Bridget threw open the doors of the house, startling the maid who stood there dutifully cleaning the banister.
“Fetch the doctor,” Bridget said. “At once. The baby is coming.”
The wide-eyed maid curtsied and darted away. That was the doctor sent for—onto the next task. “Halls!” Bridget shouted, sweeping into the foyer.
Where was he? Bridget searched the corridors, looking for someone with authority. If she could not find Halls, the housekeeper would do.
“Your Grace!” The butler emerged from Gerard’s study, sounding as though he had lost his breath. “How may I be of assistance?”
“My sister’s baby is coming,” Bridget said. “We will need a bedchamber prepared. The doctor will want boiling water and clean cloths.”
Halls bowed. “I shall arrange it at once, Your Grace. If I may make a suggestion, there is a bedchamber behind the stairs. It is seldomly used, but it may be easier for Her Grace to reach than her usual room.”
Dorothy’s agonized shout split the air. Gerard had finally managed to bring her into the house.
“Good thinking, Halls,” Bridget said.
She hurried to the doorway. Dorothy clung to Gerard, her face red and her breath coming in harsh pants for air. Gerard held her waist tightly. His expression was so panicked that Bridget might have laughed if the situation had not been so dire.
“Halls has suggested that we take Dorothy to the bedchamber beneath the stairs,” Bridget said. “It will be easier to access in her condition.”
“Yes,” Gerard said, sounding dazed. “Of course.”
He stumbled along, coaxing Dorothy along with him. Her face twisted in pain and sweat covered her brow. “It is coming,” she breathed. “The baby…”
“I know,” Gerard whispered. “I know. I know.”
“You can do this,” Bridget said, rounding to her sister’s side. “Everything is ready for you.”
Bridget took her sister’s hand, Dorothy’s grip painfully tight. “Bridget!” Dorothy exclaimed.
“I am here.”
“Please, do not leave me,” Dorothy said.
“I will not.”
By the time they reached the bedchamber, Dorothy heaved for air. Bridget hurried to the bed and threw the counterpane onto the floor. Dorothy braced herself against the mattress, Gerard hurrying to help her lay down.
“Y-you should go,” Dorothy said. “It would be improper for you to watch the birth.”
He squeezed her hand. “Not until the doctor arrives. My love, I must know that you are safe.”
A maid entered, her arms laden with clean linens.
“Place them here,” Bridget said, gesturing to the nearby table. “We will need to light the fire, and the medicine chest needs brought down.”
The doctor would likely bring medicines of his own, but it was best to be safe. If he had forgotten something or if unexpected complications arose, it would be good to have all the medicine at hand.
“Yes, Your Grace,” the maid said, curtseying.
Bridget glanced at her sister. At the moment, she seemed content with her husband’s company. Gerard remained crouched at her side, whispering soft encouragements in Dorothy’s ear.
What else needed to be done?Bridget frowned, thinking.
She knew very little of childbirth. Bridget had never seen a birth, and she had only read one treatise about childbirth in her life.
Halls entered, bowing deeply. “I see the cloths have been brought in. I have set the maids boiling water.”
