One Perfect Flower

by Roberta C. D. DeCaprio

  “Saints preserve us,” she screeched.

  He took the stairs two at a time to Raven’s chamber. “Get towels, blankets, put more wood on the fire,” he demanded over his shoulder.

  “Oh, sweet Mother of God,” Molly sobbed, following close behind.

  “Stop your blubbering, woman and do as I’ve asked,” he snapped. With trembling fingers he ripped apart the bodice of her dress, stripping Raven of her clothes. He had to remove the wet garments from her flesh to keep her from fever. Molly returned with all he requested and wrapped her in a blanket as he dried his wife’s hair with the towels.

  He rubbed Raven’s hands. “Come on, lass, open your eyes,” he whispered, fearful he was losing her. “Don’t do this to me, Raven. Don’t be leaving me, now lass. Not like this…not like this.”

  Terrance Murphy burst into the room and pushed Braiton aside. “How is her breathin’?”

  He moved to the foot of the bed, fear gripping his heart. “Shallow.”

  “Have you noticed any bleedin’?” Terrance listened to her heart with the instrument he pulled from his black bag.”

  He frowned. “Nay, why would she bleed?”

  “In her condition, suddenly bein’ emerged in freezin’ water could shock the babe she’s carryin’. She’s miscarried once. I dare not take a chance she’ll do the same again.”

  He was numb all over, the blood draining from his head. He grabbed the bedpost to keep from collapsing. “A baby?”

  “Aye, m’lord, a baby.” Terrance glanced his way and frowned. “For God’s sake, get a hold of yourself. You act like you’re hearing the news for the first time.”

  Molly came beside him and took him by the arm. “Come away, m’lord,” she said, leading him out of the room and to his own chamber. “Let’s let the good Doctor Murphy take care of your wife.”

  He made his way to a chair and sat, stunned. “She’s having a baby?”

  Molly put more wood on the fire. “Best you get yourself out o’ those wet clothes, before you catch your death as well, m’lord.”

  “You knew, Molly?”

  She knelt to remove his boots. “Aye, m’lord.”

  He swallowed the lump in his throat rising to choke him. “How far into the pregnancy is she?”

  “She’s about four months along, m’lord.”

  His voice trembled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Molly stood. “She didn’t want to cause you further worries, m’lord. At the time she learned o’ the news, you were goin’ through so much at the warehouse. M’lady felt you had enough upon your shoulders.” She shifted her gaze to the floor. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell you.”

  He inhaled a calming breath. “I understand your loyalty to her, Molly, but not your discretion. Something of this magnitude should have reached my ears, way before this.”

  “’Twas not me place, m’lord.”

  “Leave me be, Molly,” he snapped. Again he’d been betrayed—now by his own staff.

  She wrung her hands in front of her. “Please don’t be angry with me, m’lord.”

  He stood, making his way to the veranda doors. “Just go!” he bellowed, not able to stomach looking any longer upon the woman’s face. “Terrance might need your help in tending my wife.”

  “Aye, m’lord,” was Molly’s meek reply before she left the room.

  He looked out onto the lawn below. People were still milling about, enjoying the rest of the St. Patrick’s Day celebration.

  She’s four months along.

  He ran a hand through his hair and did the math, his calculations bringing him to the time they were at Glenview. Closing his eyes he saw her laying beneath him, submitting to his touch, his kisses, his… ’Twas not a delicious dream he’d been having, but a flashback of what he’d done. He made love to her the night he drank too much whiskey with Lord Wade, and given her a child. He groaned and opened his eyes, remembering the morning after. His head pounded, his stomach queasy, but he made sure to ask her if he’d compromised her in any way. She denied he did. Why had she lied?

  He moved to sit on the bed, his thoughts swirling. Then everything became crystal clear. He knew exactly why she lied. She feared she wouldn’t be able to leave Ireland when the time came. An annulment would be out of the question if the marriage had been consummated. Strange enough, he was filled with disappointment. Some small part of his heart wanted her to stay, remain his wife. Bowing his head with sorrow, he realized how impossible that would be. She couldn’t stay in Ireland, and ’twas to his advantage she felt the same.

  ****

  Raven was sitting up in bed, sipping tea when Braiton came to her later that evening. He knocked on her door, and she bid him to enter, scooting over a bit so he could sit at the edge of the bed.

  “I just wanted to see how you were doing, lass.” His large green eyes scanned the length of her. “Nothing hurts?”

  She forced a smile. “All is well.”

  “I’m glad, I’m glad,” he said.

  She searched his face. “We need to talk, Braiton.”

  He chuckled sardonically. “That, my lady, is an understatement.”

  She sighed. “I am so sorry, my shikaa.”

  “’Tis I who is sorry, my lady, for losing my control and putting you in this position,” he said, gesturing to her belly.

  “I would have told you sooner, but I feared—”

  “I know what you feared, lass,” he interjected. “But there is no need. Our agreement still stands as ’tis. The marriage cannot be dissolved by annulment, but can by divorce.” He stood. “And since this whole mess is my fault, I will take full responsibility for it all. No shame will be placed upon your good name.” He walked to the door. “I’ll leave you now to your rest.”

  Alone again in her room, tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. The pounding of her heart echoed in her ears, and she was overwhelmed with an acute sense of loss. She felt a wretchedness of mind she had never known before. The despair gripping her heart physically engulfed her with pain.

  Placing her hands over her belly, she wrapped her unborn child in a cocoon of anguish. He really wants us gone.

  She choked on a sob and whispered, “And here I was hoping he would ask us to stay.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ireland in the spring was a welcomed sight to behold. The garden was green, lush, and alive. Raven stood admiring the new blooms when Braiton came up beside her. “I have been thinking, after the baby arrives, ’twould be necessary for you to have help.”

  “I have Molly and Anna,” she said, then smiled. “And you.”

  His eyes widened. “Me? I know nothing about babies.”

  She gave him an affectionate pat on the arm. “Then, like my father did, you will learn.” He sat down on a garden bench, looking like the air was taken from his lungs. She giggled. “It is not all that bad, my shikaa.”

  He frowned. “I’m just trying to be practical here, Raven. Anna and Molly have their own duties. Besides, neither of them is getting any younger.”

  “Oh, Braiton, never let them hear you say that.”

  He arched a brow. “Aye, that’s the truth.” He cleared his throat. “As for myself, though I’m not against learning, I’m at the warehouse most afternoons, and sometimes for the better part of the day. You’ll need someone you can rely on for those times, at least.”

  Her brow creased in contemplation. “I know of no one trustworthy to care for our child.”

  He cast a triumphant smile. “Ah, but I do.”

  “Who?”

  He stood and took her by the hand. “Come and see.”

  He led her to the drawing room, where a young woman waited. Thin framed and a crop of auburn curls piled atop of her head; she stood admiring Raven’s portrait.

  “’Tis a beautiful likeness, don’t you think?” Braiton asked the woman.

  “Aye, ’tis at that,” she replied, turning to face them.

  Raven gasped. “Sinead.” Running
to embrace the other women, she held her close for a moment, then set her at arm’s length. “Let me look at you.”

  Sinead cast a shy glance to the floor. “I’m just the same as I’ve always been, m’lady.”

  She took Sinead by the hand. “I am so happy to see you.”

  Sinead met her gaze. “And I you, m’lady.”

  “What do you say, Raven?” Braiton said. “Do you trust the lass with the care of our child?”

  She turned to smile his way. “I trust her fully.”

  “’Tis settled then,” he said, with a satisfied nod of his head. “Now, I’ll leave you two alone to discuss the position,” he added, making his way to the door.

  She motioned for Sinead to take a seat. “Lady O’Neill no longer has a use for your services?”

  “Nay, m’lady. With Miss Joleena gone, Tessie is all she needs.”

  She rubbed her large belly with a gentle hand. “Well, you are needed here, if you wish to stay.”

  Sinead’s face brightened. “Aye, m’lady, ’twould be so grand if I could.”

  She stood and took Sinead’s hand. “Come, let me show you the nursery and the adjoining room that will be yours.”

  “’Twill be such a joy helpin’ you with the wee one.” Sinead took an audible breath. “I can’t tell you how happy I was when Lord Shannon sent for me.” She gave Raven’s hand a squeeze. “I promise to love and care for your babe with all o’ me heart.”

  She smiled. “I cannot ask for anything more, Sinead.”

  ****

  Spring turned to summer. A tranquil breeze blew, bursts of sunlight beamed in the pale blue sky, birds sang, flowers swelled to their lustrous beauty, and so did Raven’s belly. She sat naked on a chair in her chamber, her rounded stomach resting on her thighs, while being prepared for bed. She sighed as Molly washed her back with a cool cloth. “The flowers are not the only things in full bloom.”

  “And like the flowers, you’re just as beautiful, m’lady,” Molly said, moving to bathe her bulging belly. “’Twon’t be long now till you hold the wee one in your arms.”

  “I cannot wait for that time, Molly.” Along with her time nearing to give birth, so was the time to leave Ireland. In spite of her agreement with Braiton, she remained hopeful once he saw his child, held the babe in his arms; he would ask her to stay. He was, after all, attentive to her needs, made sure she ate properly, got enough rest. He even insisted Terrance check her once a week, relieved each time to learn all was well and the baby was thriving.

  She stood and raised her arms for Molly to slip the summer nightgown she chose over her head. The light, linen material was cool against her hot flesh. It fell gracefully over her belly and danced around her ankles.

  “Aye, m’lady, you’re as beautiful as any flower.”

  She smiled at her reflection in the mirror and caressed her abdomen. “Not just any flower, Molly, one perfect flower.”

  Molly placed a hand over hers. “Aye, m’lady, ’tis as perfect as it gets.”

  ****

  Braiton sat at the edge of his bed with his aching, throbbing head in his hands. Though he was exhausted, he couldn’t sleep. Terrance assured him all was well with his wife and child, yet still he worried. Many women died during child birth. How could he live on, if he caused her death? Each day her eyes held the glow of a nurturing and loving mother. How would she live on if the child were still born?

  Lately his hands shook, eyes blurred, and his appetite dwindled. Terrance laughed when he explained his symptoms, saying they were typical of an expectant father. But he knew different, saw the same happen to his mother. Before long she couldn’t do the simplest of things for herself. She had to be fed, washed, and her bloomers changed like a wee one. All dignity stripped from her, and yet her mind was as clear and sharp as ever.

  He rose from the bed and paced his chamber floor. He couldn’t bear the thought of Raven seeing him in that condition. Knowing her heart to be a kind and good one, she’d insist on caring for him. How could he watch her struggle to stay hopeful while wiping and washing his body? The humiliating thought of her tending to his personal needs heated his face. He walked over to the open veranda doors, inhaling the night air. Again he would know no rest. Like a festering sore anguish gathered to torment his spirit. He knew, after the baby was born, she and the child would have to leave.

  ****

  No matter how many times Molly or Sinead cooled Raven’s flesh, it still sweltered. Stuck now to the sheets, sleep would not come. She threw her legs off the bed and struggled to sit. When she gained her balance, she stood and made her way to the open veranda doors. A small breeze played with the moist curls framing her face. Taking a deep breath, she struggled to remain calm. Lately she became agitated easily, breaking out in tears over the smallest thing. As she gazed out into the darkness the child she carried beneath her heart, stirred. She smiled to herself, remembering earlier in the day taking Braiton’s hand and placing it over her belly.

  He felt the baby move and a slow grin spread across his face. A second time the kick was more intense, and she winced. His face changed, eyes filled with concern. “Are you in pain, my lady?”

  She laughed and reassured him, more then a dozen times after, it did not hurt. “It is a strange and wonderful sensation to experience,” she explained. “To imagine, within my body there is another body growing, is so miraculous.”

  “Aye, miraculous indeed,” he agreed.

  My dear Braiton, do you really feel that way…will you change your mind about our agreement and let us stay?

  ****

  Raven rested upon the garden chaise, not able to do much else. She resembled a stuffed turkey. Sighing, she raised her eyes to the heavens and declared aloud to herself, “Ah, what I would give to go riding.”

  “You’re hardly in a condition to do that, my lady.”

  She turned to find Braiton in the doorframe. “Well, a girl can dream.”

  He arched a brow. “Aye, that she can.” He came nearer. “But I have another idea that might please you.” With that said, he was off. Within the hour, he returned and escorted her to the side entrance. A small wagon was parked there. She recognized it as the one Clancy used to bring vegetables to the village market. “I thought, instead of the large carriage, this would make you feel more as though you were riding,” he explained.

  She nodded in agreement. “Good thinking, my shikaa.” The gray mare hitched to the farm cart stomped a foot, anxious to get going. “My sentiments exactly,” she said, allowing Braiton to help her aboard.

  He guided the small carriage down the long, winding path, over a small bridge, and to the river. The day was warm, but a breeze blew in from the water. The simple cotton frock she wore, void of undergarments, rustled against her swollen stomach. Within moments the gentle wind grew lusty and drops of water pelted her skin.

  Braiton raised his gaze to the dark clouds blanketing the sky. “We’re in for a storm, and by the fierce way ’tis coming, we’ll never make it back to Shannonbrook.” He frowned and glanced south. “There’s a hunter’s cottage down that path, ’twould be wise for us to take cover there till it passes.”

  She hung onto the carriage’s rim as they jostled down the unpaved road. With each jolt, her stomach bounced, and she winced. Then it happened. A gush of water broke from her loins and soaked her feet.

  She gasped. “Braiton, hurry and get me to the cottage.”

  He turned to look her way, and seeing the puddle on the carriage floor, his face paled. “Saints preserve us, lass. I should have never taken you from the comforts of home”

  A sharp pain pierced her middle and she groaned, holding her abdomen. “The baby’s coming.”

  “Nay, lass, not now…not here,” he choked out hoarsely.

  By the time they reached the hunter’s cottage, the rain soaked them through and through. He carried her inside and placed her on the tiny cot, leaving her only long enough to tie the horse beneath a wooden port built alongside the sm
all house.

  He helped her off with her wet clothing and covered her with a quilt. “I’m going to make a run for Terrance.”

  She reached for his hand. “No, Braiton, do not leave me here alone.”

  He frowned. “I can be back within the hour, my lady.”

  She glanced out a window at the angry storm. “In this weather you cannot promise the roads will remain passable.” Pain ripped through her, and she gasped. “I do not believe there is time for you to get help.”

  He swallowed hard. “But I know nothing of such things, Raven.”

  She bit back another pain. “I have helped birth many babies, and I will tell you what to do.”

  He combed the fingers of his other hand through his hair. “Raven, I cannot…”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “You have to, Braiton,” she interrupted. “Please, I need your help.”

  “Aye, my lady, that you do.” He sighed. “Tell me then, what must be done.”

  “You will need blankets, string, a basin to fill with water, and a knife.”

  He nodded, leaving her only long enough to fetch the things she requested. Luckily, all the items needed were available, though the hunting knife had to be cleaned with whiskey he found in a cupboard. He placed everything on a table beside the cot.

  “What now, Raven?”

  Another pain consumed her, slicing through her like a warrior’s spear. Never did she experience anything so unbearable. She threw her head back, and a long, high-pitched sob escaped her throat.

  Braiton fell to his knees beside the cot, her agony mirrored in his eyes. “Mother of God, lass, what can I be doing for you?”

  “There is nothing you can do,” she gulped.

  “If Terrance or Molly were here…”

  “They could do no more for me then you are doing,” she cut him short. Another pain washed through her body, and she reached for his hand. He winced with the bone crushing grip, but did not pull away.

  The storm raged on, pelts of rain hit the windows and roof. For what was an eternity, she labored, rested, then labored, again, until she cried out. “Is everything ready?”