A Fall from Grace Maggie Ford (feel good books .txt) 📖

already he was sinking down on his pillow, closing his eyes, seeking rest. ‘Now I need to sleep awhile.’

She watched him for a moment longer until he opened one eye and feebly waved her away, whispering, ‘Go on, my dear.’

The next days went by far too quickly. All she wanted now was to see Anthony, talk over the coming weekend with him, feel that he was sharing in her worry about what was to happen. She wished with all her heart it could be as it used to be: James leaving for his office, she hurrying out hailing a taxi, in a little while to be lying in Anthony’s arms, knowing they had most of the day together.

This Wednesday, as always these days, it would be hardly an hour before she must return home, in case James felt well enough to get up from his bed. She must wait for him to drift off to sleep before she felt it safe to leave the house with no need to make excuses. Meantime she might as well get down her small weekend case and begin selecting what to take with her for those two days. Soon it would be all behind her. The thought brought a surge of excitement as she bent over the case to flatten a couple of night dresses. As she did so she felt something warm on the tops of her inside legs, something liquid, almost as if she had wet herself as she’d bent forward. She gave a small frown and straightened up.

Putting a hand down to where the tiny trickle had made itself felt, she felt something sticky. Bringing her hand back up slowly she stared at it. It was red, sluggish red.

Twenty-Two

Hastily cleaning herself up, she hurried to a drawer in her wardrobe and took out one of the squares of towelling she usually kept for sanitary use, fumbling as she folded the small square of towelling into an oblong shape before pinning each end to the piece of tape she had tied around her waist. It was what she always did when she had her periods, but today she was shaking all over, her trembling fingers hardly able to fasten the safety pins. It felt as if her breath was strangling her as she redressed and as quietly as possible made her way downstairs to the kitchen area. The last thing she wanted was to hear James’s voice calling her name should he hear her moving about.

The kitchen was the first place she thought of. She had a need to tell someone – someone whom she could trust. Their cook, Mrs Cole, had more or less taken her under her wing from the first time she had set foot in this house as James’s wife, being some thirty-odd years older than Madeleine and well in charge of herself. She had always been there to give advice should Madeleine need it and Madeleine enjoyed taking full advantage of her kind attentiveness, although of course she’d stopped short of telling the woman about herself and Anthony.

Seeing her obvious distress, Mrs Cole ceased whatever she had been doing and, waving to the scullery maid to make herself scarce, hurried over to her employer’s wife. ‘Whatever’s the matter, dear?’ she began.

From the first she’d never called her mistress or madam; always ‘dear’ or sometimes ‘love’ when on her own, madam only when formality called for it, usually in James’s presence. Madeleine had never complained, so it had remained ‘dear’ or ‘love’ ever since. And now to Madeleine’s ears it held some comfort. Even so, she stood stiff and unyielding before the approach.

‘What is it, love?’ Mrs Cole said again, bewildered.

‘I’m—’ Madeleine heard her voice die away, tried again. ‘I’m…’ She took a shuddering breath. ‘I’m scared…’ her voice again dying away. ‘Something’s happened. I’ve had some bleeding and I don’t know what to do.’

Quickly the woman took over. ‘Come with me, love,’ she said, guiding her from the kitchen and across the narrow passage to the housekeeper’s sitting room, being housekeeper as well as cook. Leading her to the little sofa, she said gently, ‘Sit down, love. Your usuals, is it? Are you flooding?’

Madeleine shook her head, unable to reveal the truth, but it seemed that Mrs Cole had taken her own assumption for granted.

‘You should rest more. Probably worry – worrying about the master and all. I’ll have young Lily bring you a hot drink, then perhaps you should go back to bed for the morning. Rest is what you need. I’ll tell the master to arrange for your lunch to be taken to your room. Maybe your monthlies are a bit heavier than usual. They can be a bit alarming if you’ve not had one like that for a long while, but as you know it’ll dwindle in a day or two.’

‘It’s not my monthlies!’ Madeleine cried before she could stop herself.

A brief silence descended, then slowly, ‘Then what, dear?’

Without warning, Madeleine leaned forward. Hands covering her face, she broke into sobs while Mrs Cole sat beside her, quite still for a while, just looking at her. At last she asked, ‘What are you trying to say, love?’

Madeleine could no longer hold it in. ‘I’m pregnant!’

Her voice choked off into silence, not seeing Mrs Cole’s face breaking into smiles or the next moment changing to concern. ‘You’re definitely sure there’s bleeding, dear?’

As Madeleine nodded, her manner became urgent. ‘But that could be dangerous. You could lose it. We must call Dr Peters immediately.’

‘No! Don’t do that! Please – no one else knows.’

‘What about your husband?’

‘He doesn’t know either.’

‘But surely he knows of your condition?’ She sounded bewildered and Madeleine could guess what she was thinking, that had he been told, by now he would be letting everyone know, making a great deal of it that he, a man of his late years, was to become a father.

‘I daren’t tell him,’ Madeleine whispered desperately. Mrs Cole was staring at her as if not knowing what