A Fall from Grace - Maggie Ford (have you read this book TXT) 📗

At last she sat down beside her, laid an understanding arm about Madeleine’s shoulder as she whispered, ‘Why ever not?’

Madeleine had no idea how to reply; wished she hadn’t rushed down here, so fast, so desperate to have someone help her, advise her.

‘Because,’ she began, breaking off then tremulously beginning again. ‘Because… It’s not his.’

There, she’d said it, instantly wishing she hadn’t as the words, ‘Dear God!’ like a tiny whispered explosion broke from the woman’s lips.

‘How d’you mean, it’s not his?’ she said, her gentle tone taking on a harder note.

The question sounded utterly absurd, but all Madeleine could do was break down afresh in sobs of misery. ‘It’s not his! What’s he going to say?’

She felt the arm lift off her shoulders. ‘It’s not what he’s going to say. It’s how he’s going to feel. The man’s ill. Faced with something like this – how could you ever have done such a thing to him? Who is the father?’

That she was not prepared to tell her. She had said too much already and she shouldn’t have. She should have gone straight to Anthony. Though maybe he wouldn’t have been home yet, or maybe he would, waiting for her, waiting to talk about the following weekend ready to prepare her for the ordeal facing her. If she could make it to Anthony’s they could call a doctor from there and perhaps James would never have to know. What the procedure would be she had no idea. Whether a doctor would take it away, or just stop the bleeding, she had no idea, but it must not happen in this house.

Her thoughts were in turmoil. There was a lurking relief that there may be no need now to go through the trauma of placing herself into the care of an abortionist. She’d told Anthony she wanted a baby, but not at this moment. All she knew was that she needed to be with him. Certainly not here being attended to by James’s doctor, with James having to be informed, having to face him. No need for Mrs Cole to observe and maybe tittle-tattle, no matter how trustworthy. No need for James to be any the wiser.

‘I must go!’ she burst out. ‘Don’t say anything to Mr Ingleton, please, Mrs Cole.’

‘I should think not!’ The tone was no longer kind. ‘News like that could kill him, ill like he is. How could you treat the master…’

But Madeleine was already out through the kitchen door, up the basement steps and hurrying down the hall towards the main door. She had only gone halfway when a sharp little pain seared her insides low down and made her gasp, stopping her in her tracks. Tense, she waited for it to ease, but then a second pain took over, slower, heavier, a deep, more persistent grinding like a fist being turned inside her.

Doubling up, she heard herself cry out, ‘Mrs Cole – come quick!’

Mrs Cole arrived in an instant and helped her into the sitting room, lowered her on to a sofa, and made her lie back, saying, ‘I’m calling the doctor. No arguments.’ Raising her voice she bellowed, ‘Beattie! Beattie, where are you?’

‘Up here, Mrs Cole,’ came a voice from over the landing above.

‘Come down here, Beattie, this minute!’

As the girl appeared at the doorway, Mrs Cole turned to her. ‘Phone Mr Ingleton’s doctor. The number’s in the book hanging at the side of the telephone. Tell him it’s extremely urgent. Do you understand? EXTREMELY URGENT! Tell him Mrs Ingleton has been taken seriously ill.’

Faintly, between groans, Madeleine could hear the girl asking for the number, then as if calling back over her shoulder. ‘Mrs Cole, he’s asking if I mean Mr Ingleton.’

‘No. Tell him it’s Mrs Ingleton, Mrs Madeleine Ingleton. Tell him it’s terribly urgent and to come straightaway.’

A moment’s pause, then, ‘He’s asking, what’s the matter with her.’

Mrs Cole gave an irritated tut-tut and raised her voice even louder. ‘It’s for him to tell us! Tell him it’s a woman’s trouble and looks serious and to come immediately.’ She looked down at Madeleine and smiled. ‘After all, Mr Ingleton pays him.’

When Madeleine, holding her breath against another sluggish twinge, barely returned the smile, Mrs Cole stood up, calling to the girl in the hall, ‘As soon as you’re off the phone go to the laundry room and collect some clean towels and a couple of clean flannels. Tell young Lily to heat some water – a couple of kettlefuls will do – pour it in a basin and bring it to me.’

Seconds later, came Beattie’s voice. ‘Lily’s not there.’

‘Then she must be outside in the garden or in the loo out there. I told her to make herself scarce. If you can’t find her, do it yourself. But be quick about it!’

This last was said almost in panic as Madeleine felt another pain run through her and let out a cry, not one to endure pain in silence. The sound seemed to echo through the house, bringing Beattie up the few stairs from the kitchen at a run, slopping hot water on her way.

‘Put it here,’ cried Mrs Cole. ‘And go and get a waterproof sheet – two waterproof sheets – one for the floor and one for this sofa. Can’t have the Master’s good furniture all wet and stained.’

‘What’s happened to her?’ Beattie enquired.

‘None of your business!’ Mrs Cole snapped at her. ‘Now go and wait outside the door for the doctor. Bring him straight in here when he arrives. Bring him in here, then you can go into the kitchen till he’s gone. I don’t want you moving about the house just now.’

‘Why not?’

‘Don’t ask questions. Just keep Lily company when she comes back from wherever she is until I can say you can go about your duties again.’

‘What if the Master wants anything?’

‘I doubt he will, he’s not at all well and won’t be down until well into the morning. Now be a good girl, and go and