Arabella (18 page)

             
'Thank you…so kind,' Arabella murmured through dry lips.  She moaned as she felt the pressure of a head pressing against her; the child was trying to push its way into the world.  'I-I think it's coming.'

             
'Hold on a little,' the woman comforted, climbing into the carriage beside her and taking her hand.  'I live just around the corner and we shall be there in no time.  Soon you will be lying in a comfortable bed, and I myself will assist your child into the world.'

             
'Oh…' Arabella gasped.  'What is your name, mistress?  How can I ever thank you for saving my life?'

             
'Names and payment are not important now,' the woman replied, crooning over her as she stroked the damp hair from her forehead.  'Just try to relax, my dear, and breathe slowly.  You will soon be much better.'

             
'Thank you…' Arabella gasped and tried to breathe slowly as she had been told.

             
'What will your family think when you do not come home?' the woman asked  'May I send word to them?'

             
'I have no family,' Arabella said, biting at her bottom lip.  'My – my friend is in the Fleet for debt.  I have only my maid Betsy and she is in Hampstead.  She may worry, but perhaps…'

             
'Yes, yes, do not worry over a maid,' the woman said, a little smile of satisfaction on her lips.  'We shall send word and then you can ask her to bring your clothes to you when you are over the birth.'  She stroked Arabella's forehead as she writhed with agony.  'It will not be long, my dear, and you have me to look after you now.  I shall do everything possible for both you and the baby.'

             
Arabella clung to the hand she offered as the pain struck again.  'Are we nearly there,' she whispered.  'Only I do not think…'

             
'Here we are,' the woman said.  'Just lie there and close your eyes, and I shall bring help.  Trust me, my dear.  You are quite safe now I give you my word…'

CHAPTER EIGHT

Arabella opened her eyes as someone bent over her, laying a cool hand on her brow.  She looked into the smiling face of a woman, feeling tired and uneasy.  She was not in her house at Hampstead.   Where was she and how had she come to be here?  Her mind was confused and for a moment she could not remember anything.  Instinctively, her hands went to her stomach and she suddenly knew why she felt so ill, so drained of life.  She had been through so much pain that she had thought she would died of it.

              'My baby…he took so long to come,' she said fretfully.  'There was so much pain.  Where is my child?'

             
'The pain of childbearing is always terrible but it is over now, my dear.  All you have to do is rest and heal.'

             
'Where is my child?' Arabella repeated.  'Please, you must tell me!  I had a son.  Someone said it was a boy.  I remember…'

             
It was like a nightmare, a strange dream peopled by faceless creatures and flickering candlelight. Yet somewhere amidst the pain, the terrible, destroying pain that had wracked her for endless hours, she could recall hearing a woman speak of the child and the thin wail of a new-born babe.

             
'I'm sorry, my dear.'  Elizabeth George looked at her sadly.  'The child was a boy as you say, but he died only minutes after he was born.  He took such a long time to come.  We all feared for your life but I'm afraid it was your child that died.'

             
'Dead?  My baby dead?'  Harry's son was dead.  Tears welled up in Arabella's eyes and trickled down her cheeks.  'God forgive me.  I sinned and He has punished me by taking my son.'  She was filled with a terrible sense of loss and grief.

             
'Do not fret so, mistress,' Elizabeth said.  ''Tis often the way with a first child, especially when the mother is young.  You will have others.'

             
Arabella shook her head, turning her face to the pillow.  She did not want other children for they would not be Harry's.  He did not love her.  He had told her to find herself a rich protector and in doing so had broken her heart.  The shock had brought on the birth of her son in the street and now the babe was dead.  She had nothing left to live for, nothing to give her hope for the future. Why had she not died too?  She plucked fretfully at the bedcovers.

             
'Better I had died and my child lived.'

             
'Nonsense!  You shall not talk like that, you foolish girl.  You are amongst friends now and we shall look after you and make you well again.'

             
'You are very kind but I do not wish to live.'

             
'Not wish to live?  You are a wicked girl to blaspheme so!  Life and death is in God's hands.  If He chose to let you live you should give thanks not lie there and feel sorry for yourself.  Otherwise, He might change His mind.'

             
'Do you believe in God?'

             
'Lord have mercy!' Elizabeth cried and crossed herself.  'Think yourself fortunate that there is only me to hear you, child, or you might find yourself being whipped for your wickedness. Women have been stoned in the streets for less.'

             
'I'm sorry,' Arabella said and sighed.  'You've been so good to me, ma'am.  I do not think I am worth your trouble.'

             
'No more of this foolishness,' Elizabeth said and smiled at her warmly.  'What you need is some of my nourishing broth inside you and then you shall soon feel better.'

             
'Yes, perhaps I am a little hungry.

             
'There, you look brighter already.  You shall lie still and rest and I shall bring you the broth in a few minutes.'

             
Arabella closed her eyes as the good woman went out.  She felt empty and unhappy, her grief washing over her in a great wave.  If only she had died before her visit to the prison!  She need never have known that Harry did not love her.  She need never have known that her son was dead.

             
For a moment she felt the unbearable sorrow of her double loss and truly wished that she might die, but then her natural spirit began to assert itself.  Perhaps Harry had been thinking of her?  Perhaps he had thought that she would have no means of supporting her child without him?  It hurt her that Harry's son was dead, and she knew the grief would remain with her for a long time, but without a child to support she would be able to work.  If she could somehow earn enough money to pay for Harry's release he would surely come back to her.

             
How could she find the money Harry needed?  There must be some way.  Perhaps her father or sister might help her?  She was not sure how she would get it, but somehow she would be with Harry again. With that thought in her mind she drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Arabella woke as she heard the sound of laughter close by.  It was not the first time she'd heard it and it intrigued her.  Mistress Elizabeth, as she'd been told to call her benefactress, seemed to have a lot of company in her house.  Gentlemen as well as ladies, for she had heard their voices passing her door.

She was aware of feeling much better that morning.  A week had passed since the birth and death of her son.  The grief was still sharp when she thought about it, but she did not let herself think of it very often.  She had to get well and then she could leave this house and start collecting money for Harry.

              The laughter was outside her door now.  It sounded pleasant and made Arabella curious.

             
'Who is there?'

             
Silence followed and then the door opened cautiously and a pretty girl peeped round.  She did not look more than sixteen and her eyes were bright with mischief.

             
'Mistress Elizabeth will have my guts for garters for disturbing you,' she said and crept into the room.  'Are you feeling better, Mistress Arabella?  Mistress Elizabeth told us we were not to disturb you at any cost.  You have been very ill and we were all so sad to learn that your child had died.'

             
Arabella blinked back her tears and looked at her curiously.  'Who are you – and what is your name please?'

             
The girl seemed to hesitate for a moment, then came to perch on the edge of the bed.  'I am called Thea by my friends and I am…Mistress Elizabeth's niece by marriage.'

             
'I am so pleased to make your acquaintance, Mistress Thea.'

             
'Please, call me Thea,' she said, a dimple in both cheeks.  'Are you going to live with us, Mistress Arabella?'

             
'No, I don't think so,' Arabella said with a slight frown.  'Mistress Elizabeth has been good to me, but she cannot want the burden of my presence in her house.'

             
'Oh, I do not think she would find you a burden for long.  You are much too pretty,' Thea said and started to giggle.  She was little more than a child and perhaps not even as old as Arabella had first thought her.

             
'I do not believe I shall find a husband that easily,' Arabella said and was surprised when the other girl giggled even more.  She was about to ask her to explain when Elizabeth came bustling into the room.

             
'Thea, you naughty girl,' she said in a mock scolding tone.  'Did I not tell you Arabella was to be allowed to rest for a few more days?  She has been too ill to want to hear your foolish talk, my dear.'

             
'I am sorry,' Thea said and shot a look at Arabella.  'I haven't said anything to upset you – have I Arabella?'

             
'No, of course not,' Arabella replied.  'Besides, I am feeling so much better now that I shall be glad of company.  I think I ought to be getting up soon, Mistress Elizabeth.  I already owe you more than I can pay.  I must go home and sell something and then I can pay you.'

             
'No talk of payment,' the older woman said holding up her hands in protest.  'You are like another niece to me, Arabella.  I like my girls to be happy, and they like to make me happy – don't you Thea?'

             
'Yes, of course we do,' Thea said and smiled oddly.  For a moment there was something in her eyes that told another story, but then in an instant it had gone. 'You take care of us, Mistress Elizabeth, and we should not fare so well without you.'

             
'As long as you remember that,' Elizabeth said smiling benignly on the girl as she went out.  Watching her, Arabella was aware of something hidden, something not quite right, but the older woman was looking well pleased as she turned to her again.  'I am glad you are feeling so much better, Arabella.  I am holding a little dinner tomorrow evening, and if you are feeling up to it I should like you to help me entertain my guests.'

             
'But…' Arabella stopped as she saw the hardness in the depths of the other woman's eyes.   Some inner instinct warned her that the older woman might not be all that she appeared to be.  'Of course, if you wish for my company.  How could I refuse after you have done so much for me?'

             
'I did not think you were so ungrateful,' Elizabeth said, all warmth and charm now.  'It is just a little entertainment for some friends – and they like to see new faces.  Yours is such a pretty face, Arabella my dear.  All I require of you is that you smile and talk to my guests for a few hours.  That is not so very much to ask – is it?'

             
'No, ma'am, it is very little.'

             
'Then we shall not fall out over it,' Elizabeth said.  'I shall have someone bring you some food – and a pretty dress to try on, my dear.  We must have you looking your best for the dinner tomorrow, must we not?'

             
'Thank you, ma'am.  You are very kind.'

             
Arabella frowned as the door closed behind her hostess, her suspicions confirmed.  She had been uneasy almost from the start, and the visit from Thea explained some of the noises she had heard coming faintly from other rooms.  Mistress Elizabeth was running a bawdyhouse!

             
It was clearly an establishment of the highest order, but still a house of ill repute, where gentlemen came to play games of chance and end the evening in the arms of one of Mistress Elizabeth's
nieces
!

             
Arabella was sure she was not mistaken.  Had she been an innocent she might have been deceived for longer, but Harry had spoken of such places many times, and her aunt had mentioned an unfortunate country girl who had fallen into the clutches of such a woman.
.