“Is it time?” Edith asked.
It took a moment for the contraction to pass, and I took several more breaths before turning on the rocky path to walk back to Cumberland Hall. “I think the baby is getting ready to make her entrance.”
Edith’s hazel eyes widened as she put one gentle hand on my back. “I’ll help you to the house, and then we’ll send Williams for Dr. Aiken.”
“Thank you.”
It had been four months since I’d left Williamsburg. Four months of grieving, of remembering, and of choosing to focus on a future that looked much different from the one I had imagined. The time had gone by quickly since I no longer lived two separate paths.
Today would be the beginning of something new and profound. I would finally meet the child who had decided my fate, and I would learn whether or not she was marked.
As we walked toward the conservatory’s rear entrance, I began to pray that she was not a time-crosser. Though I had come to terms with my own path, I didn’t want to pass on this gift to another human being. It didn’t seem fair that we somehow had to carry this burden. And it didn’t seem fair that if she were a time-crosser, she would soon be born to a different mother in another time and place—one I knew nothing about.
It was such a strange reality, and it connected me to Mama in a new way.
We were almost to the top of the newly carpeted stairs in Cumberland Hall when the next contraction banded around my midsection. I had to stop and cling to Edith for support until it passed, leaving me breathless. I’d had no idea it would hurt this much.
“Just a few more feet,” Edith told me as she helped me from the hall into my room. “I’ll find Mr. Wentworth and then return to help you into a nightgown.”
I nodded, thankful to have her by my side. She helped me sit on the bed and then left.
“Just a little while longer,” I told my daughter, “and we will finally meet, and I will show you the wonders of this great, big, beautiful world.”
Reggie’s most recent letter was on my side table. Edith had brought it that morning, but I hadn’t taken the time to open it. His letters were few and far apart. In my last correspondenceto him, I’d finally told him about the baby. No doubt he had much to say on that topic.
I picked up the letter and opened the seal. It was the shortest letter he’d ever sent.
August 15, 1915
Libby,
We are on the move soon, so I don’t have time to write a lengthy letter. But I could not leave here without responding to your magnificent news. I confess, your last letter has taken me by surprise and delight. I wish I had known earlier, but I’m happy I know now. The trenches here in France are detestable, and though we live better than anyone else, it is still unfathomable. Despair and melancholy are a constant companion to us all, but when I read that I was to be a father and Cumberland Hall would have an heir, it was the greatest moment of my life. I know I have treated you abominably, and I cannot pretend that you love me, but I look forward to the day I might return to you and show you I am an honorable and worthy husband. Our marriage is the thing that sustains me on my darkest days, and it brings me great joy, knowing that when I come home to Cumberland Hall, it will be to a wife and child.
I pray your confinement is easy and that the child is healthy and strong. Please give him my love and affection until such time that I may offer it myself.
Yours affectionately,
Reggie
Another pain stole over me, and I clutched the letter in my hand as I closed my eyes, lowering my head. I breathed in andout until the pain passed, my fists pressing into my thighs. When it was over, I set the letter back on the side table and collapsed onto my bed in exhaustion.
I’d only had three contractions, and I was already fatigued. How would I withstand hours of this?
Reggie’s letter made me wonder if he would be a good father. Could we find a way to move past the tragic way our marriage started? Had Mama felt these things toward Papa in the early years? If she had found a way to love him, could I find a way to love Reggie? It didn’t seem possible, yet he was my husband, and I would have to find a way to live with him once he returned to Cumberland Hall. If not for my sake, then for our child’s.
Edith returned and helped me into my nightgown. By the time Dr. Aiken arrived several hours later, my body was spent, and my energy was flagging. The pain was unimaginable, but each contraction brought me closer and closer to holding my child in my arms.
“It won’t be long now, Lady Cumberland,” Dr. Aiken said after he had examined me. “You’re doing splendidly.”
“It doesn’t feel splendid.”
He smiled. “I would wager most mothers feel the same as you at this point. But when the child is born, you’ll be amazed at how quickly the memory of labor recedes.”
I hoped he was right, but I doubted him.
It was after dark when I began to push. Now more than ever, I longed for my mama to be at my side. I could almost imagine her there, comforting and encouraging me, holding my hand when it hurt the worst or when anxiety threatened to overcome me.
I didn’t have Mama, but I did have Edith. She stayed with me through the whole ordeal, wiping my brow, whispering encouraging words, and rubbing my arm when I whimpered in pain.
