“I would like to see Matthew, yes,” she said, but Paul could see that Juliette was distracted. A tension crossed her face, and her lips tightened.
“What is it?” he asked, noting the change in her expression.
“My back has been hurting all day. I think I’d like to go and lie down.”
Her mention of back pain made him uneasy, but he would say nothing to make her afraid. “I’ll help you.”
He eased her up, and she sent him a rueful smile. “I wonder if I’ll ever see my feet again.”
“Of course you will.” But as he helped her up, he saw the visible discomfort. She said nothing, but she hesitated before taking another step.
The contractions had started; he was sure of it. And she hadn’t intended to tell him—at least, not yet. Each step upstairs was a struggle for her, but he led her past their bedroom, to another room he’d prepared.
“I thought you wanted me to lie down,” she protested, when he opened the door.
“And so you will. But here, instead of in our room.”
The bed he’d prepared was stripped of all coverings except clean sheets. He’d given her a pillow, and upon the dressing table, he’d laid out the instruments he would need. Although they had been cleaned before, he intended to boil them again to take no chances.
She sat down on the edge of the bed. “I wasn’t going to tell you.”
“I’m a physician, Juliette. Of course I recognize when a woman has begun her labor.” He went to sit beside her, loosening her gown. His hand passed over her womb, and he felt the skin harden during another contraction. Juliette closed her eyes, her face pale.
“The contractions only just started this morning. It will be a while yet.”
“We’re going to remain here,” he said. “This is your second child, and your labor will not be as long as the last one.”
“And how many babies have you delivered?” she said, half in teasing.
“Seventeen.” Most had been normal, but he’d delivered two breech children and one stillborn. He knew well enough the danger they would face together. But his greatest fear was having to perform surgery to take the bairn out. He had no desire to put Juliette under the knife, particularly with all the risks.
Her hands dug into the sheets, and she closed her eyes as another wave of pain struck. God, it made him feel so helpless. He wanted to take the agony from her, if he could. But the only medicines that would suppress the pain would also endanger the labor.
He rang for their housekeeper and ordered her to begin boiling some water. The pains were beginning to come closer together, and Juliette was struggling.
Paul began talking to her, telling her stories to set her at ease. Of how their cat Dragon had brought a live mouse into the kitchen and scared the life out of a scullery maid. He talked endlessly, but when her labor intensified, he saw that the conversation was becoming more of an irritation to her than a comfort.
“I need to examine you, to see how you’re progressing,” he told her. He helped her to remove her clothing and then washed his hands again.
Superstitious, perhaps, but it seemed right to do so.
Juliette’s stomach was hard, and he felt the position of the child, noting where the sharp corners were. She was fighting against another contraction, and he knew it would only be a few hours longer, if that.
A knock sounded at the door, and after he covered his wife with a sheet, he ordered the housekeeper to come in. But instead of the servant, his mother stood there, a basket over one arm.
“There’s my wee lamb.” She smiled at Juliette and came over to give her a kiss. “It’s glad I am to see ye.”
“I thought I was your wee lamb,” Paul remarked drily.
“Once, ye might’ve been, aye. But now, I’ve come to see my first grandchild delivered, and to help as I’m needed.” Bridget poured water into the basin and washed her own hands. “I see ye started without me.”
Though his mother had an air of command, Paul wasn’t about to leave the room. He leaned in and kissed her cheek in welcome. “I am glad that you’ve come.”
She nodded and went to examine Juliette. As soon as her hands passed over his wife’s stomach, he saw the flicker in her eyes. She knew, as he’d guessed, that the infant was breech.
“Juliette, love, I want you to lie back,” Bridget urged. “Your sweet bairn is facing the wrong way, and Paul and I are going to turn it.”
His wife obeyed, but he could see the rigid terror in her face. “I was afraid this would happen.”
