Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

“God and Mr. Burke be praised!” Emma cried when she saw Elizabeth.

Bridget, who had returned from Glasgow that morning, voiced her disapproval. “I knew one day that your obsession with animals would get you into trouble!”

“I am truly sorry for the worry I caused everyone. Please forgive me. I promise to be more cautious from now on.”

The entire household of Cadzow rejoiced that Elizabeth had safely returned. Mr. Burke was regarded as a hero for battling his way to the hunting lodge the moment the blizzard lessened and rescuing the young duchess.

Elizabeth took Jamie from Nan’s arms and hugged him hungrily. “I thank you with all my heart for looking after him.”

Nan laughed. “I had a dozen hands tae help me, ma’am.”

Elizabeth cooed to her baby. “I warrant Thistle’s mother feels just the way I do today.” She thought of the wolves and silently thanked John Campbell for saving the little donkey’s life.

After the brief thaw the temperature plummeted again, and all the slush froze hard, keeping everyone close to the castle. By the end of March, however, the ice and snow began to disappear, and on the third day of April, Hamilton’s big, black, berline traveling coach arrived at Cadzow.

Elizabeth was alerted immediately by Mr. Burke, and her heart flew up into her throat. She hid her disappointment, gathered her courage, and dutifully went to greet her husband. Relief engulfed her when she learned from Hamilton’s coachman that the duke was not with him. He handed her a letter, and she rewarded him with a grateful smile and bade him ask the cook for a good hot meal. She waited until she was in her own chamber before she read it.

My Dearest Elizabeth:

A journey to Scotland is impossible for me at this time. I have therefore instructed my coachman to take you to Uppingham, Rutland, where I shall meet you.

I have business with Will Cavendish and know you will enjoy a visit with Lady Charlotte, who has just presented her husband with a daughter. I cannot wait to show off our son to them.

Do not delay your departure. The nobility is already returning to London for the Season and we must make plans for our ball.

Your devoted husband,

James, Duke of Hamilton

Elizabeth wondered if this was calculation on Hamilton’s part. If it was, he had certainly chosen a good inducement to pry her from Scotland. She eagerly looked forward to visiting Charlie.

The next day she received a letter from Charlotte telling her about her baby, whom they’d named Dorothy after her grandmother. Charlie urged her to stop for a visit on her way back from Scotland, and Elizabeth told Emma and Bridget to start packing.

“Nan, I wish I could take you to London with me, but I imagine your husband would object to leaving Scotland.”

Nan flushed. “I dinna have a husband, Yer Grace. ’Tis a most shameful thing . . . but I thought ye knew. I’m most sorry, ma’am.”

Elizabeth touched her hand. “Oh, Nan, it doesn’t matter to me. Would you like to come and be Jamie’s nursemaid?”

“I would, but I canna leave ma own bairn, Yer Grace.”

“Nan, as if I would ask a mother to leave her child! Your baby girl is already a part of my household. Go and pack at once.”

In two days the baggage compartment of the carriage was filled and a number of trunks were strapped onto the roof. Elizabeth bade good-bye to Queenie, knowing the dog would be unhappy to leave Cadzow. The berline traveling coach comfortably held the four females and two babies, but there was no room to spare. Elizabeth was astonished at the last minute to see Mr. Burke climb up beside the driver. When she saw that Emma was pleasantly flustered, she smiled a secret smile. You are a devious devil, John Campbell.

“You’ve only just had your baby. Are you sure you should be up and about, Charlie?” Elizabeth carried her son into the manor, eager to show him off to her dear friend and her mother, Dorothy.

“I refuse to stay abed ten days, especially when the weather is so springlike. Oh, your son is so darkly beautiful, and he’s almost as big as baby William! No wonder James boasts about him.”

Elizabeth paled. “James is here already?”

“Yes, he arrived yesterday. He’s closeted in the library with Will. Why don’t you go along and surprise him?”

“No, no! I won’t disturb him when he’s talking business.”

“Come to the nursery, then, and I’ll show you both my children.”

“Run along,” Dorothy Boyle said, linking her arm through Bridget’s. “I have months of gossip to impart to your poor mother who has been buried alive in Scotland all winter.”

How can Charlie’s mother be so two-faced? After having an affair with my father, she pretends to be my mother’s friend.Elizabeth guiltily dragged her thoughts from the scandalous situation; her own behavior did not bear scrutiny. “This is Jamie’s nursemaid, Nan, who you can see has her own baby girl. She generously agreed to come with me from Cadzow.”

“The more, the merrier,” Charlie said, laughing. “We have cradles aplenty, which is a good thing. At the rate Will and I are breeding, we shall fill them all!”

Elizabeth stayed in the haven of the nursery hoping to postpone the reunion with her husband. Eventually Hamilton sought her out.

“There’s my little prince!” He held out his arms and she reluctantly relinquished her baby son.

“Elizabeth, my dearest, you are blooming.” As he bent to kiss her, his pouched eyes roamed over her figure, openly assessing it. “I trust you had an uneventful journey?”

“Yes, J . . . James, Mr. Burke smoothed our way at every stop.”

His brow lowered. “Burke traveled with you?” He handed Jamie back to her and left the nursery.

Hamilton needs to be in control. He will dismiss Mr. Burke because he overstepped his authority, and it will be my fault!After a minute she gained courage to follow the duke and found him with the steward. She overheard Mr. Burke say, “The roads in the Borders were still slick with ice. The safety of the Duchess of Hamilton and your son was my first priority, Your Grace. I also took the liberty of bringing you a case of fine Scotch whiskey.”

Hamilton’s brow cleared immediately. “Very good, Burke. I’m glad to know you are a man who takes his duties seriously.”

Dinner was a grand affair, as were most meals in a Devonshire household. Elizabeth, however, had lost her appetite contemplating the approaching night. Not only would she have to share a chamber with her husband but also a bed. Her emotions were in turmoil. As well as being filled with dread, she was consumed by guilt.

Will and James carried on a running conversation, as did Dorothy and Bridget. Elizabeth failed to notice that Charlie hardly spoke.

When the meal was finally finished, Charlie laid her napkin on the table. “Would you all excuse me? I have such a headache.”

Oh, Lord, Charlie is pretending a headache so that the duke and I can retire early. She’s playing Cupid . . . I could strangle her!

James got to his feet, moved behind Elizabeth, and put his hands on her shoulders. “I shall take you upstairs, my dear. You must be ready for bed after your journey.”

“I . . . I must look in on the nursery.”

He smiled indulgently. “We shall both look in on the nursery.”

In the huge room they found two nursemaids and four cradles. The duke looked in each until he found his own son, then he lifted his little heir and held him at arm’s length, admiring him.

He truly loves the baby,Elizabeth thought. That’s because he thinks Jamie is made in his own image, her inner voice answered. She pushed away her guilt and dropped a kiss on her son’s dark head. She turned to Nan. “I’m used to him being in the next room. Please come and get me if he starts to fuss.”

Hamilton handed his child to Nan then placed a firm hand at the small of Elizabeth’s back. “I shall take you up now.”

Her steps lagged, and she was filled with dread as they climbed the elegant staircase to their assigned bedchamber.

As soon as he closed the door, James said, “Undress for me.”

She could hardly breathe as rebellion flared up in her. She knew she could not bear to comply if he demanded his marital rights. A small part of her wanted a knock-down, drag-out fight. Yet she dreaded a loud, angry confrontation in their friends’ home. She bought time by sitting down before the mirror to brush her hair. She saw his reflection coming toward her, and she stiffened.

His spatulate fingers closed over hers and he removed the brush from her hand. “Elizabeth, I want you to undress for me. Now!”

She stared at him, frozen with indecision. Yield or fight?

“Damn you, I haven’t got all night! I still have important business to discuss with Cavendish. Get your clothes off. I want to have a close look at your figure.”

She experienced immediate relief that his goal was not sexual, yet she was outraged. The bastard wanted her to strip so he could assess the damage that having a child had done to her body. Yield or fight? She weighed the advantages of refusing with the disadvantages of a stinking row and chose to yield—this time. The rebellion was coming, it was as inevitable as a Greek tragedy, but she wanted to be in her own territory when the appointed time came.

Fearing that if she did it slowly, it might tempt and arouse him, she stood and removed her clothes in a matter-of-fact manner.

When she was naked, he slowly circled her, observing her from every angle. Then he drew close and examined her minutely, missing no finest detail of her breasts, belly, or thighs. Elizabeth felt like a racing filly being assayed for flaws at a Tattersall’s horse sale, but she refused to blush or lower her lashes.

“You are almost perfect. Perhaps a little more lush, but that could increase your admirers. Since bearing a child did no visual damage, I think I can go about the business of siring another son.”

Over my dead body!

After he left, Elizabeth went to bed, but it took her a long time to fall asleep. When he looked at my body, I was lucky he could not see where it had been or what it had been doing. Guilty feelings surfaced, but again she tried her best to bury them. She must have finally slept, because she awakened with a jolt when the chamber door opened and she heard voices.

Hamilton, supported by Morton, his valet, entered. It was clear to Elizabeth that the duke was legless from drink. She arose, slipped on a bedrobe and approached them. “Can you manage him?”

“Always do, Your Grace. I’ll soon have him abed. He’d still be drinking if Cavendish hadn’t been summoned to his sick wife.”

“Lady Charlotte? I’d better see if there’s anything I can do.”

When Elizabeth arrived in her friend’s bedchamber, she found a disturbing scene. Charlie was vomiting into a chamber pot held by Jane, her ladies’ maid. Will hovered over his wife, obviously racked with worry. Dorothy Boyle declared, “I shall send for the doctor, though I doubt the wretched man will come before morning.”

Charlie saw Elizabeth and held out her hand. “My head is still pounding,” she gasped out between retches.

Oh, my God. I thought her headache was pretended.Elizabeth reached for her hand and was immediately alarmed. Charlie was feverishly hot. Beth felt her friend’s forehead. “She’s burning hot . . . I’ll get some cool water to bathe her.”

“I’ll get it,” Will said quickly. “You stay with her.”

In an amazingly short time Will was back with bowl and flannel cloth. He handed them to Beth. “I’ll get her a clean night rail.”

Jane removed Charlie’s soiled night rail, and Elizabeth sponged her with the tepid water. The sick girl didn’t seem any cooler, but she was at least fresher. They helped her up so that they could put fresh linen on the bed.

“My back aches too,” Charlie said wearily.

“Darling, I think you got up too soon after the baby.” Will’s voice revealed his extreme concern. “The doctor will give you something for fever.”

Elizabeth saw that Charlie was now a dull red, so she bathed her face once more. When Jane gave her mistress a sip of cool water and it came back up, Beth said, “Barley water is best for nausea.”

“I’ll get cook to make some.” Will hurried from the chamber.

Dorothy Boyle returned. “I dispatched a footman for the doctor and gave him a note stressing how ill she is.”

They all did their best for the patient until the doctor arrived at dawn. When he examined her, he prescribed a fever powder but looked grave. He asked Will to step outside for privacy.

When Will came back into the chamber his face was ashen. “The doctor said he will be back in a few hours.”

“Is that all he said?” Dorothy demanded.

Will gestured for Dorothy and Elizabeth to come away from the bed and Charlie’s hearing. “He said the midwife who delivered our baby died of smallpox yesterday. There are other suspected cases in the village. But he cannot confirm Charlie has caught it.”

“Dear God Almighty!” Dorothy crossed herself.

“As a precaution he advised me to get the children away from Rutland.” He looked at Elizabeth. “You must take your son away.”

The blood drained from Elizabeth’s face as she and Will went back to the bed. Charlie’s eyes were now closed, and she was murmuring incoherently. A lump came into Beth’s throat as she watched Will tenderly stroke Charlie’s fevered brow.

“I won’t leave her,” Will whispered. “Dorothy must take the children to London.”

Elizabeth said softly, “I will get Nan to start packing Jamie’s things.” I must get Mother and Emma out of here. James too. She found Nan in the nursery feeding her baby daughter. Elizabeth did not approach her son’s cradle. “Lady Charlotte is sick, and the doctor says there is something going around the village. I want you to pack up quickly and be ready to leave for London. I must awaken Mother and the others. We are going to need two carriages.” When she knocked on Emma’s door she found her already up and dressed. “Charlie is ill and it could very well be contagious. Please awaken Mother and help her pack. Nan is getting the babies ready to leave. Perhaps you could also get word to Mr. Burke?”

Elizabeth encountered Morton in the upstairs hall. “Come with me, Morton. We have to rouse His Grace.”

They entered the bedchamber together and found James Hamilton still snoring. Morton shook him and repeated the process until the duke opened heavily pouched eyes and began to curse.

“James, I’m sorry to disturb you, but Lady Charlotte has come down with an ailment that could be contagious and the doctor has advised that we all leave for London immediately. I’ve told Jamie’s nurse to pack everything.”

Hamilton blinked his bloodshot eyes. “Contagious?”

“He thinks it might be chicken pox,” Elizabeth lied. “Children are extremely susceptible to the infection.”

Hamilton threw off the covers. “Pack my things, Morton!”

Within the hour three traveling coaches, piled with luggage, stood ready in the courtyard. Two Cavendish nursemaids, each holding a child, sat in the first waiting for Jane to help the Countess of Burlington. Dorothy was leaving under protest. “As soon as the children are safe in London, I shall return to my daughter!” Morton helped Nan put the two babies into one of the Hamilton coaches. The duke placed his hand under Elizabeth’s elbow, urging her inside, his temper and nerves in tatters.

“I’ll wait for Mother. You know how long it takes her to pack. Mr. Burke will take good care of us. Please get Jamie out of here quickly, James. Emma will help me hurry Mother along.” She knew that her husband would call the doctor as soon as he arrived home to have both himself and his heir examined.

“Your mother is an officious bitch. If she isn’t down in ten minutes you are to leave without her. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes, just go! I shall see you in London, Your Grace.”

Morton climbed up beside the coach driver just as Bridget and Emma emerged into the courtyard. Elizabeth waved good-bye as the first two coaches drove off, then she joined Mr. Burke who had just loaded some trunks. He helped the two women into the luggage-laden carriage and took Elizabeth’s arm.

“I’m staying, Mr. Burke.”

“That would not be wise, Your Grace. They suspect smallpox.”

“Yes, I know. That’s why I must stay with her.”

“Smallpox?” Bridget shrieked. “Elizabeth, either get in or stay, but make up your mind. We must tarry no longer!”

When Mr. Burke raised his eyebrows, Elizabeth shook her head.

“Someone will have my neck for this,” he predicted grimly. He closed the coach door and climbed up beside the driver.

Elizabeth returned to the master bedchamber. “They’ve gone, Will. We can devote all our attention to Charlie now.”

“You should have gone with them, but I thank you with all my heart for staying. You are truly a devoted friend, Elizabeth.”

By the time the doctor returned in the late afternoon, Charlie’s fever had begun to subside, but a rash of tiny red spots had appeared on her face. “Keep her cool and comfortable. Just as a precaution I advise you to keep the rest of the household away from this room. I shall come again in the morning.”

Will brought a feather mattress from another chamber so that he and Elizabeth could take turns resting if they got the chance. Charlie spoke for the first time in hours after she had been bathed, and Beth withdrew a distance so Will could speak with his wife.

“You have a rash, darling. I think it may be measles.”

“Keep the children away from me,” Charlie whispered.

“Of course, but I can’t keep Beth away. She refuses to leave.”

“She is the sister I never had. I’ll soon be well again.” Exhausted from speaking, Charlie closed her eyes.

By morning, the red rash had spread to Charlotte’s body, and by evening, spots appeared on her arms and legs. Will convinced himself that it was indeed the measles, but the doctor looked at Elizabeth and shook his head.

By the third day the spots turned to blisters that looked watery; by nightfall they became puss-filled pustules. Charlie’s fever returned, and she became delirious. Will no longer deluded himself. “I cannot bear to see her suffer.” Yet he sat beside his wife, hour after hour, holding her hand and telling her how much he loved her.

Beth was afraid to wash her; burst pustules would leave ugly, disfiguring scars. Around midnight of the fourth day, Charlie became lucid. She smiled sweetly. “I love you both so much.” She sighed deeply, closed her eyes, and stopped breathing.

Will looked at Elizabeth, despair and disbelief written all over his face. The choking lump in Beth’s throat made it impossible for her to speak. She walked quietly back to her own room and vomited into the chamber pot. This is how Charlie’s illness started. Her inner voice said calmly, You are not ill—you are grief stricken.

Elizabeth, with leaden heart, waited patiently for Will to emerge from the bedchamber. Tears streamed from his deep blue eyes down his cheeks. He held up a tiny tapestry purse that held her favorite comb. “This is all I have of her.”

Elizabeth placed her hand on his arm in a comforting gesture, though she knew it was futile at the moment. “No, Will. You have her children.”

Her words made him sob. He hurried on, seeking to be alone.

Elizabeth informed the household staff that Lady Charlotte had passed away. Then she straightened her spine, filled a porcelain bowl with warm water, and went to say good-bye to her dearest friend.

She washed Charlie and, as she dressed her in a white night rail, sadly realized that her friend’s small body was already stiffening.

“It’s not fair, Charlie. You were supposed to become the next Duchess of Devonshire.” After a few quiet moments, she went to the dressing table and picked up a pair of nail scissors, then she cut a dark curl of Charlie’s hair.

Elizabeth found Will in the library, staring into space, looking more lost than any man ever deserved. “Here’s a love token for you, Will. It’s a part of her you may keep forever.”

He held the dark curl reverently. Then seemed to come out of his trance and began thinking of the ordeals ahead. “It will be a private funeral. Dear God, how am I to comfort Dorothy when she arrives? She lost two children before Charlie, you know.”

“We’ll tell her together.”

“James will run mad when he learns you have deliberately exposed yourself to smallpox. You must return to your family immediately.”

“Yes, I know, Will. I shall leave after Dorothy gets here.”