bade her.

Pain like nothing she'd ever felt before was followed by a gus.h.i.+ng, rus.h.i.+ng feeling as if she were turning inside out. A loud indignant wail filled the room and Sloane muttered, "Well, this one is l.u.s.ty enough."

"Oh, it's a boy, G.o.d be praised," said Mrs. Thomas, hastily taking the blood-covered child from Dr. Sloane.

As he washed his hands, he glanced at the female Mrs. Thomas had bundled up and laid at the foot of the bed. Unfortunately, it was still breathing. Sloane closed his bag and stepped from the room. Montague was just outside the door on his way back from the empty kitchen.

"You will be relieved to know the distasteful business is all over and done, Montague."

"Did you find a place for the brats?"

"Yes. Fortunately only one will survive. I'll be around to sign the death certificate in the morning, and take the other one off your hands."

"Very good, Sloane. I'll walk out with you. There will be no dinner for me here tonight."

Inside the room Mrs. Thomas looked at Emerald to see if she had heard the shocking things the men had said, but the exhausted girl seemed unaware of her surroundings. The cook had always known William Montague was a nasty old swine, but now she realized he was cold blooded as a reptile. And Dr. Sloane was no better, the callous old pig. She wished now she had brought a midwife for Emerald. It might not have helped the baby girl, if the poor wee mite wasn't strong enough to survive, but the mother needed attention.

The male child Mrs. Thomas cleansed and wrapped was screaming so l.u.s.tily, she didn't take time to bathe Emerald. Instead she pulled aside her nightgown and tucked the baby against one bare breast. The child suckled instantly and noisily in a little frenzy to be fed. Emerald seemed only semiconscious. To Mrs. Thomas the young woman looked deathly ill.

The cook stretched and put a plump hand to her aching back. She had been on her feet since before dawn and felt ready to drop. She pulled a chair up to the bed and sat her weary bones in it. She cast a troubled look at the tiny bundle at the bottom of the bed, then her eyes traveled to its mother.

It was all so overwhelming for Mrs. Thomas. She knew something should be done, but she didn't know what. She watched Emerald's eyes close and prayed she was sleeping. She decided there was nothing anyone could do; it was all in G.o.d's hands.

33.

When he was not at the wheel of the Sulphur, Sean O'Toole paced the deck.

By the time they arrived at the London Docks, he had walked most of the way to England. He knew he was racing with time, hoping against hope that he would arrive before Emerald went into labor. He wanted to get her out of the Portman Square mausoleum and take her to the lovely house in Old Park Lane where they had spent such happy hours. Even more, he wanted to be there for the birth of his children. He knew he must somehow make up for what he had done to her. In every man's life there was a turning point, a defining moment, and this was his.

It was two o'clock in the morning before the Sulphur dropped anchor. Three o'clock before the big black carriage conveyed its three occupants to the Montague house in Portman Square. Sean sprang to the pavement, strode up the steps, and crashed his clenched fist against the door.

Belton, who had fallen asleep in the vestibule waiting for William, jumped up so quickly, he knocked over the bra.s.s umbrella stand. Biting back a foul oath, he opened the door and discovered to his dismay that it was not the master, but Montague's enemy, who loomed over him. What was more, the man showed every intention of sweeping into the house as he had done before.

"You cannot come in here; it's the middle of the night!"

O'Toole curbed the violence that surged barely below the surface.

"Step aside," he said quietly. "I own the deed on this accursed house; it is mine."