Most Ardently

by Sheena Austin et al.

  Sarah gestured as if to say something and then grew alarmed. “Oh,” was all she had time to say before there was the sound of water splashing and everyone realized she was in distress.

  “I’m so sorry,” Sarah kept saying. She was grimacing in pain, clutching her middle as if shocked something was happening.

  “It’s too soon.” She said. Clutching her husband’s hand she started to rise then fell to the floor, uncaring that the liquid she’d just released was a puddle around her and soaking her clothes.

  A knock at the door distracted them all for a moment. Jane, ever mindful of the spotlessness of her mother’s care for the house, was quick to grab towels and anything she could to clean up the floor.

  “Lift her to the bed.” Jane instructed the men even as she ran to the door, hoping rescue was on the other side.

  Instead, it was Bobby, Millicent’s brother with an armload of wood for their fire. He was half-frozen, his clothes stiff with ice and snow. Jane helped him into the kitchen and pulled a chair to the fire to warm him.

  “Millicent!” She called. “Your brother needs tea. We need to boil water and take one of the sheets and rip half into strips and the other half into swaddling. I think we are about to have a baby.”

  “Miss?” said Millicent rushing in from the pantry where she’d been putting another coating on the puddings and had missed the whole event.

  “We need to get word to Edward. I need help.”

  “M-m-miss,” said Bobby. He was thawing out a bit from the warmth of the fire. “The doctor wouldn’t be able to get through the storm. It’s bad. It’s very bad. I nearly lost my way here twice.”

  Jane glanced out the window and realized the young lad was right. The storm was powerfully bad, almost a total white-out. She was amazed he’d been able to find them at all in this weather. There was no way she could ask him to go out in this again, and definitely no way the couple and Peter could be forced to go for help themselves. They were just going to have to figure out what to do on their own.

  “I’ve birthed a calf before,” he volunteered. “Maybe I can help with the baby?”

  Jane glanced upward looking for divine intervention, but it appeared God had other things on his mind at the moment and Bobby was the best he could do.

  “Just don’t tell her that.” Jane said. She gestured toward the back of the house where the young woman could be heard crying out in pain and fear.

  “Tomorrow is Christmas, miss,” said Millicent who had returned to the room with an armful of recently torn cloth.

  Jane realized with shock that the days had passed so quickly she’d lost count and the young girl was correct. Tomorrow was Christmas. Tomorrow was dinner at Edward’s, or it might be if the storm were to abate enough to allow them passage.

  Hurrying from the room she asked Bobby to wait while she talked to the woman and her husband to see if the young farmhand’s assistance might be necessary or not. Jane worried the young man might intimidate or embarrass Sarah and didn’t want that to happen.

  Working together to get her into a more comfortable nightdress, Millicent and Jane were soon caught up in the process of the birth. Sarah had agreed to let Bobby into the room, Jane had delicately explained his skills which had not put Sarah off. Of course, she was in severe pain so any lifeline was appreciated.

  “Okay, miss,” Bobby said as he gently stroked her arm. “I need you to remain calm. Breathe slowly through the pain, keeping your body as relaxed as possible.”

  Sarah looked at him with incredulity. “Are you serious, boy?” she asked through gritted teeth. “Have you ever tried to eject a watermelon through your...”

  “Sarah!” said her husband. He was both laughing and trying to remain calm for her sake, and Jane’s respect for him went up a notch or two. He was surely in love with his wife by the way he held her hand and yet fully aware of the naturalness of this birth he was using mirth to console her in her pain.

  For a man he was very aware of his wife’s trauma and was doing what he could to ease her discomfort. He moved pillows one way and then back to their original position without complaint. He held her hand, or rubbed her feet as her whim demanded; he touched her face gently with the cloth of cool water when her exertions threatened to overwhelm her in sweat. In all ways he was gentle and kind, considerate and cheerful. Jane was awed by his ability to anticipate her needs and to react to them without fear of reprisal.

  A woman in labor could be uncertain and complaining, and Sarah was all those things. But she was also joyous and ebullient, and part of that was because of her husband. James was so attentive to her that Jane felt a pang of regret for her own life bereft of any man’s care or concern of the level the marriage of James and Sarah had risen to.

  Thoughts of Harris intruded momentarily. Her almost-husband had been a man quite large and soft, the kind for whom wealth rested easily on his shoulders. He was born to be a gentleman farmer, and he fit that role well. He was a bit dour if truth be told, but not intolerable. Jane hadn’t thought of his proposal in years, and yet was now thinking of her former affianced often. She knew he’d married not long after their disastrous engagement, and that he was happy with a wife who doted on him, probably much like James doted on Sarah. For that she was grateful. Giving him that gift of her refusal of his marriage request had been her only consolation in the whole sad affair. She’d refused to discuss it with anyone, not even Cassandra could drag out of her the reason for the end of her barely one day old engagement until sometime later when she’d been able to think about it.

  She felt the tug of memory receding. In front of her Sarah was bucking at the pain, whimpering in spite of her husband’s attempts to soothe her. He looked at Jane in panic when his words failed to keep Sarah calm. As a matter of fact, his presence was making her rather angry, Jane noted.

  “Okay,” Jane said clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “I’m sure you’re all as excited as me to bring this baby forth so if the gentlemen will leave...” She pointed meaningfully toward the door.

  James and Peter obliged, closing the door behind them.

  “Not you, Bobby. We’ll need your help in the next little while. Please sit there with your back to us. We’ll tell you what we see, and you can tell us what to do. Agreed?”

  “There, Sarah,” Jane said turning back to the young woman, “Now, we can get down to business. Very soon you will be a family. Won’t that be nice?”

  Sarah responded by grabbing Jane’s wrist, her face contorted in pain, her eyes wide with fear. Jane patted Sarah’s hand and smiled with all the confidence she could muster. But she must not have been too good at that as Sarah’s next words, whispered through parched lips were doubting.

  “Have you done this before?”

  Before Jane could answer Bobby said, “Not to worry, miss. I’ve delivered lots of calves. A baby is no different, just less legs.”

  Sarah gasped, her grip on Jane tightening. Jane, her mouth turned up at the corners tried to hide her grin, but lost the battle when Sarah, emotions rising up and dropping down, started to laugh. Soon everyone but Bobby was laughing.

  “Oh, that hurts,” Sarah said a moment later.

  “Laughing?” Jane asked. She had taken over James’s job and was wiping Sarah’s forehead with water.

  “No, the baby...” Sarah was grunting now, and Millicent gave her a bit of leather to chew on.

  “Me mum gave this to me cousin when she had a baby. It helped.” Millicent responded to Jane’s raised eyebrow.

  Sarah rose up, grunting louder, legs spread as bloody water gushed out.

  “Won’t be long now,” Bobby said matter-of-factly from his corner. “You need to check between her legs, pardon my imposition your ladyship,” he said to Jane then Sarah. “You should see the top of the baby’s head.”

  Jane lifted the sodden nightgown while Millicent held Sarah’s body in an embrace, supporting her upright position. Jane could see the baby’s head which promptly disappear
ed.

  “I see it... saw it...” Jane said. Her voice was awed by the sight of the dark head and disappointed the baby had not progressed further at the same time.

  “Don’t worry. Every time the lady pushes, the baby will come further out. Once the head is far enough out that you can get a good grip be sure to hold on gently and ease the babe out.”

  With Bobby’s gentle dialogue, and Sarah’s hard pushes the baby advanced further along. Outside the door James called encouragement that at times made Sarah mad with annoyance, and weepy with love for the husband who was so supportive.

  Jane and Millicent, sweaty and weary after nearly an hour of pushes and attempts to pull the baby out just rolled their eyes. Their arms were rubbery and slick with blood and birth water. Their backs ached.

  Jane worried the baby was not going to come out at all. Sighing she gestured for Sarah to take a few small breaths. Handing the woman some water she gesture for Millicent to rub Sarah’s shoulders.

  She walked toward Bobby. Resting a hand on his shoulder she said, “The baby won’t come. What do we need to do?”

  “On her next push you will need to pull the baby out forcibly. Be careful of the baby’s head, the bones are fragile and easily damaged.”

  Jane nodded. She’d known all along that might be what would need to happen. Coming to Sarah’s side she pressed water on her. “We are going to pull the baby out of you with your next push, make it a good one. Are you ready?”

  Sarah, sweat streaking her face, her eyes tired and without hope nodded. She knew too that this was needed or her baby might die. They’d been trying too long and she was getting weaker, they could all see it. Jane hoped for the best and cursed silently the storm that kept the doctor from reaching them.

  “Ready?” Jane said. Millicent and Sarah both nodded.

  The contortion of Sarah’s belly signaled the next contraction. Bracing herself Jane lifted the nightgown and reached for the baby’s crowning head. She was able to grip the babe around the ears with some gentle probing and nearly cried out in relief when she felt the baby slip into her hands and slide from its mother with a wet, slick, pop that seemed almost anti-climatic after all the drama of its birth as the clock down the hall struck the time as Midnight.

  The baby was born on Christmas Day. A blessing, a miracle, and an angel all wrapped up in one squirming bundle of humanity. Jane felt her heart swelling with pride. She’d made this happen... well, sort of.

  She could hear Bobby clapping in the corner but ignored him. There was still so much to do.

  Grabbing some of the swaddling cloth Millicent had prepared Jane quickly wiped the baby of blood and birth gore. Flipping the child onto its stomach in her hand she whacked twice on the soft buttocks shocking the child into cries.

  “Music to my ears,” Jane said. She sighed in relief. The baby had amazing lungs for one so small.

  “Do I have a boy or a girl?” asked Sarah. She was breathless with the effort of giving birth, but her eyes sparkled with pride.

  “Your Christmas baby is a...” she unwrapped the swaddling to reveal a girl. “... a girl.”

  “A girl.” Said Sarah. She held out her arms for her child and Jane reluctantly put the tiny bundle in her arms.

  “Millicent, we still have more to do. Bobby, thank you for your help. Please leave now. Let James know he has a daughter. We’ll clean up here and then he can come in. Tell him to put the tea on.”

  Bobby nodded and left the room in a hurry. Glad to be away from women’s stuff Jane supposed.

  A half hour later, the baby suckling at her breast, Sarah greeted her husband as a father of a daughter.

  “What shall we name our Christmas babe?” he asked his wife as Jane closed the door as she left the room. She could really use that cup of tea.

  In the kitchen she found Peter keeping the tea warm. He set a steaming cup in front of her and sipped his own as he studied her.

  Jane patted at her hair, fallen out of its usual severe bun, and took a sip of the tea. She knew she looked a fright and yet Peter was staring at her with nothing like horror.

  “What are you staring at?” Jane said.

  “You are an angel.”

  “Hardly.” Said Jane with a brusqueness that gave away how exhausted she was.

  “I say you are,” Peter said. His voice was soft and full of awe.

  “Look, miss,” said Millicent who had entered the room with a large smile on her face. She looked just as messy as Jane knew she must look but with all the resilience of youth she wasn’t walking like death warmed over.

  As a matter of fact, she was positively beaming with pleasure.

  “Look at what, Millicent?” Jane couldn’t keep the tiredness out of her voice.

  “It’s stopped snowing!” Millicent flung open the door to reveal it had indeed stopped snowing.

  Everything glowed with crystal clarity. The snow, unmarked by footsteps looked pristine and inviting.

  Peter, reading her mind it seemed, grabbed her coat, hat, and scarf. “Put on your boots,” he said. “We need to make an homage to the angels that brought our little angel to this house.”

  In minutes, laughing gaily and finding a reserve of strength she didn’t know she had Jane was outside with Peter and Millicent and Bobby throwing snowballs and making angels in the snow. It was cold, that was true, but Jane felt a revitalization taking place as she felt the freedom of being out in the white world.

  Later, under her covers for bed, she sighed with contentment.

  Her house had provided shelter for a new life. She had found love at last, although not the kind she could keep, and her Christmas Puddings were ready for the feast they would shine at on the table at Edward’s later that night.

  She fell asleep to the sound of a baby crying, and wasn’t distressed by it at all.

  Waking at mid-day she dressed quickly. Today was Christmas, and she would soon be reunited with her family and she couldn’t wait to tell her sister Cassandra what had happened. The word had come that the illness was over and guests were being allowed into the house once more.

  Gathering the items they would need, the baby wrapped in an old shawl and clothed in an outfit Millicent had fashioned out of a cut up nightgown of Jane’s that had been in the ragbag, Jane marveled at Millicent’s unexpected talent.

  The puddings were secured in the carriage and horse Edward had sent for them all, Bobby having been dispatched to tell Edward of the guests.

  Jane couldn’t take her eyes off the beautiful child slumbering in Sarah’s arms. Peter, it seemed, couldn’t keep his eyes from Jane’s but she avoided his glance as best she could. There could be no future for them, and she wouldn’t pretend otherwise.

  When they arrived at Chawton House and alit from the carriage, Cassandra ran out to embrace Jane. Jane couldn’t stop laughing as she hugged her beloved Cassandra. The sisters clasped hands.

  “Look at the child,” Jane said with pride as if she was its mother and not Sarah.

  “Beautiful,” agreed Cassandra after introductions were made.

  “Come inside,” Cassandra said. “Everyone is waiting for you and where are the Christmas Puddings?”

  “Here,” said Jane reaching for them at the same time as Millicent the puddings slipped out of their grip to land with a loud plop on the ground at their feet.

  Stricken, Millicent looked at the sisters with wide eyes and a horrified expression that sent both sisters into paroxysms of glee.

  “Oh, no,” Millicent said with apology, “I’m so sorry.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it,” assured Cassandra when Millicent started to cry. “We have plenty of food.”

  Inside the sisters greeted family and friends while drinks made the rounds. Edward had not stinted on his decorations. Fresh greenery and bright ribbons were strung everywhere. The baubles gleamed with the festive candlelight. At the piano a guest was playing popular tunes of the day which gaily dressed guests were singing in loud voices.

 
Everywhere there was laughter and good cheer and Jane felt herself revived. This was as much a family as the couple and their child. She couldn’t ask for any more.

  Caught up in the swell of good tidings that came her way she lost sight of the Willows’ and Peter.

  Her brother Edward gestured to her, a small glass of Sherry in his hands for her. “How are you dear sister? Did you take good care of my friends?”

  “If you mean the Willows’ and Peter Alabaster then I must admit I probably failed them miserably.”

  “Not at all,” said James. He shook Edward’s hand vigorously. “Your sister was a magnanimous hostess.”

  The baby in Sarah’s arms yawned and stretched. Everyone’s eyes were drawn to the child.

  “Such a beautiful babe. And what have you named her?” Edward asked with a raised eyebrow as he tickled the baby’s chin.

  Sarah looked to her husband who smiled and nodded for her to give the name.

  “In honor of the one who helped us in our hour of need, and her Christmas Day birth we are naming her Noel Jane.”

  Jane grinned. Raising a glass to Sarah she mouthed a thank you before being drawn to the dance floor by one of Edward’s overly energetic guests.

  Yes, Jane thought gazing about as she was twisted and turned in the dance, this is my family. My wonderful, delightful family, and I don’t need a child to complete me. I have my family and friends and my stories to keep me content. And that is enough for any woman.

  About Susan Burdorf

  Susan Burdorf is an avid reader, photographer and lover of all things sparkly. Writing is a passion that is only quenched when THE END is written on the last page of a manuscript. Nothing says home to her, though, like the presence of her family. Susan encourages you to correspond with her and is available for public appearances at schools and conferences.