Abigail had been a godsend.
Even the duke, the most coldhearted man she’d ever met, had been reassuring to her.
He, too, had lost children, and yet he and Abigail could only be described as a warm and loving couple. Their lives were not shrouded by the tragedies of the past. They both found joy in the present and hope for the future. And in each other.
Abigail entered the room just then, as another pain crawled through Penelope’s back and around her abdomen. This one, although sharper than the others, was endurable. Penelope grasped the bedpost and leaned into it. Abigail was there instantly and rubbed her back in a slow circular motion. When it appeared to be over, she finally spoke. “When did they start?”
“I think sometime in the middle of the night, but I had not realized what they were. About a half an hour ago, I think, I realized their purpose.”
Abigail glanced over at Rose, who stood by nervously. “Some water and tea, I think, Rose dear. We need to keep her strength up. The work has just begun.”
Rose nodded and left.
But Penelope’s mind was elsewhere. “He isn’t here, Abby. He’s going to miss it.”
Abigail, of course, knew exactly who “he” was. Penelope had told Abigail everything, from the very beginning through the agonizing end result.
“Do you think he was caught in the storm? Do you think his horse has gone lame? What if something happened to him, Abby? What if…?” God, what if the unthinkable had happened? He could have been overtaken by highwaymen or thrown by his horse. He could be lying dead in a ditch somewhere.
“Shh… Don’t think of that, Pen.” Abigail helped Penelope lay back down on the bed, on her side, and placed a pillow between her knees. “He’s most likely hale and healthy, sulking in some inn. He may be a dunderhead, but he isn’t a fool. He’d not risk his own life unnecessarily.”
“But what if something has happened?” Penelope moaned.
Abigail was silent for a moment. “Well,” she said thoughtfully. “Would you feel better if I sent Monfort out to look for him with his driver and some manservants? Perhaps they can discover where your husband has gone off to. It’s possible he’s never even left the area. Would you like for me send them?”
Penelope did not wish for Abigail to be without her own husband but the idea of simply knowing that Hugh was well appealed immensely.
“Oh, Abby, would you mind?”
Abigail smiled and patted her hand. “Not at all. If it brings your focus back to the task at hand, it will be well worth it.” She rose from the seat she’d taken on the bed. “Don’t go anywhere,” she joked. “I’ll be right back.
Penelope laughed weakly.Oh, please, please find him. She did not hate him, really. Really, she did not.
Rose returned with a large tray. She set it on the table and met Penelope’s eyes. She appeared much calmer now. Abigail must have had a word with her. Penelope would think of this as ‘the Abigail effect.’
“What will it be, Pen, chocolate or tea? Or just water? I’ve also some lemonade.”
Penelope laughed. She’d come well prepared. “Lemonade. But quickly, before another pain comes.” She swung her feet to the side of the bed and drank heartily. She’d not realized how parched she was until that moment. She made it halfway through a piece of toast before another pain began creeping up on her.
It was Rose who rubbed her back this time. Really, she ought not to be so needy of her husband with such wonderful women as these here to assist her. This pain was very much like the other had been. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so very difficult after all.
* * *
Several hours later, Penelope lay on the bed, gasping for breath, barely able to stand the torture that this labor had become. It took all of her will to breathe, to rest, to endure, and to breathe again. The doctor had arrived earlier that afternoon and examined her in a most embarrassing fashion only to announce that she was not even halfway there. He’d put his hand down there and poked harsh fingers inside of her. It had been painful and mortifying. She’d closed her eyes and buried her face in the pillow. A pain had gripped her at the same time but the physician, nonetheless, completed his task. The man had furrowed his brows and scowled. A large set of metal forceps lay on the table beside him.
“I’ll return in a few hours.” His voice was cold and impersonal.
Now, Penelope wished she’d not promised her mother that she would give care of herself and her babies over to the physician instead of Mrs. Huber. For the midwife had been somewhat offended. It would not do to call upon her at this late stage. Penelope wondered if she would come even.
Only Abigail’s ever-present calm kept her going. Although Penelope had known she’d disapproved of the doctor, Abigail would never say anything. There had been a certain look in her eyes, though.
Another pain. Penelope gave up her attempts at stoicism and let a low moan escape. It helped. She moaned again. Abigail dabbed a wet cloth at her mouth. Penelope imagined some of the pain exiting her body through her cries.
As the pains progressed, the world around her was becoming something of a white haze.
The doctor returned.
He told her to turn and lay on her back and then put his cold hands upon her again. “Well, now, let’s see if you have done your work, madam. Hmm,” he said as he pushed her thighs open. “I suppose we ought to give this a go, then, shall we?”
