The Earl's Wet Nurse

by Jacqueline DeGroot

  Neither she nor Catherine were ready for the reception they received when they finally pulled up to the front entrance in the ox cart.

  The baby had been fussy all day and every servant had had his or her turn walking, shushing, cradling and changing him. One innovative second floor maid had swept him off to a private alcove to let him root around and latch onto one of her own breasts in an attempt to pacify him. It had worked for about twenty minutes and the entire household had sighed a breath of relief for the spate of quiet. But not getting any benefit from what he was so heartily working at, he finally popped her tit free and let out a cry that could be heard in every corner, every crevice, every cranny. There wasn’t a person inside or outside the house who had not heard the youngest earl’s constant protests and demands to be fed.

  The earl was beside himself with worry, pacing in the grand salon, when Gaylord, the butler, informed him that the nursemaid and the midwife were in an ox cart at the front door.

  “Well, get them inside and up to the nursery. Get them whatever they need to get settled. And for God’s sake, someone take the baby to them without delay!”

  “Yes, milord, right away!”

  Catherine was flabbergasted by the way she was being treated. From the moment the impressive double doors opened and a stream of servants flew out, she felt like a royal princess.

  At Madeline’s urging, a sturdy footman carried her all the way up an impressive staircase to the second floor. She watched as the crystals of a beautiful chandelier cast lovely rainbow prisms against the pale plaster walls while she was carried behind six housemaids, all lifting their skirts high over their ankles as they ran ahead of the footman who was carrying her. Madeline, left to her own devices, was panting with each step as she made her way to the top.

  Catherine was deposited in a dainty rose-flowered chintz chair in a luxuriously decorated sitting room while everyone ran around getting things ready for her. Her eyes took in the room and then the one beyond it with its tall, canopied four-poster bed, topped with swags of pale green and white fabric. Four footmen emptied buckets of hot water into a copper bathtub, all of them eyeing her, but careful not to show it.

  Trays of food were set up on tables, dressers, and night tables. She took in the ribboned wallpaper with the sweet pea border and admired the lavishly framed botanical watercolors hung on each wall. A silver tea service was rolled in. A fine china washing set, painted with sweetheart roses was refreshed with steaming water. Piles of pristine linens and hand-stitched Dutch lace nightgowns were stacked in a chifforobe. Bows and sprigged ribbons were used to gather heavy drapes to the edges of windows that were underlain with tiers of fine white muslin. She noted that the chintz pattern of the drapes matched the fabric on the settee and the chair she sat on.

  A woman with steel gray hair curling around her starched uniform cap stood with her hands in front of her and looked over at Catherine, a beaming smile on her face. “I am Mrs. Cockrell, the head housekeeper. If there is anything you need, anything at all, just ask and it will be brought to you. Whatever you need . . . the earl says to spare nothing for your comfort.”

  “Thank you,” Catherine said, “Thank you very much. This,” she lifted her hand and indicated everything around the room, “is overwhelming. I’m sure I will not have need of so much food.”

  Catherine had never seen so much food in her life. Fresh fruit filled a huge silver bowl, soup steamed from a footed tureen, biscuits and scones were piled high on a platter alongside crystal dishes that held fresh butter, marmalade and honey. Another platter had mouth-watering slices of ham, corned beef, and big fat sausages. A cup of hot tea was prepared with sugar and cream and set on the table beside her. A cold glass of buttermilk was thrust into her hand, which she quickly put aside.

  “Ah, here’s the little one,” the housekeeper said with a big grin as a young woman with her bodice askew ran into the room carrying a whimpering, red-faced baby.

  “Are you the wet nurse?” the young maid asked. At Catherine’s quick nod, the baby was plopped into her lap. When she was assured that the handoff was complete, the woman quickly turned on her heel and fled the room. Every servant followed. The last one out, a footman holding an empty bucket, slammed the door behind him.

  Madeline and Catherine stared at the back of the door, amazed at how a room full of people could disappear so quickly. Madeline harrumphed. “Guess they are all at their wit’s end trying to keep the little tyke quiet. Well Dearie, now you’re their savior. Let me show you how to feed the little heir.”

  Madeline turned to see Catherine looking down into the baby’s face. It was the first time she had seen her smile, and she was beautiful for it. Without her face drawn in pain or etched with grief, she was stunning. Still grimy and unkempt at the moment, but clearly a notch above the servant class, judging by her soft clear skin, proper speech and dainty mannerisms. Madeline looked her top to bottom and counted her as more than simply pretty, she was sweet looking and younger than she had originally thought. Madeline sighed as she reached for a scone with one hand and a sausage with the other.

  Catherine stroked the little boy’s soft cheek, and Maddy watched as a tear left the corner of Catherine’s eye and ran down the side of her face. Her own heart hitched at the sight. Mother and child, she said to herself. It was like the story of Moses; only Jochebed, the true mother of the babe found in the basket of reeds by the river, had known all along that the child she was charged to care for was her very own. In all the couplings Madeline had seen such as this, she had never seen one more poignant, or one more perfect. The baby had stopped whimpering, his mottled skin had cleared and he was looking up at her with a stare that communicated so much. It was as if they were enraptured with each other.

  “He’s beautiful,” Catherine whispered.

  “He has such lovely skin, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, so smooth, so soft. So very new,” Catherine marveled as she lifted him and ran her nose down his.

  Maddy had to keep from gasping at the tender sight. “Let’s get him used to you.”

  “He’s used to me already, look he’s not even crying.”

  Maddy smiled, “No, he’s not crying at all.” She wondered if the baby could sense that this was his mother. Clearly there was a bond, one the baby probably understood more than she or Catherine did.

  Catherine unwrapped the baby from the blanket and removed his linen tunic and nappy. She said she wanted to see the baby without his clothes, to check him over. Maddy sniffed and marveled at the age-old ritual, it was a mother’s instinct to count fingers and toes, something ingrained, and it was curious that Catherine felt the impulse to strip this baby bare.

  “He’s so perfect, a tiny little human, unblemished and pure. So sweet,” she murmured as she bent to kiss his tiny feet.

  Maddy could not stand this touching scene any longer, another minute of this and she would be blubbering out the whole sordid tale. And then tomorrow she’d be swinging from the gallows.

  “Undo your bodice and let him root around.”

  “Root?”

  “Let him sniff and feel your breasts with his face. He will turn to the nipple when he feels it against his cheek.”

  “Don’t I need to be cleaned first?”

  Madeline almost said you’re his mum, he can’t get sick from you, but held back by taking in a deep breath and exhaling. “Yes, I’ll get a cloth and we’ll wash you up, then afterward, you can take a nice warm bath. It will ease your discomfort, down there,” she added with a pointed glance at the area between her legs.

  Catherine numbly nodded. Yes, soaking in warm water would ease her core, help restore her womanhood to its normal state, but nothing—no matter how cleansing—would heal her heart. She missed the baby that had been her constant companion since the day she learned of its fledgling existence.

  Madeline went to t
he tub of steaming water, soaked a cloth, wrung it out, and brought it back to Catherine. Catherine placed the baby on the bed and began unbuttoning her dress.

  “Now, remember, there’s no milk for him yet, your milk won’t be in for a day or two, but he gets some satisfaction from the sucking and a sticky sop that comes just before your milk. When he sucks, you’ll feel some tightening in your womb. It will help stop your bleeding some and bring it back to normal size.” Maddy paced the room and rubbed her lower back. “These next few days are for you two to get used to each other. Your nipples will need to toughen up, but he’ll see to that in no time, I promise you that.”

  Catherine exposed her breasts and Maddy soaped them and then rinsed and patted each one dry. It was odd for Catherine to have anyone touch her there. Thomas had been the only one to see her breasts, to touch them, to kiss and lick them. A wave of sadness came over her. Things should have been different. Thomas should be here, this should be their baby preparing for his first meal at her breasts, breasts that suddenly felt heavy and full. She frowned as she realized that her body didn’t know she’d lost her baby. And now she would betray it by tricking it and letting another baby suckle her. Her body would never know she’d lost her own son and that this baby she would be nursing was not from it.

  Catherine picked up the baby, kissed its soft cheek and cradled it below her breasts. Maddy helped her get into the right position. “A chair is better, it will have the arms you’ll need to prop the baby, otherwise your arms will get very tired of holding the baby up to your breast. Women who are older or who have much bigger breasts, or a passel of tots, have teats that sag so they can just sit the baby in their lap, but your breasts though ample, are young and plump, so you’ll need to help him reach the nipple.”

  Catherine lifted the baby to her left breast and tried to interest him in turning to it. After several tries, she huffed out in frustration.

  “Be patient. He’ll find it. Never heard of any male who couldn’t get a woman’s nipple into his mouth sooner or later,” she said with a chuckle.

  The baby rubbed his face against her full breast then his head turned and his cheek grazed her nipple. His mouth opened and Maddy leaned down to lead him to it. He latched on and Catherine hissed.

  Maddy chuckled. “They may not be able to do much for themselves at this age, but they can suck. It’s going to hurt at first, as you’re so tender. And you’ll need to rub some salve on your nipples to keep them from chaffing. As they will be wet most of the time, either by the baby’s saliva or the milk running out of ‘em, you might as well know that you’re going to leak. It’s somethin’ I would count on if I were you. When the baby cries it will trigger your milk to flow. And any crying baby can do that to you. It’ll make a mess of your dress and embarrass you.” Maddy stopped her pacing in front of Catherine and waggled a finger at her. “If this baby misses a feeding, your breasts will become engorged. You could overflow. Like a baby, breasts get on a schedule and they make milk. Whether he’s awake to eat or not, you will be ready for him. If he’s ravenous and he drains you dry, the next time you’ll have even more for him. It’s nature’s way of keeping up with his demand for more food as he grows. There will be days when you’ll feel like a cow. You’ll feel like you’re spendin’ your whole day makin’ milk then feedin’ it to him.” She plopped down so hard her feet came up off the floor, then with a deep sigh she softened her tone. “It will take some time to get natural with this, but if you don’t want a colicky baby, you must be patient . . . don’t rush him.”

  The baby’s little mouth was working hard now, his cheeks flexing and his tiny lips moving in and out as he nursed. “It feels so odd.”

  “Soon it will be painful, you’ll just have to work with the pain, but it will get better. You might even get scabs when he sucks too hard. Your nipple can get so chaffed that it feels like it’s on fire. The best way to deal with the pain is to let him nurse it away. It’s nature’s way.” Maddy patted the baby’s head. “Time to switch him over, you need to offer him both breasts each time so they will each make more.”

  Catherine pulled the baby away from her body, but the baby wouldn’t ease off.

  Maddy smiled. “He’s not going to let go. You have to make him.”

  Catherine pulled back, the action causing the baby to tug harder at her nipple, elongating it.

  “No, not like that.”

  Maddy reached over and pressed down on the side of her nipple, close to the baby’s lips. “You have to break the suction, then move the nipple away.”

  Instantly the baby reddened and opened his mouth to cry. Expertly Maddy spun him, shifted his face and latched him onto Catherine’s other nipple. Catherine was amazed as she watched the baby relax and delve into sucking on the fresh nipple.

  “Easy as that. You send for me if you need me. Most important thing to remember, is when the milk starts coming in, it has to come out. If not, you could plug up a milk duct and believe me, that is very painful. It can even lead to an infection that would no’ be good for either one of you. So if he’s ever fussy and not eating, you still need to get these emptied,” she said as she motioned to both of her own breasts by feigning cupping them. “If you have to, you can soak in a hot bath and squeeze them out, or keep pressing hot compresses to them. Most women just have their husbands take a little suck, but you won’t be able to do that. Just remember you are always producing more so you have to make room for it. The nanny should have a book for you to read that will explain more, like there’s certain foods you shouldna eat. They can make the baby colicky or gassy. Make sure you pay a mind to eating the right things as you’re eating for the both of you. This baby needs you to eat well and drink as much as you can . . . lots of milk in your tea . . . apple juice, boiled water with honey and lemon, the buttermilk there on the table is good.”

  Madeline fished in her pocket and took out the bag of coins the earl had given her. “The earl gave me this for you. You won’t need any money while you’re here, but this will be enough to see you through when you leave.”

  Maddy hadn’t taken any out for her and Marguerite as the earl had instructed. Under the circumstances, Madeline felt Catherine was entitled to the entire largess. It was the least she could do.

  “How long will I be here?’ Catherine asked. “I mean how long does this go on?” she asked indicating the baby nursing happily at her breast.

  “A year or two, maybe longer. Each child is different. I’ve heard tell of four-year-olds still suckling, but usually the royals are weaned in the first or second year. It won’t be a hard life for you. You’ll be living like a queen except when your charge needs you.” She shook the leather coin bag. “And the earl’s been very generous, this is wages for five years for the rest of us.”

  “I would give up all this,” Catherine indicated the frescoed ceiling, the opulent drapes, the glossy mahogany furniture, “just to have this be my own child, getting his nourishment from me.”

  Madeline gave a heartfelt sigh; bit her lip hard, and struggled to her feet. “I’m tired and hungry and I have to get the ox cart back. It looks like they’re going to take good care of you here,” she said as she grabbed a napkin from the tea service cart and filled it with biscuits and ham.

  “You ring this bell if you need anything. If he’s not at hand and you need him to nurse, you ring this bell. If you’re finished and you want the nanny to come get him, you ring this bell. I’ll come check on you tomorrow. Be sure to ask the housekeeper for some fresh linens for your flow when she comes to check on you. You’re going to need to change your rags four or five times a day for a fortnight, maybe even a little longer.”

  “Thank you Miss Madeline. I don’t know how I could have gotten through all this without you.”

  Madeline quickly turned, her lip once again between her teeth, and left the room. She couldn’t let Catherine see her face. The fresh tears
at the sweet words from the woman she had hurt beyond repair would be her undoing. If God were to mete out justice right now, Maddy had no doubt she’d be at hell’s door by morning.

  When Madeline reached the foyer she was told the ox cart had been returned and that a coach was waiting to take her home. A hamper had been prepared with enough food for a week so she was able to make a detour to the Cyrus house and make good on her deal for the meat pies on her way home. It was a good thing, as Marguerite was snoring on her bed, the empty plates from the two meats pies dumped in the small sink. “Selfish toad,” Maddy said, as she dragged out the small tub from under the sink to wash herself. There was no amount of hot water she could soak in that would undo the strain of the day. As far as sins went, this one was unforgivable. She could only hope that living in the manor house on the hill for the year or more it would take to nurse the “new earl,” would be pleasurable for Catherine. Maybe if Catherine got along and helped out with the baby, she would be asked to stay . . . to become a chambermaid or a cook’s assistant. She seemed to be educated. She spoke with a refined air, so maybe she could become a governess to the young heir.

  Chapter Five

  After the midwife left, Catherine held the baby in her arms and watched him take tiny pulls on her nipple until he fell asleep. Then she tucked him into her bed using pillows to pen him in. Tired, sore in more places than she’d ever been, she stripped off her clothes and sank into the tub, surprised that the water was still hot. She used the sweet smelling soap on her skin and in her hair and was reminded of summer gardens in full bloom. Her long blonde hair had been braided for so long that it was still crimped when she stood from the tub and toweled it by the fire.