Morag’s questions grew more complex, moving from broad, general queries to specific patient related issues. At some point, Elizabeth realized that the examination was over and Morag was truly seeking input.
“Now, lass, how would ye go about turning a babe?”
“That depends. How far along is the mother? Is this her first? How big is the baby?”
“Well the lass—her name is Jessie—is two and twenty, but she is a right wee thing. And while it’s her second child, she had a lot of trouble with the first one and that wee lass came head first. Jessie has about a month more to go.”
“It is possible to massage the babe into a better position but I would wait until much closer to when it’s due.”
“Aye, I agree.”
“The best thing is if the babe turns on its own. I have heard of a way to get the baby to move—and if it’s moving a lot, there is a good chance it will oblige us.”
“This method, does it work?”
“Honestly, I’ve never done it.” According to reports Elizabeth had read, practitioners of traditional eastern medicine used a treatment called “moxibustion” which seemed to be effective at stimulating movement. But she had no first-hand experience with it. The standard way of handling a breech presentation in the twenty-first century United States was caesarian section. “But we could try it.”
“What do ye do?”
Well, you go to a Chinese herbalist’s shop and buy two moxa sticks. Clearly they couldn’t do that, but maybe she could figure out a substitute. Although it was possible that the smell of the burning moxa sticks might have some effect, Elizabeth figured that the heat was the key element. “This is going to sound a little crazy, and like I said, I’ve never done it, but one puts a focused heat source—maybe a red hot fire iron would work—near the outer edge of each small toe. It should be as close as the mother can tolerate, without burning. The mother does this for a bit longer than a quarter of an hour, in the evening, before going to bed. I suppose, to keep the heat constant, it would be necessary to have several irons and keep changing them as they cooled.”
“And this makes the babe move?”
“That’s my understanding.”
“Is there any risk of it harming the mother or the babe?”
“Nothing we do to try to reposition a breech baby is without risk. In this case there is a very small chance her labor could start early. We would have to weigh the risk of delivering a babe that might be up to a month early with the risk of this mother delivering with the baby as it is.” Elizabeth knew with traditional moxibustion there was also the chance of an allergic reactions to the burning herbs, but that wouldn’t be a concern here.
Morag nodded. “I fear that as small as she is and with the trouble she had the last time, Jessie will not be able to deliver the baby breech. She is close enough to term that the baby might be all right even if it came early. On top of which, if she did go into labor early the baby will be smaller. If it hasn’t turned, she might have a better chance of delivering a smaller babe. Considering the risks of all options, I am inclined to try it. Will ye help me?”
Elizabeth would never have tried something like this in her own time. She was more confident in her ability to perform a caesarian than risking something she knew little about. However, in the thirteenth century a caesarian was not an option. “Aye, I’d be happy to.” As long as she was here, she might as well help. This might take a few days but even if she remembered the word at this moment, she felt sure Elsie would be willing to wait a short time, if necessary, to help a pregnant women.
“I’ll talk to Jessie about it tomorrow. With the feast and all today, I don’t think we could get everything arranged this evening.” Morag glanced out the window. “Oh dear, it’s getting late, we should be getting up to the keep.”
As they walked up the lane towards the castle together, Elizabeth glanced sideways at the old midwife. “Well, did I pass?”
“What?”
“Did I answer all of yer questions satisfactorily? Are ye comfortable I know what I’m doing?”
Morag chuckled. “It was so obvious I was testing ye?”
Elizabeth smiled warmly. “Aye it was.”
Morag smiled back. “Well then, aye, ye did very well. Ye aren’t insulted?”
“Nay, Morag. ‘Tis apparent ye care very much for Lady MacKenzie. I realize I’m young and it’s hard to believe that I could be very skilled. Ye wouldn’t have her best interests at heart if ye didn’t satisfy yerself about me.”
Morag shook her head. “Ye’re clever beyond yer years, lass, that’s a certainty.”
~ * ~
Cade’s mind had drifted to the cheeky, little midwife all day. Her lips had been so warm and sweet, he wanted to taste them again. He half hoped she would be just as full of sass at the feast as she had been for days. He would quite enjoy kissing her into starry-eyed bewilderment as he had promised he would if she didn’t mind her tongue. When the clan began to gather and he didn’t see her among the people in the hall he frowned, a little disappointed. He supposed she was with Wynda, but he would have enjoyed dancing with Elsie.
Other matters drew his attention during most of the feast, and he thought no more about her. When the food was cleared and the trestle tables taken down to make room for the dancing, his mind returned to their unusual guest. He scanned the crowd again, this time finding her chatting merrily with a few of the young clanswomen who worked in the hall.
He frowned when several men joined the group—among them Laird Archibald Chisholm’s youngest son, Rory, who was in training at Carraigile. Both handsome and charming, Rory left his fair share of lassies swooning in his wake. Eventually the other lads pulled Elsie’s companions onto the dance floor, leaving her alone with Rory. Cade’s frown deepened as Rory leaned down, appearing to whisper something in her ear that made her laugh.
Eric, noticing what held Cade’s attention, said, “Seeing as how ye didn’t want anyone else to discover her charming wee self until ye’d proven her wrong, either she gave in to her unquenchable desire for ye last night, or ye’re failing miserably.”
Cade glared at him. “Have you always been this annoying?”
“Annoying? Me? Nay, I’m not annoying—just insightful. And insight is only annoying when it’s painfully true.”
Cade just shook his head, turning his attention back to Elsie and Rory. A slow smile spread across his face as one of the kitchen maids, Shauna, approached the pair. Shauna was no great beauty but neither was she unattractive, although she paled in comparison to Elsie. However, Shauna enjoyed a good tumble and thus never lacked for company. Cade expected that she would have Rory’s complete attention and be dancing with him in a matter of moments. But uncharacteristically, Rory didn’t seem too anxious to accept what she offered.
Eric chuckled. “Now that is odd, the lads rarely turn Shauna away. Perhaps Rory has found greener pastures.”
Cade laughed. “Quit trying to goad me. I’m not worried about Rory Chisholm or any other man in this hall.”
“What makes ye so confident?”
“Because I haven’t accepted failure at anything yet.”
Eric gave a nod of acquiescence. “Fair point.”
With a confident smile, Cade rose and crossed the hall to where the three stood. “Good evening, Rory. How is it ye’ve managed to garner the attention of two fair lassies?”
Shauna curtsied, batting her eyes coyly, “Good evening, Sir Cade.”
Glancing sideways at Shauna, Elsie too bobbed an awkward sort of half-curtsy but said nothing.
Rory inclined his head. “Ah, ‘tis likely the other way ‘round, Cade. These lovelies have taken pity on me.”
“I see. Shauna, lass, since ‘tis pity ye’re dishing out, see if ye can find it in yer heart to give poor Rory here a dance.”
She pouted prettily. “He’s already turned me down, but ye look in need of a partner.”
“Now lass, I’m sure he only turned ye down because he
didn’t want to abandon Elsie, but never fear, I’ll keep her company while the two of ye enjoy yerselves.”
Rory arched a brow and gave Cade a wry smile before taking Shauna’s hand and pulling her towards the dancers. “Aye, pet, with Elsie in good hands, I’d love to dance with ye.”
Cade turned his attention to Elsie. Now that he was close to her, he frowned when he noticed the faint bluish circles under her eyes. “Are ye enjoying the feast Elsie?”
“Aye, thank ye.”
“Did ye sleep well last night?”
She looked amused by his question. When she smiled, one side of her mouth went a little higher than the other, in an adorably lopsided way. “Aye, Sir Cade, and ye?”
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well enough, I suppose, although I daresay I slept better the night before.”
“On the frozen ground?”
“Was the ground frozen?” He leaned close. “All I remember was the soft, warm lassie snoring in my arms.”
“I do not snore.”
“Maybe ‘twas Sully then.”
“Ye slept with Sully in yer arms?” she teased.
He laughed. “Nay, lass, ‘twas Sully snoring. I’m fairly certain ‘twas ye in my arms.” He added in a whisper, “I’d recognize that soft, round backside anywhere.”
She blushed. “Ye’re a prime rogue, Cade MacKenzie.”
“Ah, ye wound me with that wee sharp tongue. And I recall warning ye that there would be consequences. Perhaps I can be convinced to grant ye leniency if ye agree to dance with me.”
The amusement fled her features and she took a step back. “Nay, I can’t.”
“Of course ye can.”
“Nay, I’m sorry, I really can’t. I mean, I don’t know how to dance.”
Cade frowned. “How is that possible?”
“I…I…I suppose I never took time to learn.”
“Well, that little problem must be rectified. Now.” In spite of her protests, he took her hand and pulled her towards the dancers. “Just watch me and do what I do—as if ye’re my reflection.”
She blushed and glanced nervously at the other dancers.
He put a finger under her chin, turning her face towards him. “I said watch me. Don’t worry about anyone else.”
She nodded and he proceeded to guide her through the steps of the dance. She hadn’t lied, she couldn’t dance. But, she didn’t take her eyes off of him—something he realized he quite liked—and after the pattern repeated a few times, she seemed to be catching on.
When the song ended, she took a step back. “Thank ye. It was kind of ye.”
She started to turn away, clearly intending to leave the floor but he caught her by the hand. “And where do ye think ye’re going?”
She looked flustered. “I…well, the song is over.”
“But another one is about to start.”
“And I’m terrible.”
“Do ye always give up so easily?”
“I’m not giving up. I’m just—”
“—afraid?”
She frowned. “I’m not afraid.”
“Nay? Then why are ye giving up?”
She put her hands on her hips and scowled. He stifled a grin. It was fun to tease her.
“Oh all right. I’ll just stumble through dance after dance until everyone is laughing at me.”
The music started again and he guided her through another dance. She really was terrible but he had more fun teaching her to dance than he had ever had dancing with the most skilled dancer in the clan.
When she tripped and fell into his arms at the end of the dance, she asked, “Will ye let me stop now?”
“Nay.”
“Ye don’t think I’ve embarrassed myself sufficiently yet?”
“Elsie, ye’re taking this much too seriously. Besides, no one is laughing at ye. On the contrary, every lass in the room wants to be ye.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“But it’s true.”
“Why would ye say that?”
“Because, sweetling, ye’re dancing with me.” He laughed when she scowled, adding, “And what’s more, every man in the room wants to be me, because I have the bonniest lass present falling into my arms.”
~ * ~
Elizabeth was dumbfounded. No one had ever infuriated her one moment and said something so incredibly wonderful the next.
“So are ye brave enough to try it again?” he asked.
How could she possibly say no? “Aye, I’ll try it again.”
She laughed and stumbled through dance after dance with Cade until he finally said, “I think, my lovely lass, ye’ve earned a bit of refreshment.” Grabbing her elbow, he maneuvered her to one of the benches set up along the walls, grabbed two tankards of ale from a passing serving maid and sat beside Elsie handing her one of the tankards.
Elsie took a sip. She was surprised by flavor and the fact that the alcohol content seemed quite low. That explained why everyone, including children, seemed to drink the stuff without becoming intoxicated.
After Cade had taken a long pull from his tankard, he captured her gaze, considering her for a moment before asking, “Tell me, Elsie, how is it ye never learned to dance?”
She shrugged. “I guess I spent most of my time learning my trade.” That was absolutely true. While it was understandable that Elizabeth didn’t know how to dance the sometimes complex medieval country dances, she would have fared no better in a nightclub. She hadn’t gone to dances in school, not even her high school prom. Back then she had considered it a waste of time. She supposed David would say it was just another life experience she had missed out on. Now, with a tankard of ale in her hand, her sides aching from laughter and sitting next to a beautiful man whose strong arms had kept her from falling several times—she had to agree. This had been more than just fun. It was a pinnacle moment that she would never forget.
“Ye’ve gone very quiet on me, lass.”
“Aye. I suppose I’m a bit sorry I’ve never learned to dance before tonight.”
“I’m not.”
“Why?”
“Because then I wouldn’t have had the joy of teaching ye how.”
She raised her eyebrows skeptically. “Joy?”
“Aye, joy. I consider any evening passed with a lass in my arms, time well spent—even if it is to keep her from landing on her soft round backside.”
“Ye seem to pay an inordinate amount of attention to my—”
“—soft round backside?” He winked. “That’s because I spent the last three days with it nestled up against me, and I’ve grown rather fond of it.”
She blushed. “Like I said, ye’re a prime rogue.”
“Now there’s that wee sharp tongue again. This time it must be taught a lesson.” He cupped her cheek in one hand and leaned down to give her a kiss.
The world around her dissolved as his lips explored hers, first gently teasing, then more demanding. When he finally pulled away from her, she was breathless. No one had ever kissed her like that—or maybe it was that she had never kissed anyone back with quite the same ardor. Either way it stirred a deep aching need within her. She had no doubt, giving into that need would be another pinnacle moment. But as much as she longed to, she knew she couldn’t. Not my life, not my body.
She looked away, trying to gain some measure of control. “I…I should…I’m rather tired…I really should say good night.”
He smiled seductively. “Ye don’t have to.”
She sighed and looked him in the eye. “Aye, I do. I had a wonderful evening. I can’t remember ever having more fun.”
“I’m glad ye enjoyed it.”
“Thank ye for teaching me to dance.”
“Ah, lass, ‘twas my pleasure. But now that ye mention it, there is something else ye must learn to do and I think yer lessons should start soon.”
She frowned. There were any number of things she would like him to teach her, but she had no idea what he was talking about.
&n
bsp; He laughed. “Now put those wicked thoughts aside. I said ye needed to learn to ride a horse before we take ye back to Castle Macrae.”
She blushed. “I had forgotten. Ye needn’t bother.”
“’Tis no bother. Besides, it’s for the benefit of any horse ye may encounter in the future.”
She smiled. There were no horses in her future but she thought she might like having him teach her…well…anything. “Then on behalf of the horses in my future, I thank ye.”
“I’m thinking we should start yer lessons tomorrow—right after the midday meal. I suspect it will take a while.”
She laughed. “Good night, Sir Cade.”
“Good night, Elsie.” He leaned in and gave her another kiss that set her head spinning and left her breathless.
With tremendous effort, she pulled away. “Good night,” she whispered, forcing herself to turn and walk towards the stairs.
Chapter 11
The next morning, Elizabeth rose early, had washed and just finished dressing for the day when Deirdre knocked at her door.
“’Tis Ash Wednesday. We’ll go to Mass before starting the day’s work.”
Mass? While nominally Episcopalian, Elizabeth’s family wasn’t very religious. She had been baptized, received first communion and was confirmed. But in recent years she had only attended church on major holidays. She knew people in thirteenth century were very religious. She figured she probably should try to fit in but how was she going to fake ancient Catholicism? Perhaps she could learn enough to manage by watching.
She thought it might be interesting, but she expected no more than that. However, she found the experience moving in a way that surprised her. As she entered the small church, she realized that all of the clan members who lived in the village or keep were there. Everyone. Morag, Ellen, Shauna, the other castle servants, villagers, men-at-arms, Lady Lilliana, Sir Hamish, Eric, even Cade and his father all came together to pray and worship. The sense of community was profound.
She tried to imagine going to church with her whole family, all of her coworkers, neighbors and by extension, all of her patients. She wondered what it would be like to see children she had delivered begin to toddle and walk—to grow. What would it be like to be so much a part of the community that she knew each soul she cared for? To see little improvements in those who had been ill or simply in passing to notice if things weren’t quite right? To know and care deeply for each person she encountered, not just those sitting in a paper gown on an exam table?
The Midwife: The Pocket Watch Chronicles Page 10