“Stat?” the young girl squeaked, her eyes rounding with fear. “What is stat?”
“As fast as you can run,” Evie said without a backward glance. Then she remembered Quinn had mentioned they would unpack her things and put them away. She whirled about just as the maid reached the door. “Wait,” she shouted, halting the girl. “If they unpacked it, I need every single item from my bag brought to this room. Do not forget a single thing. Understand?”
“Aye, m’lady.” The servant dipped a hasty curtsy and charged away.
“Her name is Reah,” Fern said, her voice sluggish with weariness. She pushed herself higher among the additional pillows. “And this is Janet.” She managed a smile at an older maid piling linens on a table beside the bed.
“You never mentioned when your pains started,” Evie said, ignoring the introductions. Her concern was Fern and the baby. Nothing else.
Fern made a face that had nothing to do with pain but more a distinct look of guilt. “Last night, I’m afraid.” She shifted a shoulder with a defeated shrug. “I thought it a bad case of the winds because I ate so many baked apples.”
No wonder the pains kept hitting fast and fierce. It was a miracle the child hadn’t made its appearance in the garden. Evie didn’t scold. Fern was a first-time mother. With no guidance or prenatal care, she would have no idea what to expect.
Evie strode to the steaming bowl of water beside the linens and submerged her hands. “Any soap?” she asked the dubious-looking Janet.
“Soap?” the maid repeated. “Whatever for?”
“I want clean hands to welcome this baby into the world.” She returned the old woman’s scowl. “And get a move on, will you?”
“Do her bidding, Janet,” Fern said as she curled to her side and hugged her middle. “She’s soon to be the lady of this keep.”
Janet’s demeanor immediately shifted. She rummaged through a drawer, then held out a pale, waxy sliver. “Beg pardon, m’lady. Yer soap.”
Evie scrubbed from fingernails to elbows as well as she could without a brush. The distinct eye-burning aroma of lye pleased her. Strong soap meant less bacteria.
After another glance back at the door, she perched on the foot of the bed and gave Fern a reassuring smile. “I need to see how far along you are so I can know when we’ll meet baby. Can you roll to your back for me?”
“Aye.” Fern eked out another groan as she shifted to her back, bent her knees, and planted her feet on either side of Evie. “Get this child out of me so the pain will stop. I beg ye.”
“I’m going to do my best, Fern, I promise.” The examination increased Evie’s concerns. Even after hours of labor, Fern’s cervix had barely dilated. “You said your pains started right after supper?” she asked in a calm tone as she palpated Fern’s stomach with both hands. Additional complications telegraphed themselves into her hands. The baby had not positioned itself head down. As near as she could tell, there seemed to be only one. At least, she prayed so. For her smaller bone structure, Fern seemed quite large for a single newborn. Huge, in fact, and it wasn’t fluid or fat. “Right after supper?” she repeated when Fern didn’t stop groaning long enough to answer. “Fern?”
“Before, actually,” the girl said, struggling to catch her breath. “Closer to just after midday yesterday. But I had eaten three apples whilst I tended my roses, so I didna think anything about it. Merdrid promised the babe wouldna come ’til the full moon, and that’s a sennight away.”
“Only baby and your body know when the time is right.” She wished this Merdrid person had kept her wives’ tales to herself. She had done Fern more harm than good. If Quinn’s sister had started labor early yesterday afternoon, she had endured the pains for nearly twenty-four hours now and failed to progress in dilation. Evie admired the level of strength and fight left in her. The dear woman had to be exhausted. “Janet!”
“Yes, m’lady?” The older woman looked ready to jump at Evie’s command. “I need you to see what’s keeping Reah. I need my things to help your mistress.”
“Yes, m’lady.” The maid turned to go.
“And Janet! While you’re at it, please see if Lady Fern’s husband has been found.” She slipped off the bed and walked part way to the door with the servant, counting off her thoughts on her fingers. “I also need an unopened bottle of whisky. Two would be even better. Your sharpest kitchen knives, and have Quinn…I mean…the chieftain come in here as well.” She didn’t know how she was going to accomplish it, but if she didn’t perform a cesarean section, the odds of Fern and the child surviving were doubtful.
“I shall take care of it all, m’lady. I swear it.” The matron tipped a quick nod, then steamed out the door.
Evie returned to Fern’s side, wet a cloth in cool water, and dabbed it across her forehead. “I have a plan, Fern, but I’ll need you to be braver than you have ever been before.”
“Do what ye must, sister. I trust ye.” Fern didn’t open her eyes, just kept them squeezed tightly shut against her misery. “This may be my first bairn, but I ken well enough that things are nay as they should be. Please dinna let my baby die.”
Evie never lied to a patient, but she never over-shared her fears, either. She folded the cool, damp cloth and placed it over Fern’s eyes. Another pain would hit soon since they came in rapid succession. The woman needed to breathe easy while she could.
The squeak of door hinges made her turn. Quinn eased in first, pale with fear and eyes stricken with dread. A man followed close at his heels. Evie didn’t recognize him but wondered if this was the infamous brother-in-law Quinn didn’t like. Tall as Quinn but not even close to being as muscular, the ruddy-haired chap took the lead and charged to the bedside.
“Fern, m’love. Dinna leave me. I beg ye.” He knelt beside her and cradled her hand to his cheek.
“Let her rest while she can,” Evie said. Husband or not, he didn’t need to upset her by acting a pitiful fool.
The man’s face flashed a furious red. He rose and charged toward her. “Insolent servant!” he growled with a hand lifted to backhand her.
Quinn stepped between them. “Strike my betrothed and die where ye stand.”
