Chapter 15: Leniency

By the time Jack arrived back with the squirming bundle, he was thankful for the respite he could have in the old rocking chair placed at the end of the hall, separated from furniture deemed worthy by the lady of the house to be displayed in the salons. Claire was being dressed and fed and tended to and that was fine with him, he was in no hurry to get anywhere. Ever since that fateful night at Wentworth Prison, he had never been truly well and perhaps that was to be expected if one believed not as much in a deity who cared, but at least in some sort of balance between good and bad that kept the world at an equilibrium. Every part of him ached, some more than others. His not long ago crushed ribs from the cattle charge and headaches to go with that, an uncomfortable feeling in his lower regions that he assumed had to be more in his head than anywhere else for the lack of a complete and functional body part to go with it and most of all, his belly. He had been trying to hang on, to get to the estate, then till she could speak to Claire, to let her know all was well and arranged for the children no matter what and that had not been with little difficulty. His stomach was cramping badly, making him lean forward and that inadvertently set the rocking chair in motion. The baby stilled in his arms, assessing the experience, then settled to his chest, obviously content with the new rhythmic movement.

Claire's door opened, the maid leaving it ajar at the room's occupant's insistence for fresh air while she took the empty dishes down to the kitchens and that was how Claire saw them, Jack and Brianna, the rocking chair in sight. She had seen him being gentle before, with Alex, with Mary, with Denys, but this baby was her own flesh and blood and the sight equally shocked her, disquieted her, taken her by surprise and made hope swell in her chest, tears wanting to flow but frozen in place instead for mistrust and fear of the future. Jack had been full of surprises, good and bad, every step of the way and there was no way he could or even want to keep his darkness hidden for a long time, not by his own admittance. So she pulled herself higher on her pillows as much as she could and stared, wishing Brianna safe like she was at that moment in time.

Not able to concentrate on much more than the pain that seared through his midsection, it took Jack a good few minutes to notice her stare. He blinked and concentrated on the inside once more, gathering strength and choosing the moment between waves of twisting agony to stand and shuffle over to the bed, where he more dropped Brianna into her mother's arms than anything else. With the last reminder of his dignity, he just about managed to plop himself into the chair the peope who had previously tended to the new mother had been using.

Claire only had eyes for her daughter. While she had felt fortified by the thick, rich vegetable and chicken country soup she had been offerred along with a few drops of wine, the sight of the little one gave her the enthusiasm to sit up on her own and take the wonder into her arms, really see her for the first time, the curve of her jaw, the shape of her eyes, the prominent cheekbones. It was hard to tell as yet who she would take after, her or Jamie, but that was quite natural at this age, which was..."How long was I out?" Claire enquired without looking up.

"Three days," Jack provided with a wince she did not take account of for the moment.

"So she's three days old?"

"Four. Sorry, I was only counting the days you've spent here," he relented.

"What is the date? The date of her birth?"

"The 20th of May, 1746 is when she was born."

Claire nodded, further infatuated with the baby. In concordance with being slightly premature, while her breathing seemed normal for an infant, Brianna was quite scrawny, without an ounce of extra fat on her arms or cheeks. In a sudden movement, Claire decided that the wetnurse could not be providing enough milk for her, for certain, not if she had to feed three babies. Her own breasts were swollen, hard and painful, ready to burst. Her milk must've came in while she was unconscious, despite the bloodloss and her breasts were begging for mercy, for relief, a sensation that would only go away slowly, in a matter of days if not taken care of immediately, the way the nobility of the era customarily did it, leaving it to servants to feed their children. But she would follow no such tradition. Showing herself in Jack's presence she merely considered for the fraction of a moment, barely conscious of her own train of thought-he didn't matter in that regard, him and her, they were long past such observation of social conventions due to the uniqueness of their common past.

What made her pause however was her own inexperince with lactation. While she had seen it manifold, was taught the theory and advised others on the correct position for having babies latching on in a way it wasn't a strain on the nipples, she suddenly felt unsure about whether she was approaching it the right way. Brianna however didn't think about it twice. Perhaps it was natural instinct or the experience she already had, but she was already sucking by the time Claire would've decided on a course of action. For a while, the time traveller simply marvelled, aware of how bias she would've sounded if she would've voiced her thoughts on the baby being a clever little one. Withall, once she snapped out of that state of mind, she wanted to make sure Brianna was healthy and for that she would have to use the hollow tube from her medicine bag she used for ascultation of the heart and lungs instead of the not yet invented stethoscope. "Where are my things?"

Jack took some time to answer, having to first bring himself out his inner world of pain, "in the wardrobe I believe."

"Bring me my medicine bag."

"Ring the maid to do so," he suggested, then sighed at his own idea as the bell seemed to have been located hanging at the opposite wall. "Or not."

Claire looked at him rather at a loss for a moment, followed his gaze, then looked back at him, not quite understanding the trouble or his reluctance. The wardrobe was closer than the bell. But as she scrutinised him for an explanation, she really looked at him for the first time, finally strong enough t o concentrate on anything else than herself and jolted out from her motherly fascination. More than a single glance she didn't need either. His colour, his posture, his barely schooled expression and erratic breathing told the entire story, not to mention how quiet, subdued and passive he had been. Claire almost slapped herself in the head for not noticing, remembering sooner. "Jack." The word came out sympatethic and worried. "How bad does it hurt?"

He shook his head and tightened his hold on his belly, vocalisation unnecessary. "Can you keep anything down?" She pressed on.

Another shake of the head, "not sure. I haven't tried today. Not worth the cramps that food in my stomach causes."

"Jack," Claire said again, apprehension pooling in her own stomach. She could not evade the feeling of certainty that his health was worse and that he was seriously and life threateningy ill. She could not spare wasted minutes on contemplating why that matterred to her, she had to act. "Jack. I need to examine you. Come, lie down next to me."

He raised questioning eyes at her so she went to elaborate,"this is what it is supposed to be our 'marital' bed is it not? I was told we were only separated so we can be tended to separately."

"Yees," Jack intoned, somewhat unsure. He didn't expect an invitation into her bed, but it wouldn't faze him either. It wasn't far, all he had to do was extend a hand to support himself on the bedframe, pull the rest of his body after and shift carefully round, without having to uncurl his midsection too drastically. Lying onto his right side, towards Claire, the side that hurt less, he pulled his legs up further to ease the tremor that went through him with the upheaval. He had moved way too much that day to accomodate her various requests.

Claire had to do a little manoeuvring herself to free a hand while not disturbing Brianna in her feeding. It was Jack's pulse she took first, making it unnecessary to check for his temperature. Heat radiated out his veins at the wrist as well. Practiced at the sensing of the passing of time without a watch, she estimated his pulse rate at about 110 per minute. Blood pressure monitors have not been invented yet, but it was clear from his paleness, shortness of breath and unfocussed gaze that his blood pressure would be alarmingly low. As a result, she reached to his belly hesitant, not looking forward to what she was going to find. "I don't treat you for four days and you get yourself in this state?" She complained.

Jack braced himself also, consciously as well as on instinct, abdominals going rigid afore she touched him. "I will be as careful as I can," Claire promised, fingertips ghosting over his skin.

The words made him raise his gaze towards her, search her features. Along with the tone of her voice, they were a level of sympathetic and kind he'd not heard from her directed at him. Her bedside manner had never been unkind, not even when they were at a lot worse terms, this was however, entirely unexpected. Before his thought process could reach some sort of conclusion, ut was interrupted by pronounced discomfort. No matter how careful she was, he'd rather she wasn't touching him.

"Is there anyone around who could replenish some of our herb supplies? Physician, herbalist, apothecar, local witch? Town or market nearby?" Claire pulled back, indicating she was done torturing him.

"Perhaps the midwife who's seen you."

"Good, that's good," she eyed the bell that could ring someone to help. This time, it didn't even occur to her that it should be Jack going for it. His insides churned to the extent of audible, his abdominal muscles were tense and spasmed and more worryingly, there was rebound tenderness present to the left of his navel, where she could sense a mass under the skin. She was making him break sweat with the examination, all pointing to possible partial peritonitis, a condition not often survived in the time period she was in. Still, she was going to apply her knowledge of the future and hope for the best, or at the very least, acquire some powerful pain relief. Babe still at breast, she slid out from under the covers and set her bare feet onto the dusty carpet.

tbc