I'm aiming for a chapter a day cause this story is just writing itself. I'd still love for you to review though!
When the date of his return came and went, she was not too worried. She knew that the dates he had given her, the ones that he was going by, where all estimates and that a large number of natural situations could delay or even speed up their voyage. Even humans could effect the journey with their buercratic nonsense.
Apart from a letter he had sent her on his arrival in Southern Africa and one in the middle of his stay there, she had not heard from him. They had agreed that it would not be practical for her to send him anything as their was no guarantee that any letters would get to him.
She had found out she was with child not long after he had left. She knew enough about the situation to suspect but after a short conversation with Margaret Harville she was certain and when her belly began to expand, even just the tiniest amount, there was no denying it.
After speaking with, and being examined by a midwife, it was decided that by the time Frederick was due home, she would be about five months in and she couldn't wait to see his reaction.
It was when Captain Harville returned from his afternoon walk with Admiral Croft at his side that she began to panic. A look of such sadness and pain was clearly etched across the elder mans face, and it was then that she knew almost immediately that something had happened to Frederick.
The tears where slow to come but as soon as the Admiral placed a hand on her arm they rained down and she found herself encased within arms of the man she had come to see as a substitute father-in-law, breaking down to the news that her husband wasn't going to be coming home.
She had thought nothing could compare to the pain of that day, the pain that she felt with each beat of her heart day in and day out.
That was before the labour pains started.
She had been staying with the Harville's since Margaret had visited her in the house she had shared with Frederick and discovered from the housekeeper that Anne had not been out of doors for several weeks. Knowing that that type of behaviour was no good for Anne and the child, she had convinced the other woman to come and stay with them for a while.
Anne had resisted at first, unwilling to be away from the clothes and items that reminded her of her husband but the Harvilles had been insistent and she had finally relented. She couldn't bare to be parted with the house though, and boarded it up rather than selling the place on or renting it out.
Her pains started right around the time the midwife said they would. They started out small enough but as the hours passed grew in both duration and pain. Eight hours in she was exhausted. Through the pain and confusion that came with it, she often cried for Frederick; wanting him there, needing him there. She cursed at him as well, and it was all Margaret Harville could do but to listen and agree with her, calming her down and crying with her when she retracted it.
The midwife had given her a warm, watery concoction of herbs but it did nothing if not make her feel worse and she rejected a second cup as the night progressed.
"Think yourself lucky," Margaret had said to her when the midwife announced that she was progressing nicely. "I was in labour twenty hours with Allison. At the rate your going, we'll have that babe out here in an hour or so."
Anne groaned as another pain hit her, gripping Margaret's hand tightly and riding out it. "Promise me," she panted when it subsided, "Can you promise me…if anything happens to me,"
"We'll take care of the little one," Margaret assured her, "Don't worry about that. Nothing is going to happen to you though," she said, wiping Anne's brow with a cloth and speaking soothingly to her.
Being a mother of four children, Margaret Harville knew what she was talking about and sure enough an hour and twenty minutes later, Anne was minutes from falling into a deep haustive sleep but was now the mother of a beautiful baby boy.
Sitting propped up in the bed she held him to her chest and ran a finger down his face, memorising the curves and contours of this small wrinkly face.
"He's beautiful," Margaret said, as she lent over and moved the cotton blanket aside to get a closer look at him. "Does he have a name I can go and announce to that lot downstairs?"
Anne looked up at her before looking back down at the baby in her arms. "Benjamin," she said, dipping her head to kiss him gently on the forehead. "Benjamin Frederick Wentworth."