“…Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
And even with something of a mother’s mind,
And no unworthy aim,
The homely nurse does all she can
To make her foster child, her inmate man,
Forget the glories he hath known,
And that imperial palace whence he came…
Then, exhausting that slim volume, she progressed desperately on to the poems of Sir Walter Scott:
“…Before their eyes the wizard lay,
As if he had not been dead a day;
His hoary beard in silver roll’d,
He seemed some seventy winters old…”
Part of Eleanor’s mind wandered through ancient castles with Sir Walter’s hero, then the sudden force of a push made Eleanor gasp and come sharply back to reality.Miss Hurstman stopped reading and stood, clutching the volume to her chest.
“Good, me dear!”encouraged Mrs.Stongelly cheerfully.“Soon now.Go with it.Rest when you can.There’s no hurry with a first.No hurry at all…”
The reassuring murmur of the midwife was the music of life as Eleanor was overwhelmed.She pushed with her body and then rested, pushed and then rested.Had she ever had an existence other than these whirlwind of forces?
“Is it not born yet?”she gasped, collapsing limply upon a moment of calm.
“No, my dear.”The midwife laughed, giving her a sip of wine.“You’ll know well enough when it is.Now move on your side, dear, and hook your leg over me shoulder so…”
Eleanor followed every instruction as she followed her body’s guidance.And she certainly did know well enough when the baby was born.She felt the baby bulge between her legs.She felt it coming out—first the head, slowly and big, so big; then the rest with a slippery, satisfying rush.
Then the waves were all over and she was on a peaceful shore…
A cry.
Eleanor looked down to see her child on the bed, the dark cord still running from the baby’s body into herself.The child looked up with big, dark, wondering eyes.Eleanor reached hungrily, not tired any more.“My baby,” she said.“My baby…”
“A lovely girl, see?”said Mrs.Stongelly with a wide smile as she wrapped a blanket loosely around the child.“Move gently onto your back now, Mama…” Then she gave the baby to Eleanor.
Eleanor looked into her daughter’s eyes.“Oh, you beautiful one.”This was worth even the night at her brother’s.“And there won’t even be any fighting over the Delaney heir, my sweet.Aren’t we a clever pair?”
Miss Hurstman exchanged a look with the midwife, who just smiled indulgently.“They’re always the same, ma’am.”
When the cord was cut Mrs.Stongelly took the babe from Eleanor for a moment and gave her to Miss Hurstman to hold.She too found herself whispering all sorts of nonsense to the wide-eyed mite.She was almost reluctant to return the child to her mother.
“Such a sweet child,” she said, holding her close.“And you did so well, Eleanor.”
“Indeed she did,” said the midwife.“I find the ladies often give me trouble.They fight it.No, you did very well, ma’am.The baby is as healthy as they come.Keep her warm and feed her yourself and you’ve as good a chance of her thriving as any.”
She took the child from Miss Hurstman and showed Eleanor how to put her to the breast.The baby sucked immediately.
“Ah, the sweet!”said the midwife with satisfaction.“Now she’s set.Keep her close and warm and feed her when she wants it.Get your rest and drink plenty.”With that she sat in a chair by the fire and appeared to snooze.
