Maggie shook with another onslaught, her face gray, spittle flying.
“Maggie,” Ian shouted.
Bethan’s hands filled with a life not her own. They hummed and pulsed with heat.
“Lay your hands on her, midwife,” the voice said.
As Maggie convulsed, Bethan put her hands on her, a shock of power making her recoil. She touched her again, from head to shoulders, breasts to belly, each part stilling as she did so.
As she reached the bloody source of life, the birth passage, the shaking of Maggie’s legs stopped. Maggie grew still, her breathing steady and sure.
Ian smoothed the hair from her face, putting his cheek against Maggie’s. “My love. Rest now.”
The warm power still coursed through Bethan’s body. “Holy Mother be praised,” she cried, and sank to her knees.
“What happened?’ Maggie lifted her head.
Tears flowed down Bethan’s face as a spirit of goodness and light enveloped her.
Ian held a cup of water to Maggie’s lips. “You had convulsions.”
Bethan rose and grasped Maggie’s hands. “The Holy Nun put her hands upon me and told me what to do. It was a miracle.”
Maggie nodded. “I feel inordinately tired, but well. I feel her presence even now.”
Tears rolled down her face, and Ian reached over and wiped them with one long finger.
“Why? Why would She choose me to save when so many die?”
“We will never know. But I am glad of it!”
“I want my babe,” Maggie said.
Ian cleared his throat. “I’ll fetch him.” He struggled to stand and lifted their son from the cradle.
“He must nurse,” Maggie said.
The babe latched on, and Maggie rested her lips upon his downy head. She was pale, but radiant. “You did well, Bethan.”
“As did you.”
Bethan put more water in the basin and set to work washing Maggie’s privities.
“Here, let me.” Ian made to join her.
“Stay with me, Ian.”
He embraced her, hard enough to make the babe snuffle with irritation at getting ousted off his mother’s nipple. “Of course.”
“Yes, I’ll take care of this straightaway,” Bethan said.
In time, she had Maggie cleaned up, a new night rail on, and had given them a fortifying mug of ale. Her work done for the moment, she slumped down on the divan and tried to slow her racing heart. All was well. Maggie was weak but had no headache. The babe brimmed with good health and had a lusty cry. She exhaled a shaky breath and took a sip of her ale.
Her heart swelled with equal measures of pride and humility, and she gazed upon the couple. She had helped Ian sit behind Maggie so she could lean against him, and their arms encircled the babe, his little face red with squalling. The Holy Nun’s hands still lay upon her in blessing, and her body hummed still with Her power.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
After she finished her ale, Bethan rose, joints creaking. She would go into the shop area for a spell, to give them some privacy. She would tell no one about Ian attending the birth. But thank God he did, for Maggie had needed him. And why should a man not be present for the birth of his own child?
She shook her head. The event was entirely too much for her mind to fathom. She reached behind the counter to where Ian kept brandy for medicinal purposes and poured herself a small amount. It burned down her gullet like fire, but after a few more swallows, she relaxed.
“Have some more, Bethan. You deserve it.” Ian’s voice carried into the shoppe. Maggie’s chuckle and the baby’s wail followed, then Ian’s soft melody. The babe stopped crying.
“Let’s call him Daniel, after your brother.”
“Daniel,” Ian murmured. “Yes, he would like that. I hesitate to say…” He cleared his throat. “Do you think his head will always be so…misshapen?”
“It’s quite normal, did you not know that?”
“No, I didn’t. Beautiful boy.”
Bethan put down the glass, remembering she still had things to do.
“I’m going to examine you, Maggie.”
“I want to move to the divan. My back aches lying here.”
With more confidence than when she’d begun, Bethan checked Maggie and ascertained the bleeding was no more than normal. She had Ian hold the babe while she helped Maggie to the divan, propping her up with pillows. She took young Daniel from Ian and watched as he slowly transferred himself to the chair, and then the couch.
“I’ll dish you out some soup, clean up the baby, and make him a posset.”
“Give me the babe,” Maggie said.
Bethan placed him in the cradle. “Eat first.”
Before Maggie could argue, she placed the bowl of stew in her hand.
Ian had pulled himself onto the divan. “Look at my son. He seems to have your calm demeanor, my love.” Indeed, the babe gazed at the ceiling with a still alertness.
“You must rest when you can, Maggie. You had a most difficult time.”
Maggie looked up. “Yes.”
“It was most extraordinary. I felt the Holy Nun’s hand guiding me.”
Maggie handed her the empty bowl. “I would not have believed it, but she has aided me when I needed it most. The falling sickness I suffered from is one of the most serious conditions a birthing mother can experience. Most women die. Why I didn’t I don’t understand. You’ve seen the healing power of Julian of Norwich. She is always there to aid you when you cannot help yourself.”
Bethan nodded. “It was a miracle.”
Maggie kissed the top of the babe’s downy head. “Yes, but you are also skilled, Bethan. It is an innate, instinctive gift that will only improve with time.”
“Thank you for putting your trust in me.”
“You are the town’s midwife now, for the time being.”
Bethan nodded. “I vow to study the book you gave me. There’s so much I don’t know.”
“Being a midwife is a humbling vocation, and there is always something new to learn. Don’t fret, Bethan.”
“I will always do my utmost,” Bethan said.
“Get some rest, Bethan,” Ian said. “And thank you.”
She handed the babe to Maggie. “I’ll fetch you both more ale, and then I’d better get back home.”
“Thank you,” Maggie said.
“I never imagined I could be this happy,” Ian murmured. He uncovered the blanket to admire the ruddy skin and tiny hands and feet. “He is perfect. See how he wriggles his toes? Thank you, Maggie mine.”
Maggie kissed him. “You were rather necessary in the making of our boy, husband.”
Bethan eased the door closed and met the morning sun with a joy and exhilaration she’d never known. A realization chilled her like a cloud passing over the sun: one minute she could be breathing, and a minute later, her life could be over. If she died today, what would she wish she’d experienced above all else?
Warm brown eyes, and pleasure cascading through her like a waterfall whenever he touched her. What if she died, still yearning? Why could she not have what Maggie and Ian had? So many things seeming impossible before had come to pass; the spirit of the Holy Mother still whispered through her.
What a difference a day could make in a life. She had arrived at Maggie and Ian’s unsure of herself, and left with a glow of confidence that almost lifted her off the cobbles.
Chapter Thirty
Lena met her with open arms when she arrived at the inn. “Liebchen! Are Maggie and the baby well?”
“A boy, strong and hearty.”
“Gott sie danke!” Lena clapped her hands. “I will bring a pot of oyster stew to her tonight.”
At that moment, all the strain from the long night made Bethan’s knees shake.
“Ach, sit down. You’re shaking.” Lena led her over to a chair by the fireplace. “Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“I just fried some fish. I’ll bring some to you.”
“Lena, you needn’t wait on me. How is my sister?”
“Elunid is in her room, sewing. She was up before me and seems well enough.”
Bethan made to rise. “I should check on her.”
“No. You will sit right here and eat. Then you’ll nap.”
Bethan was too tired to argue.
Lena soon handed her a plate laden with haddock and ale.
“You must care for yourself, Bethan. It’s what I’m always telling Maggie. You can’t care for others unless you care for yourself.”
Bethan nodded, head spinning when she did so. She closed her eyes against the dizziness.
“And there is more than one way of caring. There is the caring between a man and a woman. Henry, he dotes on you, Liebchen. And you care for him.”
“How can there be room in my life for love, with all of my concerns?”
“Being a martyr won’t keep you warm at night.”
“What about Elunid, Lena? Why would he want to take us both on?”
“Love grows, Bethan.”
She wanted to believe it.
“And I wouldn’t underestimate Henry.”
She nodded. “Can you sit with me, Lena?”
“No, I must see to Sabine.”
“Is aught amiss?”
“She has a fever and is vomiting.”
“Oh no!” She made to rise but plopped down again, overcome with dizziness.
“Now, what have I just been telling you, Bethan? Sit.”
“Thank you. The fish is delicious, as always.”
“There’s more in the kitchen. Eat, then sleep.”
Once she’d finished, Bethan leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
A blast of cool air slipped under the cover of her dreamless slumber.
“Da, there she is.”
She startled like a baby at a loud noise.
“Aw, George! You woke her up.” Henry’s deep voice.
She bolted upright and opened her eyes with effort, meeting young George’s brown ones. She blinked.
“Ergh.”
Henry appeared with a cup of tea in his hand. “Here. Nice and hot.” He handed her the cup, took a handkerchief out of his pocket, and wiped the slobber running down one side of her face.
How humiliating. She stared stupidly at him. She’d never noticed he had gold flecks in his brown eyes before.
“I heard about the babe. Well done, Bethan.”
Her breath caught in her throat at the pride in his voice.
“I heard it wasn’t an easy birth.”
She sipped her tea, and felt awareness return. When had he noticed she liked it sweet?
“He’s a handsome boy. Like your George.”
“How did the baby get here?” George asked.
She opened her mouth, shut it again.
Henry snorted, then coughed to cover it up. He waited, head cocked, eyes brimming with mischief. “Bethan?”
She scowled at Henry. Suddenly the image of his nude body glistening with water came unbidden to her mind. Damn!
“Are you well, Mistress Bethan?” George peered at her. “You’re very red.”
“Yes, yes. I’m fine. Thank you, George.” She glanced at Henry out of the corner of her eye. He looked every bit like a lad who’d snatched a pie from the windowsill.
“How did the baby come?”
“Fathers are very good at answering those questions, George.” She smirked at Henry.
“I’d like a little brother, Da.” He waited expectantly.
“Uh.”
Bethan was enjoying Henry’s discomfiture when George turned toward her.
“You brought a baby for Mistress Maggie. Surely you could bring one for me.”
She felt Henry’s eyes on her and couldn’t look away. “Yes,” he murmured. “Surely you could.”
The need in Henry’s eyes opened a chasm inside her that only he could fill.
While still looking at her, Henry said, “George, go to the kitchen and see if there’s anything to eat.”
He leaned down and clasped Bethan’s hand. “I’m sorry we could not have our picnic last night.”
“Oh.” She’d forgotten. “I’m sorry too.” Why should she bother pretending? Perhaps Lena was right. He certainly looked strong enough to withstand anything, even Elunid’s troubles.
“Tell me about what happened last night. Well, not the loathsome details, obviously.”
“It was harrowing. Maggie became very ill.”
He searched her face, as if he would feel her emotions.
“It was exhilarating. It was exhausting.”
“Yet in your sweet face I see strength and vigor.”
“I love delivering babies. I never thought I’d have anything in my life besides caring for Elunid.”
“Do you have room for me, Bethan?” His voice slid into her and warmed her very core.
“Let me take you on our picnic tonight if you’re not too tired.” He lifted her hands to his mouth, and rested his lips against them, his breath raising the little hairs on her arm. She gave herself a little shake.
He laughed. “Are you well, Bethan?”
She pulled away and stood up, causing him to step backward and trip over the hearth.
Lena entered, carrying two squalling babies.
Henry grinned. “Here, Lena. I’ll take one.”
Bethan watched as Lena handed little Josef to Henry.
“I must get cooking.” Lena handed Sabine’s babe to Bethan.
“Hullo, lad.” He jiggled the boy, who quieted and grabbed hold of his curly black hair.
“Oh, ouch.” He made a face, causing the babe to stop his crying and chortle.
Bethan stood and reached up to uncurl the baby’s fist. No wonder he wanted to grab hold. Henry’s hair was so soft and springy, it seemed to have a life of its own. Henry cradled the side of the babe’s head and gave him a finger to chew on.
As she watched him, the words came unbidden from her mouth. “How easy it would be for you to marry Lena.”
He stood stock still. “Did I hear you correctly?” He paused, then smiled. “I don’t want ‘easy,’ Bethan. I want you.” Despite the babe in his arms, he breached the gap and kissed her soundly, the babes squawking between them.
“We will have our midnight picnic.”
Henry’s promise seemed like a fairy tale as the evening went on. Rum seemed to be the preferred drink, and tempers ran high. Bethan’s ears buzzed with the din of shouting and singing.
Reginald and Vicar Andrews shared a table, and what an unlikely pair they were. It seemed they shared a mutual fascination for Sabine, who had rallied round and returned to work, almond-shaped eyes huge in her pale face. The two men looked like a pair of bass with their eyes on the same bait.
There was no time to talk throughout the evening, but as Henry and Bethan crossed paths, he never failed to touch her in some way: the brush of his arm against hers, sending frissons of thrills up her arm, a hand upon her shoulder making her feel safe and calm against the riotous behavior of the crowd. It was like a voice of calm silencing the chaos of the crowd, saying, “I am here.” Strength and promise.
She took a moment to check on Elunid, who’d gone to bed. She thought at first she was asleep, but Elunid opened her eyes.
“What’s the matter, Elunid?”
“Nothing. I’m resting my eyes.”
“You’ve been working very hard today.”
“I hope it’s enough.”
“You can’t go blind trying to sew for them, Elunid.”
“Can I not? Would it not prove my dedication to them?”
“No one thanks a martyr, Elunid.”
“Easy for you to say, Sister. Now let me rest.”
She met Henry on the way out.
“How is she?” He searched her face and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.
“She’s calm, even if she’s not quite making sense. I can’t ask for more.”
He caressed her
shoulder. “You’ve been on your feet for hours, running back and forth between the kitchen and the tables. How is it you manage to look so fresh and lovely?”
She laughed. “I don’t know why you feel the need to flatter me so. You needn’t. I know I’m big and gawky. My mother told me so, and if your own mother doesn’t tell you the truth, who will?”
“I will. I don’t want to malign your mother.” He caressed her neck, making her lean into it. “But her eyesight must have been very poor.”
The rest of the evening disappeared in a flurry of work. Later, they surveyed the clean room, and Bethan sighed.
“Here.” He handed her a glass of ale. “This will revive you.”
Lena slumped at the table. “Meine Gott. What a night. Sabine, dear girl, sit down. Your face is the color of last week’s cream.”
She could easily go to bed, but the constant touch from Henry throughout the night had bolstered her strength like a good meal. And tempted her to want more.
Young George lay by the fire, sound asleep. Sabine covered him up with a blanket. “Boy worked hard today. He lift heavy things.”
Henry walked to the kitchen and returned with a basket. “Bethan, we are going on a picnic.”
“It’s night,” Sabine said. “Picnic?”
“Yes, a meal outside. It’s nighttime, but the moon is very bright.”
Sabine nodded. “Picnic. Yes.”
“Go! I will check on your sister before I go to bed.” Lena shooed them toward the door.
Henry fetched Bethan’s shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders, his fingers lingering. When he opened the door, a light breeze from the channel kissed her face.
“Fresh air,” she exclaimed.
“Yes, and quiet.”
He took her arm, tucked it into his side. He wore no waistcoat, yet heat radiated from him.
“You’re not cold?”
He laughed. “Oh, I assure you, I’m never cold when you’re around.”
“What’s in the basket?”
“You’ll have to wait until we get to our destination.”
“You like to keep me in suspense, don’t you?”
He nodded. “I’ll do what I must to keep you entertained, my dear.”
They passed the Landgate, and Bethan stood under it, putting her nose against it and sniffing.
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