“Mother of God, if I dinna, I fear I shall burst,” Annabella exclaimed. Then she bore down with all of her might and pushed.
“Again!” Jean said. “And again! Ahh, here’s the bairn! We hae a lassie!” She held up the bloody infant, who began to squall loudly.
“Let me see her! Let me see her!” Annabella said. But then suddenly she cried out again. “Sweet Jesu! The pain! The pain!”
Jean handed the crying infant to her grandmother. Old Margaret pulled her aside to where she had laid out a basin of warm water, some lamb fat, and a rag to bathe and soothe the infant before she was swaddled.
Annabella screamed aloud. The urge to push down again was building up once more. What was happening? She had already birthed her child. “Jeannie,” she cried out. “Help me!” She groaned.
Bending, Jean saw a second head just crowning. “We hae a second bairn!” she said excitedly to the others.
“Twins!” the lady Anne exclaimed, cradling her now swaddled granddaughter. “Ye were a twin, Annabella.”
Jean nodded. Obviously Annabella’s mother had lost her other bairn, but no need to point that out as her young mistress labored to deliver that second bairn.
“Ohhhhhh!” Annabella groaned once more, but her second child was as quick to be born as its sibling had been. It slipped from her body after but two pushes.
A smile lit Jean’s face. “’Tis a laddie,” she said. “They’re both wee, but they’re both strong.” She turned back to attend to the afterbirth.
And as if to prove her point, the newly born infant began to howl as loudly as his sister had, extremely annoyed at having been pushed from his mother’s comfortable, warm, and dark womb. His little face squinched itself into a red wrinkle, and his balled little fists waved in protest. He was quickly bathed and wrapped tightly in swaddling clothes before being placed in his mother’s arms.
Annabella was astounded as she looked from one tiny face to the other. Neither of them seemed to have inherited her plain features. These were her bairns. She was a mother now. Her eyes grew wet, and tears slipped down her cheeks as her mother came to kiss her and praise her accomplishment.
Someone had had the presence of mind to send up to the castle. The Earl of Duin had come immediately, and now burst through the door of Margaret’s cottage, his handsome face filled with concern for his wife.
“We hae twins, Angus!” she crowed triumphantly. “A lad and a lassie!”
Angus Ferguson glanced at the infants and saw they were healthy. But it was his wife’s face his eyes sought. Kneeling by her bedside, he took her hand in his, kissing it fervently. “Thank ye, sweetheart!” he said to her. “Thank ye!”
“Are they nae beautiful?” she cooed at the babies. “Are they nae perfect?”
“Ye’re beautiful in my eyes,” he said to her. “Ye’re perfect.”
“I love ye, Angus,” Annabella said boldly to him. She had not until now felt brave enough to admit it to him.
“I love ye more,” he surprised her by replying, for neither had he ever until now admitted the emotions that had been filling him for the last months.
“What will ye name them, my lady?” old Margaret said. She was very proud that the earl’s heir and daughter and been born in her humble cottage.
“The lad shall be James Robert,” the earl decided. “James for the king and Robert for my lady’s good sire.”
Annabella smiled up at him. She knew the James was for James Hepburn and not the toddler king. “With my lord’s permission I should like to name our daughter Anne Margaret,” the Countess of Duin said. “Anne for my mother, and Margaret for ye, good dame, in whose house my bairns were born and first saw the light of day.”
“Ohh, my lady, such an honor.” And the old woman wept.
“We must get my daughter and her bairns back to the castle,” the lady Anne said. “When I think of all the preparations made for this birth, now useless . . .” She sighed.
“We’ll need a second cradle,” Jean said in practical tones. “How did ye know to come?” she asked her brother as she washed up from her labors.
“Little Una ran all the way up to the castle and came to fetch me,” he replied.
“Bless the lass,” Jean said, nodding. She had thought Annabella a bit sentimental when she had taken the girl in to educate, but the eight-year-old lass was showing a great deal of promise, having been the only one in the village to go for the earl.
A litter was brought down from the castle. It contained a woolen blanket and some furs. Annabella was well wrapped and carried from the cottage, to be put in the litter. The twin infants were snuggled down in the furs with their mother, and the litter was quickly carried back up to the castle. Jean remained to help old Margaret put her dwelling back in order. She sent one of the clansmen up to the castle to fetch fresh bedding for their hostess, for what was there was now wet with blood and birth fluids.
The two afterbirths, which had been saved in a basin, would be buried beneath an oak tree near the castle. They had dug the hole for it just a few weeks prior, lest the ground be frozen too hard when the time came.
Agnes was waiting with her father to greet her sister’s return. The laird of Rath voiced his approval at his daughter’s success in providing Duin with not just an heir but an heiress. Agnes cooed over the twins, marveling at their miniature perfection.
