After some time, it occurred to Pamela that Mr. Cross hadn't come near the loft, except to stand at the foot of the stair and shout about clean linen and hot water. Theo did ask whether or not she wanted help but Pamela declined, going down once, taking Theo aside and asking him to keep a rein on Mr. Cross, who sat at the kitchen table cursing his daughter's indiscretion, seeming not to care who heard. After a few more minutes of this, Pamela heard Theo raise his voice only once, and nothing further was heard from Mr. Cross.
About three in the morning, a red-faced, healthy baby boy screamed his protest over being brought into this world of uncertainty. Soon after, Pamela came down the stairs of the loft, white-faced and unsteady. Theo quickly got to his feet and led her to the table. Mr. Cross sat on a small stool by the stove with his arms crossed, trying to look defiant. But he said, 'It's over, then, isn't it? My Emma, she's dead, isn't she?'
'No, Mr. Cross,' Pamela said, taking the tea Theo handed to her. 'She and the baby are just fine. You have a grandson.'
'A grandson?'
'Yes, Mr. Cross. Why don't you go up and see him?'
It seemed he wasn't going to reply at first. Yet when Pamela least expected it, he abruptly lost his composure, his gruff exterior and bravado falling away like a broken curtain. 'Oh, my poor little Emma! I've been such an unconscionable bastard!' He put his head in his hands and wept. 'She'll never forgive me.'
Setting down her tea, going to Mr. Cross and kneeling before him, Pamela said, 'I think everything will be fine from now on, Mr. Cross. An unwanted pregnancy is a hard thing to deal with, but this is your grandson. Emma will want you to see him.'
Mr. Cross took her hands, tears spilling unashamedly from his eyes. 'God bless you, lass! You're a saint, that's what you are!' He got to his feet, took a deep breath as though considering how to face whatever was waiting for him atop the loft, and began the ascent.
'Is Her Saintship ready to go home?' Theo said. His smile, for once, though slightly mocking, couldn't conceal the kindness that lay behind it.
'Her Saintship isn't looking forward to making that journey twice,' Pamela said, and took a sip of her tea. 'But we'd better get on with it before I fall asleep.'
It was nearly seven when Pamela stumbled back to the Dewhurst mansion, leaning on Theo's arm for support, unaware that she was doing so, and all but prostrate from exhaustion. Without saying a word to anyone she made her way upstairs, threw herself prone upon her bed without first removing her clothing, and was instantly asleep.