Chapter 11

Getting comfortable was almost impossible today. She couldn't find a position that didn't just make her cramping and back pain worse, and the baby wouldn't stop shifting around inside her womb.

Despite her bravado during conversations on the subject of how easy the delivery was, the first real contraction changed her mind. She's been cramping all morning, but not like this. Everything shifted from discomfort and pressure to actual, active pain. It was intense, almost crushing, and it took her breath away. Jokes about creeping off into the woods and handling things herself, about men having the easy part of the job while women did all the work, had no place in the new reality created by this unique and terrible pain. It was as if the world had decided, all at once, that it was time to teach her a lesson about how harsh life's realities could truly be. No wonder some people considered the pain of childbirth to be a punishment for sin.

For moments that felt like hours, all she could do was sit in the library, panting and whimpering and wishing the terrible pain would go away. And then it did, like a candle's flame being extinguished by someone's breath. She was still a bit achy certainly, but the pain almost felt like a figment of her imagination now that it was past. It couldn't have been as terrible as she'd been convinced it was at the time. No pain could be that bad. The human body simply wasn't designed to bear such things.

But, whatever the reality of the pain, she found herself driven by a powerful instinct. Maybe women in the past had gone off alone to deliver, but her gut was telling her to do something else. She didn't want to be alone with her pain, or her fear. All she wanted was strong arms to hold her and a soothing voice to coax her back into a sense of calm.

Forcing herself to breathe and not allow panic to creep in, she wobbled to her feet, swallowing hard and going to find James. He was in his study and jumped to his feet at her unsteady entrance.

"Helen, why didn't you call me?" he demanded, hurrying to her side.

She swallowed hard, shaking her head. It simply hadn't occurred to her to do something so simple, something she'd been doing every time she wanted him for months now. She was shaken, already not thinking clearly. She tried not to think about how much more unreliable her mind would soon become.

"I think it may have started," she whispered instead, reaching for his arm. "Oh, it hurt, James."

"Are you in pain now?" he asked gently, taking her hand in his.

She shook her head again, making a negative noise. "Just a bit achy. But, while it was actually happening..."

He nodded in understanding, expression sympathetic, and slid his arm under hers and around her back. "Lean on me. We're going to get you to your room. It could be awhile before the next contraction, but you'll want to rest as much as possible before the labour grows too severe. I'll have Mrs. Baines make us some tea while we wait. Would you like a book?"

He spoke quickly as he half-carried her from his study to her bedroom, not sounding panicked, per se, but definitely tense. She opened her mouth to calm him but let out a startled cry instead as another jolt of pain and pressure tore through her.

"Lord!" she protested, clinging to him and closing her eyes tightly against the unexpected pain.

"Steady on," he urged, supporting her against his chest as it took her. "I have you. I won't let anything happen to either of you," he soothed, petting her hair. "I know it's difficult, but you must be as calm as possible."

The pain passed as abruptly as it started, but she continued to cling to him, struggling to breathe again. "Oh, it's going to be a long day," she managed with a weak laugh, wiping the tears from her eyes and forcing herself to smile up at him.

"You're a strong, brave woman. You'll manage," he promised. "Do you think you can walk a little further? We're almost to your room..."

Nodding weakly, she wrapped her arms around him again and leaned close, walking towards her bedroom on shaking legs and grateful for his support. She was already exhausted, which was ridiculous considering that it was only just beginning. She couldn't imagine how she would feel at the end of it all. It was going to be a tremendous effort, especially near the end and she already felt too exhausted to even remain standing.

She was so preoccupied with how she was going to manage that she didn't even blush as James stripped off her dress, and every last one of her underthings, and helped her into a simple ankle-length nightgown.

"You'd best use the chamber pot before you lay down," he pointed out apologetically, clearing his throat. "You may not feel up to it again any time soon. Should I step outside?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "Please. I... Will you leave the door open? In case I fall, or there's another contraction?"

"Of course." Squeezing her shoulder, he stepped into the hallway, leaving the door cracked.

It was a bit embarrassing, using the chamber pot within earshot of him like this, but she knew that it was better to deal with those needs now, while she still could and, more importantly, while she still had the control to regulate when and how such things occurred. She's read horrible things about labour. In a few hours, it might not even be possible to regulate her own body. Sighing at that thought, she tucked the used pot out of sight and crawled into bed, quietly calling his name to let him know that it was safe to return.

"Mrs. Baines will bring tea soon," he told her gently as he entered the room again, moving to her side and positioning the blankets gently around her body. "I fear we'll be waiting some time before things really get underway. You should get as much sleep as you can."

"I can't imagine sleeping at a time like this," she admitted, leaning back against the pillows and staring anxiously up at him.

"Are you in so much pain?"

"Not at the moment, but... well, I'm nervous, James. You can't imagine how frightening this is."

"No, I suppose I can't," he answered quietly, gently taking her hand in his own and sitting on the edge of the bed. "You're young and healthy and I can't imagine anything going wrong, but I'm a bit scared myself. It's not too late for me to send for the midwife."

"No, I want it to be you," she told him firmly. "It should be you."

"Then we'll just be frightened together. I suppose that's always the way these things go."

"Actually, I suspect that you're a more solicitous husband than most," she countered, smiling up at him. "Most wouldn't even be in the room right now, and look what you're about to do for me."

"Only what any friend would. I'm happy to help," he assured her. "I love you, Helen. I want to be here for you."

She smiled weakly at that, squeezing his hand. She was lucky to have him, she knew. Most men, even actual husbands and fathers, would have been too squeamish to bear what was about to happen. But James faced up to it boldly and without seeming trepidation. She was grateful for that. She was frightened enough for both of them. With his help, maybe she could be a bit braver.

He sat and held her hand as they waited for the next contraction, distracting her with stories of his childhood. He'd been a friendless child, and not well-loved even by his own family, but he described a happy time, all the same. She's already known that the grounds and woods were favoured haunts of his but, now, he described a detailed fantasy world, peopled by knights and princesses and monsters that were seldom so monstrous as they seemed. Beauty and goodness did not always equate in that fantasy world of his, and the dragons and trolls were as often the ones who needed saving as the inverse. Even at a young age, then, he'd been the sort of person who would be perfect for the work her father did. Some day, maybe they could carry on her father's work together, with the child they would raise on similar tales.

She sipped her tea and relaxed back against her pillows, smiling up at him as he recounted how those childhood 'adventures' had inspired him to study fencing and pugilism once he was sent away to school. She'd never actually seen him fight, but John and Nigel both had assured her that he was a wily and dangerous combatant when he wanted to be, even if he much preferred to reason and negotiate his way out of conflicts.

"Will you teach me to fight some day?" she asked, resting a hand on her stomach as the baby stirred restlessly within.

"Another contraction?" he asked anxiously, setting his tea down on the night-stand next to her cup and leaning over her.

"No, no more contractions. The baby's just being very active."

"She wants out," he answered, resting his hand lightly next to hers and giving a delighted laugh as the baby gave a hard kick. "Oh, she's going to be a little trouble-maker, Helen. We'll have our hands full with her."

"You still can't be sure it's going to be a girl," she chuckled, shaking her head.

"And you can't be sure it won't be," he countered with a wide smile. "At any rate, the disagreement will be settled decisively in a few hours. You may yet be able to tell me that you told me so. I won't grudge you if you do."

"I know you won't. You've always been a strange fusion of prideful and humble."

"Two sides of the same coin. I have every right to be proud of my own intellect, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't be humble about my faults as well. If I weren't proud, I'd be guilty of false modesty. If I weren't humble, I'd be an insufferable bore. No, it's best to strike a balance between the two."

"A lot of men never manage."

"I have always strived to be as unlike 'normal' men as I can comfortably and decently manage." He shrugged, pulling out his pocket-watch and studying the face for a moment. "It's been ages since you've felt any pain. Perhaps it was a false alarm?"

"I suppose it could have been, but I've never felt the baby this active before. Something must be going on."

"How do you feel?" he asked gently, fingertips stroking absently against her stomach.

"Strange. Restless and... excited, and nervous and irritable... I don't know, James. I hardly know how to describe it all."

"I imagine there's too much going on in your mind and body to be properly expressed by all that the English language has to offer. This is the single most profound thing a human being can experience."

"I suppose it is. I..." She sighed softly. "I keep thinking about John."

"Missing him?" he asked gently, lifting her hand to his face and pressing his lips lightly to her fingers.

"Half missing him. Half terrified that he might show up again."

"You mustn't worry about that possibility. If he comes back, I'll protect you. And, after how you parted, I can't see him returning any time soon. He doesn't know about the baby. He has no reason to come back."

"I keep telling myself that," she whispered. "But I still worry terribly."

"I won't insult you by telling you not to worry. I can only tell you that I think it's highly unlikely that he'll be bothering us again in the near future. And, if he ever does come back, you won't be alone."

"Thank you, James," she answered, smiling weakly and touching his cheek. "You're a good friend."

"I certainly try to be," he murmured with a little shrug. "Now, why don't you try to rest some more?"

Sighing with resignation, she leaned back against the pillows again and closed her eyes, resting while she still could.