London/Cambridge
March 1997/October 1723
The unexpected pain staggered me slightly as we walked through the maze to the gazebo. It was almost as if I'd been kicked in the stomach by something, although I think it was surprise rather than anything more that caused me to reach out to the hedge beside me and try to steady myself.
"What's wrong, Robert?" Gray asked, coming over to offer his assistance.
"I'm not sure," I replied, "you haven't set some new wards into this thing to ambush unwary Amberites, have you?"
"I'm not convinced they'd work if I did," he answered, smiling, "are you okay?"
"I think so," I said, shrugging, "boy, that was really strange."
"Want to talk about it?" he asked as he carried on leading us through to the centre.
"It's probably nothing," I said, but as I spoke I was aware of a growing feeling of unease that I couldn't pin down to anything. Strange, as usually the wards around the Oakwood maze usually have a calming effect.
"I hope so," he answered, smiling, "I suspect Claire would not thank me if you returned from here in worse health than you were in when you arrived. Especially now."
"I know what you mean." I paused for a moment, my thoughts on my lover who was seven months pregnant with our first child - my first daughter, Alisa. "It's strange, Gray. I hadn't planned on being an expectant father again this early. Once every two hundred and fifty years or so is plenty - especially with Michael to look after as well."
"I expect one day I'll get used to you saying that, but it still strikes me as odd," he said, smiling, "not as odd as the fact that you look exactly the same as you did the day I met you, but peculiar nonetheless."
I looked at him, undeniably old now, but still very well preserved for a man of his years, and shrugged. "I can't help my nature."
"I know."
"And I appreciate the fact that there are at least a couple of people outside my immediate family who I can relax my guard with. At times I wonder what I would do if you weren't around."
The expression on his face turned pensive as I spoke, but he made no answer. He just nodded, and we made our way to the gazebo. We settled down in two of the chairs, to enjoy the first decent spring day of the year, and to talk, however after about half an hour or so I was disturbed by the nagging feeling of an incoming Trump call. I checked through my mental deck, and discovered that my caller was Andrew.
"Will you excuse me a second, Gray?" I asked, looking at my host, "I'm getting a call."
"By all means," he replied, and I made the contact.
"Where are you?" demanded my son. His face was serious and he seemed upset.
"Oakwood, with Gray. What's the problem?"
"You're needed back in London. There's been an accident," he said, and I could hear the urgency in his voice. I looked at him, felt the colour draining out of my face, and felt myself go cold.
"Robert, did you hear me...there's been an accident." A different speaker this time. In my mind's eye I was back in Doctor Pitman's study, and Harry Collier had walked in, looking shaken. "You're needed at home. Elizabeth's had a fall and she's hurt." I looked at my tutor, who nodded, and then I followed Harry, not even stopping to collect my books.
"It's Claire, isn't it?" I asked mentally, barely trusting myself to speak.
"I'm afraid so. She's at Bart's. The attending physician, a Doctor Marsden, called me as he couldn't get hold of you."
"Did he say what had happened?"
"Not in any great detail. Something about an accident involving a goods' dray."
"Please tell him I'll be there shortly." With that I broke the link, and realised that I was shaking.
"What's wrong?" asked Gray, his face concerned.
"It's happening again," I croaked, as the shock hit me, "why? Is it normally this way with souls that reincarnate? They suffer the same fate over and over again?"
"Sometimes. Something's happened to her, hasn't it?" I nodded, and I saw the sympathy on his face, "I'm so sorry. Do you want me to come with you?"
I nodded again, getting to my feet, and tried to bring Claire's image to mind. Nothing. Warm. "No..." I muttered. I felt a steadying hand on my shoulder, and Gray's supportive presence, and then got my act together and teleported us to Bart's. On arrival I crossed to the admission's desk.
"Claire Connelly's room?" I asked.
"She's in OR at the moment, Your Grace," came the answer as the nurse on duty recognised me (I hadn't actually been a stranger to Bart's for close to a couple of years), "I'll get someone to take you up there."
She called for an orderly, and he arrived quickly and led us upstairs to a waiting room. Through one of the windows I could see a number of figures in green, huddled around a supine form on the operating table. I couldn't help noticing, however, that the form on the table looked lighter than it should. Once again I brought her Trump image to mind, but again there was nothing. I felt Gray's hand on my shoulder, and I got the impression that he was trying to get me to sit down, but I felt too numb to move. I just stood there, staring at the scene in front of me.
She was lying in bed in our room, her red-gold hair looking strangely limp and her face pale. I tried to go over to her, but the nurse attending the physician prevented me.
"Please, sir. Give him some room." I tried to push past her, but I felt a restraining hand on my shoulder.
"Robert, let them work," Harry said, gently.
"What happened," I asked my friend, still not taking my eyes off of the unconscious form of my wife.
"We were walking in the park. I had tried to persuade her that it wasn't a good idea, but she insisted. You know what she's like when she gets in that mood..."
"Oh yes," I replied, attempting to smile, but failing.
"We were by the lake, and the path was icy. Her feet went out from under her, and I didn't move quickly enough to stop her falling. I'm sorry."
"Then..."
"She landed very hard, and when I knelt beside her I realised that she was bleeding, and her breathing was wrong. She'd gone into labour from the shock. I picked her up and 'ported us back here, and then called the physician. Once he arrived, I came to fetch you."
"Lord Robert," said the doctor, finally coming over after he had left the nurse trying to cool Elizabeth's forehead with a damp cloth.
"How bad is it?" I asked, dreading the answer.
"I have to be honest, sir. I am not very hopeful."
"And the baby?"
"The best chance is to operate, but I will need your permission for that, sir."
"What will that do to Elizabeth?"
"She's lost a lot of blood. I honestly don't know. She certainly doesn't have the strength to finish the labour."
"Is there any chance of either of them surviving?"
"Again, in my opinion, I do not believe that either mother or child will live if we don't do anything. If we do... I can only hope."
I felt myself go cold. It sounded as if he was asking me to choose if I was willing to lost both of them, or just one. "Can I talk to her?"
"You can try. She isn't very lucid, though," came the answer, but he stood aside and let me go and sit beside my wife. I held her hand and looked down at her.
"Elizabeth?"
Her eyes flickered and slowly opened. "What are you doing back here?" she mumbled, "you should be at college."
"And leave you here like this?" I asked, quietly, "I couldn't have done it."
"I'm sorry. It was damned silly of me but I couldn't help myself. I slipped on a patch of ice and I'm just so ungainly at the moment that I couldn't stop myself from falling...how's Andrew?"
"Andrew?"
"The baby. I thought we might call him that."
I looked down at her a little surprised. As far as I knew we didn't even know what sex the child was going to be. "I don't know," I said, finally, "the doctor says he needs to operate on you to help him."
"You don't sound happy, Robert," she muttered, her hand weakly squeezing mine, "I thought you'd be pleased to have a son."
"I don't want to lose you," I answered, my voice aimed at her alone.
"I'll be fine. It was just a little fall. I'll be up and about in no time," she said, then she lay back on the pillow and her eyes closed again, but my gut feeling was at odds with what she had said.
"My Lord?" I heard the doctor ask from just behind my left shoulder.
"She's dying, isn't she?" I replied, standing and turning to face him. He just looked at me, barely meeting my gaze, and nodded.
"I think so," came the answer, "I need your decision..."
"Alright, do it...but please, tell me if the situation gets worse."
"Yes, sir. Would you mind stepping outside and letting me work?"
I nodded, slowly, and then felt Harry's supporting hand on my shoulder as he led me downstairs.
"Robert, come back," came Gray's voice from beside me, and when I looked I could see that the operating room was empty, "you looked to be miles away...or would years away be more accurate? Come and sit down...the doctor will be up any time."
I crossed to one of the comfortable looking leather chairs in the waiting room and sat down, taking a cup of coffee from a tray on the table in front of the chair. I had drunk about half of it by the time Doctor Marsden - a friend of Claire's who I had met on occasion over the last few months - came in to join us. I got to my feet as he entered and he crossed to me and extended his hand. "Your Grace."
"Do I want to know?" I asked, taking his hand, then releasing it.
"She is still alive," he began, slowly, and I let out part of the breath I was holding, "however, she's in a coma and I'm afraid we lost the baby."
"What happened?" I enquired, slowly becoming fast divorced from reality as I was losing myself in old memories as well as new.
"She came to do her rounds - you know what she's like; we haven't been able to stop her looking in on her patients most days. She got down out of the carriage and was heading for the door when a delivery dray careered around the corner. She couldn't get out of the way fast enough, and was knocked down. It looks like she was kicked in the abdomen and the head."
"And the driver of the dray?" I asked, feeling anger welling up inside me at the pointlessness of it, which at least served to sober me up.
"He stopped as soon as he could get his horse under control again and came back to see what he could do. He's downstairs if you want to talk to him, although he is in mild shock from the accident."
"No, I don't think I would trust myself," I replied, trying to fight down what was fast becoming murderous rage. That wouldn't help Claire at all. "What happened to our daughter?"
"We did a Caesarean, but she had been injured by the kick to the abdomen. She died almost immediately," he said, quietly, "I'm sorry, Robert, I know how much this meant to both of you."
"I suppose it wasn't ever meant to be," I answered, equally quietly, turning back to look into the empty operating room. "Where's Claire? I'd like to see her."
"This way."
He led me to one of the private rooms of the recovery room, and I noticed Gray fall silently into step behind us. For some reason his presence was strangely comforting. Claire was lying in bed with her eyes closed, and once again I was looking at her and Elizabeth at the same time. Despite it all, she seemed unhurt, although by her temple I could see a little residual bruising. I crossed to the bed and sat down beside her, only half noticing that the doctor didn't try to stop me, despite the breach of usual procedure. However, there was absolutely no reaction from her, as I gently reached my hand out and touched her cheek.
"It's possible that a mind mage might be able to help her," Marsden commented, "we haven't had time to call one in yet, though. Unless you..."
"I would like to try," I replied, hope rising for the first time since I had walked into the hospital.
"As long as you don't mind me staying to supervise."
I shrugged, and turned back to Claire. Then, very gently, I put a hand to her temple and started cautiously probing into the mind I had come to know so well over the last year and three quarters. Everything seemed so quiet, as if she was asleep, and yet I knew that it was an illusion. Looking for somewhere to start, I searched for the memories of the accident, and quickly discovered that at least part of the problem was that she had tried to block them out. Near that area, I found traces of damage left over from where she had actually taken the physical injury, and as I looked deeper, I realised that I could probably repair that, given time.
"What do you think?" asked Gray, from where he had seated himself just off to one side.
"I think I can do it, given a little bit of time," I replied.
"Normally, I would need you to sign various release and disclaimer papers before I allowed you to do this," Marsden commented.
"Normally?"
"Under the circumstances, it seems a little pointless. You are both a qualified physician and effectively Claire's next of kin. Good luck, Your Grace."
He lapsed into silence, seating himself next to Gray. My friend just sat there calmly, a solid presence in the turmoil, and once again I felt thankful to him for being there. Then I tried to put everything else from my mind and concentrated on trying to heal and mend Claire's damaged mind. I have no idea how long it took. With what I was doing time effectively had no meaning. I just knew I had to be careful and thorough. However, slowly the pieces started falling back into place.
I guessed that there would be some permanent loss of memory, but I did what I could to minimise it. Thankfully, however, due to her insistence that first night when we made love, I knew her mind almost as well as I did my own. Eventually I was satisfied that I had done what I could, and sat back, breaking the link and trying to breathe once more. I hadn't felt so exhausted in a very long time. Now it was just a case of waiting and seeing if she came around of her own accord. I waited, my hand falling back onto hers, and felt my mind beginning to wander again. I just hoped to Hell that I had done enough to cheat fate this time around, having felt so completely impotent the last time.
"Sir," said the doctor, coming into the drawing room about an hour later. Harry and I had been joined by my father and my Aunt Sand, and I was sitting nursing a second Scotch, still trying to come to terms with what had happened.
"Well?" I asked, looking up at him.
"I've done what I could. The child is alive, but he is very small and I don't know if he is strong enough to survive."
"And my wife?"
"I am afraid it's a matter of time."
Choking back a sob, I stood, put down the glass and went upstairs. Behind me I could here at least one person following me, but I did not turn to find out who it was. I headed straight for the bedroom, with a single thought in my head. To reach her before it was too late. As I went in, I saw that she looked even paler than she had before. In the crook of her arm they had placed a tiny form, but it seemed as still and pale as she did. As I got closer, I could see that his eyes were closed, although he seemed to be breathing regularly enough.
"Elizabeth..." I said, quietly. Very slowly, she turned her head towards me, and opened her eyes. I was disturbed to see that the bright blue colouring had faded now and they looked as pale as the rest of her.
"I'm so sorry, Robert," she said, quietly, "I never meant to leave you like this. You'll look after him, won't you?" She gestured weakly towards the baby.
"As if my very life depended on it," I replied, trying to smile but finding it hard. Instead I gripped her free hand tightly and I saw a trace of a smile on her face.
"I think I want to sleep now," she said, finally, "goodbye, my love."
"Dammit," I said, quietly, "why did you have to go...? There was so much more we could have done."
But there was no answer. She closed her eyes and lay quietly, and slowly I saw her breathing become more and more shallow. The infant - no, Andrew - moved restlessly, and the nurse who had been attending my wife came over and gently lifted him into his cot. I kept a hold of Elizabeth's hand, and at the same time felt a strong presence beside me...Sand, her face calm. Then, very slowly, my wife, the most important person in my world, just slipped away, and once she was gone and the priest had begun intoning the prayers for her soul, Sand helped me to my feet and then held me as my grief began to overwhelm me.
"Robert..."
The voice was familiar, if weak, and as I pulled myself back from the past I realised that Claire's eyes were open and she was looking at me.
"Where were you?" she asked, curious, "you seemed to be somewhere completely different, although I seem to think that you've been inside my head for some of the time I've been unconscious."
I looked about me, and saw that Marsden was asleep, nodding gently in his seat. Then I felt wards around the room that had not been there before, and I looked at Gray. He smiled, and then stood.
"Someone had to watch your back for you, Robert," he said, looking relaxed, "however, I think I can now leave you to it. I would appreciate a lift back to Oakwood when you go."
"I'll meet you out in the waiting area in a little while," I replied.
"Thank you," came the answer. Then he crossed to the bed, and gave Claire a quick kiss on the forehead. "Welcome back. Now, at least, I don't have to bring this reprobate back to his senses," he said, smiling and gesturing in my direction, and then he turned back to me. "And you. Next time you decide to try a past life regression, please be a little more careful. I thought you weren't going to come back for a minute there."
With that he smiled again, then crossed to Marsden, touched his wrist in a familiar gesture, and headed out. Marsden seemed to wake up a few seconds later, and stood up looking a little disoriented.
"Hello Paul," Claire said, her voice still a little weak, and I saw relief wash over his face.
"Thank God," he said, his voice heartfelt, "I really thought we'd lost you there." Then his face turned more serious. "Has Robert told you?"
"Told me what?" she asked, suddenly sounding anxious. I took hold of her hand and tried to calm her, but I felt her tense up. "It's the baby, isn't it?"
"Believe me, we tried, but there was nothing we could do."
"I'm sure you did everything possible," she said, choking back her tears. I looked across at him, and nodded. Thankfully he took the hint, and followed Gray out of the door. Then Claire sat up, and the tears started welling in her eyes.
"Lord, can you ever forgive me?" she asked, between sobs.
I took her in my arms and held her tightly. "At least I still have you this time," I replied, before kissing her long and hard on the mouth. And then we sat awhile as I tried to comfort her, relegating my own grief to second place.