Page 76 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer
Her eyelids fell again, and behind them hiding in darkness she saw Paul’s face. He leaned over the bed towards her. ‘Ellen.’ She heard him speak as his fingers touched her cheek, then brushed her damp, sweat-soaked hair away from her face. ‘Ellen, remember how strong you are. You can survive this.’
His image disappeared and she screwed up her eyelids, crushing them tightly closed as her heart poured out its misery. She was not angry with him; she missed him. She missed him so much. She opened her eyes and he was not there. Of course he was not. But his child was inside her, fighting to live.
‘Ahhh!’ She pushed.
‘That’s better, madam, and again.’
Ellen’s fingers fisted, clinging onto the sheet as another contraction clasped at her stomach, tightening her muscles in an excruciating hold. She did push, she pushed hard, and she kept pushing, as though pushing might bring sanity back into her life.
‘Oh, God!’ The blasphemy slipped from her lips as the pressure was suddenly gone. A child’s wail filled the air. She was panting, crying and laughing all at once as she looked at the little purple being curled in the midwife’s hands.
‘Hold your child while I take care of the cord and the afterbirth.’ The infant was covered in white slime. Its arms and legs stretched out as the midwife passed the child to her. The child had come early. It was lean and it was a boy. A son. Paul’s son.
Tears rolled from her eyes as she held the child to her breast.
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Ellen watched John sleep. He was more like her than Paul. She had wanted for him to look like Paul, and yet now he was here, it did not matter at all – here he was to love and hold and draw comfort from. ‘John.’ She said the name she had chosen for her son quietly so not to wake him, with a note of reverence. She had chosen the name because the name John meant the grace of God. He was here with her by the grace of God. Even if he was not made in the image of Paul, he was a little piece of Paul on earth. Someone to live for.
She could not resist. Her fingers reached out and touched his little head, feeling the soft patch on the top.
He was sucking in his sleep, as if he were dreaming of suckling milk from her breast.
He was the most precious treasure she had ever had.
She straightened, rising away from the makeshift cradle she and Megan had created from an open dresser drawer. He had not long been fed. He would sleep a while longer.
She looked at the blank sheet of paper she had left on the small table across the room. She was going to write to her father and ask for his help again. There had still been no word after the letter she had sent a few months ago. She must escape Lieutenant Colonel Hillier, get John away from him, and their only hope of escape was via her father or Paul’s. Leaving John to sleep, she sat down before the empty page, picked up the quill and dipped the tip into the ink.
Your Grace, Father,
I have a child. Paul’s child. A son. I am still in Paris, with Lieutenant Colonel Hillier, Paul’s superior officer. He has been providing for me, but he cannot do so forever. I want to come home, with my son.
I am asking you if you will either come and fetch us or send money for me to make my own way. Will you let me return to you now? I need somewhere safe for John to grow up. Please, father, let me come home.
Please give my love to Mama and Penny, Rebecca and Sylvia also.
At the thought of her sisters Ellen could write no more. They knew nothing of life – of the truth about the world. She said a silent prayer, that her father would receive her letter kindly, and she and John would get away from here and reach England soon. She also prayed that her sisters would experience none of the things she had in the last few months.
She signed the letter…
Eleanor.
She never used her full name now. She had gradually, without even realising it, slipped into anonymity. It hardly mattered after what had happened over recent months, she did not want anyone to know who she was.
She had thought, when she sent her letters just after Paul’s death, that Lieutenant Colonel Hillier knew, he had seen the addresses. He would have known the earl was Paul’s father, perhaps he had thought the duke‘she appealed to’, as he had put it, employed her family in the past. If he thought that, he would never imagine the duke was her father.
She wrote a letter to Paul’s father too, telling him she had given birth to Paul’s son. Then she sealed both letters with wax and addressed them. Her father’s she held to her bosom for a moment, willing him to come as she asked.
She picked up her cloak, looking at John. She could not just leave, even though it would not be for long. She turned to the cord and pulled it so it would ring the bell downstairs and call Megan.
It was just past midday, the servants might be dining. But that would be a good time to leave when none of the other servants would be about the house.
It took a few moments for Megan to come. Ellen stood at the bedchamber door, waiting for her, dressed in her cloak, with her gloves and hat on. She was never sure of Lieutenant Colonel Hillier’s comings and goings. He was not in the house now, but she had no idea when he would return, she wanted to hurry.
‘Megan,’ she said when the maid reached the upstairs landing. ‘I am going out for a walk.’
‘Shall I fetch my?—’
