“If you’ll pardon my bluntness, aristocrats do not acknowledge that side of the bed from which most orphans are sired. They certainly don’t associate with such riff-raff by owning establishments for housing them.”
“What an inane generalization. I hope you don’t think me one of those sorts. I see nothing remotely wrong with my wanting to open an orphanage. And with your experience, I could open one that resembles what your Mrs. Brighton accomplished, with a school, refinements, apprenticeships, the like.”
As he rambled on about his idea, she realized he was quite serious. Not knowing what to make of it, she listened without interrupting.
“I could coin it Colling Orphanage. See the pun? Colling meaning to embrace, as in taking the unwanted children into a welcoming embrace, this being my calling, and me being Collingwood? Brilliant, yes? Well, let’s not dwell on my poor attempt at a joke. I was thinking, what if Colling Orphanage kept detailed records on parentage? Then, if the orphans wished to know the truth of their parentage, we would have those records. Wouldn’t you have liked to have known sooner?”
Her mirth over the orphanage name lessened at his question. Good heavens. Would she have wished to know? She was not sure she liked knowing even now, aside from it giving her a brother she dearly loved.
“And what if the parents don’t wish to be found?” she asked, avoiding his direct question. “You do realize, my lord, that most orphans are the by-blows of aristocrats. They’re not acknowledged and never would be. What records would there be to keep? And should there be such records, as I mentioned at dinner on my first night, not all children would like the truth. Truth is a heavy burden to bear. How might it change a promising young pupil to learn his father was a killer hanged for his crimes? Some truths are better left unknown.”
“But it should be their right to know, if they chose. Wouldn’t you have asked Mrs. Brighton about it if you knew she kept records?”
“Ah. But she did. My father corresponded with her himself. But that wasn’t your question. Would I have asked her? I’m not sure. For so long, I wanted an answer to the mystery of my memories, but how might I have taken the truth if I found out at a younger age? For that matter, how would my brother have taken it? Not until our father died did he piece together his life. And what if I had found out while my father still lived? No, I would not have wanted to know sooner.”
“But you are happy to know, yes? What a wonderfully life-changing moment that must have been to discover the truth!”
She felt strangely compelled to answer his question, but with what? The truth? A half-truth? A deeper truth than she was prepared to admit even to herself?
She took her time answering. Disclosing the dirty truth seemed an easy way out of the conversation, especially when he had a right to know he was conversing with a bastard, but something in her stopped those words from tumbling out.
As much as she disliked his type, she decided she rather liked his company and conversation. There was something genuine about him, unlike anyone she had met, a desire to humor and an eagerness to befriend. Of course, when one’s usual company was the likes of the Reverend Sands, it was no wonder she found Lord Collingwood pleasant company, even if there was an aristocratic rogue hiding behind the angelic handsomeness.
Lilith and the baron stood apart from the others, watching as Sebastian brought seashells to Lizbeth to inspect. Lady Collingwood pointed at various areas of the beach, shouting instructions to her brother who ambled about to do her bidding, guffawing when he shocked her with a handful of water instead of shells as she expected. Lilith’s good humor returned at the sight of Mr. Trethow splashing his sister.
Turning to her expectant and patient companion, she allowed herself to return his smile. Good heavens, he was handsome. Why did he have to be titled and out of her reach? And there was a silly thought. She was much too old to be thinking of romance and much too distracted by all life had brought her over the past year.
“Yes, of course, I’m happy to know my brother and make sense of my past,” she said, finally answering his question. “But it’s more complicated than that, more complicated than a single emotion of happiness. You couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to learn who you are, who you really are. The truth would alter your perception of yourself and of those around you.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and adjusted his stance, his boots having steadily sunk into the sand. “Not all of us who know our parents know who we really are, but I suppose that’s not what you mean. I’ve been searching for my purpose in life since the moment of my father’s death. No, I’ve never been orphaned, but I also didn’t know who I was. I’m still sorting it, to be honest. But this conversation isn’t about me, is it? I want to know more about you. Your perception must have altered for the better. You learned you’re a lady with a family to care for you. That must be a monumental relief.”
“That’s the complicated part, Lord Collingwood. The thing is, I’m not a lady. Not in my heart of hearts. I’ve built my life from the ground up to be the way I like it. I cannot so easily accept the role of lady, which comes with it a new world full of the very people I’ve learned to dislike. I don’t see myself in that world, among those people. I cannot accept a world in which I would be pampered by maids, idle for days on end, looked at as a source of gossip. I much prefer the world I’ve built for myself, a world where I know my place and am useful, full of purpose. People respect me. Not for my bloodline but for what I give to the community. I earned that respect.”
Would she feel differently if she were not illegitimate? She wondered. No, she would stand proud of all she had accomplished. No, she did not want to be part of his world, even if she woke up tomorrow to discover Lady Jane Lancaster had birthed her rather than Miss Lily Chambers.
His carefree smile was broad when he said, “Then we really aren’t so different. Haven’t you been listening? I want the same. I’ve always been idle. I was a right proper hellion before my father’s death, the worst of the lot really, but I want to be useful and earn my place in the world outside of my title. You and I are so much alike, Miss Chambers!”
There he stood in his perfectly tailored attire, at ease in his smile, while her own was strained and her dress was the same one she’d worn three times that week, and instead of being appalled, he saw them as being similar. How could he not see the insurmountable differences between them? He who dreamed but never accomplished, she who accomplished and avoided dreaming. He who had nary a worry in the world, she who could not imagine living in a worry-free world.
A stir to her left caught her attention just as Sebastian howled her name.
“Lilith! Be quick!” her brother shouted against the cry of the wind.
All in the group turned to see Lizbeth clutch her abdomen, a hand gripping Sebastian’s arm.
Before Lilith reached them, Sebastian had already scooped his wife into his arms, holding her like a babe. Panting from the dash across the beach, Lilith assessed her sister-in-law, who appeared fatigued and flushed but otherwise well.
“What is it?” Lilith asked gently, despite being winded.
“Has it started?” asked Sebastian. “Is it time?”
Lilith ignored him and stared at Lizbeth, nodding encouragement.
Lizbeth nestled her head against her husband’s chest, her hand cradling her belly. “I—I felt a pain, then—then swooned. Never swooned in my—my life,” she stuttered, clearly upset by the incident. Closing her eyes, she winced from what Lilith assumed was another contraction.
Her sister-in-law was in far worse pain than she let on in front of Sebastian, but Lilith knew it was a good pain, the pain of new life.
Looking to her brother, Lilith said in the same calm voice she had used to address Lizbeth, “It isn’t time, not yet, but we’re close. Take her to the castle and to her bedchamber. Have the maid bring her tea. I will attend as soon as I retrieve my b
ag.”
With a curt nod, her brother jogged back towards the castle, Lizbeth in his arms, carried as though she were weightless. Lilith smiled to his retreating back. She would be an aunt before the evening ended.
Chapter 5
A clock in the armory, one floor down, struck midnight.
No one was abed. Lord Collingwood, Sebastian, and Mr. Trethow were in the parlor waiting. Lady Collingwood perched on the edge of a chair in Lizbeth’s bedchamber, nodding off to sleep between head-bobs of wakefulness.
Lilith took the spiced wine from Lizbeth, set it on a table, and helped her sister-in-law to lie on her side on the pallet. The warmth of the fireplace protected them from the chill of the evening, the pallet setup in front of the hearth. Pains had plagued Lizbeth for over fourteen hours, pains that were coming with increased frequency and intensity, but labor had not begun.
What Lilith had not voiced, but knew with certainty, was the unexpected complication. It was not a complication she had considered but neither was it one that overly concerned her. At least not yet. Although the situation could quickly turn dire if her ward became stressed, Lilith remained confident that her skills and prayers would not abandon her.
The complication was the babe’s position. He was breech with no signs of turning. Lilith needed both women to remain calm as she did all in her power to help the baby turn naturally of his own volition. If the pain increased, Lilith would be forced to turn him by hand before the sac ruptured. And if the baby refused to turn… well, fortunately, they still had time.
With Lizbeth curled on her side, Lilith rubbed her sister-in-law’s back and said, “Slowly, bring your knees to your chest. This will help relieve the pain.” What she did not say was it would help coax the baby to turn.
They stayed like that, Lizbeth breathing deeply and Lilith rubbing her patient’s lower back soothingly, for an uncountable length of time until Lizbeth’s scream of pain woke Lady Collingwood with a start.
It was not the first scream of the past fourteen hours, nor would it be the last. Lilith murmured encouraging words, continuing to massage the lower back. Lizbeth moaned and clutched for Lilith’s arm, her breathing becoming shallow and ragged.
“You need to relax, Lizbeth. Focus on the sound of my voice and relax.”
“Something is wrong. I can feel it. Tell me. Tell me what’s wrong.” Lizbeth wailed between words.
“This too shall pass,” Lilith said gently, flinching as Lizbeth’s nails bit into her arm with a vise grip. “The pain will pass, as it has before. When it does, we will have some caudle. That will help.”
“No, no, no.” Lizbeth shook her head in agitation, tears wetting her cheeks, sweat beading her brow. Strands of auburn hair clung to her face. “Don’t placate me. Something is wrong. This feels wrong.”
Lady Collingwood approached them, her voice higher pitched than usual, her words tight. “I demand to know what you are doing to my niece. I demand to know now.”
Lilith gritted her teeth. The last thing she needed was either of them panicking. For the baby to turn, Lizbeth needed to relax. There was already little room for babe to move, but if she tightened her muscles, a flip would be hopeless.
“All is well,” Lilith reassured. “I am helping baby move into position. It seems this little one is as stubborn as his father. If you must know, he is facing the wrong direction.”
“What is that supposed to mean? I demand an explanation. This is my niece and grand nephew’s life you have in your hands,” Lady Collingwood said over Lizbeth’s sobbing.
“It means baby is bottom first, Lady Collingwood. Shall I pause to sketch you a drawing?” She bit her tongue, not intending her words to be rude. But really, she was trying to work and did not appreciate the questioning. “Please, forgive me. I need this willful babe to turn before the sac ruptures. If you’ll kindly step away, I can focus.”
The lady did not step away.
“And what happens if the, you know, what you said, occurs?”
Lilith affected calm, despite mounting fury. “I don’t speak in what-ifs. Now, if you please, I know my profession.”
Lady Collingwood continued to rattle on, protesting and demanding to be heard. Lilith ignored her.
Unraveling her fingers from Lilith’s arm, Lizbeth’s crying settled as she attempted a smile, mumbling that the pain was subsiding. The look of worry mingled with fear in Lizbeth’s eyes was not lost on Lilith. Her sister-in-law was thinking of her own mother dying in childbed. Lilith knew it.
Lilith also knew they were running out of time. The last bout of contractions had occurred not long enough ago to maintain Lilith’s earlier confidence. Though she had wanted to avoid this, she realized she would need to turn baby by hand, sooner rather than later.
In theory, it would be safe and relatively easy since this was only pre-labor. At least, that was what her training and studies assured her, not that she knew from experience. She was nowhere near as confident about turning babe by hand as she wanted them to believe, for she had never seen a breech in person and knew if the turning were not successful, this could be fatal for mother and babe.
Bolstering her will, she decided she had given him enough time to turn on his own. Stubborn to the end. Auntie Lilith would have to do it. She ground her teeth together, determined. Never had she lost a patient, and she certainly was not going to start with her brother’s family.
The calmer she appeared, the calmer Lizbeth and Lady Collingwood would be, and she desperately needed Lizbeth to be as relaxed as possible. Helping her sister-in-law move from her side to her back, Lilith embraced the rounded abdomen with her palms to feel the positioning. Once she completed the flip, she would have Lizbeth walk about the room to promote labor in hopes of a swift delivery in case Lord Stubborn decided to turn back to breech between the successful flip and the delivery. Once labor began, she would move Liz to the birthing chair.
“What are you doing? What is happening?” Lady Collingwood demanded, her voice strained in pre-hysteria.
Lilith ignored her, reaching for a blanket to cover Lizbeth for modesty. Casually, slowly, with a loving smile and feigned placidity, she draped the cloth about Lizbeth, tucking the edges beneath the makeshift pallet. After she rubbed her hands together to ensure her touch would be warm, she reached under the blanket and lifted Liz’s dressing gown over her belly to expose her abdomen to touch.
Lilith pressed firmly against Lizbeth’s belly to locate baby’s feet and head. Leaning closer to Lizbeth to be heard over Lady Collingwood’s continued rants, she said, “This may feel rather unusual. Please, remain relaxed. The more relaxed you are, the easier and less painful this will be. Think of a warm, summer day with a good book. I’m going to turn baby now.”
Lizbeth nodded, looking down to watch Lilith’s hands move beneath the covering.
With each press against the abdomen, Lilith’s efforts were rewarded with breathy moans and ragged cries. To make matters worse, for every centimeter she moved the babe, he moved back two. She swore an oath under her breath. Obstinate child. If he refused to flip, she would have to wait for Lizbeth to relax and try again. She would have to continue to try until labor began. At that point, she would have no choice but to attempt to birth him in breech. She prayed that would not happen.
“Tell me what you’re doing?” Lizbeth’s voice trembled, her hair damp from sweat, her face flushed from discomfort. “It will help me focus.”
Lilith talked Lizbeth through each press of her hand. Surprisingly, she felt her sister-in-law relax the more she talked. Such a strong woman, Lilith thought. She admired Lizbeth’s strength, a strength she was not sure she possessed herself.
As she explained her attempts to shift baby by hand, Lady Collingwood’s agitation increased, clearly horrified by Lilith’s maneuvers. The woman was making it difficult for Lilith to concentrate. While she could understand being concerned, coul
d the lady not trust in Lilith to do what was best? Not only did Lilith know her profession, but she loved her sister-in-law and would let nothing bad happen on her watch.
Yes, she was terrified. No, she was not as confident as she had been. But she would do all in her power to see this a success. A bit of trust, please.
Lizbeth relaxed against Lilith’s hands, and the baby began to turn under her persuasion, ever so slightly. Slow and steady would win this race and avoid other complications like a twisted cord. With deep breaths, feeling the babe in her hands, her whole concentration on the sensation of his movements, she stared unseeing at Lizbeth, willing all her strength, perseverance, and love to channel from her to her sister-in-law.
And then the baby gave a swift kick to move back into breech. Lizbeth cried out for Sebastian, grabbing for Lilith’s arm. Exhaling, Lilith leaned back on her haunches. They would need to begin again after Liz settled and relaxed.
Lady Collingwood’s shrieks were bordering on hysteria.
“We need a physician! My niece is going to die if we don’t have a physician!” the woman howled.
What Lilith needed was Sebastian to remove this banshee from the room. Liz would be calmer with him by her side, and he could help Lilith in the process.
Aggravated, Lilith replied, “Physicians have naught to do with birthing babes, Lady Collingwood. All they are good for is bringing leeches.”
“But we’re aristocrats! Physicians have all to do with birthing our babies. My niece needs to be bled, not this, this madwifery. You’re killing my niece!”
Closing her eyes, she gave a silent prayer, then looked back to the woman. “Bring Sebastian.”
As if Lilith’s request translated to “all is lost,” Lady Collingwood ran shrieking from the room. “Lord Roddam! Lord Roddam!” she cried down the stairwell. “Come! Quickly! Your sister is killing our Lizzie! Send for a physician!”
Lilith closed her eyes again, willing herself to remain calm and in control against the madness of her patient’s aunt.
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