“She’s just in here,” he told them lowly as they approached a shut door. A sliver of light shone beneath the wood.
When it opened, Drum passed them to go directly to Penelope’s bedside. She lay on her back among the fine bedding, almost disappearing into the blankets and pillows that surrounded her. Her fair hair plastered to her white face with sweat. She uttered a series of small moans, but quieted as her husband neared. A woman hovered beside the fireplace, mixing something in a small black cauldron, but made no notice of seeing Gwen and Charlotte enter.
Charlotte whimpered before dashing to Penelope’s side. They put their heads together and began to whisper, but Gwen didn’t hear what was said. Instead of intruding on their moment, she crossed to the woman beside the fire.
“Are you the midwife?” Gwen asked.
The woman looked up from where she crouched, startled. Her brown eyes were wide and she was much younger than Gwen expected, younger even than her. “Oh…well, aye, I suppose so.”
She gaped, not sure if she heard her correctly. “You suppose so?”
The woman—girl—pinked. “Me mum is the midwife, but she’s visitin’ with me sister down south and I was to look after things for her.”
Gwen bent down next to her, feeling her knees weaken. Then she asked the question she already knew the answer to. “Have you…have you ever delivered a baby before?”
She shook her head, her lips pursed.
“Have you ever assisted in a birth?”
She shook her head again.
“Get. Out,” Gwen growled, her teeth bared. “Get. Out. Now.”
“Wh-what?”
Gwen rose to her feet, hot rage building in her core. “Get out! Ye wee pretender!”
“But I…I can try and—”
“Out!” she shrieked, pointing at the door.
The girl scrambled from the room and Gwen found three sets of eyes settle on her.
“She wasn’t a midwife and she’s never even delivered a baby before,” Gwen explained hurriedly, dropping her cloak to the floor and beginning to roll up her sleeves.
“Not a…a midwife?” Penelope hissed as her face contorted into a rough grimace. “Oh, no.”
“Bloody hell,” Drum cursed, crossing the room to Gwen. Then he lowered his voice. “What was that?”
“She’s never delivered a baby, Drum. Hadn’t even assisted.”
“And none o’ us have.” His green eyes were wild. “That lass was the only one we had!”
“Charlotte’s had a baby…and you have me,” Gwen responded stoutly, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Have you ever delivered a child?”
“Well, no, but I’ve read about it and assisted in the delivery of many animals.”
Drum leaned forward. “My wife is no’ an animal, Gwen…Christ!”
She thought back to the pile of medical texts she had pored over several weeks before when she wanted to learn more about the anatomical ways of a man and a woman. She could see the diagrams and structural drawings as clearly as if they were before her. Of course, she had never even seen a woman give birth, as she was the youngest of her siblings and even Charlotte demanded privacy in her chambers when Alec was born, but she was the closest thing to a healer they had.
“I can do this,” she asserted firmly. “I know that I can.”
“Ye must. I will no’ lose my wife.” Drum then glanced briefly at his wife before lowering his head to Gwen’s. His voice was barely more audible than a faint breeze as he spoke his next words. “If it comes to it, and Lord willin’ it will no’…save Penelope. There can always…always be more bairns, but I will never find another woman like her.”
“Drum, I—”
Penelope let out an ear-splitting shriek containing language more befitting a barmaid than a wellborn lady.
Gwen snapped in her direction. She had never heard Penelope curse before and that frightened her much more than anything else. “Don’t fret, Penelope, it’ll all be over soon.”
She released an animalistic groan before pointing at them. “Both of you…Stop. Bloody. Whispering!”
“Go…go call for a maid to boil water,” Gwen ordered Drummond. “And I’ll need clean—”
“Linen, aye.” He nodded to a neat pile of bone white fabric atop a dressed. “And you’ll find water ready in the pot.”
“Good, good.” Gwen looked around the room and saw a door to her left. “Is that your washroom?”
“Aye,” he mumbled before going over to Penelope.
Gwen entered the washroom and shut the door firmly behind her, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dimly lit room, where the only source of light was one lone candle on the countertop. Then she stared at her reflection above the sink. Her blue eyes were round as saucers and there were little worry lines between her brows. Even her lips were set in a firm line that didn’t bring confidence to mind, but fear. She looked scared and that would be no help to Penelope.
“Pull yourself together,” she demanded gruffly to her reflection. “You’re the only one Penelope has and you can’t fall apart now. You can do this.”
She repeated those words to herself as she turned on the water and began washing her hands with some fragrant soap she found beside the basin. The cold water froze her already numb fingers, but she read how important cleanliness was for both mother and child and she would leave nothing to chance.
After one last sobering breath, and a quick dry of her hands, Gwen felt collected enough to return to Penelope. But before she left the stillness of the tiny room, she placed her hand over her heart, feeling the outline of the crucifix beneath her palm. She needed his strength, his steady force that made her feel as if all things were possible. She needed him there with her, at least in spirit, to calm the riotous storm dwelling within the MacGregor home. She needed him.
But Penelope needed her more.
***
“The baby is turned the wrong way round,” Gwen whispered to Drum and Charlotte as they huddled together beside the fire, pretending to be boiling cloths. It had been almost an hour since Gwen left the washroom and Penelope was still no closer to having the baby.
“What does that mean?” Drum asked worriedly.
“It should be head first, facing down—that’s the right way of things. But I believe the baby is trying to come feet first, which is why she’s having such trouble.”
Charlotte glanced at Penelope and shot her a smile before turning back to Gwen. “Is there anything we can do? Alec came so easily.”
Gwen paused, calling to mind some of the more graphic scenes in the texts she’d read. “Yes, I believe there is…but it won’t be very enjoyable for anyone, especially Penelope.”
Drum cringed as Penelope’s exhausted moans grew quiet. “Ye must do it…do whatever it takes.”
“Right. Well…I’m going to need you to hold her very still. She’ll be very…uncomfortable, but it’s important that I do this right and on the first try.” Gwen looked hard at Drum. “Can you hold her down for me?”
His face looked pained, but he nodded. “Aye.”
When Gwen reached Penelope’s bedside, it was clear she was rapidly losing her strength. Her eyelids fluttered and she groped around the covers, stopping only when she found Drum’s hand close around hers.
“Penelope, the baby is coming feet first,” Gwen explained gently, pulling down the blankets and lifting up Penelope’s damp shift to reveal her swollen stomach. “I’m going to press down hard and turn it. Do you understand?”
Penelope nodded, but said nothing.
“Now.” Gwen looked to Drum and slid her gaze fleetingly to Charlotte, who was looking rather green, but still dabbed at Penelope’s forehead with a damp cloth.
Drum climbed atop the bed and slid behind Penelope, wrapping his massive arms around her. He began singing something into her ear, an old lullaby by the sound of it, but Gwen couldn’t listen closely enough to make out the Gaelic. Her mind was set in English and Latin�
�the languages of the books she was trying to picture.
When it was clear Penelope wouldn’t put up too much of a fight, Gwen took a deep breath and placed both hands on her stomach, trying to ignore the fact that she felt no movement within. Penelope squirmed though the first few presses, but when Gwen began exerting more pressure, she began to cry out. It broke Gwen’s heart to hear her in so much pain, but she was determined to save both her and the baby.
“Stop!” Penelope wailed. “Stop! You’ll hurt the baby!”
“No, she will no’,” Drum crooned, looking anguished.
When Gwen could feel the smooth line of buttock, and things that she imagined might be legs, under her fingers, she leaned back. “It’s done. The baby should come now.”
Drum let out a great sigh and kissed the top of his wife’s head. Charlotte looked as if she might faint, but Gwen imagined the Persian rug beneath them was thick enough to soften her fall.
Back to the matter at hand—it was just as Gwen had hoped. Penelope’s body began to convulse gently, then with more might. It was just as it should be, and Penelope began breathing more deeply as she bent her legs into her chest.
“I…it’s coming,” she groaned, digging her nails into Drum’s arm. “Bloody hell, Drummond. Your child is just…ahh…just as bloody…ow! Just as bloody big as you, you bloody bastard!”
Gwen dared a peek between Penelope’s knees to find something…there.
“Lord above, it’s the baby!” Gwen practically yelled, a grin splitting her mouth. “Charlotte, ready the cloth! Penelope, I need you to push.”
Penelope complied, her face red.
It was several short bursts later when a tiny, slimy, still baby was born into Gwen’s hands and into a clean blanket. As Gwen wiped off the little face, its lips tinted blue, she went deaf. She was slightly aware of voices shouting, but she continued her work. Following the instructions she remembered, she used a short length of silk cord to tie off the umbilical cord before picking up the boiled sewing scissors to sever the tie.
Still, the baby did not move.
Gwen flipped the baby onto its stomach over her knees and rubbed its back furiously, patting intermittently and praying silently to God. The baby couldn’t be gone. She would never be able to face gentle Drum and sweet Penelope again knowing that their firstborn child had died on her watch. Certainly she knew several women who had lost babies, but she had never been the one to deliver them.
Finally, a small cry emitted from Gwen’s lap and a pair of miniature fists began to wave madly.
“It’s alive!” Drum shouted.
Gwen flipped the baby over. “She’s alive.”
“She!” he yelled out, holding Penelope tight. “We have a she! A dainty, wee lass!”
Gwen wrapped the baby up tightly and passed her to Penelope, who was looking rather pale.
“A girl,” Penelope croaked to the cooing babe.
Charlotte held a cup of water to her lips. “A beautiful girl. Look at that marvelous head of dark hair.”
“She’s perfect,” Drum murmured, reaching around Penelope to stroke a finger over the rounded cheek of their daughter.
Charlotte put the cup back on the side table. “Gwen, I can finish the rest. I remember how to rid her of the afterbirth. Go sit down and rest.”
Gwen nodded, but went to wash her hands up to the elbows before sinking into the chair beside the fire. She hadn’t realized she was so tired, but at that moment, she couldn’t remember a time she was more exhausted. But as she watched Penelope and Drum admire their child, Gwen felt as if it was all worth it.
And as Drum murmured something into Penelope’s hair and followed it up with a look of pure admiration and love, a searing pain settled in Gwen’s chest. She knew that look. It hadn’t come to her from Drummond, but she supposed it was the look all lovers exchanged when they felt such a deep bond. Someone had once gazed upon her that way—as if she alone set the favorable tides to suit his ships and blew the wind toward safe harbor. Someone had once looked at her with such adoration that she felt her whole life melt away in an instant of safe and pure love.
Someone had once looked at her like that…and she had sent him away.
Chapter Fourteen
“Nearly home,” Charlotte announced wearily, trying to adjust her waterlogged bonnet to keep the worst of the rain off her face.
“Good. I’m soaked to the bone,” Gwen replied through chattering teeth.
They had been traveling most of the day, but it was slow work in the mud brought on by a sudden storm. Gwen would have liked to stay with Penelope a bit longer, but Charlotte couldn’t stand to be away from Alec for more than two days. Besides, Penelope’s mother was bound to be on her way, and neither MacLeod women wanted to crowd the new mother. It was decided that in a month’s time, they would return to the MacGregor home with Conner, Alec, and little Ian to visit baby they named Rose.
“Oh, no,” Charlotte murmured as the keep’s surrounding lands came into sight.
Gwen craned her neck, but saw nothing amiss other than the gray sky around them. “What is it?”
“Ships in the harbor,” Charlotte called over a particularly loud burst of wind. “They fly a Portuguese flag.”
Gwen felt her already cold limbs freeze even more and her heart heave. If there had been anything in her stomach, she was sure she would have retched atop the hill. For a fleeting moment, she considered turning round and riding straight back to Drum and Penelope, but knew that wasn’t an option. She would have to deal with whatever happened like a grown woman.
“Just ride on to the castle and I’ll send them away,” Charlotte affirmed briskly, urging her pony forward. “They severed ties with us. Why on earth would four of their boats come to dock if we’re no longer doing business?”
“Four?” She was confused. Gaspar had five ships to his name. But it was possible that he had stayed behind and sent only four to the MacLeods for some unknown venture. Still, there was no reason for any of Gaspar’s small fleet to visit.
As they drew nearer, she could see the ships fairly easily. She scanned the waters and her eyes were immediately drawn to the largest boat, a blood red banner flying atop the bare mast. It was La Sereia. Gwen would recognize it anywhere.
“He’s here.”
Charlotte’s brown furrowed. “But why?”
Gwen didn’t answer. She kicked her heels into her horse’s sides and took the beast on a swift gallop the last mile or so to the keep. What she needed to do was lock herself within her chambers for the foreseeable future—perhaps feigning a headache and exhaustion. There was no way she would allow Gaspar to look upon her again, nor was she too keen on seeing him. She couldn’t take any more heartbreak.
***
As soon as a boy came to front of the castle to collect the horse, Gwen leaped from her saddle and brushed past the staff that tried to collect her sodden cloak. She even ignored Conner, merely calling out that she was tired.
When she was safely closed away in her chambers, she crossed quickly to the windows and drew them shut. Although the shadowy light outside was slowly dying, the silhouettes of the ships were still clearly visible among the cliffs and she didn’t want to take the chance of setting eyes upon them.
Sighing, Gwen went to the washroom and began filling the tub, dropping her soaked cloak and dress to the floor as she did. When her boots and stockings joined the damp pile, she was left only in the gold of the crucifix and medallion. She considered taking it off, but felt that it had brought her such luck in the delivery of Penelope’s baby that she wasn’t ready to part from it. Besides, the piece was probably missing the sea, and since Gwen had no plans on jumping in the ocean any time soon, a lilac scented bath would have to do.
The steaming water eased her aching joints and she submerged herself to the neck. Gwen hadn’t even been aware of how sore she was. But the lack of sleep and the long day’s ride had left her legs feeling tight and her shoulders pinched. She was just about to drift
off, encased in the warm bath, when she thought better of falling asleep in a tub full of water. It would be a terrible lesson in irony for her to drown in a bath while she had so recently thrown away a chance at true love for her fear of the ocean.
So she quickly washed and dried herself, slipping into a clean nightgown to nap before calling down for supper. Someone had been in to stoke the fire as she had been bathing, but the sheets were cold as she slid between them. Still, sleep beckoned her. But as soon as her head hit the pillow, the bedroom doors burst open, hitting the stone wall with a shocking bang.
Startled, Gwen let out an involuntary shriek and sat up.
“Quite the welcome!” Flora giggled, running over and climbing atop the bed to embrace her.
Gwen grinned. “Flora, goodness, I had no idea you were even coming home! Well, I suppose it’s not your home any longer…when did you get in?”
“This morning. We’ve been sleeping all day since the early morning.”
“How was your honeymoon?”
Flora waved a dismissive hand. “We’ll discuss that later. We’d heard that you and Charlotte went to assist in the birth of Penelope’s baby?” she asked eagerly, leaning forward. “Boy of girl?”
“A girl—Rose Victoria.”
She clasped her hands under her chin and sighed. “Is she a perfectly fair little doll?”
“No, hair as dark as Drum’s, but her eyes are the same pale blue as Penelope’s.”
Flora groaned. “I do wish I had come back in time to join you.”
“Why did you come back? I thought you planned to go straight to London?”
“We had another week before he had to return to his work, so I asked Andrew if he would mind very much coming to visit for a few days instead of going to the English countryside.”
Sapphire Sea Page 14