EACH THE OTHER'S WORLD ENTIRE
With a startled gasp I lurch upright and am temporarily blinded by the blackness around me. I swallow hard, wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, and suck in the cold night air in an attempt to control my breathing.
"James, are you all right?"
I look up at the sound of Elizabeth's softened voice, and find to my surprise that she is not lying beside me. Suddenly I understand that the periodic tapping heard in my dream is her bare feet pacing across the floor. I watch her for a moment as she glides in and out of a shaft of moonlight spilling in from outside, her white nightgown making her look as pale as a ghost.
"It was just a dream," I finally reply, drawing my eyebrows together as she stops in the shadows, hunched over for a moment, before continuing her pacing. "Why aren't you in bed?"
Elizabeth gives a sharp intake of breath and stops pacing again. When she speaks several seconds later her voice is strained and breathless.
"The baby is coming."
"What? Right now?" I ask, bewildered.
She shakes her head, a movement that is barely visible in the gloom, but is immensely significant.
"Anne told me these things take time," she says, "It could take hours or days before the baby is actually born."
"Ah," I reply, watching her carefully as she grimaces, her hand resting just below the swell of her stomach, "Are you in pain?"
"A bit," she replies, "Though it is not unbearable just yet. I am sure it will become much worse."
"Shall I call Anne then and send for Rachel and Andrew?"
I prepare to throw back the covers, but she holds up a hand, shaking her head.
"No, not yet," she says thickly, and then smiles painfully, "Just go back to bed. I will join you in a minute. Do not worry."
It is impossible for me not to worry even as I lower myself back against the pillows and pull the covers up around me again. I stare straight up at the ceiling for a few minutes until the light padding of Elizabeth's feet against the floor lulls me into sleep again.
I wake up again some time later my eyes aching with fatigue. Again I wonder what could have woken me when I become vaguely aware of a wetness seeping into my trousers. Just as I am about to pull back the bed linens to investigate, Elizabeth turns over, a groan slipping between her parted lips as her brows furrow in her sleep. Setting aside my concern for her for a moment I pull back the coverlet. A thin sliver of moonlight shines onto the bed, which is stained a dark crimson in the poor light. My breath catching in my throat, I pull the linens back further, and my eyes widen at the sight of the blood that has soaked through Elizabeth's nightgown. I reach over and shake her shoulder gently as she cries out softly, her back arching at my touch. Her eyes flutter open bright with the fresh pain I know is coursing through her.
"Elizabeth, you're bleeding," I say quietly, drawing back the covers for her to see. Gingerly, she eases herself into a sitting position. My hand is still on her shoulder and my grip tightens imperceptibly as she shifts positions.
She nods, as though she were expecting this, as though it were normal, and says, "Could you wake Anne? I do not think this baby is going to wait much longer."
She leans back against the headboard, and closes her eyes as she takes in several deep breathes. Her body tenses for a moment, and she bites her lip in an effort not to cry out. Her hands tighten on the bed sheets and her knuckles turn white. When she opens her eyes she implores me, "Please hurry, James."
I press a kiss to her forehead and hurry from the room, my mouth dry, and my heart racing. It is a long journey through the dark to reach the servant's quarters on the opposite side of the house. Raising a trembling hand, I knock loudly on the door.
"Anne?" I call with my ear pressed to the door, listening for the slightest sound of movement, "Anne!"
I raise my hand to knock again but stop myself when I hear the creak of bedsprings and a jumble of noise before Anne opens the door with a candle in one hand.
"It's time?" she inquires matter-of-factly, and when I nod she thrusts the candle into my hands, "Hold that. I need to gather a few necessaries. Wait here."
She disappears from the space between the door's frame and the door, and I hear her rummage around for a few minutes before reappearing again. I hold the door open, and she walks through carrying a pitcher of water and a stack of fresh white linens.
Elizabeth is crying when we arrive back upstairs. I set the candle down and go to her immediately, brushing her hair back from her face, "Shh, it's all right. Anne is here."
She swallows hard and looks up at me through the haze of pain and tears.
"God, James it hurts," she whispers, and I take her hand, kissing it gently.
"I know, I know. It will all be over soon."
Meanwhile, Anne tsks at the sight of the stiffening blood on the sheets, stripping them off the bed in a matter of seconds. As she moves throughout the room lighting candles a soft glow settles around us. Despite this, Elizabeth cries out again, her grip tightening on my hand. At the end of the bed, Anne begins to roll up Elizabeth's nightgown, and she speaks to me without looking up from her work.
"Sorry, sir, but this is women's work," she says, as Elizabeth twists on the bed next to us, "It won't be much longer now, so perhaps you should go find Thomas to keep you company."
It is not a request, so I nod, and feeling shaky, I leave the room as Anne attempts to soothe Elizabeth's whimpering cries. The door shuts behind me, and I am halfway down the corridor when Thomas appears, tucking his shirt into his trousers. The older man gives me a curt nod and sits down in a chair against the wall.
I cannot sit. If I do I fear I shall go mad, and so instead I pace the length of the corridor not caring that I am still in my blood stained trousers and nightshirt with bare feet and mussed hair. I struggle to hear what is going on behind the closed door, but eventually Elizabeth's wild cries fall silent under Anne's comforting murmurs.
The pendulum of the grandfather clock sitting at the end of the corridor swings maddeningly to and fro marking each minute with a scraping tick. The silence does not last for long. Every few minutes, like clockwork, Elizabeth's moans followed by Anne's calm voice seep from underneath the door. An hour later, I feel exhausted and my eyes are burning for relief. I rub at them gently, which only seems to irritate them more, and then look toward Thomas who is still sitting ramrod straight in his chair, yet somehow looking much more relaxed than I feel. He pats the chair next to him in a good-natured manner.
"If you are not careful, sir," he says, "you'll wear a hole right through the floor. Quit your pacing, and come sit with me."
I nod grimly, having no energy to argue, and sit down stiffly. At the same moment Thomas stands and moves down the corridor to open one of the adjacent room, which lightens the corridor considerably. We sit in silence watching the light creep across the floor and brighten as the sun rises. I close my eyes, to rest them, and when I open them again the clock tells me that two hours have passed. I give Thomas an accusatory look.
"Why didn't you wake me? Have Rachel and Andrew been sent for?"
"Because you need sleep," he says wryly, "and because nothing has happened yet. And yes, they are waiting downstairs."
Satisfied with his answers, I shut my mouth and settle back into the cushioned chair again. Elizabeth's moans, louder now, are suddenly interrupted by a retching sound. My hands tighten on the armrests of the chair as the sound subsides into a cough. Suddenly, Anne opens the door, and I propel myself out of my chair. She holds a sloshing bowl and motions for Thomas to take it.
I hardly care though as I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of Elizabeth. She is standing upright, one hand wrapped around the bedpost and the other holding her nightdress up to her thighs, with her forehead pressed against the wood as she leans into it. Her eyes are screwed shut as she breathes deeply, her chest rising and falling with each breathe.
"Is everything all right?" I ask, my voice faint at the sight of her. Thomas takes the acrid smelling bowl from Anne and disappears down the hall.
"She's just vomited," she says, "but that's normal. It's always the hardest with the first child."
Elizabeth's eyes flutter open, and she sways slightly as she clambers back onto the bed.
"Anne . . ." she calls weakly, her eyes unfocused.
Anne turns away, and the door shuts in my face, but not before Anne says, "That's a girl, take a deep breath."
Behind the door, Elizabeth is screaming, and my heart is about to leap out of my chest with the pain of it all. The moment drags on until with one last renting howl all goes silent. Each second afterward feels like an eternity, and then I hear it, that blessed sweet release in the sound of a mewling babe. I turn to Thomas, who has just arrived upstairs again with Andrew and Rachel in tow, and grin broadly at Andrew as he offers his hand to shake in congratulations. Then the door opens and Anne appears with a small bundle in her arms, her cheeks ruddy and a smile on her face.
"You've a daughter, sir," she says to Andrew and holds the door open so that I can pass through.
The door shuts on the joyous scene unfolding in the corridor, and I am left with Elizabeth who is sitting up in bed with her eyes closed. Despite her matted hair and pink cheeks she is beautiful, and I instantly press a kiss against her forehead. Sounds of talking and crying and laughter outside dissipate after a few minutes, and Anne enters the bedroom again. She works quickly at the end of the bed, clearing away the bloodied linens and pulling fresh sheets over Elizabeth's bare legs.
"You were wonderful, Elizabeth," I say quietly, unable to take my eyes off her, "She's beautiful."
Elizabeth suddenly bursts into tears, throwing her head back against the pillows stacked around her. For all our planning there was no way to prepare for the actual moment of giving this child away, this child that was a constant presence for nine months in both of our lives. There will be a long and winding road ahead of us, but right now all I feel is a contentment that this saga is over and that there is a couple nearby with enough delight to match the sorrow Elizabeth feels.
Nine months ago I was an ignorant Commodore with nothing but a title to my name, and Elizabeth was a pretentious Governor's daughter in love with another man. It can only be seen as a miracle that we were brought so low together and sacrificed so much in order to understand exactly what love means. It only took a baby, in the end, to change everything. Now, here we are, all that is left, husband and wife: each the other's world entire.
Authoress' Note: Goodness, birth scenes are notoriously difficult. They either come across as silly and dramatic or the audience doesn't get enough of the action. I hope this was somewhere in the middle. As always, thanks for reading! Your support is much appreciated.
