AN: Here we are! The final chapter to this little story.
I am thinking of writing a few one shots, here and there, to visit with this family, and maybe even to do a few "flashback" type moments.
I hope you enjoy the chapter and that you enjoyed the story. Thank you for your support. If you do enjoy/have enjoyed, please don't forget to let me know!
111
"Now then, my love, it's almost done," Emelius offered.
His efforts were weak. He was sure they were virtually ineffective. After all, what could he do in the face of everything that Eglantine was facing at the moment? She was bringing their child into the world. She was doing wonderful, amazing, miraculous things, and all that Emelius could really do was hold her hand and assure her that her suffering would soon be over and, in its place, she would soon be wrapped in the bliss of new motherhood.
Emelius felt a little desperate to see the end of everything so that he could rest, finally, in the security of knowing that Eglantine was well, that the baby was well—that his family was well.
Mrs. Hobday hadn't come as quickly as he'd hoped, when he'd finally determined that Eglantine's time must have come, and he'd sent Charles to get her. He knew that he couldn't fault the boy for taking too long, because he'd gone running out the door so rapidly that Emelius figured he couldn't have gotten there faster even if he'd been changed into one of the white rabbits of which Paul was so enamored.
Mrs. Hobday had fanned away his concerns with the promise that these things do take their time and that, even if the next of their children might arrive a touch more quickly into the world, this one would surely be many hours in coming.
She had casually helped to prepare the children for what was to come—her calm and gentle presence a balm to their worries—and she'd given each of them a job to do, no matter how minor, so that they felt as though they were contributing to the imminent arrival of their sibling.
With jobs to do, including one which allowed Carrie to frequently appear at the bedroom door asking if Mrs. Hobday needed anything and, in that way, to get frequent updates to share with her siblings, the children were pretty well soothed and patient, content to do whatever was asked of them and await Carrie's updates.
Still, Emelius emerged from the room, from time to time, to soothe them, reassure them that Eglantine was well and all was progressing as it was expected to progress, and to remind them to tend to the daily requirements of their lives, including eating and bathing.
Emelius had argued with Mrs. Hobday when she'd told him that it was improper and unnecessary for him to be present during the birth of his child. He had very clearly and, as politely as possible, informed her that he had had at least some small part in creating the child in question, and he would be there to hold his wife's hand when their child came into the world. Mrs. Hobday had made it clear that she didn't fully approve of his decision, but she hadn't argued with him for long. She had also, finally, given into telling him what he could do to help Eglantine through the process.
"That's right…soon you'll have your perfect little angel," Mrs. Hobday said, abnormally cheerful for how long Emelius felt like they'd all been involved in trying to get the baby to come into the world. "Just a bit more work from its mother…now…you can do it."
Eglantine pushed again, but even Emelius knew that the pushes were less effective than they had been.
He made eye contact with Mrs. Hobday. Her cheerful demeanor, he sensed, was little more than a carefully curated performance that she had created as a long-time midwife. There was a touch of concern in her features, and that concern chilled Emelius to the bone. He thought he understood it, though. Eglantine was tired. They were all tired. This baby was taking its time in arriving. Eglantine, though, was the most exhausted of them all.
She needed something more to get her going and to keep her going to the end of this.
Emelius hummed his understanding before moving to somewhat gather Eglantine in his arms and support her body against his own.
"What are you doing?" She breathed out.
"Now then, my dear," he said, putting the most cheer he could into his voice, "what do you say we have a last good show of things before the baby arrives?"
Eglantine reclined into him. He felt the shift of her body. He felt the weight of her. He felt her relax and give herself over to him. He felt her relief to know that he was there, and she wasn't alone. And, then, he felt a rush of love and affection for her that very nearly seemed capable of drowning him. He knew, at that moment, that he was in the right place, in every sense of the word.
"I've got you," he said softly, his lips near her ear. He gave her a soft, affectionate squeeze. "Do let me know when you're ready, and I'll do my best to do my part."
Emelius knew that there was nothing he could actually do. His part, as it was, was simply to hold Eglantine while she dug deep for the strength she had in reserve. He couldn't truly help her. Still, somehow, his good intentions must have done something for her. She rallied, and when she pushed again, Emelius moving with her to support her as she moved and to hold her when she relaxed. Finally, there came reports of progress that they hadn't seen in what felt like nearly an hour.
A few more rounds of similar encouragement, and Mrs. Hobday said that Eglantine could relax as the sound of their child crying filled the room.
Emelius might have thought his position in delivering their child would be slightly different, but he was happy to feel that he'd been exactly where Eglantine had needed him to be. He held her and kissed the side of her face. Though she looked tired, there was a happiness on her face that made his heart swell.
"Is the baby healthy?" She asked.
"She's a beautiful little girl," Mrs. Hobday said, tending to the needs of the newborn, "and she looks very healthy."
"A baby girl," Emelius mused. "Another Browne daughter."
"You aren't disappointed?" Eglantine asked.
"My dear…you have given me everything I could want in life. What reason would I have to be disappointed?"
"I thought you might have wanted a son," Eglantine said. "Another," she added, when he made a face at her.
Emelius smiled at her.
"There's a great deal of time for all that," he said. "Wouldn't you say? Besides—I am rather fond of the ladies in this house. I shouldn't hate to see a few more."
Eglantine smiled at him and accepted his very sincere kiss. Then, her attention shifted, as it should, to the beautiful baby girl that Mrs. Hobday placed in her arms.
Emelius found that he very nearly felt dizzy at the sight of Eglantine holding their daughter cradled in her arms.
"Oh—Emelius—what do you think?" Eglantine asked, breathing out the words as she examined the baby girl, clearly unable to tear her eyes away from her.
"I find myself entirely without words," Emelius said, smiling because it was true.
111
"Not much to look at, is she?" Charles mused as he looked at the baby that, now clean and fed, slept in her mother's arms.
"Shut up, Charlie," Carrie said, clearly offended. The annoyance in her furrowed brow smoothed as she looked back at her new little sister. "Olivia Rose is beautiful."
"Libby, I think, will do for now," Emelius said. "She can grow into the rest of her title with time."
"Do you want to hold her?" Eglantine asked, directing her question to Carrie.
"Oh, yes! Please!"
"You have to be careful," Emelius said, though he felt sure that Carrie already knew a great deal about holding babies. She didn't seem at all bothered by the reminder. Her eyes practically glittered as Eglantine gently transferred the baby over to Carrie's arms and helped to arrange her. The newborn stirred, but Eglantine's hand pressed gently to her chest seemed to be enough to soothe her back to sleep.
"She's so beautiful," Carrie mused.
"She is rather beautiful," Emelius agreed. "She looks a great deal like her mother."
"I think she looks like her father," Eglantine said. Emelius looked at her, and the smile she gave him warmed his whole body.
Whether or not Libby looked like either of them, it didn't really matter. After all, their three oldest children didn't look like either of them, and still they loved them entirely.
"When is she going to do something?" Paul asked, genuine concern wrinkling his brow.
"She don't do nothing because she's a baby," Charles said, almost sounding offended with his brother. "Babies don't do nothing. Same as you. Hardly did a thing for the longest time except cry and sleep."
"That's enough, Charles," Eglantine said with a sigh.
Emelius knew she was tired. He'd urged her to rest—to sleep for a while, even. She hadn't wanted to hear a thing about it, though. As soon as she knew the baby was fine, and her own needs had been tended to, she'd thanked Mrs. Hobday, promised to call for her if she needed anything, and insisted that the children be brought in to welcome their sister.
Emelius had been calmed by the reassurance that his wife and daughter were well. Eglantine needed to rest, but she was strong, and she would make a full recovery from the delivery of the baby girl. Charles, Carrie, and Paul, could all relax in the knowledge that their mother wasn't at risk of leaving them. Their home was, in reality, quite secure.
Now, being reminded that Eglantine was tired, Emelius got to his feet.
"Now, then," he said. "I know some children who need to go to bed soon. It's getting late, and you've got school tomorrow. New little sister or not, young minds require rest to get a proper education."
"Can't I stay home to help Mum with the new baby?" Carrie asked, as she reluctantly allowed Eglantine to take back the baby.
"I'll help your mother with the baby tomorrow," Emelius assured her.
"But you can help when you get home," Eglantine said. "I'll appreciate your help. I'll need help from all of you."
"And, tonight, you can help by getting yourselves ready for bed and making things easy, this evening, for your mother and me."
"I can help Paul," Carrie announced. "I'll read for us tonight."
"Wonderful," Emelius said. "I'll be in shortly to see you all to bed."
111
The house was quiet. It was the middle of the night, and the children were sleeping. It had been some time since Eglantine had last heard someone stir to relieve themselves or to fetch a drink for Paul. There would be some time, still, before the sounds of Pepperinge Eye waking up drifted in through the windows that were cracked to let in the night air.
Eglantine drew in a breath. She rolled slightly and stretched. She had slept hard for what felt like hours but, more than likely, had only been an hour at best. In a short period of time, Eglantine had learned that Olivia didn't last too long between requested nursings.
When she opened her eyes, they were already adjusted to the darkness. The room seemed abnormally bright, even, given that the moon outside was the fullest that it could possibly be, and shone brightly in a clear sky.
A witch's moon—Eglantine remembered having heard someone say something like that, once, in her childhood, when the moon had seemed abnormally large, and full, and bright.
She smiled, now, at the fleeting thought.
Silhouetted in the light of that moon, she saw the man she loved most in the world. The man who held her heart in more ways than one. Cradled in his arms, his lips pressed lovingly to the top of her head, was their baby girl.
"Don't think that I'm unaware that you're awake, my darling Eglantine," Emelius offered, his voice low and quiet.
"How can you know?" Eglantine asked with a laugh. "I only just woke."
"I have been here for some time," he said. "Contemplating life—ours and Libby's. Mostly, however, I've been listening to you breathing—nothing the rhythm—and thinking that it is the sweetest sound that I have ever heard, because it is the constant reminder that you are here, with me, despite all the reasons that you might choose not to be, or all the better places you might be able to find yourself."
"There's nowhere I would rather be," Eglantine said, meaning the words with every fiber of her being.
"I love you more now than I did even an hour past," Emelius said. It was a quiet musing more than any sort of boisterous statement made for show.
"You say that an awful lot, Mr. Browne," Eglantine teased.
"And I mean it every time," he said. He carried the baby to the bassinet by the bed and eased her into it. He stood, looking over her for a moment. "I never imagined that I could love so much…"
"Olivia?" Eglantine asked, her mouth and her mind still getting used to the idea that the baby was real, and her name would be something they grew accustomed to using as regularly as they used each other's.
Emelius came to the bed and pulled back the cover. Eglantine imagined that he might only have enough time to get settled there before their daughter required some act of care. Still, she welcomed him, and he moved close to her. She settled in next to him and closed her eyes for a second, drinking in the comfort of simply being next to him.
She was tired. Her body ached from bringing Olivia into the world. Yet, she still felt wonderful in a way that she hadn't expected.
"You. Olivia. All of you. My whole life." Emelius kissed the side of Eglantine's face. "Who would have thought that the universe held something so wonderful as all of this for a man so undeserving as myself?"
"I think you're very deserving, Emelius," Eglantine said. "In fact, I think you're the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me. Without you…I'm not certain the children and I would have ever become close. Without you, there wouldn't be a family." She smiled at him. "And there certainly would be no Libby."
"Well, perhaps it's just best to say that…we are at our best when we're together," Emelius said. "All of us. The entire Browne family."
Eglantine laughed quietly at Emelius's teasing tone.
"I can agree with that," she said. She sighed and snuggled into him. She could practically feel herself rocking with exhaustion. He would lie here and hold her, she knew that much to be true, and she would sleep as well as anyone could in the time allowed to her.
"What do you think?" Emelius teased, his voice low. "Four more little ones to come…or five?"
She laughed again.
"I think you're delirious and in need of rest," she said.
"Fine," he said. "I'm not unreasonable…if anything. Six it is, but do remember, Dear, that I let you have it your way."
Eglantine laughed.
"You always do," she said, her eyes closed.
"I always do," Emelius agreed. She felt him kissing her, pressing the absent-minded, affectionate kisses to her skin that always reminded her warmly that he loved her—he truly did. "Of course, it's because I love you so…"
"As I love you," Eglantine said, not bothering to suppress the yawn that followed. He hugged her a bit more tightly in response.
"And, of course…there's that whole…turning me into a rabbit thing and what have you…"
Eglantine laughed.
"Goodnight, Mr. Browne. I'm afraid your youngest daughter will be awake very soon."
He laughed quietly in response.
"Goodnight, Mrs. Browne," he said softly. "Sleep well. I shall keep watch over all the house and keep the proverbial fires burning in the meantime."