"William!" called a high, weary voice. "Dinner is ready!"
"I'll be there soon mamma," replied a young, lower voice. William, the ten year old heir of Ferndean, was not only helping gather wood in the forest near his house, but he was sculpting some of it. He enjoyed carving people, like his mother and father and animals he saw in the forest, like rabbits, pheasants and squirrels. Now he was carving his first duck, a good handsome drake. He had never seen a duck in these woods, but his parents had taken him to a pond in London a few day's ago. He had seen ducks there a great deal and thanks to his mother's cousin Diana, he was able to feed them little bits of bread.
At this present moment, William needed to come in to have his supper. Carrying his knife, box of wood and his unfinished duck carving, William ran through the woods and arrived at the open front door. The smell of cooking meat inside enticed the boy in, much as he would have liked to stay outside and continue his carving. He left his items by the door and rushed in.
"My, how flushed you are, you've been out there for a very long time today," exclaimed William's mother, Jane, as she brushed down his jacket.
"I feel well, mother, I've collected much wood today and started a new sculpture."
"Oh that's good," Jane smiled. "You're so good at that, you know. Keep practising and you may become a good artist."
"Artists paint pictures of people sitting on chairs in tight outifts, sculptors take a piece of rock or wood and make it into something alive and wonderful. I want to be a sculptor when I grow up, mamma."
Jane just smiled and laughed. Her son was growing up a little bolder than she had hoped, but was just glad that he was intelligent and thought things through. She hoped that her new baby, who was not born yet, would grow up to be gracious as well as clever. "All right William. Now, come and eat your bacon and sprouts."
William tried to look pleased for his mother, but the prospect of sprouts was not appealing.
Sitting down at the old wooden table opposite his mother, his father came just at that moment, bringing three plates and he sat down at the end of the table.
"Oh Edward, you really don't need to do so much work," Jane sighed. She was very watchful over William's father, ever since he became blind over ten years ago. When William was a baby Mr Rochester recovered sight in one eye, but it was still quite dangerous for him to do work around the house by himself.
"The cook prepares such wonderful dinners for us every night, it seems respectful to her if we do some preparation every now and again," Mr Rochester cheerfully replied.
All his life William had been told by his father and mother to be respectful to servants, otherwise they may not serve like they should and because they were real people, just like him. It was only recently that he had discovered how horrible most people in their sort of situation were to their servants and this made him glad that his parents had taught him to behave as he did.
Just then, the cook brought in the meal, on a few silver trays with silver lids. The lids were lifted, as they were at every meal time and William breathed in the meaty scent of delicious bacon. He also smelt the rather green, mushy, unappealing sprouts.
The meal was good, but throughout William kept thinking of his carving, what he might change, where he had started on the duck and where he would continue. As he cut his bacon he partly wished the knife he held in his hand was a carving knife rather than one for eating. More than anything though, William wished that he did not have to eat the sprouts. He knew that it would please his mother to eat some, as much as he disliked it and only left two on his plate.
"Well done," complimented Mrs Rochester as the plates were taken away. "You ate quite a few. You may go and do your carving now."
"Thank you mamma," William replied, with a beam and ran off back outside. It was summer and it was still light enough for him to finish the duck.
For half an hour he worked right beside the house, chipping away to finish the duck's belly and to make its tail feathers, feet, eyes, closed wings and feather marks. As soon as he had finished, William took a sigh of relief, letting out all his burning need to carve. He had finished for the day, except for one thing.
William was just about to carve his initials, WER, for William Edward Rochester, when suddenly he heard screams coming from the inside of the house. Putting down his knife and duck, William sped indoors, following the screams. He realized they were coming from his mother, lying down on the floor. He watched as the family maid and Edward picked her up, carrying Mrs Rochester to her room.
"William!" called Edward, as soon as he noticed his son. "Please find the messenger and tell him to send for the doctor, Jane will give birth soon."
"Yes father!" shouted William in fright, charging back outside, forgetting to close the front door.
Luckily the messenger was not far, in his little house near Ferndean. William banged on the locked door, not wanting to call out in case he sounded wild. The man opened the door and peered down at Ferndean's heir. "Yes, son?"
"MAMMA'S ABOUT TO GIVE BIRTH!" was all that William told the messenger, but luckily, the man knew what to do. Taking his horse, he started off at full gallop to the doctor, who lived quite a way away in the nearest town.
William just stood outside for about a minute, not quite believing that soon he would have a brother or sister, especially as he had spent all his life without one and his mother had thought she would never be pregnant again.
Finally, it occurred to the boy to go inside and help Jane, so in less than two minutes he was in his mother's room.
"Is there anything else I can do, father?" asked William. At that moment, Jane was not screaming, but panting and holding her husband's hand.
"If you could fetch some candles and matches from downstairs, please, that would be good. We will need them when it becomes dark."
"Will she be like this all night?" William questioned in panic.
"I should think so," replied Mr Rochester. "But with any luck, William, it will be worth it in the end."
Smiling back at his father, William went downstairs to fetch the candles, hoping that the doctor would be there on time to help his mother.