Page 1 of Once Upon a Winter's Tale
Chapter One
Sussex, England
December 1, 1800
The howling winterwind pounded mercilessly against the windowpanes and added a foreboding to the weight of the evening. Upstairs, the Countess of Wharton labored to deliver her baby. Downstairs, the earl paced the carpet of his study, fuming over something one maid had said to another earlier, as they had carried hot water and towels upstairs. Lord Felix Phillips, the Earl of Wharton, had been standing in the doorway of his study and had heard the exchange. Irritated they were using the main stairs, he had started to rebuke them, but what they had said made his blood run cold.
“I hope the little girl will have blonde, curly hair like the countess,” one said, nattering on as she scaled the broader front stairs with her friend, unaware they were being overheard by the earl.
“How do ye know it’ll be a wee girl?” the other asked.
“Me ma always said ye can tell by the way they carry the babe. The countess carried it out front. That means a girl.” Her answer was tinged with confidence.
“I pray this baby lives. The poor countess near wasted away with grief over the last one that was born still,” the other replied, almost reverently.
A bloodcurdling scream from the countess’s rooms above them propelled them to move faster, and the two girls scurried to the third floor.
Brandy snifter in hand and a cigar locked between his teeth, Wharton turned toward the fireplace and hurled the glass and its contents into the flames, causing it to burst with a blaze. With each scream of pain, he bit down harder on the cigar, not caring about the ash falling onto the carpet.
“A girl! She’d better not give me another girl. Her job is to produce an heir. I will accept no less!” he raged to no one in particular. “The damned female wouldn’t dare defy me, not again!”
Vexed, Wharton rubbed his temples, desperate to ward off the familiar signs of an intense impending headache. His vision blurred with the strain, as he twisted his neck back and forth, desperate for relief. Suddenly, one sash blew open and an arctic wind blasted into the room, blowing out the fire and enveloping him as he fought to close it.
“Damn and blast!” he yelled.
His butler and a footman rushed into the room. “My lord, is there something I can get you?” the wiry man asked. With a look, the butler directed the footman to secure the window.
“Yes! You can find out what’s going on upstairs, and it better be a son!” Wharton blustered, gripping his temple while he poured himself another drink.
The old man murmured his acceptance and gave a brief bow before leaving the room to do his master’s bidding.
*
“Have the maidsplace the water there,” the doctor said, pointing to a table by the bedside. “The baby is coming,” he reported, without looking up. “Bear down, my lady. Push!”
A brutal scream rent the air as the child’s entrance into the world racked the countess’s body. The doctor’s shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows and blood covered his arms and clothes as he deftly delivered a baby girl. Leaning down to make sure she was breathing, he was met with a loud squall in his ear, answering his unspoken question.
Smiling, he took the sheet offered by the maid and wrapped the baby before laying it in the countess’s arms. “My lady, you have a daughter.”
For an instant, she smiled, before a look of terror overtook her face. “Oh no! I cannot do this again,” she said, before breaking into tears.
“But this is a live birth, my lady,” the doctor persisted. “It gives hope the next one will also be a live birth, and perhaps a boy.”
“You don’t understand. He won’t accept her,” she said, turning her face into her pillow. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
A loud knock on the door was all the notice they received before it burst open, and the earl entered, followed by the old butler. “I heard crying. Hand me my son.”
“My lord, you have a healthy daughter,” the doctor said cautiously, handing the baby to her father.
The earl held up his hand and stopped him. “See me in my study, Sprocket,” he snarled before turning and slamming the door behind him.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
“Dr. Sprocket, please let me know if there is anything you require,” the old butler said before quietly exiting the room.
When the door closed for the second time, the doctor looked down at the baby, who lay in his arms, wide-eyed, as if she had understood her father’s tone. He glanced at his patient, whose face had become stoic as she reached for her daughter.
He nodded toward the housekeeper and looked at the bloodied sheets and floor. “I will leave you to attend to your mistress and the child. Use soap and clean water on her person and the child. I have found it helps with the health of both mother and child.”
