The Chilbury Ladies' Choir(23)
She got some change from her purse and handed me a few coins. I checked the money (it was a ha’penny short, but I decided not to press her for it) and then I took the brown bottle out of my bag, along with a teaspoon.
“How much do I have to take?” She took the bottle and eyed it, her rosy mouth pinched with fear.
“A teaspoon will do the trick. Let me pour it out for you.” I took the bottle and got her a glass of water. “There’s nothing like having a proper midwife to help you with these things.”
I stepped back to open the mixture, as the smell can knock you out. Breathing through my mouth, I poured the globuled liquid, and a faint green-gray effervescence lifted off as the smell of dog meat and motor oil crept up my nostrils unaware. I handed it over.
“Are you sure?” She dithered, grimacing at the powerful concoction.
“I know it doesn’t look appetizing, but what medicines do?” I eased her elbow up, lifting the spoon toward her mouth, and down it jolly well went.
She turned rather green, and I worried she might throw up, or worse, faint. It wasn’t an official medication as such, and I’d heard about some of the side effects—internal bleeding, convulsions, coma—and for a moment she gasped for air and her eyes seemed to pass backward into her head. I sat her down (before she fell) and patted her heartily on the back, and at last she choked violently and seemed more herself, clutching the bottle like it was a blooming lifesaver. I stayed with her a few minutes, trying to get the bottle away. I wasn’t going to leave any evidence for that interfering Tilling woman to examine. In the end I had to grab it and run, as time was moving fast.
“But, Miss Paltry, I feel something happening,” she gasped, grabbing my hand.
“Early days, early days,” I said kindly, yanking my hand away and running for the door. You see, I had to get the Winthrop baby out quick, before this one gave birth. It was all a matter of timing, and I wasn’t letting pleasantries get in my way.
I rushed out and strode up to the Winthrop house. To get to Chilbury Manor, you only need to cross the green and the square and take the lane up to the driveway. It’s ten minutes on a usual day, five if you’re in a hurry, less if you run. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.
Elsie met me at the side door, looking alarmingly disheveled, hair falling out from under her cap.
“I don’t know if I can watch the baby for you. I mean, if I had to,” she said. “Nanny Godwin stays in her quarters in the mornings, and there’s no one else about. I don’t know if I’d be able to get away.”
“You must,” I urged, taking her slim wrist and digging my grubby nails into the soft underside.
A gasp of pain escaped her. “I’ll do what I can.”
“You’ll explain that it’s for the baby’s sake, your duty as a servant.”
She looked bewildered, and as I followed her upstairs, I let out a sigh, thinking, God help me if the idiot girl ruins the whole thing!
Wimpy Mrs. Winthrop took the medicine without any qualms, only grateful that I should be thinking of her. Since it was her fourth child, labor began almost instantly, and the child’s head was peeking out before Elsie had got back with the hot water. There was a moment, I recall, where I wondered if luck would be with me and it would be male. But before I could even cross my fingers, the baby was born, and as she plopped out in front of me, my eyes homed in on the ominous lack of boy parts.
“It’s a boy!” I announced, containing my disappointment while snipping the cord and swiftly swaddling the baby in a blanket. I tried to be fast so Elsie wouldn’t see, but as I turned, there she was, a look of anguish on her face.
“But it’s a girl,” she said, quiet like.
“No, Elsie,” I said through gritted teeth. “It’s a boy.” I frowned at her and jerked my head toward the door, and I saw her eyes narrowing as the penny dropped.
Luckily the lady didn’t hear Elsie. “It’s a boy!” she cried meekly, “Thank God it’s a boy!”
“But he’s having trouble breathing,” I gasped, trying not to make it sound rehearsed. “I have a mechanical ventilator at my house. I’ll have to rush him away quickly. This maid can come with me. Will the nanny be able to help with the afterbirth?”
Elsie ran off to get the nanny, and I was left with Mrs. Winthrop begging me to see the child.
“Please, please, I want to see my baby!”
“No, no, no, Mrs. Winthrop. I need to get him away as soon as I can.”
She just kept on and on. Lucky she wasn’t strong enough to haul herself out of bed or else I’d have been in trouble.
Elsie returned promptly with the old nanny, who looked both tired and dismayed. I told her about the afterbirth, clamped the baby to my chest, and darted down the stairs and out the door. As I strode down to the village, Elsie trotted along beside me asking pointless questions and being worried about getting found out. I wished I’d never employed the stupid girl.
Back in my kitchen, I had a nice box for the baby and a bottle of milk made up from powder. The way I saw it, I’d only be gone a few minutes and she’d be fine with Elsie for that short time. As I laid her down, the baby looked up with her big china blue eyes, just like her sister Venetia’s, and I briefly wondered what it would be like to be a mother, to have such a lamb. I might have been a mother if that stupid Ida didn’t get pregnant and force Geoffrey to marry her instead of me. He didn’t even have proof it was his, the fool that he was. He could have asked me to help. I’d have sorted her out, well and proper.