Jeffrey Archer - Cometh the Hour

When Virginia walked into her father’s study at ten o’clock that morning, looking eight months pregnant, she was shocked by his reaction. The earl assumed the Daily Express had got it right and Anton Delouth was the father, and the cad had run off and deserted her. He immediately doubled her allowance to £4,000 a month and only asked one thing in return: that once Virginia had given birth, she might consider visiting Fenwick Hall more often.

“A grandson at last,” were the words he kept repeating.

For the first time, Virginia didn’t curse the fact that she had three brothers who’d only sired daughters.

On Priscilla’s advice, Virginia placed an advertisement for a nanny in The Lady , and was surprised by how many replies she received. She was looking for someone who would take complete responsibility for the child: mother, governess, mentor and companion, as she had no intention of fulfilling any of these obligations. Priscilla helped her prune the applicants down to a short list of six, and Desmond Mellor suggested she interview them on separate days, so the two detectives would have something new to report back to Grant’s lawyers in Baton Rouge.

After Virginia and Priscilla had interviewed the final five — one of them didn’t turn up — they both agreed that only one of the candidates ticked all the required boxes. Mrs. Crawford was a widow and the daughter of a clergyman. Her husband, a captain in the Scots Guards, had been killed in Korea, fighting for Queen and country. Mrs. Crawford turned out to be the eldest of six children and had spent her formative years raising the other five. Equally important, she had no children of her own. Even the earl approved of his daughter’s choice.

It occurred to Virginia that if she was to play out this charade to its ultimate conclusion, she needed to look for a larger establishment that would accommodate not only a butler and housekeeper but also the redoubtable Mrs. Crawford, along with her newborn child.

After viewing several desirable residences in Kensington and Chelsea, closely observed by the two detectives, she settled on a town house in Onslow Gardens that had a top floor Mrs. Crawford assured her would make a satisfactory nursery. When Virginia looked out of the drawing-room window, she noticed one of the detectives taking a photograph of the house. She smiled and told the estate agent to take the property off the market.

The only slight problem Virginia now faced was that despite her father’s generously increased allowance, she certainly didn’t have enough money in her bank account to pay for a nanny, a butler and a housekeeper, let alone the deposit on the house in Onslow Gardens. Her former butler, Morton, had phoned earlier in the week — he was no longer allowed to visit the flat — to say that Dr. Norris had provisionally booked Mrs. Morton into the clinic in a fortnight’s time. As Virginia climbed into bed that night, she decided she would have to call her lawyer in the morning. Moments after she’d fallen into a deep sleep, the phone rang. Only one person would consider calling her at that time of night, because he would still be sitting at his desk.

Virginia picked up the phone and was delighted to hear the deep southern drawl on the other end of the line.

“I guess you’ll be pleased to know we’ve finally agreed terms with Grant’s lawyers,” said Buck Trend. “But there are conditions.”

“Conditions?”

“There always are with a settlement this large.” Virginia liked the word “large.” “But we may still have a problem or two.” She didn’t care so much for “problem or two.” “We’ve agreed on a settlement of one million dollars, along with a maintenance order of ten thousand a month for the child’s upbringing and education.”

Virginia gasped. Not in her wildest dreams... “How can that possibly be a problem?” she asked.

“You must agree not to reveal the identity of the father to anyone, and that means anyone.”

“I’m happy to agree to that.”

“You and the child will never be allowed to set foot in Louisiana, and if either of you ever decide to travel to the United States, Grant’s lawyers must be informed at least a month in advance.”

“I’ve only been to the States once in my life,” said Virginia, “and I have no plans to return.”

“The child’s surname must be Fenwick,” continued Trend, “and Mr. Grant has to approve the Christian names you select.”

“What’s he worried about?”

“He wants to make sure that if it’s a boy, you don’t call him Cyrus T. Grant IV.”

Virginia laughed. “I’ve already selected the name if it’s a boy.”

“And if any of these conditions are broken at any time, all payments will immediately cease.”

“That’s quite an incentive to keep to the agreement,” said Virginia.

“All payments will automatically cease in 1995, by which date it is assumed the child will have completed his or her full-time education.”

“I’ll be nearly seventy by then.”

“And finally, Mr. Grant’s attorneys will be sending a doctor and a nurse to England to witness the birth.”

Virginia was glad Trend couldn’t see her face. Once she’d put the phone down, she immediately rang Desmond Mellor to ask him how they could possibly get around that seemingly intractable problem. When the phone rang again at 7:45 the following morning, Desmond had come up with a solution.

“But won’t Dr. Norris object?” asked Virginia.

“Not while there’s a chance he might have to explain to his wife and children why he’s been struck off the medical register.”

Virginia waited until she heard the siren before she called her lawyer in Baton Rouge.

“The baby’s going to be born prematurely,” she screamed down the phone. “I’m on my way to the hospital now!”

“I’ll inform Grant’s attorneys immediately.”

A few minutes later there was a loud knock on the door. When the butler answered it, one of the paramedics picked up Virginia’s overnight case, while the other took her gently by the arm and guided her to a waiting ambulance. She glanced across the road to see two men clambering into a car. When the ambulance arrived at 41A Harley Street, the two paramedics opened the back door and led their patient slowly into the private clinic, to find Dr. Norris and a staff nurse waiting for them. Norris left instructions that he should be told immediately the American doctor and his assistant arrived. He only needed fifteen minutes.

Nobody took any notice of the couple who slipped out of the back door of the clinic and took a taxi for the first time in their lives. But then, it wasn’t every day the Mortons were handed a thousand pounds in cash.

Virginia undressed quickly and put on a nightgown. After she had climbed into the bed the nurse dabbed some rouge on her cheeks and sprayed a little moisture on her forehead. She lay back, trying to look exhausted. Twenty-two minutes later the nurse rushed back in.

“Dr. Langley and his assistant have just arrived and are asking if they can witness the birth.”

“Too late,” said Dr. Norris, who left the patient to welcome his American colleagues.

“We heard it was an emergency,” Dr. Langley said. “Is the baby all right?”

“I can’t be sure yet,” said Norris, looking concerned. “I had to perform an emergency caesarean. The baby’s in an incubator, and I’ve given Lady Virginia a sedative to help her sleep.”

Dr. Norris led them through to a room where they could observe the new-born infant in the incubator, seemingly fighting for its life. A narrow plastic tube inserted into one nostril was connected to a ventilator, and only the steady beeps of the heart monitor showed the child was actually alive.