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Authors: Charlotte Betts
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I would have thought possible.’
‘And I suspect your Mr Savage has something to do with that?’
‘Oh Martha, I cannot hide it from you! Certainly he has distracted my thoughts away from the irritations of life since I’m
as wanted as a piece of two-week-old fish by my father and Arabella.’
‘Have you thought any more about looking for a position in another household?’
‘Of course I have! But I refuse to let Arabella push me out of my home.’
‘Marriage would allow you to have your own household, where you would answer to no one except your husband.’
‘I’ve told you, Martha, I will not marry.’ Susannah resolutely put aside the thought of Henry Savage’s sparkling blue eyes.
‘Susannah, for goodness’ sake! You
must
forget what happened in the past.’
‘I only wish I could.’
Walking home, Susannah reflected upon what Martha had said.
Could
she ever forget what had happened? It was eleven years ago but the events of that time were burned into her memory and she
could remember it as clearly as if it were last week.
Mother had seemed well, right until the end. That last baby had been a surprise, a shock even. In the thirteen years since
Tom hadbeen born, Mother had miscarried four babies, followed by a long time in which she had not conceived at all. In fact she confided
that she had stopped hoping for another child.
‘It must be God’s will. Besides,’ she had said, ‘I have my two perfect children. What mother could hope for more?’
When Elizabeth’s courses stopped and her waist began to thicken she thought it was the change of life. It wasn’t until she
felt the baby move that she realised the truth.
‘My precious, last chance baby,’ she said.
Together, she and Susannah sewed tiny clothes and hemmed sheets for the cradle. Susannah made a little cloth rabbit with lop
ears and looked forward to the day when she would sing a lullaby to her new brother or sister while she rocked the cradle.
The first pains started one evening during supper.
‘It’s too soon to call the midwife,’ said Elizabeth.
Susannah banked up the fire in the bedchamber and sat beside her mother through the long night, rubbing her back and murmuring
encouraging words.
Cornelius busied himself in the dispensary, at intervals bearing herbal infusions upstairs to ease the pain.
Goody Tresswell called by and pronounced that all was progressing normally. She closed the shutters tight for fear of draughts
and stoked the fire until the flames leaped in the grate, casting flickering shadows on the walls.
But the baby was in no hurry.
At last, on the afternoon of the second day, Elizabeth began to push. She heaved and sweated, making deep, frightening groans
as she strained.
‘It can’t be long now, Mama. I’ll send Tom for Goody Tresswell again.’ Susannah sponged her mother’s face, a knot of worry
in her breast.
‘I’m so tired,’ Elizabeth said. She closed her eyes, purple-shadowed with exhaustion.
The midwife broke the caul with a sharp-ended thimble, releasing the waters and making the contractions even fiercer. She
presseddown so hard on her patient’s stomach that Elizabeth screamed. But still the baby didn’t come.
Goody Tresswell’s mouth set in a thin line of determination as she kneaded Elizabeth’s belly. ‘You must push harder, Mistress
Leyton.’
‘I can’t,’ mumbled Elizabeth. ‘Let me sleep.’
Cornelius, hovering outside the birthing room door, called to the midwife and they had a whispered consultation. Tom was sent
to fetch the doctor.
An hour later he returned, not with Dr Quiller, an old friend of the family, but with a stranger, a loud man in a stained
coat.
‘Dr Ogilby,’ he said. His breath carried the pervasive reek of rum. Rubbing his hands together, he belched slightly. ‘What
have we here?’ He peered down at Elizabeth, who lay with her eyes closed. ‘Wake up, madam! Your work is not finished yet.’
Staggering
‘And I suspect your Mr Savage has something to do with that?’
‘Oh Martha, I cannot hide it from you! Certainly he has distracted my thoughts away from the irritations of life since I’m
as wanted as a piece of two-week-old fish by my father and Arabella.’
‘Have you thought any more about looking for a position in another household?’
‘Of course I have! But I refuse to let Arabella push me out of my home.’
‘Marriage would allow you to have your own household, where you would answer to no one except your husband.’
‘I’ve told you, Martha, I will not marry.’ Susannah resolutely put aside the thought of Henry Savage’s sparkling blue eyes.
‘Susannah, for goodness’ sake! You
must
forget what happened in the past.’
‘I only wish I could.’
Walking home, Susannah reflected upon what Martha had said.
Could
she ever forget what had happened? It was eleven years ago but the events of that time were burned into her memory and she
could remember it as clearly as if it were last week.
Mother had seemed well, right until the end. That last baby had been a surprise, a shock even. In the thirteen years since
Tom hadbeen born, Mother had miscarried four babies, followed by a long time in which she had not conceived at all. In fact she confided
that she had stopped hoping for another child.
‘It must be God’s will. Besides,’ she had said, ‘I have my two perfect children. What mother could hope for more?’
When Elizabeth’s courses stopped and her waist began to thicken she thought it was the change of life. It wasn’t until she
felt the baby move that she realised the truth.
‘My precious, last chance baby,’ she said.
Together, she and Susannah sewed tiny clothes and hemmed sheets for the cradle. Susannah made a little cloth rabbit with lop
ears and looked forward to the day when she would sing a lullaby to her new brother or sister while she rocked the cradle.
The first pains started one evening during supper.
‘It’s too soon to call the midwife,’ said Elizabeth.
Susannah banked up the fire in the bedchamber and sat beside her mother through the long night, rubbing her back and murmuring
encouraging words.
Cornelius busied himself in the dispensary, at intervals bearing herbal infusions upstairs to ease the pain.
Goody Tresswell called by and pronounced that all was progressing normally. She closed the shutters tight for fear of draughts
and stoked the fire until the flames leaped in the grate, casting flickering shadows on the walls.
But the baby was in no hurry.
At last, on the afternoon of the second day, Elizabeth began to push. She heaved and sweated, making deep, frightening groans
as she strained.
‘It can’t be long now, Mama. I’ll send Tom for Goody Tresswell again.’ Susannah sponged her mother’s face, a knot of worry
in her breast.
‘I’m so tired,’ Elizabeth said. She closed her eyes, purple-shadowed with exhaustion.
The midwife broke the caul with a sharp-ended thimble, releasing the waters and making the contractions even fiercer. She
presseddown so hard on her patient’s stomach that Elizabeth screamed. But still the baby didn’t come.
Goody Tresswell’s mouth set in a thin line of determination as she kneaded Elizabeth’s belly. ‘You must push harder, Mistress
Leyton.’
‘I can’t,’ mumbled Elizabeth. ‘Let me sleep.’
Cornelius, hovering outside the birthing room door, called to the midwife and they had a whispered consultation. Tom was sent
to fetch the doctor.
An hour later he returned, not with Dr Quiller, an old friend of the family, but with a stranger, a loud man in a stained
coat.
‘Dr Ogilby,’ he said. His breath carried the pervasive reek of rum. Rubbing his hands together, he belched slightly. ‘What
have we here?’ He peered down at Elizabeth, who lay with her eyes closed. ‘Wake up, madam! Your work is not finished yet.’
Staggering
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