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“What my father had was a double life. My life was the one that was hidden.”
“Not any longer,” Farlow said. “You’re about to become very visible indeed.”
“Visible in what way?” Reina asked warily.
“We’ll need to leverage your popularity and credibility to secure extra funding for the women’s branch. You’re going to make a public launch statement at an exhibition space in Knightsbridge for residents, investors, local dignitaries, and reporters.”
Reina made a disgruntled sound. “Couldn’t I just write something? A nice little pamphlet or something for a newspaper—”
“You’ll be doing that as well. But it’s absolutely necessary for you to promote the women’s branch personally and persuade the public of its value.”
“Pistols,” she muttered.
John went back down to the kitchen, where Belinda was scrubbing the table with a soapy brush and June struggled to heft a five-gallon enameled water can from the sink to the range. He reached her in a few strides and grasped the side handles. “I have it,” he said. “Let go. I’ll set it on the range. Which boiling plate do you want it on?”
“One at the back,” June said breathlessly.
“When it’s hot, do not try to lift it by yourself. Call for me instead. I don’t want you scalded.”
Usually June would have snapped at John if he tried to give her an order, but at the moment she only nodded and said humbly, “Yes, sir.”
That was when he knew something was very wrong.
“Tell me,” he said quietly.
A tremor ran through June’s voice as she replied, “Her water broke. It was red. I put towels under her, but it soaked the mattress.” After a pause, she added, “A lot of red.”
From what little John knew about childbirth, various bodily fluids were involved, but he was damned if he had any idea what they were supposed to look like. “Some bleeding is usual in childbirth, aye?” he asked gingerly.
“Not like that.”
A muffled cry floated down the hallway from the direction of Tuppence’s room.
Belinda stopped scrubbing and glanced at both of them with wide eyes.
“Both of you,” John said calmly, “take a deep breath and let it out slowly.” To his surprise, they obeyed. “Maddock will be back with the midwife soon,” he continued. “Until then, we’re going to manage the situation. Belinda, I need you to help me carry the rest of the food up to the library. June, you and Enid will make Tuppence ready to be moved to my room. When I come back downstairs, I’ll carry her there.”
June looked at him in astonishment. “You’re going to let her have the baby on your bed?”
“I don’t give a damn where she has it,” he said, “so long as she’s clean and comfortable.”
For some reason, that inspired the first genuine smile June had ever given him. “Yes, Mr. Pembroke.”
John loaded a tray with silver-domed plates of food and carried it up the servants’ stairs, while Belinda followed with a three-tiered stand of sweets, cakes, and pastries. When they reached the library sideboard, John set out the plates and took the tiered stand from Belinda.
“Good work,” he told her. She glowed at the comment and took the empty tray from him before heading back to the kitchen. It had been a revelation that a girl hardened to severe punishments, inured to threats, would be so motivated by a word or two of praise.
Reina and Farlow were involved in conversation, neither of them seeming to notice anyone had entered the room. Although Reina appeared relaxed on the surface, John saw she had detached her propelling pencil from its chain and was twiddling with it. He’d known her long enough to recognize the sign of frustration.
Discreetly he went to Norman, who was busy taking notes at the writing desk. “I’ll need some help from you tonight,” he murmured. “There’s an issue downstairs.”
“Yes, sir. Has something gone wrong?”
“Tuppence.”
Norman understood immediately. “Sodding hell,” he whispered.
John’s mouth twisted in wry agreement before he looked down at the notes. At the top of the page, Norman had written Discussion of draft partnership agreement for Farlow’s Women’s Branch.
