Chapter 12 – Congratulations, It's A Boy

(A/N – this French holiday (Nouvelle Beaujolais) was not official until 1937 – but I just couldn't resist putting it in. An entire day devoted to drinking? What better holiday for an alcoholic Frenchman to celebrate?)

It was mid-November, in Paris, and Raoul and Christine were in residence at the town house, rather than at the country estate. Although Christine was not much in public, since the moral code of the time dictated that pregnant women more or less went into seclusion (and NEVER used that word in conversation) once their condition became obvious (provided that their spouse could afford the loss of her income, which was rarely a problem for the nobility), Raoul's elder sister Veronique was married to one of the few French Vintners to escape the plague on the vines currently rampaging most of Europe, and Raoul was in town for the "Nouvelle Beaujolais" festival this coming Thursday. Christine really had no preference as far as location, but had high hopes of contacting Madame Giry, as she really wanted to ask her a few questions . . . .

She had asked Madame DeCroix, (the midwife making daily visits) to deliver a note requesting Madame Giry to come "as my current condition does not lend itself to public view." The midwife, who lived more or less in the same neighborhood, agreed, and was pleasantly surprised that Madame Giry needed no convincing, but was ready, indeed, she seemed eager, to come along the next morning.

Raoul was out for the day when the two Madames arrived at the townhouse, where Christine was elated to see her old friend and occasional mentor. While their conversation was initially a bit awkward, soon Christine was inviting Madame Giry up to her room, "where we can be more comfortable, besides, I should not be standing so much, my back is starting to ache."

Madame DeCroix straightened up at that last. "How long has your back been hurting, child?"

"Off and on, all morning. Why?"

"You could be getting ready to deliver . . . it is just about your due date."

"Now? But I . . .Oh!" And Christine flushed as she felt a rush of liquid start to run down her leg. "I'm sorry," she said weakly as the two more experienced women, recognizing the situation, hustled her upstairs, ringing for a maid after they got Christine to her room, and semi-stripped both the woman and the bed so that a bare Christine lay on the bare sheet.

The upstairs maid appeared, was given instructions regarding getting hot water, and hurried off to tell the household, as well as get a kettle to put onto the bedroom fireplace hearth.

It took a few hours to track down Raoul, since he and Louis de Villeforte (Veronique's husband) were taking full advantage of the new wine. By then, Christine was pushing, sweaty and muttering words under her breath that Madame Giry didn't even know that Christine knew, and since Raoul was as close to drunk as made no difference Madame DeCroix shooed him out of the room with a "This is WOMEN's business. You already did your part, now it's time for your wife to do hers." And she shut the door with him and Louis in the hall.

Louis, more experienced in these matters, said, "Come on, let's go into the library, this will take some time."

"How long?"

"No man knows."

In actual fact, it was 6 more hours before the child took his first breath. Christine, exhausted, looked at the few wisps of ink-dark hair, and the perfect features, and smiled. "Hello, Gustave", she said, cuddling the child to her as the door opened and a still-not-very-sober Raoul more or less staggered into the room, getting over to the bed more by luck than by skill.

"Let me see the boy," Raoul half-growled, still not quite steady on his feet.

Christine extended the (now washed and wrapped) drowsy infant towards her spouse, but kept her one hand under the baby's head, supporting its' weight.

The midwife bustled over to effect the transfer of the infant from one parental set of arms to the other, while Antoinette Giry, (as well as a small bug perched high up out of immediate sight) watched in silence.

Raoul frowned. "His hair is dark! Why is his hair dark?"

The midwife soothed him. "First, I've seen this kind of pre-hair in all sorts of colors, just because it's black today, that doesn't mean that will be the child's real hair color. Second, your wife's hair is dark."

"At least his eyes are blue . . . "

"All babies are born with blue eyes, it usually takes 6 months before the real color shows up, same with his hair," said the midwife, knowingly.

"Hmmph" was Raoul's only reply to that. Then his eyes focused on Madame Giry. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be teaching ballet?"

Madame drew herself up to her not-inconsiderable height. "Monsieur, your wife wished to see me, so I came. Besides, I needed to tell her some news, my Meg is engaged to the Baron Castelot-Barbezac, and wishes Christine for her Matron of Honor."

"Oh," said Raoul, somewhat thickly, "a Baron, well, I guess that's ok . . . I think I need a drink."

All eyes in the room swiveled towards him, and he seemed to feel it, because his tone started getting defensive. "To celebrate, of course."

(A/N – this chapter was VERY difficult for me,(I had to research pregnancy & childbirth, for one thing,) although writing a character starting with promise and deteriorating was the easy part, I've just been modeling Raoul on my brother-in-law, who is the original worthless lump. Anyway, we'll lighten up a little next, plus Ciara has some ideas she wants to try . . . back to America, we'll come back to Paris for the wedding!)