Read Online Song Of The Nightingale (DeWinter's Song 1) by Constance O'Banyon - Free Book Online

searching for her. She watched in apprehension as her savings dwindled. She had no idea travel could be so expensive. It was almost midnight of the third day when Tetch guided the horses into a small stable and nodded at Kassidy.
    “Your sister be in the house, miss.” He swung her to the ground. “You can go right on in.”
    Kassidy hurried toward the house, where Mrs. Tetch stood on the steps, a lantern in her hand. “I’m so glad you’re here. I fear her labor has started.”
    “Take me to her at once,” Kassidy said.
    The servant nodded and led the way upstairs.
    Kassidy’s mind was filled with questions that she could not ask Tetch or his wife. Although the house was neat, it was not the home of “a man of great importance,” as Abigail had described the man she was to marry.
    The housekeeper showed Kassidy into a bedroom and bobbed a curtsy. “If you need anything, miss, I’ll be right downstairs.”
    There was a single candle burning in the room. Slowly, she approached the bed, hardly daring to breathe. “Abigail,” she whispered, “are you awake?”
    “Kassidy!” Abigail cried, raising her arms. “I knew you would come.”
    Kassidy dropped down beside her, and they cried in each other’s arms. “I’m here, dearest. Everything will be all right now.”
    “Oh, Kassidy, the baby is coming, and I didn’t want to be alone.”
    Kassidy looked about the sparsely furnished room. “Where is your husband?”
    Abigail laced her fingers through her sister’s. “He had to go away for a time, but he will return very soon.”
    “Let me send for him.”
    “I don’t know where he is,” Abigail admitted sadly. “I know he would be here if he knew his child was about to be born.”
    When Abigail saw the anger in Kassidy’s eyes, she said softly: “Don’t judge him harshly, Kassidy. He didn’t know I was going to have a baby.”
    Kassidy closed her eyes as she held Abigail to her. She would not speak the angry words that choked her. No matter what Abigail said, her husband should be with her.

7
     
    The vine-covered, thatched-roof cottage was nestled in a secluded vale just out of sight of the winding Thames. The noonday sun had reached its zenith, and it was stifling hot within the walls of the cottage.
    The stillness was broken by the movements of Mrs. Tetch, who rushed to the well to draw a pail of water, then quickly retraced her steps.
    In the upstairs bedroom, Abigail writhed in pain. Her golden hair was damp as it spilled across the pillow; her body was wet with perspiration as she labored in agony to bring forth her child.
    Kassidy dampened a cloth and applied it to Abigail’s forehead. “Don’t worry, dearest, I am here with you.”
    Abigail licked her dry lips and looked at Kassidy with apprehension in her eyes. “In this you cannot help me. But stay beside me, and I shall borrow your strength, as I always have.”
    “Be brave, Abigail,” Kassidy said, wishing her own heart was not racing with fear. Kassidy didn’t know what to do to help her sister. “The midwife will be here soon. She will know how to help you.”
    “Oh, Kassidy, it hurts so dreadfully.” Abigail’s voice trembled with fear. She rolled on the bed, her eyes wild with pain. “Help me, Kassidy,” she cried over and over, as the pain intensified. “Help me bear the pain.”
    Kassidy pushed a damp lock of hair from her sister’s forehead. “If only I could take your pain upon myself, I would do so, Abigail.”
    “The baby will soon be born,” she gasped. “I am told that when mothers hold their babies, they forget about the suffering.”
    Abigail gripped Kassidy’s hand as intense pain ripped through her body once more.
    “Whoever told you that was an idiot,” Kassidy muttered. She watched Abigail’s eyes close until the pain finally subsided.
    “You are so good to me,” Abigail murmured. “What would I do without you? I have missed you so much.”
    “We shan’t ever be parted again,” Kassidy said