The Midnight Rose (53 page)

“Are you all right, Anni?” said Tilly, putting an arm around me. “Thinking of your poor husband, no doubt.”

“Yes,” I replied.

“I’m sure there’ll be someone for you one day, Anni. You’re so beautiful and clever, I doubt you’ll be alone for too long.”

At that moment, my heart cried out to tell my friend the truth of my situation, to confide in someone, but I knew I could not. I had no choice but to bear my secret alone.

As fate would have it, I was to see Donald far sooner than I imagined.

One crisp January night, as I was bathing you in the tub in the kitchen by the range, I heard the sound of a horse’s hooves draw up in the courtyard. As no one ever came to visit me at night, I assumed it could only be Donald. He knocked politely and then opened the back door to the kitchen.

“What are you doing here? I thought we agreed—”

“We did, and I want you to know that I’m here with the full knowledge of my wife,” he said, still breathless from the ride across the moors.

“What on earth do you mean?”

“May I come in?” he asked me. “Then I can explain.”

I stood aside to let him pass.

“Mr. Don!”

Your eyes lit up as you saw your father and you splashed approvingly from the tub.

“Hello, little chap,” he said as his face broke into a smile and he kissed your soapy head. Then he turned to me. “The thing is that unfortunately my wife’s pregnancy sickness has not improved. It seems she finds it impossible to bear the smell of food, so she’s not eating. Dr. Trefusis isn’t overly concerned, saying it will pass eventually, but Violet is utterly miserable.”

“Some women suffer terribly throughout their pregnancy,” I said tentatively, wondering why he was telling me all this.

“Which brings me to the reason I’m here. It seems that Violet has heard some talk from the servants about the miracles you perform with your special herbal remedies. And she’s requested that you visit her to see if there’s anything you can give her that might help with the sickness.”

I stared at him as if he had taken leave of his senses. “Donald, you can’t be serious!”

“Indeed I am, Anni. Your fame has spread, and the problem is now that it would seem very strange if you refused to look in on Lady Astbury
herself
when she’s specifically requested your help. I know.” Donald shook his head and shrugged helplessly. “The last thing I thought I’d be doing was coming here to see you on my wife’s explicit instructions.”

“Oh, Donald, I . . .”

Perhaps it was the release of tension from weeks of not seeing him, or the irony of the situation we were now in, but I suddenly began to giggle. Finally, and with relief, Donald did the same, and you, my darling, gazed at your parents from your bathtub in astonishment.

“It’s not funny really,” I said eventually, wiping my streaming eyes with the bath towel.

“No, it isn’t,” Donald said, “not at all. Oh, Anni, it’s so wonderful to see you,” he said as he pulled me to him. “Have you missed me as much as I’ve missed you?”

“More,” I said truthfully, loving the sensation of being once more in his embrace. “So, her ladyship requests my presence,” I said as I left his arms to lift you out of the tub.

“She does indeed. I said I wasn’t sure if you would be in, but I’d ride over and leave a message for you anyway. She’d like you to come at your earliest convenience. Perhaps tomorrow morning?”

“I shall have to consult my diary, of course,” I said, my eyes twinkling as I toweled you dry on my knee. “But I’m sure I can squeeze your wife in somewhere.”

“Thank you, Anni,” he said gratefully. “And truly, anything you can do would be appreciated. She’s suffering terribly, poor thing, and making sure everyone knows it.”

“I’ll ride over in the trap first thing tomorrow. Tell her to expect me around nine thirty,” I said as you slid off my knee and toddled over to your father, your arms raised toward him.

“Hug, Mr. Don,” you demanded, and he pulled you up onto his knee.

“How he’s grown in the space of just a few weeks,” he said, stroking your soft dark hair.

“Yes, he has. He’s talking thirteen to the dozen now too. I’ll ask Tilly to mind him while I come up to attend to your wife. As I’m sure you know, she’s no longer working at the hall. Her husband, Jim, has just received a promotion to assistant postmaster.”

“Perfect, and while I’m here—” Donald dug in his pocket and pulled out some notes from his wallet. “There, at least now I won’t need to use Tilly’s husband to deliver this to you in a letter.” He smiled.

“Thank you.” It was the moment I hated, but there was currently little I could do to change it.

“Mr. Don, hortey?” you asked expectantly.

“Not today, little man,” said Donald regretfully, “but I promise to take you riding on Sheba next time I visit. Now I must go.”

Your face dropped, and you toddled after Donald to the door. As I scooped you up into my arms to comfort you, I asked, “Will you be there tomorrow with Violet?”

“I feel that in the best interests of all concerned, I should make myself scarce.”

“Yes,” I said in agreement.

When Donald had left, I put you to bed and sat by the fire mulling over his astonishing appearance and the reasons for it. Even though I’d laughed initially at the irony of the situation and made light of it with Donald, my senses sang a different emotional tune.

That night, as I tried to sleep, I heard the singing. It was distant, but it was there. And it warned me that danger was not far off.

The following day, once I’d deposited you at Tilly’s cottage in the village, I drove the trap up to Astbury Hall. Entering the usual way through the lobby and into the kitchen, I was greeted with welcoming smiles.

“We’re mighty glad to see you, Miss Anni,” said Mrs. Thomas. “I said to her ladyship that if there was anyone who could help her, it had to be you. Do you think you can? ’Cause I’m running out of ideas to tempt her into eating something.”

“I hope I can, but I’ll have to take a look at her first,” I said as Ariane, Violet’s new French lady’s maid, arrived in the kitchen to take me upstairs.

“Well, we’re all keeping our fingers crossed. We’re all getting right worried about her,” Mrs. Thomas added.

“I promise to do my best,” I told her as I left the kitchen and followed Ariane along the labyrinth of corridors that led to the main entrance hall. As she took me up the staircase, I was agog at the difference in the hall and saw that Violet had obviously got her way with the family portraits that led up the grand staircase. They had been replaced with striking works of modern art.

“Wait here,
s’il vous plaît
,” said the maid, leading me into a sumptuously furnished sitting room. “I will let her ladyship know.”

I noticed that the temperature in the room was that of a furnace, so stiflingly hot, it reminded me of my days in India.

“Her ladyship will see you now,” said Ariane, appearing at the bedroom door.

I followed her tentatively into the room and found it as stuffy as the sitting room next door. My immediate instinct was to open the large windows and let in some fresh air.

Lying in the four-poster, which was hung on either side with rich brocade drapes, lay a pale figure, dwarfed by the vast size of the bed.

“Hello, your ladyship.” I curtsied. “My name is Anahita Prasad. I believe you sent for me.”

“Yes, I did, after hearing the servants talk of your wonderful healing remedies,” she said in her soft American voice. “Please, come closer . . . Ariane, won’t you pull up a chair for Mrs. Prasad and she can sit down next to me?”

Ariane did so, and I sat down, properly studying the woman who
was Donald’s wife. She looked so young—barely older than a child herself. With her blond hair, huge brown eyes and perfect bow-shaped lips set in her white, unblemished skin, she reminded me of a fragile porcelain doll. I could see immediately from her demeanor that she was weak, caused almost certainly by lack of nourishment.

“I’m very glad you’re here, Mrs. Prasad, even Dr. Trefusis said it couldn’t do any harm to see you.”

“It’s my pleasure, your ladyship. I’m sure Dr. Trefusis informed you that I have nursing training, as well as the Ayurvedic medicine I practice.”

“Either will do for me, if it’ll make me feel better.” Violet sighed. “I’ve been sick as a dog now for weeks.”

“Now, your ladyship, would you mind if I gave you a brief examination?”

“Go right ahead. I’ve been prodded and poked so much recently I lost all dignity long ago.”

I took time to check Violet’s vital signs, surmising that her pulse was a little fast, although many women’s were during pregnancy, but her temperature was normal and her heartbeat steady and regular. I felt the baby, who seemed to be small for the number of weeks but was most definitely alive. Her skin was clammy to the touch, but I deduced that was probably more to do with the oppressive heat in the room rather than any medical condition. I then checked under her eyelids and found the telltale signs of anemia.

Satisfied that I’d completed a thorough examination on both traditional and holistic levels, I washed my hands in the basin on the stand, dried them and sat down.

Violet had remained silent and compliant throughout the examination, but now I could see that her eyes were expectant.

“Well, I believe I can help you, your ladyship.”

“Oh, thank the Lord! I’ve lain here for some days feeling like I was dying.”

“You’re perfectly well, I promise you. Has Dr. Trefusis mentioned anemia to you?”

“No.” Violet shook her head. “His prescription is simply chicken broth, which I loathe and detest. What’s anemia? Is it serious?”

“Not at all if caught in time and treated. It’s simply the baby depleting your body’s iron stores,” I explained. “It makes you feel sleepy and
lethargic, but it’s very easy to put right, I promise you. Your ladyship, have you ever heard of a drink called stout?”

“Isn’t that something the navvies drink on the docks?” Violet curled her lips in disgust.

“Yes, but it’s also very good for pregnant women because it contains a lot of iron. It’s not particularly pleasant, but I promise you it will really help. I’ll also ask Mrs. Thomas to cook everything you eat in an iron pan. The food soaks up the iron and it’s a natural way of getting the substance into your body.”

“But that’s the whole problem,” Violet wailed, “I simply can’t eat! Even the smell of food makes me feel sick.”

“I think we can deal with that as well. I have some fresh ginger and I’ll bring it over and ask Mrs. Thomas to brew you up some tea from it. It’s wonderful for settling a queasy stomach and will make you feel far less sick. For now, you must drink it at least three times a day.”

“Ginger?” Violet wrinkled her pretty nose. “My, the medicines you’re prescribing are making me feel worse!”

“They won’t, I promise. And I’m also going to mix you up an herbal draft that will not only help the sickness, but will also give you more energy and perhaps bring back a little color to your cheeks. I’ll put the instructions onto the bottle. And no,” I said in agreement, “that really won’t taste very nice at all. The last thing is, your ladyship, this room is simply too hot. You need to turn the heating down and have some fresh air in here. And also, a short walk every day in the garden to get some exercise will do neither you nor the baby any harm. Lying up here, miserable and alone, is certainly not helping you at all.”

“But it’s so cold outside.” Violet shivered.

“I know,” I said, “but you can wrap up warmly. And if you do everything I suggest, you’ll soon feel like running around the garden like a spring lamb.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.” She sighed, resigned. “I suppose I have nothing to lose by trying it your way. None of these things are dangerous for the baby, are they?”

“If they were at all dangerous, your ladyship, I wouldn’t give them to you.”

“No, of course not.” Violet blushed at her tactless remark.

“Now, I’m going to go downstairs and speak with Mrs. Thomas. Together, we’ll try to come up with something more tasty but equally as nutritious as chicken broth.”

“Well that sure would be an improvement.” Violet shared a conspiratorial glance with me.

“I’ll come back and see you in a few days,” I said as I stood up. “But if you need me before, then send for me.”

“Yes, and don’t worry yourself about riding over to bring the medicines you wish me to take. I’ve troubled you enough and I know from the servants that you have a small child. I’ll send someone to collect them from you this afternoon.”

“Thank you. I’m only too happy to be of some help.”

“Good-bye, Mrs. Prasad.” Violet smiled at me as I walked toward the door. “Leave the bill downstairs with the butler.”

“Oh no, I don’t charge. My services are free. Good day, your ladyship.”

Downstairs in the kitchen, I wrote a list of instructions and explained them to Mrs. Thomas.

“Well, if all these things you prescribe work, I’ll be the king of England, but seeing as you’ve mended so many of us before, I’m prepared to trust you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Thomas. Now, I must go and collect my son from Tilly. He’ll be wondering where I’ve got to.”

Donald himself rode over to the cottage that afternoon and I gave him the ginger and the herbal remedy I’d made up for Violet to boost her energy levels.

“You should see an improvement in the next few days, if she starts all these things immediately,” I advised him.

“Thank you, Anni,” he said as he tucked the ginger and the remedy into his coat pocket. “I’ll encourage Violet to do as you say. It’s so awfully good of you to help her, under the circumstances.”

“She’s a human being and she’s suffering,” I said as I ushered him to the door. “Of course I want to do my best to help her.”

•  •  •

When I returned to the hall a week later, I was taken upstairs, but this time, a fully dressed Violet greeted me in her sitting room.

“Mrs. Prasad!” She stood up and walked over to me, then, to my embarrassment, embraced me. “You are a miracle worker! Look at me!”

I did look at her and saw the pink tinge to her cheeks and a new vitality shining in her eyes. “It seems you are much recovered,” I smiled.