Chapter 69 New Life

Early November, 1781, South Carolina….

"That's it, Mrs. Wilkins! You're doing well!," the midwife exclaimed, trying to encourage the tired Irish woman.

Melanie sat next to Bridget on her bed, holding her hand and smiling. She could not believe that the time for her friend to give birth was finally here. And she felt nearly as tired as Mrs. Wilkins looked, for she had been sitting with her for the last twenty-four hours and was pregnant herself.

The Wilkins' servants had sent for Mrs. Tavington shortly after the Irish woman had gone into labor. Not long after that, Melanie arrived and stayed by Bridget's side, encouraging her and helping with the birth.

"Melanie, you shouldn't be here," Bridget was crying in exhaustion and pain, "you need you're rest. You have your own baby to think of."

"Bridget, don't be silly," Melanie whispered, "I'm fine. You know that I wouldn't miss this and I promised you I'd be here."

"Alright, Mrs. Wilkins, bear down and push again," the midwife instructed.

"Oh, God when does all this stop!" Bridget sobbed. "The pain!"

"Think of Jim and what he will look like holding the child," Melanie encouraged and squeezed her hand.

Mrs. Wilkins looked at her and smiled through her tears, then pushed again, groaning as she did.

"The head is out," the midwife informed. Melanie felt exhilarated, wishing she could give some of that energy to her worn out friend.

"I'm so tired," Bridget gasped, clinging to Mrs. Tavington's hand. The look in her eyes was one of pleading for the birth experience to end.

"I know you are, but you're near the end," Melanie said, "the baby's almost out!"

"One more push should do it, Mrs. Wilkins," the midwife directed.

Melanie helped Bridget to sit up a little bit to support a harder push. A weary Mrs. Wilkins looked down at the edge of the bed at the midwife.

"Mrs. Wilkins, take a deep breath, then push and hold it for a few seconds," she requested.

"Oh….Ah…" Bridget screamed in pain.

"Keep pushing," cried the midwife, "it's almost done!"

"Go on, you can do it!" Mrs. Tavington coaxed.

felt the pain ease just a bit, then unable to push anymore, she dropped back onto the bed. The woman was panting, trying to catch her breath and praying for relief.

"It's a boy!" the midwife exclaimed.

Bridget Wilkins began to cry in relief that it was over and in joy that her baby had been born. She smiled up at Melanie through her tears. Her friend returned a happy grin, thrilled that the baby was here and glad that Bridget was out of the worst of the pain.

"You told me it would be a boy," Mrs. Tavington laughed.

"Yes! Jim will be overjoyed," she sobbed in happiness.

The midwife showed Bridget the baby, covered with blood and mucus, and crying loudly. Then she helped Mrs. Wilkins expel the afterbirth as Melanie cleaned up the infant boy.

After a few moments to clean the new mother up and make her comfortable, Bridget got to hold her son for the first time. Melanie sat next to her as she did, both women admiring the newborn.

"I can't tell who he looks like," Mrs. Wilkins remarked.

Mrs. Tavington smoothed a finger over the child's moderate head of hair. "Well, he has Jim's brown, wavy hair."

"Yes he does," Bridget replied.

Melanie took the baby as Mrs. Wilkins repositioned herself in bed, struggling to sit up. Mrs. Tavington gazed at the newborn boy, smiling as she did. His lips found the young woman's pinky and began to suck on it.

"He's hungry," she said, handing the baby back to his mother. She put him to her breast where the babe instinctively latched on and began suckling hard, causing Bridget to whimper.

The women continued to look at the baby as he suckled happily away, filling his little belly.

"What are you going to name him?"

"James Kilpatrick Wilkins," answered Bridget.

"After his father and mother," Melanie remarked.

"Just think, in five months you'll have a baby, too!"

"Yes," Mrs. Tavington said. Her hand dropped to her slightly swollen belly. As her fingers moved over it, the child within fluttered inside, then kicked lightly, making Melanie smile softly.

~/~

Mrs. Wilkins had done well recovering from childbirth and had a smooth lying in period. Today was the last day that Melanie would stay with her, then she would return home as Bridget would be out of bed and around.

Mrs. Tavington continued folding and stacking washed cloths for the baby's diapers. After putting them away, she moved over to the chair by the bed and sat down.

Melanie caught her breath as she felt the baby kick hard within her. Her hand dropped to her belly, rubbing where the child kicked. Then she felt fluttering within.

Bridget looked over at her friend and spoke. "You're feeling the baby move more now?"

"Yes…..it's very active today," she said, loving the feeling of the child moving about inside her.

"Little Jimmy is a week old today," said Bridget. "I think he has changed already!"

"I agree," said Melanie. "He sure is a hungry little thing." She watched as the baby, his belly full now, began to fall asleep at her friend's breast.

"Yes, I believe he will drink me dry," Bridget remarked as she withdrew her nipple from the now sleeping baby's mouth.

Mrs. Tavington watched absently as Mrs. Wilkins laid the infant down in his crib by the bedside. Melanie was thinking about her husband, wondering if he'd received her letter telling him of her pregnancy yet. She had broken down, being so excited that she was pregnant, and had written to him of it at the end of September, just two weeks after she'd been discovered to be with child. The young woman wondered what William would think.

Bridget noticed the faraway look in her friend's eye. "Thinking of William?"

"Yes," replied Melanie. "I wonder if he's received my letter yet? If he knows of the child?"

Just then, the pretty French indentured servant Yvette breezed in. "Mrs. Tavington, a letter for you. It came by express rider."

Melanie perked up and smiled. The maid gave her the letter then left the two women alone.

Bridget smiled wide. "I wager that it's from the General," she said. "He probably received your letter!"

"Yes, I hope so!", Melanie replied, anxiously opening the letter, unable to contain her excitement. "I can't wait to see what Will thinks about the baby!"

Mrs. Tavington smiled as she began reading, recognizing her husband's handwriting.

Mrs. Wilkins, always anxious to hear news of where the men were, tried looking at the letter. "What does it say? Read it aloud!"

She looked at her friend as she continued to read. Bridget watched as the beautiful smile on Melanie's face soon dissolved into distress and alarm.

The Irish woman became instantly worried. "For God's sake, what is it?"

As Mrs. Tavington continued to read, she gasped, one hand covering her mouth while the other still clasped the letter.

"Oh no!" she cried aloud, on the verge of tears. Melanie finished the letter, shaking as she did.

A worried Bridget took the letter from her friend's hands and began to read it.

20th October, 1781 Yorktown

My dear Melanie,

I write this in haste. I hope you get this letter. I know how your heart can hurt when you hear rumours. I hate for you to have a new set of them to contend with.

Please share this with Mrs. Wilkins in care she hears nothing from Jim, as I hope she will share news from him if this doesn't get to you.

Lord Cornwallis surrendered. I am not sure what is to become of us. For now, we are prisoners, confined to our tents here in Yorktown by the rebels. I am not sure what deals and conditions are being negotiated.

The rumour around camp is that the officers are to be moved to New York where we may be paroled. That is all I have heard.

Darling, I don't know how long I'll be away now. I give you my word that I am cooperating with the colonials and their wishes—even though you know that I don't care for the traitors! I do it on the hope that it will get me home to you.

I hope you have received my letters. I don't know how many you've sent—I have received some.

Melanie, please know that I will do my damndest to get home. Remember that I love you.

I miss you so!

Your William

Bridget looked at Mrs. Tavington, who was shaking and now hyperventilating. She put aside her own worry for James at the moment—she could worry about him later. For now, she was concerned about her friend sitting next to her, with a precarious pregnancy, who didn't need the worry this brought on.

She grabbed Melanie's shoulders in an attempt to comfort her panicked friend. "Melanie! Melanie! You've got to calm down," she cried, trying to console her friend. Her hand dropped, coming to rest on the young woman's belly. "Think about this one inside here," she said, trying to get her attention.

Mrs. Tavington looked at her, tears in her eyes, saying nothing. "The doctor told you to rest and have no worries," reminded Mrs. Wilkins.

"You don't want another miscarriage do you?" asked Bridget.

Melanie shook her head no, wiping at the tears on her cheeks.

"If you want to have any chance of carrying this baby to term," Bridget said, "you have to calm down."

Melanie sniffed, fighting back her tears. "It's just that William has no fear, and you know how his temper is," Mrs. Tavington commented, "I'm so afraid that he will say or do something to get himself into trouble."

"But he admits to cooperating with the rebels in the letter," Mrs. Wilkins reminded.

"I know," Melanie answered, still trembling. "But still he….he…it gets the best of him." Her voice broke as she began to cry again.

"No….Jim won't let him," Bridget encouraged, "He will remind him of his wife with child at home and his business to come home to."

"In the letter, though, he mentioned nothing of the baby," Melanie sobbed. "Maybe he didn't get my letter. Maybe he doesn't know."

"Surely he's received the news by now," Bridget soothed, "Maybe he didn't have the letter yet before he sent this note."

"You're probably right," Melanie conceded, still weeping.

"Melanie, please! You must get hold of yourself and calm down," urged a worried Bridget.

"I know. It's just that I think of Alex and…and….I…I don't want to bury another officer," Melanie wept. "I can't. I don't want to go through that again."

Bridget handed the General's wife a delicate lace handkerchief. Melanie dabbed at the tears in her eyes then stopped suddenly. The woman felt heat come over her, then felt a wave of nausea roll over her.

"Oh….Oh God," she cried. She got up from the chair and charged toward the chamber pot. The poor woman fell to her knees and heaved into the container.

Mrs. Wilkins tore the covers back and ran to her friend who was still throwing up. Bridget noted how quickly the color had drained from the woman's face.

Melanie felt Bridget's hands on her shoulders and rebuked her friend in the middle of vomiting. "Bridget! You're not supposed to be out of bed yet," Mrs. Tavington cried in between heaves. "Go back…go back to bed," she gasped.

"No, Melanie, look at you," she said, stubbornly staying at her friend's side. "You are making yourself sick over this."

"I'm pregnant! I'm already sick," Melanie protested, her head still buried in the porcelain pot.

"Melanie, please!"

"You worry about James, I'll worry about William," Mrs. Tavington snapped, wishing the nausea would pass.

"I'm worried about you and the child at the moment," Bridget retorted.

After another moment of puking, Melanie sat back from the pot, wiping her face and mouth. She looked at Bridget, still kneeling beside her. The general's wife's eyes were flooded with tears as a look of horror crossed her face. Her hand covered her mouth as she began to nod her head in disbelief.

"What? What is it?," a scared Bridget pleaded with her friend, dreading what else the girl might say.

"You don't think—," Melanie began then stopped herself, unable to say the words. "What if they—?" her voice breaking again. "William did some…..some….horrible things…in the name of duty. What if they….ex—," General Tavington's wife stammered through her tears then stopped again.

"Melanie?"

"Execute him?", Melanie finished her thought, collapsing into a heap of tears in Mrs. Wilkins' arms.

"No….no….Melanie….they wouldn't surely," Bridget consoled, but wasn't sure at all. She had heard rumors, and knew what little her own husband James would tell her about what the dragoons were made to do for the sake of duty….for King and Country….under the direction of then Colonel Tavington. Mrs. Wilkins knew that Colonel Tarleton's actions weren't much better. She pushed the worry for her own husband's life down into her soul, trying to comfort her panicked friend and help her keep the baby and carry it to term.

After a moment, both women helped each other up from the floor. They leaned on one another as they made their way back to the bed and chair beside it. Once Bridget climbed back in bed, Melanie collapsed in the wingback chair by the bed, unable to stop her weeping.

Mrs. Tavington went on, talking through her sobs. Her hand dropped to her swollen belly, rubbing it and the growing child within. "It's just….I want this child to know its father. I want Will to come home to me."

Mrs. Wilkins wiped the tears from her friend's cheek with her fingers then caressed it. "You do love the General, don't you?" asked Bridget.

Melanie took hold of her friend's hand. "No….yes…..I don't know," she answered. "I just….I…..I want him to come back to me…..and his child."

"Then you must calm yourself," Bridget coaxed.

"Yes, I know you're right," Melanie said, taking a breath, trying to relax.

With that, the French maid entered the room to check on Mrs. Wilkins. "Yvette, would you please drag that chaise over here next to the bed please?"

"Oui, Madame," she answered.

"And gather a pillow and blanket," requested Bridget. "Mrs. Tavington is not feeling well. She is going to rest."

"Very good, Madame," the maid answered.

In a moment, she reappeared with blanket and pillow in hand. The maid also placed a clean chamber pot over close to the chaise, thinking Mrs. Tavington may be nauseous again.

"Yvette, both Mrs. Tavington and I are going to rest now," she told the servant. The young house maid went to the window and pulled the drapes shut then looked back at her mistress. "Would you like me to take the baby?"

"No, he's just eaten and is sleeping," she said. "He's fine in here. He'll probably stay down for the next two or three hours."

"Ah…Oui," Yvette agreed.

"Please, don't disturb us unless it is an emergency," Mrs. Wilkins directed the servant.

"Oui, Madame," the servant said as she shut the door.

"Please, Melanie, close your eyes and rest," pleaded Bridget. "I'm very worried for you and the little one."

"I'll be fine, Bridget," Mrs. Tavington replied as she reclined on the chaise.

Both women pulled the covers over themselves and were quiet. Both laid awake, neither one saying a thing, worried about their husband's fates.