Page 95 of The Pirate Lord
“No!” Lady Dryden protested. “That’s not the way it was at all! I never—” She broke off, tears welling in her eyes. “So that’s why my son never looked for me. He must have thought . . .” She trailed off as confusion spread over her face.
Sara shared the woman’s confusion. This wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. “Lady Dryden, are you saying that you are indeed Gideon Horn’s mother?”
The woman stared about her distractedly. “Of course! Surely you had guessed that or you wouldn’t have spoken to me of him!”
Sara’s heart thundered in her ears. She’d found Gideon’s mother. “I wasn’t sure. Elias Horn told Gideon that his mother was dead. But there was only one duke’s daughter named Eustacia inDebrett’s Peerage, and it was you. Then when I saw your pendant?—”
“You were sure.” Lady Dryden gazed back into the dining room, her expression anxious. Gone was any semblance of nonchalance or ladylike demeanor. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she surveyed the crowded room. She seemed almost frantic as she grabbed Sara’s arm. “Oh, Miss Willis, we must find my husband! He must hear this at once!”
Sara felt all at sea. Lady Dryden didn’t look or act like a woman just hearing that the son she despised was a pirate. And why after all these years of not caring about him would she suddenly be so eager to hear about him? Or to tell her husband of her sordid past?
“Lady Dryden,” Sara murmured with concern as the woman tugged her toward the door, “are you sure you want to tell your husband of this without any . . . preparation?”
“Yes, of course!” Then, as if the full import of Sara’s question hit her, Lady Dryden darted a glance at her, eyes rounded in distress. “Oh, but you must think— If my son thinks it, then you must think— Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You’ll understand when you hear my tale. But Miss Willis, wemustfind my husband first! I assure you he’ll want to hear everything you have to say.Everything!”
“Certainly, my lady.” Sara could hardly say anything else.
But she made herself a promise as the woman dragged her into the ballroom. After the marquess heard what she’d told his wife, she was going to get some answers of her own.
Gideon paced the drawing room in Silas’s newly built cottage. Molly was ensconced in Louisa and Silas’s bedchamber and was screaming for all she was worth. Thank God one of the women had taken Jane off as soon as she’d seen her mother. He wouldn’t have wanted the girl to hear her mother suffering so.
By God, he’d never dreamed that birthing babies was this awful. He’d never had any dealings with a woman in labor before. The few minutes he’d been in the bedchamber had almost been more than he could stand. And when he’d hurried out as soon as Jane had been taken from the room, Louisa had mumbled something derogatory about the entire male sex.
He hadn’t taken offense. How could he? Molly was screaming her blasted head off and enduring hours and hours of pain, all to bring forth a child without her husband. At the moment, he had the utmost respect for women and nothing but contempt for himself and his kind.
Ann slipped through the bedchamber door, a worried look on her face. “The baby is in the breech position, Cap’n. That’s why Molly’s havin’ such a hard time of it.”
“Breech position?”
“When a baby comes, its head is supposed to come out first. But this one’s wee behind wants to come out first, and that won’t work. Louisa and I don’t know enough about it to make it right, and there ain’t a midwife amongst the women. We already asked.”
“Surely there’s someone who can help,” Gideon protested. “There are fifty women or more on this island.”
“That’s true. But most have as much knowledge of childbirth as I do—enough to take care of a normal birth. For somethin’ likethis, we need a midwife, and we don’t have one. Ain’t you got a doctor at all on this island?”
He shook his head as guilt sliced through him. No doctor. No midwife. Eventually, of course, he’d intended to coax a doctor to the island, but he hadn’t done so yet. Still, he should have thought to bring a midwife here for the women.
Suddenly, a raucous voice came from the entrance to the cottage. “All right then, where’s the laboring mother?”
They both turned to find Queenie standing there, her sleeves rolled up and her face set.
“Queenie,” Ann said in a firm voice, “you mustn’t disturb Molly. Things aren’t goin’ so well. The baby is breech. She needs to be kept still while we figure out what to do.”
“She needs a woman who knows how to help her, that’s wot she needs,” Queenie retorted. Another scream erupted from inside the bedchamber, and Queenie headed toward it purposefully.
Ann moved to block her path, and Queenie scowled at her. “Get out of my way, country girl. Who do you think delivered all the babies in the whorehouse? Me, that’s who. We couldn’t risk a doctor turning us in to the magistrate, so I always done it. I’ve birthed more babies than you probably held in yer lifetime. And I’ll birth this one, if you’ll just let me by.”
Ann hesitated, staring at Queenie as if she didn’t quite believe the woman.
“Let her pass,” Gideon ground out. “If she says she can do it, let her do it, by God. We’ve got no choice.”
When Ann stepped aside, Queenie sniffed, then flounced into the bedchamber, leaving the door open.
“Queenie!” Louisa exclaimed from inside the room. “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”
“It’s all right,” Ann said as she entered behind Queenie. “She says she used to birth babies.”
Louisa harrumphed. “She’s probably seen more things going into a woman than coming out of one.”
