"Yes, judging by the state he was in when he got home, and by the fact that he didn't get up until the following afternoon," Beth answered. "Unlike Murdo," she continued conversationally, watching Sarah carefully, "who was up bright and early. He didn't indulge in the pleasures of the house. He just went to keep an eye on Jim, and make sure he was safe. Anthony bought Jim a new suit for his birthday, and he looked a real dandy, which made him more of a target for robbers. You don't like him, do you?"
"What? Yes, of course I do," said Sarah automatically, then blushed.
"Ha! Got you!" said Beth triumphantly. "I meant Jim. It's pretty obvious you like Murdo."
"I do like him," Sarah replied crossly, "but not in the way you're thinking. He's one of the few genuinely decent men I've met, Sir Anthony being another. And no, I don't like Jim. I've only met him a couple of times, but he's far too sure of himself, in my opinion, and only after one thing. I suppose he's used to getting it easily. He is very handsome."
"Yes, but you've only seen one aspect of him, Sarah. He's young and careless at times, but he has a good heart." She refrained from commenting further, realising that it would seem strange if she defended her servant too vehemently. "Do you see Murdo a lot, then?" she asked.
"From time to time," said Sarah carefully. "He's taking me to see the ostrich at Mr Gough's menagerie on Saturday."
Beth smiled, thinking of what Angus would say when he found out that Duncan had stolen his idea for an outing. If he found out. Duncan was keeping this new friendship very close to his chest. And so was Sarah, who showed a distinct reluctance to converse any further on the subject.
Beth moved the conversation on to another topic. If Duncan and Sarah were becoming friends, that was good. If they wanted to keep it secret, that was up to them. She would pry no further.
* * *
Less than a week later Anne went into labour. As soon as they heard, Beth and Caroline dashed round to the house, where Isabella, Charlotte and Clarissa were already waiting excitedly for them in the salon.
"The baby's just been born!" Isabella cried as soon as they entered. "We distinctly heard it cry, just a few moments ago!" She was almost beside herself with excitement.
"Why aren't you upstairs with Anne?" asked Beth, who had expected them to be crowded round the bed. "Is she all right?"
Isabella looked at her cousin in shock.
"Oh, Elizabeth, that would never do," said Isabella. "We are unmarried, you know. It would not do for an unmarried lady to enter a birthing chamber."
Clarissa and Charlotte nodded agreement.
"Why not?" said Beth. This was the first she had heard of this social taboo.
Isabella looked confused.
"Well … Edward said that … " she faltered.
"Ah. Edward," said Beth. "Well if he said it, it must be right. Very well, you stay here. I'm married, so I assume I'm safe to enter the bedroom. Caroline?"
The two women mounted the stairs.
"You're from an ancient aristocratic family, Caroline," Beth said as they reached the landing. "Is it the norm for unmarried women not to enter the bedroom?"
"Not as far as I know," said Caroline. "Whenever any of us gave birth, the room was so full of chattering females that the midwife used to have to fight her way through to get to her patient. But you know Edward, he makes up rules at times just to show he can still wield authority."
"It's pathetic, it really is," said Beth crossly. "Those poor women know nothing about life, and they never will while they live with him."
A thin reedy wail came from behind the door to which the maid had led them, and Beth abandoned all thought of her downtrodden cousins and entered the room.
In spite of the fact that it was broad daylight, the shutters were closed, the curtains drawn, and the room lit only by candles. Anne was lying in the bed, her face almost as pale as the pillows which propped her up. In the corner the midwife was busily swaddling the newborn infant. The room was stiflingly hot, and a sour smell of blood and stale air permeated it.
Beth sat down on the bed, trying to drive away the memories of the last birth she'd attended, while Caroline moved straight to the window, drawing the curtains and opening the shutters, paying no heed to the midwife's protests that her patient would be sure to catch cold. A blast of fresh cool air entered the room, and Beth took a deep breath.
"Are you all right, Anne?" she said, reaching for the new mother's hand, alarmed by the tears that were pouring unchecked down her face.
Anne nodded miserably, but was unable to do anything else but sob brokenly. Beth took her in her arms, wondering whether it was normal for new mothers to behave in such a way. One look at Caroline's face told her it was not.
"Is the baby all right?" Caroline asked the midwife anxiously.
"He's perfect!" the middle-aged woman beamed, looking tenderly down at the squalling tightly-wrapped infant, the only visible part being the furious red face. "It was a perfect birth, very easy. The little poppet slid out all by himself, straight into my hands!"
"Anne, what's the matter?" asked Beth. "The baby's perfect. You'll be fine. You're just a bit tired, that's all. It's to be expected after what you've just gone through."
"Here," said Caroline, deftly taking the crying bundle from the midwife and laying it gently on Anne's chest. "Hold him. He's lovely."
Anne's arms instinctively moved to cradle the baby and she looked down at him in wonder, then up at Beth.
"He looks like Stanley," lied Beth smoothly. "That's what you told me you wanted, isn't it? A boy to remind you of Stanley."
"He's wonderful," Anne said, "but I wanted a girl. I had prayed so for a girl." She sniffed, and another tear spilled down her cheek. "What am I going to do?" she whispered, as though unaware there was anyone else in the room.
"You're going to feed him, if you want any peace," said Caroline practically. "Open the front of your nightdress and put him to your breast. He looks lusty enough, I think he'll get the idea straight away."
Anne looked up at her in horror.
"Oh, I can't do that!" she said, forgetting her tears. "I mustn't feed him myself! Richard was very definite about that. It will ruin my figure, he said. I must find a wet-nurse, or better still hand feed him. Yes, he said I should hand feed him. That would be the best."
Beth bit back the extremely shocking expletive she had been about to use regarding her brother. All had become clear. Anne did not want a boy because Richard didn't want one. She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself before she spoke again.
"Anne," she said. "I'm sure Richard will come round when he sees the child, and he will not be disappointed at all that it's a boy. In the meantime," she continued firmly, "he is not here and is not likely to be here for some considerable time. I can't think of anyone likely to be a better mother than you." She shot a quick look of apology at Caroline. "You should be happy. You have a lovely, perfect son, one of many no doubt, and it was an easy birth."
Caroline came and sat down on the other side of the bed.
"And you should feed him yourself," she asserted. "I did, and I assure you my figure hasn't suffered at all. It's a wonderful feeling. It bonds you to your baby like nothing else."
Anne looked doubtfully from Caroline to the baby.
"I have read that it is the best thing for a child," she said hesitantly.
"Of course it is," said Caroline brusquely. "You of all people, with your great knowledge of ailments and cures should know that."
"But when I told Richard that, he said it was a lot of new-fangled nonsense, and that there is nothing wrong with hand feeding, if it's done correctly."
"There's everything wrong with hand feeding," said Caroline. "Believe me, I know all about it. I read all the latest reports before Freddie was born, including some figures that Edwin got for me that aren't available to the general public. Almost all the children who are hand fed die. If you really don't want to feed him yourself, get a wet nurse. But even then your baby's got a higher chance of dying before he's weaned."
By the time they left, Anne had breastfed her child for the first time, had smiled weakly and had tentatively expressed the hope that Richard would not be too disappointed when she wrote to tell him he was the stepfather of a boy.
* * *
"Of course he'll be disappointed!" Beth raged once she was at home. "He'll be absolutely furious that Anne has not only had a boy, but that she's also decided not to murder it by following his advice!"
"Do you no' think you're being a wee bit hard on the man?" Duncan suggested carefully. "Ye do seem to think the worst of him all the time."