A Season Lost

by Sophie Turner

  The bell was rung for Moll, who said she would make her lady a posset. The posset also did nothing to soothe her lady, and now Georgiana’s irritation took on a new form, and she accused them all of smothering her. Sheepishly, they left her to return to her cot, and Georgiana felt some lingering guilt, some remnant part of her recognising that she was not herself and unsure how she had suddenly become such a termagant. She made to climb up into her cot, felt sick, and lost most of Moll’s posset in the fire bucket below.

  Then, finally, she felt the faintest of pains in her back. Clasping the edges of her cot but making no attempt to climb in, she waited, and felt it again. Now, all made sense to her, and she felt a certain restless excitement seize her stomach: for so long she had wanted this baby; for so long she had worried over this baby; now, finally, she would know the outcome. Her fears from Bombay did not return – indeed, although she could not be described as calm, she felt strangely ready. It was time to cease worrying, time to cease hoping. It was time to know.

  She knocked briefly and entered the great cabin, where it seemed Matthew and Moll were holding a conference of concern over her recent behaviour; they both looked guiltily towards her until she said, “I think it is finally time.”

  To this, Moll cried, “I thought that was it!” while Matthew merely looked as ill as Georgiana had been earlier. In a moment he rallied, however, and left them to tell one of the marines guarding the door that word should be passed for Mr. Clerkwell and Mr. Akers, and that the great cabin should be prepared for Lady Stanton’s lying-in. This had been planned for some time; Matthew would not have the event take place with so many people within the little sleeping cabin, and so the men of the embassy would have to do without their place of entertainment for the duration of the birth. Hawke, Bowden, and a few other men came in and began removing and bringing in furniture to prepare the cabin. Chief among the items added was a light folding bed, also of Taylor’s make, but Georgiana was feeling far too energetic at present to have use of it.

  Her irritation – now having a cause to attribute to it – had been set aside, and she was pacing about the cabin while they prepared the bed, filled with nervous excitement. Both Matthew and Moll endeavoured to convince her to sit and rest, for it might be a long night, but Georgiana could not bring herself to do so. The surgeons came in, and after one look at their hands, which still bore the remnants of some previous operation, they were roundly admonished by Moll: “Both of ye, look at those hands! Ye ain’t to touch my lady with hands like that! Out, and don’t come back till you’ve washed ‘em!” Guiltily, they both filed out, although Clerkwell grumbled a little. They returned with thoroughly clean hands, and as she continued to pace, Georgiana thought with some amusement that she need not have been concerned that Moll would be overruled by the surgeons, when it was more likely Georgiana would need to ensure the surgeons were not overruled by Moll.

  Clerkwell and Akers did add their voices to those attempting to convince her to rest, and many hours later, she wished she had heeded the advice. The surgeons and Moll all said she progressed well, but she progressed slowly, and after so many hours of continuous pains, Georgiana wished desperately that it was all over, but understood it would get much worse before it was so. On land, the only mark of how long she had suffered would have come in the sunrise, which she observed without feeling she was anywhere close to actually having the child, but on the ship, every half-hour was marked with the ringing of the bell, so Georgiana had a regular reminder that time was passing, while she remained in pain without growing substantially closer to birth.

  When the bell rang for the forenoon watch, Clerkwell made her take a little laudanum, and recommended she try to sleep a little, since things were progressing so slowly. But while the laudanum did provide some relief against the pain, sleep did not come, and evening arrived with Georgiana doubled up on the folding bed in the great cabin, fatigued by the continuance of such a pain for such a long time. She had longed to know, earlier, but now she merely longed for the ordeal to be over, regardless of its outcome.

  Matthew, seated beside her during most of this time, save when he would speak to one of his officers, was often rubbing her back or murmuring encouraging words to her. Yet she could sense his worry, even when she was moaning with her head tucked down against her chest. She could sense, as well, the agitation of Mrs. Travis and Rebecca McClare, neither of whom had experience in such matters, which seemed to cause them to go about the great cabin with the desire to help, but in worried confusion as to how to do so. The surgeons provided little in the way of consolation, either, merely pronouncing that it was not nearly time for the child to come. It was left to Moll to provide a voice of confidence, and this she did, stating loudly that her lady was progressing well enough, and sometimes things just went slowly, but there weren’t no reason to presume there was anything wrong with her lady-ship or the child, not so early on.

  Such reassurances fuelled Georgiana through the early part of that second night. Of the two surgeons, Mr. Clerkwell had proven the less squeamish about making his observations as to how she progressed, and once he had again put his head in such places as should make any lady uncomfortable, he said he expected they all still had some time to wait. Georgiana, raising her head a little toward Matthew, said, “perhaps you ought to sleep a little.”

  He had been holding her hand, and clasped it still more tightly, saying, “and why should I, out of everyone here, go to sleep?”

  “Because you are captain of the ship, and it is important that you be ready to attend to anything that is needed.”

  He chuckled, pressed his hand to her face, and said, “I assure you, dearest, I have gone without sleep for far longer during many a storm. We are in the midst of a fine run of blue-water sailing, we are, presumably, still at peace with France, and so I will stay by your side until our child comes into the world. I told you I intended to be a better husband and father, and this is where I will start.”

  Matthew might have served as a better husband throughout the night, giving his wife periodic laudanum doses and rubbing her back as her pains gradually worsened, but he was no nearer to becoming a father by dawn the next morning. Georgiana might have been troubled by this, but by this time she had reached a sort of delirious exhaustion that put her beyond worry. She felt pain, certainly, but by this time it seemed pain had become a permanent part of her existence, and it was a very long time before she became aware that there was an argument taking place, between the two surgeons.

  “It’s been far too long – ‘tis time for the forceps,” said Mr. Akers.

  “Which Denman says the use of forceps cannot come under contemplation before the membranes are broken, and the os uteri completely dilated, and the lady ain’t there yet,” said Clerkwell.

  “And what if the membranes are never broken, and she is never completely dilated?” asked Mr. Akers. “The lady is weakening.”

  Georgiana heard enough of this conversation to be distressed by it, and she was relieved when Moll came over to give her more posset and said she should not listen to the men in their nonsense arguments; that in her own good time milady would progress and bring the baby into the world. Yet after their introduction, such doubts could not easily be set aside, and Georgiana spent that day with her worry increasing more quickly than her pains.

  It was with a great deal of relief when finally – shortly after four bells in the first watch that night – Georgiana felt a rush of wetness envelop her legs. Aside from Matthew, who had remained by her side through the night, the remainder of those attending her had determined to take shifts, and so she described her symptoms to Rebecca, Mr. Akers, and her husband.

  “It’ll go faster, now,” said Mr. Akers, then to Rebecca, “You there – go and get the others.”

  Although she could not like the way the command was given, Georgiana was grateful that Moll would be returned to her. Of all of them, Moll had seemed the calmest, the most confident that nothing was abnormal about how lo
ng it was all taking, and Georgiana had felt more confident of things when her maid was around to give her reassurances.

  Matthew eyed her nightgown, and said, “You should not be lying about in damp clothes. Your maid left a clean nightgown for you – I presume this is why. We shall get someone to change the sheets on the bed as well. Can you rise?”

  Georgiana nodded, raised herself from the bed, endured another wave of pain far worse than what had come before, then stood with his assistance.

  “Mr. Akers, will you excuse us?” Matthew asked, and the surgeon nodded and left the cabin. Matthew went to get the nightgown, and Georgiana stood there, unsteadily looking about the cabin. She saw the forceps lying there beside the ewer and basin, shuddered, and felt a wave of what seemed hysteria rise from beneath her exhaustion.

  By the time Matthew had returned to her, she had calmed a little, but still, she clung to his shoulders, and whispered, “Matthew – if I do not survive, please – not over the side of the ship. Please bury me on land – I do not care where. Just – just on land, please.”

  He was entirely shocked by this request, and his wife endured another wave of pain before he recovered sufficiently to speak. Georgiana had every expectation he would be tender with her, he would reassure her and promise her what she wished, and so she in turn was shocked when he grasped her chin and forced her to look him in the eyes, then said, “Georgiana, stop speaking like that. You wanted this child – you were determined to bring this child into the world. Are you going to give up so easily?”

  “I am not giving up,” she whimpered. He had never spoken to her in such a tone – he was treating her as though she were the captain of one of his gun crews and that crew had failed to deliver three broadsides in five minutes. Yet she was his wife! Why could he not act like it? Why could he not stroke her cheek and tell her he loved her and of course he would bury her on land?

  “You sound as though you are,” he said, releasing her chin and rapidly pulling off her nightgown and then replacing it with the fresh one. “Speaking of where you want to be buried and the worst still to come. I had thought you were stronger than this.”

  In the fog of fear and exhaustion that had been her existence for countless hours now, the thought that he was disappointed in her still cut through her painfully, more painfully than the next convulsion of her back and belly. She took a deep breath, and said, “I will try to be stronger.”

  “It cannot be try, Georgiana.”

  “No, no, I will be stronger. I promise you, I will.”

  He nodded and went to the doors in the bulkhead, to invite everyone to return to the cabin. Moll and Rebecca rushed in and had the wet sheets removed from the bed and replaced within what seemed seconds, and then they were easing Georgiana back down upon it, placing a pillow between her knees and a sheet over her midsection.

  Clerkwell once again put his head below the sheet. “Aye, much further dilated now. Far enough to see if the head is first. May I, your ladyship?” he asked, and Georgiana said that he could, although she was a bit too addled to comprehend what precisely he was asking about.

  In his usual grumble, Clerkwell said, “Thirty years in His Majesty’s Navy and I ought never to have to be doing this.” It turned out this was to slide his hand inside Georgiana’s womb, to her discomfiture. She would have been still more discomfited if Clerkwell did not continue to make clear that he was exceedingly disgusted by it, stating that he would rather do a hundred amputations than touch a lady’s parts again. He followed this pronouncement by stating that the head was coming first, as it ought to be.

  The hand was removed, and Clerkwell said, presumably to Moll, “And as for you – you can be damned sure I’ll wash ‘em now.”

  He went to the ewer and basin to do so, and when he returned, promptly initiated an argument with Mr. Akers. “What can you be preparing those for?” he asked, and although all of this occurred behind Georgiana, she presumed he was speaking of the forceps.

  “The membrane has broken, and she’s dilated. Best to have it out now before she weakens any further,” said Mr. Akers.

  Georgiana groaned, then, for the pains were becoming much more frequent, and feared she had helped make his case. Perhaps he was right, though – that it was better to let them pull the baby from her with the forceps.

  “Denman says – ”

  “I am tired of hearing what Denman says,” said Mr. Akers.

  “Well, you ought to care what Denman says,” said Clerkwell, in his gruffest tone. “I read him twice through at the hospital in Bombay, to be prepared for this.”

  “And I spent several hours with Dr. Hornby, discussing what should be done for the birth. We would not even have a pair of forceps, if I had not asked for the loan of his second-best pair.”

  “Which Denman prefers the vectis, but it shouldn’t be needed. Her pelvis is not malformed.”

  “And how should you know? Have you had your hand inside many – many – women’s pelvises? I have attended births before, and you have not.”

  “Stop it, the lot of you!” cried Moll, who had put her own head beneath the sheets. “Tis too late for your damned forceps now, for there’s the head. You push, milady, you push with all your might an’ stop listenin’ to these two.”

  At this, Matthew sat before her and took up her hand, his expression just as stern as when they had been alone. “Be strong now, Georgiana. You promised you would be strong,” was all he said.

  Of the two chastened surgeons, the only thing either of them did further was for Clerkwell to take a piece of rolled-up leather and place it between Georgiana’s teeth after she screamed in pain. At this, Matthew curtly informed him this was childbirth, not an amputation, and made to remove it from her mouth, but Georgiana’s teeth were clamped down so tightly he could not do so – she preferred the leather, and shook her head that he should stop. Matthew nodded and took up her hand again.

  Georgiana summoned every bit of strength that remained in her person and pushed, groaning and biting down on the leather. She kept her eyes on Matthew’s: she would not disappoint him; she would be strong. He was right, that she had vowed to bring this child into the world, and she would do it.

  “Head’s out, now, milady,” said Moll. “T’will be easier, now.”

  Easier was still relative, for there was still more pain than Georgiana could ever before have imagined possible, but then with a few more pushes, she could feel the baby was out. A few seconds later, the child could be heard to cry, and Georgiana laid her head down. She opened her mouth, gasping and allowing the leather to fall onto the bed. It was removed silently by Matthew, who continued to hold her hand.

  “‘Tis a girl,” said Moll, “and aye she’s a big one. Suppose that shouldn’t be a surprise, with two parents so tall as the two of ye, but she could have made it easier on ye and come earlier, my poor lady. Biggest one I e’er seen and not by a little. Let me just get her cleaned and one of the two of you surgeons can come over here and cut the cord, if ye can manage that without fightin’ like a pair of fishwives o’er what knife you’re to do it with.”

  Whichever of them did so, Georgiana did not know, but soon after Moll said this she was being encouraged to roll onto her back as pillows were propped up behind her, and then Moll was very gently laying a large bundle down upon her chest.

  “Oh,” Georgiana whispered, drawing her weary arms around the child – her child. “Oh, look at her.”

  She was aware that a tear was trickling down her cheek, and found it very gently being wiped away by Matthew’s hand. All of the sternness was gone from his countenance, and he was looking at her more tenderly than he ever had, now stroking her hair. “You’ve done it, my bravest, strongest, dearest girl. I knew you could.”

  She understood then that everything he had said to her before had been meant to rally her, to motivate her – indeed, as though she was the captain of one of his gun crews, albeit in a very different event – and relaxed in the knowledge that he had never bee
n disappointed in her. It seemed she relaxed so thoroughly that she drifted into sleep, for when next she became aware of herself, Matthew was once again grasping her chin – gently this time – and Moll was standing beside her, holding the baby.

  Returned to the fog of exhaustion, Georgiana struggled to stay awake until the return of the old pains brought the afterbirth forth. Then everyone, save Moll, was dismissed by Matthew, and she was lifted from the bed by him and dressed in another fresh nightgown with no more effort on her part than a child’s doll puts forth in being clothed.

  “I’m so tired,” she whispered, leaning against him.

  “I know. Try to stay awake a little longer, to nurse her.”

  “Yes – of course.”

  He picked her up and carried her into the sleeping cabin, laying her in her cot. Moll followed with the baby, once again laying her down on Georgiana’s chest and then aiding her mistress in positioning the baby so she could nurse. Feeling that first suckling of her child, Georgiana felt a vague maternal contentedness, but felt still more the complete weariness of her person, the heaviness of her eyes. Unable to fight sleep any longer, she closed them.

  +++

  She dreamt – strange, fantastical dreams that could never be remembered upon waking. What she would recall was that she was back at Harold Stanton’s house in Bombay, searching for her baby. She rushed from room to room, feeling certain the child was somewhere within, but the child never appeared, and when finally she saw Mr. Stanton and Miss Alistair and asked them where her baby was, they answered, “There is no baby. You lost another one. You will never have a baby, Georgiana. You will lose them all.”