Spring had certainly arrived. The sky outside was blue, a rare clear day over Milton, and Margaret had been given a bunch of daffodils by the children of the school. She had arranged them herself, placing them beside the bed that would be used for her confinement and labour. It brightened the room a little at least. Currently, the room was being inspected by a most discerning visitor.
"These curtains really are dreadful."
"I think I shall have other concerns besides the curtains, Fanny." Margaret said from her seat in the corner, watching as Fanny ran a critical hand down the heavy brown curtains. It was true that they were not the most attractive furnishings, but Margaret did not care.
This would be the room she would give birth in, where she would at last welcome the child she had longed so desperately for. All she cared about is that the birth was a simple one, and that she and her baby might recover well from the ordeal.
Her sister in law had paid a visit to help ready the house for Margaret's confinement. The room chosen was Fanny's old bedroom, for it was large, near the stairs and had the best view of the mill yard. John had suggested that a quieter room at the back of the house would perhaps be more suitable for her confinement and eventual labour. However, Margaret had insisted that she wanted to be able to watch life pass from the window during her confinement. The chair would be moved from the corner to by the window at the earliest opportunity.
"I'm just glad you can make use of my birthing bed. Really, it has just been gathering dust for the last two years. I shall certainly never need it again."
Fanny had been most vocal in her adamance that she would never give birth again. Margaret wondered what Mr Watson made of that. She had barely seen her brother in law for months; indeed, the Watsons did not seem to spend much time at all in one another's company.
"You cannot say for sure. Perhaps it would not be so terrible. Dolores has had a much easier time with her second."
Margaret had spent weeks eagerly awaiting news on her new niece or nephew, but so far there had been nothing. Dolores must have given birth weeks ago, and so much time without news was making Margaret increasingly anxious.
Fanny busied herself smoothing down the sheets on the birthing bed as she replied, her brow furrowed.
"I am happy for her, I did so get on with Dolores. She's so very beautiful, in an exotic way. However I am not willing to take the risk. No, I am quite content with my little Louise."
"She is lovely."
It was true; Margaret was most fond of her sweet little niece. A small child with round cheeks, bright blue eyes and a wild mop of blonde curls that her mother tried constantly to tame, Louise really had brought a great deal of joy to the Thornton family.
Fanny's face glowed at the mention of her daughter.
"She is, isn't she? And so bright! Why, she is talking just non stop. I can scarcely get a moment of peace!"
Like mother, like daughter Margaret thought, though she bit her tongue. Fanny did not seem in the mood for jokes.
Margaret winced as she rose from her chair, a sharp pain in her side causing her to stagger forwards and grasp the edge of the bed to steady herself. Fanny squealed in alarm, though Margaret waved her away with gritted teeth.
"Shall I fetch the doctor?"
The pain eased, and Margaret stood up a little straighter. Fanny watched her with panicked eyes, her mouth agape. Really, she always had to be so terribly dramatic!
"No, I am quite well. John will have me lying down far longer than needed if the doctor comes."
"You are quite large." Fanny said, gesturing to the enormous round of Margaret's stomach. "Surely you cannot be comfortable on your feet all day? You look all folded up when you're sat in that chair. Your stomach is practically on your knees."
Margaret frowned. Though she counted Fanny as one of her closest friends, her constant barbed comments grew a little tiresome after a while. Especially as Margaret found her patience had all but vanished in this late stage of her pregnancy.
"I have made it this far without issue. A little back pain, but I find keeping busy much more pleasant than lying down."
"Surely you are not teaching?"
Margaret tried to refrain from rolling her eyes. Fanny visited frequently, yet had a marvellous talent for not letting anyone get a word in any conversation she was a part of. If she perhaps listened instead of speaking without pause, she would know that Margaret had stepped away from the school room some four weeks previously.
"No, no I gave that up last month. I must admit that was getting rather too much for me."
Fanny sighed. Margaret took in her sister in law's appearance. Her hair was in its usual ringlets, tied tight in the back in some overly elaborate coiled bun, her dress needlessly elaborate for day. It was a frilly, tiered white lace edged dress with long sleeves and a bright purple ribbon tied at the neck. So much billowing white material had the unfortunate effect of making Fanny resemble a bedsheet put on the line to dry in a strong wind.
Perhaps Margaret was feeling just a little unkind.
"I spent months in bed. I am rather jealous you have managed to go this far without being forced into confinement."
"I think a few weeks of confinement will be quite adequate. Every doctor seems to have a different opinion on the matter. I hope that Doctor Donaldson is happy for me to continue as I am for now, and then go into confinement next week."
"You don't want to risk the health of the child. The baby could come early with all your rushing about. It is no good being too stubborn to see what is good for you."
That stung. To be accused of not caring about the wellbeing of her baby was like a slap to the face. The baby she had shed so many tears for in her longing to conceive. She cared more about the life inside her than anything, yet her mind was no different. She could not stand idleness nor inactivity. Her spirits were always lower when she did not keep busy, and she thought melancholia was far worse for the child than a brisk walk everyday.
"That is not the case!" Margaret replied. "I just think lying down in darkness and boredom would do me more harm than good. My baby is quite well, thank you. Many women work and are active very close to their time. I believe it to be nothing more than scaremongering - as if there is not enough to fear already!"
"I'm just saying that you need to think of your health!"
"I have thought of nothing else for eight months! I have done what I think is best and I shall not be lectured to in my own home. Excuse me."
Margaret made her way downstairs - rather slowly - and fetched her coat, hat and shawl. Two letters she had written to Edith and Dolores sat on the small table in the hallway waiting to be posted, and she was thankful to have a legitimate reason to leave the house for at least a short while.
The air in the yard was faintly smokey as it always was, the sound of chatter and the usual hustle and bustle filling her airs. She breathed in deeply; though perhaps the air was not so clean, that smell had come to mean home to her.
"Mistress." Nicholas stopped her once she had descended the mill house steps. "You're lookin' well."
"Thank you. I feel it. I haven't seen you for some time, nor the children. Is everything alright?"
"Aye, just the usual winter colds." Nicholas shrugged. "You're best stayin' away, in your condition."
"I have not been anywhere lately. I am mostly keeping to the house. It is terribly boring."
Nicholas chuckled.
"I'll not keep you then, you look to be a lady on a mission. Good day to you, Mistress. God keep you."
Margaret echoed his goodbyes, continuing on her way through the yard. The men and women she passed called out their good wishes to her, and after stopping several times she finally made it to the large mill gates.
"Margaret." John caught her arm as she was about to leave. "No."
"I thought you were at a meeting." Margaret said, wriggling her arm free from his too-tight grip.
"I'm just back. You should be resting."
"I did, all morning. Fanny visited to help prepare the birthing bed and I find myself tired of her company. I was just going to post this letter to Edith." She waved the envelope under his nose. "Kindly unhand me, Sir."
"I'll walk with you. I don't like you walkin' on your own, not when you're so far into your time. Anything could happen, especially with the streets so busy."
Margaret sighed, but accepted his outstretched arm, looping hers through and allowing herself to lean just a little of her weight on his strong frame.
"I am quite capable of posting a letter, John."
"I am sure you are. Am I not allowed to walk with my wife?"
"You are acting not as my husband but my jailer." Margaret teased. "Your sister was telling me it is time to move into the proper child bearing bed for my confinement. I think it is too early. I will go next week, or perhaps the week after."
Margaret knew she was being stubborn to suggest putting off her confinement even more. Next week would be fine; her stomach had grown so large and heavy that in truth she could not walk comfortably for long. She did not wish to take risks, nor have a premature birth. However, she was resting for most of the day as it was - she was hardly
"What does Doctor Donaldson say?" John asked. "If he believes it is time, you should go into proper confinement."
"I am seeing him later today. No need for alarm," Margaret said quickly as she caught sight of John's expression, "It is routine. I am sure I would be quite alright with just a midwife, darling. You do not need to pay Doctor Donaldson to keep examining me."
"I don't trust these midwives." John said. "I've heard stories of them being drunk at the delivery - so much so they could barely tell if the child was a girl or a boy!"
Margaret rolled her eyes; though it was true some midwives were little more than local women who knew one end of a woman from another, it was not true that they were all drunks and charletens. Margaret knew she was in a privileged position to be able to afford a doctor, but it would not do for John to disparage all midwives.
"You are exaggerating!"
"Still, I am happier with Doctor Donaldson - at least we know for certain that he knows what he is doing."
"He was very good at Louise's birth." Margaret agreed. "I do not have a problem with him. I am just feeling rather bossed about by everyone. I do not want to lie down for weeks - I will be terribly bored. My back hurts more when I am idle, and my mood blackens to such a shade that it cannot possibly be healthy."
"I know it is not easy, darling. Look, there's the postbox. Post your letters and we'll get you ho-"
"Home, yes." Margaret muttered irritably. "Do not worry, I can be trusted to post a letter without your help."
She walked - or rather, waddled, for her heavy stomach did make walking rather difficult - to the box and dropped in the letter. When she turned, John was looking at her with a most infuriating grin.
"What?"
"You are so beautiful." He whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "So beautiful when you are all big with my child. Our baby."
Margaret smiled at his tenderness, though she winced as her back throbbed. John did not miss it, his arm wrapping tightly around hers and pulling her so she was leaning against him most heavily indeed.
"I am alright. This is hardly appropriate for a public street!"
John chuckled, his hands staying firmly where he had planted them. Really, there was nothing intimate about the situation; Margaret really was rather large, and though she would not admit it his assistance in keeping her upright on the uneven street was most welcome.
"I think I can keep my hands to myself, wife. We're going home and you're putting your feet up for the rest of the day. I don't like you out and about so close to your time."
"There is a month left! Please, I am fine. It was merely a twinge."
"What did my dear sister do, anyway?" He asked. "You mentioned you have tired of her company."
"Oh, merely fussing. Just because she was put on bedrest for so long does not mean I have to be. Really, I feel quite well save for my back. Your mother has not found cause to scold me for several days, so I am certain that she agrees with me. She is hardly one to keep her opinions to herself."
"She wants the best for you, love. We all do. I am not trying to trap you nor control you. I just worry about you."
"I know. I assure you, I am well. I will rest often. I am nearly finished repairing the christening gown, you know."
"I thought Mother would do it."
"Her fingers are a little stiff with the damp. It has given me something to focus on. How wonderful to think we will have a child to put in it. Another Thornton in the world."
Margaret watched as Doctor Donaldson closed his medical bag. She would be glad when she no longer needed to be examined constantly; she hated being in her nightclothes in the middle of the day, she hated lying in bed while the doctor prodded her. The only amusing thing about the entire situation is that Ebeneezer, the ginger cat that had acted as Margaret's protector these past eight months, had spent the entire time glaring at the doctor from on top of the heavy wooden wardrobe in the corner.
"All's looking very well, Mrs Thornton. Nice strong movements, are you sleeping?"
"Yes, though I am certain he wants to join the circus with all his tumbling!"
"It is not unusual to be uncomfortable at this stage. You've a little swelling in your ankles, make sure you keep off your feet when you can. The child has moved a little lower, so you may feel a little increased discomfort in the pelvis. All in all, I'm pleased. Not long to go now, perhaps three or four weeks."
"Must I enter confinement?"
"Mrs Thornton, I-"
"I will keep to the house, I will sit down all day with my feet raised. I just cannot stand being in bed."
"I will visit again in a week. I will see how the land lies and tell you then. Rest, Mrs Thornton, as much as you can bear. Mr Thornton already accosted me on my way in, telling me he can barely pin you down."
"That is not quite true." Margaret shifted herself. "I go on a short walk every day, but I no longer help in the school room. Surely a little exercise is a good thing? My back is not so sore if I keep active."
"As long as you are comfortable and not too exhausted. Some doctors will have women cooped up for months, but I see little benefit to it unless the woman is unwell. You're a hardy sort, Mrs Thornton."
Margaret was not sure if this was a compliment, for it made her sound more like a sheep or a goat than a woman, but she merely smiled.
Doctor Donaldson wished her good afternoon, leaving the room. Before the door had even closed, John was in the doorway.
"I am fine." Margaret said, rolling her eyes. "I am allowed to stay out of confinement for another week, so long as I keep mostly to the house."
"I don't like you going out alone. What if something were to happen?"
"I will not. I promise if I do go out, I shall take Dixon with me."
"You're not to go far. No hilltop walks, no visits to Princeton. Church and a short walk only."
"John.."
"No. I'll not argue over this. Do as you're told."
"Do not speak to me like that!"
"Then stop fighting me! Damn it Margaret I just want you to be safe. Do you know how many women die in childbirth?"
Margaret laughed bitterly; did he think she did not think of that every day? That her greatest fear was not that she would die and leave behind her family? Or that the child growing inside her would die in her place?
"Do enlighten me, John. I thought this whole thing was rather straightforward! You think I do not know the dangers? You insult me by assuming my ignorance."
"Margaret-"
"Leave me alone. You are so concerned for my welfare? Then do not anger me. You treat me like a child and I cannot stand it. Go away."
"Maggie."
"Do not Maggie me! Just - just leave me alone John! I have had enough of everyone treating me like I am made of glass. I am being careful and I feel fine."
"Fine, I will leave you. Here, this came for you. Cadiz postmark."
Margaret did not turn around, and stayed facing the window until she heard the door click shut. Exhaling, she turned around to see a small envelope on the bed, alongside Ebeneezer who had emerged from his hiding place to return to Margaret's side. She lay down, reasoning that perhaps she was a little tired, and tore it open.
Dearest Margaret,
I am writing to say you are an aunt again - twice over! I was carrying twin boys, can you believe?! They were born a little early, though my doctor say this is normal for twins. Twins! I still cannot believe it. The birth was much better than Maria's - it was almost pleasant!
They are named Alejandro and Miguel - I am watching over them as I write to you. They are almost three weeks old, both with a head of dark hair and the tiniest fingers! My apologies for any mistake in my English - I am so tired I can hardly see to write. I spend my days feeding my two demanding angels, and my nights soothing their cries. Not that it is not wonderful - but I am tired.
I hope you are well, sister, and will be safely delivered of your own precious baby. Write to me as soon as you can. Let me know how you are. I miss you!
My love to John, Hannah, Fanny and all in Milton.
Dolores
"Oh!" Margaret squealed. "John? John, are you still here?"
The door opened before she had finished calling out to him.
"Were you waiting in the corridor?"
"Aye, I was. You think I would not want to hear news of our new niece or nephew?"
He frowned at her stomach, and Margaret followed his eyes down. She had not even noticed that the cat was now perched on top of her belly as though it were the most comfortable seat in the world. John moved the cat, grumbling crossly under his breath. He did not approve of the animal's sudden attachment to Margaret - in all honesty, Margaret wondered if he was a little jealous he had been replaced in the Tom cat's affections.
"Oh, you will not believe it!"
She handed him the letter, watching as he read it quickly. He smiled as he read, one of his rare smiles that made the corner of his eyes crinkle.
"Twins. They'll be busy."
"I do hope we are not expecting the same blessing. I do not know what to do with one baby, let alone two." Margaret smiled, rubbing the expanse of her stomach fondly. "I think I will rest for the day. I am sorry for snapping, my love. I do not feel myself lately, I am so very tired."
"Rest, love. As long as you wish. Do you need anything?"
"I don't suppose you would lie with me?"
"Again? But we've already-"
Margaret felt her cheeks flush red - she had made John rather late for work that morning. And the previous morning. Now that he was back in their bed, she was making the most of having him close.
"That isn't what I meant!" She protested. "I meant - lie down next to me. Just for a little while."
"I need to-"
"Fine. I shall see you for dinner."
He groaned, kicking off his shoes and sitting in the space beside her. He still wore his jacket, and she could smell the familiar scent of the cotton mill clinging to him. She could not quite define what it was, but it was so familiar to her now that it did not bother her.
"Don't be like that. As much as I love you like this, that baby in there hasn't half made you grumpy." Margaret laughed, loving the thick bite of his accent as he teased her. "Shove up then."
Margaret moved along to her side of the bed, curling against him and closing her eyes.
"I was thinking, perhaps it is time to discuss names for the baby." She said. "We haven't thought of any and he will be here soon."
"You are so very certain you're expecting a boy, aren't you?"
"Yes." Margaret rubbed a hand over her stomach. "I just know. A boy who will have dark hair just like his Papa."
"Not a girl with chestnut curls like her Mama?" John ran a hand over her hair, tied back in a bun. "If you are resting, might I take your hair down?"
"Alright. But Dixon will have cross words with you when she has to pin it all up again in time for dinner." Margaret smiled, reaching behind her head loosening the first strands of her bun.
"I pay her wages, I think I can take my wife's hair down when I wish."
"For pity's sake do not say that to her or you will find pine cones in your slippers for a week!"
She turned onto her side to allow him access to the back of her head, smiling as his fingers brushed down her neck as he removed the pins. He was taking his time, pressing her close to him, and she sighed contentedly as his free hand rubbed at the tight knot in her lower back. It eased the pain she felt there almost constantly, his touch tender. He was so gentle, it made her ache.
When her hair was free, she turned back to face him, her hand caressing the length of his jaw.
"That's better. Names, then? For this boy you are so certain we are about to welcome. I would be happy with a girl, you know."
"I know. I am not saying it because I think it is my duty to give you a son. It is, of course, but I am just sure of it. You will think me quite mad, but sometimes I see him in my dreams."
"Oh Maggie." His voice was thick, and Margaret was sure she saw the slightest glisten in his eyes. "Does he have a name, this dream child?"
"No. He is nameless." She sighed. "It would rather make it easier, wouldn't it?"
"Have you thought of any?"
"One or two. You?"
"I have a couple, I suppose. I've not given it much thought."
"Shall we make a list?" Margaret suggested.
"Fine. You go first." John said, sitting up on the bed.
Margaret shifted so she was no longer lying against the pillows but curled against John, her head coming to rest in his lap as he stroked at her hair.
"Cassius."
"No!"
"Baxter?"
"Margaret.." John said, rubbing at his temples. "We are having a baby, not a bloody dog. Our child needs a strong name, a good Northern name."
"Let me hear your suggestions then." Margaret crossed her arms.
"Peter."
"Ugh." Margaret said, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "No."
"Why?"
"My brother had a friend named Peter and I did not care for him at all. He never brushed his hair and he used to pinch me when nobody was looking."
"Richard?"
The sound of her beloved father's name struck her like a bolt in her heart. Though it had been almost three years since his passing, she still missed him bitterly. She stayed silent for a moment, thinking of her parents. What would they make of all this? Would her father be proud of all that she had achieved - the schoolroom, a happy marriage, John's work with Frederick? And of course the coming baby, the fourth grandchild her parents would never have a chance to meet. She could only hope they were looking down on them all from Heaven, offering their love and protection from afar.
She swallowed thickly; she was not sure that she wanted to give the baby her father's name. It was too painful, even after so much time had passed. This baby was a new start, a new life.
"I think I want the baby to have his own name. Perhaps Richard will do for one of his middle names."
"One of? How many middle names will you give the lad?"
"I thought three-"
"No. One."
"Three."
"One."
"Two?"
"Fine."
Margaret stretched out on the bed, her stomach sticking in the air as she arched her back. John chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss on the clothed rise of her belly. She smiled contentedly, watching as he whispered words she could not hear to the life they had created together.
"I shall be glad to have a son first. I think any girl would be hopelessly lost to her lovely father. I should like to be selfish and have our first child like me best." Margaret said.
"Charming!" John chuckled, running a hand over her clothed belly. "Am I not to have any affection at all from the lad?"
"Of course. I am sure he will admire you just as much as I do. I just think - perhaps a boy first, then girls."
"More than one?"
"Three?" Margaret suggested with a grin. "Or four. And then perhaps two more boys."
Although the poorer in society tended to have larger families, Margaret knew most women of her own class had ways of keeping their families smaller (even if it was just refusing the amorous attentions of one's husband, as she suspected was Fanny's chosen method). Childbirth was a dangerous business, that was no secret. However, Margaret thought a large family sounded rather nice. She did not want her children to feel lonely, ever.
"Are we having a family or a litter?" John teased. "You've grand plans for us. We'll have to get a bigger house for all these girls you're planning to bless me with."
"Any bigger and I would get lost trying to find the dining room." Margaret smiled. "Names, John."
"So you would like our baby to have a name that is just theirs?"
"Well, every name belongs to someone unless we begin making up our own. I just mean I don't wish to name them after someone who is no longer with us. A fresh start."
"So, that excludes George, Maria, Richard, Elizabeth, Adam." He counted off the names of those who had left this world on his fingers. "Alice-"
"Who?" Margaret asked, not recognising the name.
"My sister. She died in infancy, I've told you before."
"Oh. You never told me her name." Margaret said. "A beautiful name."
"Yes." John agreed. "So, any name besides those I suppose."
"Perhaps we should consult the bible? You've always said you like biblical names. Matthew? Mark? Luke?"
"Are we to have a family made entirely of men named after the books of the bible?" He asked, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "What about Joseph?"
"Joseph." Margaret thought the name over. "Joseph Thornton. I like that. I shall add it to the list."
"You really do have a list?"
"I have not started it yet, but perhaps it is best to write all of our ideas down. My mind wanders so often it is the only way to keep things straight. So, Joseph. Anything else?"
"Simon?" John suggested. "Or Joshua."
Margaret repeated the names in her head, then aloud. John watched her, his lips quirking upwards in a smile at the sound.
"I like those. They can be added. Now, for some girls names just in case I am utterly mistaken in my conviction that there is a boy in here." Margaret smiled. "I thought perhaps something a little more unusual."
"Oh?"
"Do not dismiss it out of hand." Margaret warned him. "Athena."
John did not miss a beat.
"No."
"Persephone?"
"No!" John said, almost choking at the suggestion of it.
Margaret frowned; surely it was not so unusual! She thought it a fine name.
"You promised you wouldn't dismiss it!"
"No, I did not. We are not calling our daughter Persephone Thornton. Mother would laugh you out of the house."
"Fine, fine. Victoria?"
John scrunched his nose.
"No royal names. We already have a Louise in the family."
"Fine." Margaret agreed. "Abigail?"
"That's nice." John said. "Abigail Thornton. Add it to your list, Maggie."
"Penelope?" Margaret suggested next. "Let's go to the study so I can write these down."
As she sat up to leave, John gently pushed her back onto the bed. He stroked her long hair, winding it around his fingers as he often did. She sighed contentedly at the most pleasant sensation, closing her eyes.
"I'll remember them for now, my love. Penelope is a nice name and a touch more sensible than Persephone, it may be added to the list."
"Thank you, Sir." Margaret teased.
"Catherine?"
"I don't know. Gretl?"
"Absolutely not. Shall her brother be called Hansel?"
"Fine, I see your point."
"I need to get back to work, sweetheart." He kissed her gently as his hand rested on her stomach. "I can feel him wriggling about. How can you stand it? It must feel uncomfortable."
Margaret shook her head, stretching out and arching her back so the rise of her stomach pushed John's hand up. He laughed, and she wriggled her toes asshe stretched out the knot in her back.
"It is lovely. That is the part I shall miss the most; having him close, knowing he is well. Once he is born, I feel I shall be rather powerless to keep him safe."
"We'll keep him safe, Maggie. I swear it. Both of you will be safe and well."
"John, if something should-"
"James is a nice name, don't you think?" He interrupted.
Margaret nodded. He would not allow her to talk about her fears, she realised. His lips were set in a thin line.
"I think perhaps I will start my confinement." Margaret sighed. "I suppose a month will not be so very bad, and then at least as I remain confined as I recover I will have the baby to keep me company. Tomorrow, I think, I shall move into this room. Will you come for a walk with me later today?"
"I've got to do some work. I'll be back after the whistle goes, I swear. Just a short walk, mind."
Margaret nodded. There was something she had to discuss with him.
The trees in the park almost burst with blossom, and that last walk in the open air felt as though she were saying goodbye to her old life. John walked slowly with her, her large size and reduced movement making her slow and awkward in her strides. He kept one arm around her waist to steady her, the other across his own body to hold her hand. He took no chances with this most precious cargo, and Margaret's heart was once again warmed with the endless care he showed her.
"Maggie, you should be in bed." He told her for the third time, as she yawned widely.
"And I will be. Let me have this." Margaret breathed deeply. "You cannot expect me to lie in darkness for weeks without this final freedom."
"You speak as though you are being imprisoned, my love."
"I feel as though I am. Dixon has not let me lift a finger for weeks, it has already begun." Margaret sighed. "John - while we are alone, I need to talk to you."
"What about?" John asked. "Are you well?"
Margaret nodded; she was perfectly fine. Her back and hips still ached, but she was well used to that by now. In fact, she was rather suspecting that she would miss being in her current condition. Heavy and exhausted as she felt, there was something rather wonderful about this time.
"You will not like it, but you will listen to me."
"Very well."
"If I die-"
"No." John interrupted sharply. "I'm not li-"
"You promised!" Margaret said. "Please, John."
"Maggie, I can't." His voice was tight, and when she looked up at his face his eyes shone.
"I will be quick, John. Please, darling. I need to tell you."
"Margaret." His voice was pleading. "No."
"If I die, you must promise me you will not crumble. If - if the time comes that you must decide between the baby or me, you are to choose the baby."
The sound he made was as though someone had punched him in the gut.
"Why are you talking about this now? Here, in public?" He hissed, his breathing ragged.
"So you cannot run." Margaret said softly. "If we were at home, you would have left by now. However, your conscience would not allow you to abandon your enormous wife in a park. You are a good man, you would never leave me to fend for myself."
The frown that fell over his brow told her she was right. The glare he gave her before thinking better of it told her that tricking him was wrong. But this needed to be discussed; she knew he had had a similar conversation with Fanny two years ago. It would not be easy, but it had to be dealt with. If trapping him in such a way was the only way to get him to talk to her, so be it.
"Be quick." He grunted.
"If I do not recover after the birth, I want you to name the baby whatever you think best suits them from the list we made. But promise me John - you will be a father to our child, even if I am not here. You will tell them that you love them, every day." Her voice grew painful, a lump in her throat. "You will tell them just how much I loved them, how much I longed for them. That I will watch over them always from my place in-"
"Margaret." His voice cracked. "How can you talk of leaving me?"
"You know as well as I do that women enter confinement and do not come out. It happens every day."
"It will not happen to you." John said, turning to rest his hands on her face. "Don't even say it. I would die without you."
"This is what I mean! You cannot, you must not. Our baby will need a parent, they will need love. You will carry on, remarry-"
"Never. How dare you?" John hissed, his jaw tight and his eyes devastated. "How dare you say these things to me as though they are nothing? You bring me here under false pretences and confront me with my worst nightmares and I am expected to listen?"
"I am scared." Margaret admitted, slowing down as her back began to hurt. "I am so scared."
John's shoulders sagged, his hand rubbing at his eyes. He breathed deeply, the silence between them unpleasantly long as he composed himself.
"It is alright to be scared. It is not alright to suggest I remarry. I would ne- if something hap-" He could not finish his sentences, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed heavily. "I would never remarry. Never. But I would take care of our bairn, I would love them. Nothing will happen, Maggie. You will be there to tell them yourself, to raise them with me."
"I hope so." Margaret smiled. "Thank you for listening."
"Promise me you won't talk like this again." John squeezed her hand. "Keep a positive mind. Are you sure you do not want me to be with you during the birth?"
"I think your mother would faint at the very thought of it!" Margaret laughed. "Men aren't allowed in, you know that darling."
"You're sure? I will be there, outside."
"You'll have things to do." Margaret protested.
"Margaret, you are my wife and you will be giving birth to our first child. What else would I be doing that takes precedence over you?"
"I don't know. Thank you. Will you come and visit me in my prison cell if you have a moment tomorrow?" Margaret teased.
To her relief, John chuckled.
"I have a meeting in Manchester in the morning, but I will come and sit with you for a few hours when I'm home."
"Thank you." She sighed. "Well, I suppose we'd best be getting back. The baby is kicking me most fiercely and I am rather tired."
She winced as her back pulsed with pain, and John stopped walking.
"Are you alright?"
She held up a hand, unable to speak for a moment. Then, as quickly as it had arrived, the pain was gone.
"Fine. Just my back. You know, I suspect that I might rather miss my current condition. Not the being bossed about, nor the back pain. I love feeling him move, tumbling around - even when he is kicking me in the ribs. It is all rather magical."
"You are magical. I know I have not been the easiest man to live with these past months, but I am so awed by you. How you have managed all this with all your usual grace is beyond me."
"Even when I have shouted at you?" Margaret raised an eyebrow. "I think I have been rather difficult to handle darling, you need not pretend otherwise."
"As have I, and I've no excuse for it. Come, let's get you home."
Margaret paced the floor. It was only the first day of her confinement, yet she felt most terribly bored already. She did not understand why she must stay in this bedroom - surely the house would be enough? She felt terribly lazy dressed in her nightclothes for no good reason in the middle of the morning.
"Do stop pacing, Mistress! You're making me dizzy, backwards and forwards like a caged animal." Dixon tutted from her place in a chair in the corner. "It's been three hours. The Master made sure you have plenty of books and embroidery to keep you busy. Why don't you read?"
"I cannot settle." Margaret muttered. "It is as though I must be busy. I want to sweep every floor in the house - why is that?"
"Ah, your mother was the same. Nesting, they call it. When the babe is near, the mother wants to get everything ready. Instinct, Mistress. You, however, are not to lift a finger. The Master has been most clear on that."
"Oh, I know." Margaret said through gritted teeth. "Can I at least get dressed? I swear I will not leave the house. I just cannot stand this idleness."
"I don't know-"
"Get her dressed, Dixon." Hannah's voice startled both of them. "I've never approved of all this confinement business myself. Are you feeling well, Margaret?"
Margaret felt fine, save for her usual back ache. The lack of exercise had already taken its toll, for she had been experiencing sharp pains in her lower back all morning.
"Quite well. Where is John? I haven't seen him in the yard today." Margaret wondered. "Is he out?"
"In Manchester, he left on the first train. I thought he would've told you yesterday."
"Oh. Oh, of course he told me." Margaret rubbed at her forehead. "I completely forgot. That new deal, they are signing the contracts if all goes well."
"Aye, that's it."
Margaret began walking to Dixon when she felt a sudden burst of wetness between her legs. She looked down in alarm, then up at the two women. She knew what it meant, and her heart quickened. This must be a mistake. It could not happen now, not when John was not here - besides, it was too early.
"Oh!"
Margaret looked down again at her wet legs. Neither Dixon nor Hannah said anything, both of them staring in stunned silence. Margaret groaned, burying her face in her hands.
"It is too soon!" Margaret wailed. "Doctor Donaldson said three more weeks!"
"It's alright, my girl." Hannah said. "Let's get you a clean nightgown and onto the bed."
"This is because I wouldn't rest, isn't it?" Margaret felt a sob rising in her chest. "This is all my fault! I was too stubborn to listen, John was right. Oh God, he's not here! Hannah, he's not here, I can't have the baby now."
Margaret clasped her mother in law's arms with fear. Hannah shushed her like she would a child, prising Margaret's gripping hands off her and holding them gently. Margaret sobbed again. She could not do this; she was not brave enough.
"Margaret, your waters have broken. The child is coming whether we like it or not." Hannah told her. "And babies come a little early sometimes, it will be alright. Three weeks is not so bad. You've rested plenty, now you need to try and stay calm. Come, let's get you settled."
"I can't do this without him here." Margaret felt a tear slide down her cheek. "He will be devastated. I can't-"
A sudden sharp pain caught hold of her and she winced. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing as she had told Fanny to do all those years ago. Breathe. Breathe. Oh God. Breathe.
"There you go, good girl." Hannah soothed. "Come on, duck, breathe just like that. Dixon, get her nightgown and then have one of the girls fetch the doctor, then Mrs Watson. It's no good sending someone to Manchester, John'll be on his way home by the time they get there. We'll send someone to the station to wait for him. One of the servants, or his men. Don't worry, Margaret."
"I can't have this child without him here." Margaret said, straightening herself up once the pain had eased. "I can't. What if I die, Hannah? What if I die and he isn't even here?"
"Nobody is dying." Hannah said, brushing the hair from Margaret's face. "Look at me. We didn't lose Fanny and we are not losing you. You listen to what you're told and it'll all turn out right. I'll take care of you."
"I know. I know you will." Margaret took a deep breath. "I am scared."
"I know, lass." Hannah squeezed her hand tightly. "I know."
A/N: Please review if you would like to.