“They would have no chance. The British burned the White House and much of Washington only a couple of years ago, and that was all over a squabble about the British rights to search the American vessels. Think how the future would look if America was under British rule into the twentieth century.”
“What about you?”
“My task was to find you, instruct you to try to get to America, while I have to go to India. Much is happening there. After that, I go on to Australia. We are but few, Jane, and there is much to do.”
“May I ask you some personal questions?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“When are you from?”
“1990s, Australia, and you?”
“You weren’t told?”
“No. Only your current identity.”
“1990s, USA.”
“I guessed you were around the same time as I. How long have you been here?” he asked.
“Since November 1813. You?”
“Really? We heard about the baby, it caused quite a stir.”
I smiled.
“Am I allowed to know whether everything goes all right?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Michael dug out an old newspaper, he asked me to commit the passage to memory, just in case you should ask.”
“Oh?”
“It is dated the 14th September 1816: Abingdon, 8th September 1816. A daughter, Emily Jane, was born to Lady Jane Lambert, who together with her husband, Sir Roger, is sailing with the family for the Americas next month. Lady Jane, who has already one son, Edward, is looking forward to their adventure. Sir Roger’s children from his previous marriage, Katherine and William are travelling with them, as they join Sir Roger’s brother in Virginia.”
“Two children?”
“So far.”
“Oh my God. How?”
“No one knows. You’re the first. Michael played this one close to his chest. You see, when he checked your history, he discovered the children, but decided against telling Harry. Harry Horsefall is pulling his hair out, as he was convinced that it was impossible.”
“So, Michael knew when he recruited me?”
“He must have done.”
“Why the hell didn’t he warn me?”
“Would it have made any difference?”
“Yes, damn it, I wouldn’t have had sex with the man until after we were married. Shit, there could have been a catastrophe.”
“But there wasn’t.”
Now I knew that James was genuine.
“Lady Jane?” I asked, re-reading the article.
“It seems that your little exploit in the park warrants a knighthood for Roger. Your part in the matter is put in the shade by the cutlass waving colonel.”
“It was a sabre.”
“Sabre then.”
“Good. I don’t want to shine out too much.”
“Don’t put yourself down, as his Grace knows that a knighthood rewards both of you.”
“Oh.”
We arrived back at the house, so the conversation ended. I returned the scrap of paper, watching as he destroyed it by using a match. However, over the week, we had many similar conversations, and had fun talking about music and cars.
“How I wish I could have met you in the twentieth century. I could have taken you dancing by moonlight on a Caribbean cruise.” he said, with a smile.
I smiled back.
“I don’t think we will make a very well matched couple. And perhaps it is as well that we shall never meet,” I said.
“Oh, don’t say that, I was hoping to get your phone number before I leave.”
I simply smiled and shook my head.
“Believe me, you wouldn’t be interested.”
He looked at me and shrugged.
I was sad when James left, but we promised to try to keep in touch. It was odd, but he actually felt like family.
You can’t escape history, for Napoleon escaped from Elba and rallied his troops once more. Marshal Ney, sent to confront him, instead handed him command of the old Imperial Guard. He was on the march, and rapidly at that. He tried to out-fox Wellington whilst Blucher was otherwise occupied, forcing the British to fight at Waterloo.
Roger went off with his regiment, leaving me helpless at home. I fretted and worried, but kept remembering the newspaper article that said he survived.
It was a close thing, as the early advances were made by the French, who over-ran the British positions. The British Infantry held, the cavalry rallied, and the Austrians arrived in time to assist the defeat of Napoleon. The day was won, so my beloved husband came home to me. That must be the shortest account of the battle of Waterloo.
Life went on, I became larger and Roger became more concerned for me. He was convinced that if I grew any more then I would explode. My back ached, my boobs ached, I had sore legs, and my bladder was compressed so much that I had to go to the bathroom every half hour. Yet through it all, I revelled in being a complete woman.
Finally, at 8 o’clock in the morning, on the 4th July 1815, after a six-hour labour, with Cook and Nanny in attendance, Edward Ryan Charles de Lambert made his vociferous way into the world. In my time, I have been wounded in battle, maimed in parachuting accidents and otherwise hurt in so many ways, that I thought I understood pain.
I didn’t!
Nothing prepared me for the experience of giving birth.
On the one hand, I was so relieved to be finally ridding myself of the cursed bump. However, on the other, the passage of that nine pound (yes, he was big!) boy through a channel that was clearly only just big enough, was the most painful experience I have ever gone through in my life, either life!
It was the first time I actually regretted pushing that damned button marked Female.
However, as I lay back exhausted, with the little boy sucking eagerly at my breast, I eased the pain to the back of my mind, and cried with happiness. The regret faded, and I knew a new joy, and one that would remain with me forever. Roger cried with me, as baby Edward held tightly to his extended finger.
I was blessed with Nanny, as she made life so much easier. I insisted on breast-feeding my child, which was unusual in polite circles, as wet nurses were employed so ladies of quality did not have to put up with such mundane activities.
However, she took him and allowed me to sleep, so I did, for several hours. I had thought the moment that Roger had first made love to me had been the most profound and fulfilling moment for me. No longer. I was now a mother, and I was utterly content.
CHAPTER SIX
Beyond the battle.
We returned to England shortly after the birth of Edward, so we christened him in St. Helen’s church in Abingdon. Katie adored her new brother, and even William, now three, seemed fond of him.
They both called me ‘Mama’ now, and it seemed perfectly natural. Roger’s investment in the cannery had paid dividends, so for the first time we had a very healthy income coming in. He made some further sensible investments, and we found ourselves very comfortable. He contemplated resigning his commission, but I begged him to wait a little while longer.
Not long after our arrival back home, a letter arrived from the Palace. It was a Royal Invitation to go up to the Palace so Roger could be invested as a Knight of the Order of Bath for services rendered to the crown.
It was a wonderful occasion, but we reluctantly had to leave the children at home. Katie was furious and was in a mood for ages, but her curiosity would force her to ask us all about it.
H.R.H. George III did the deed, with his Grace the Duke of Wellington and the current Prime Minister, the Earl of Liverpool, also observing. In a private ceremony, HRH presented me with a small medallion, for services rendered.
Roger was resplendent in his uniform as a Colonel of Dragoons, and I wore the finest gown I could afford. My hair I had specially curled and set, and I felt a million bucks.