Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Yvette struggled to find sleep that night, and it was for two reasons.
The first and most obvious was on account of her conversation with the Duke.
It rattled about in her head and left her with a sense of being unfinished.
Although she was certain that she knew what he had meant, just as she had been able to sense what he wanted, that they said nothing further felt wrong to her.
They were so close… the answer was right on the tip of their tongues. But they were unable to say it, speaking around what they wanted, while unwilling to put voice to the risk that she knew they needed to take.
At least that is how I feel. And while I am certain the Duke feels the same, how can I be sure? How can I know that which he does not say?
If what Yvette thought she knew was the truth, then they had to do something about it – they had to stop talking around it and speak to what was in their hearts.
This was easier said than done.
The ride home had been awkward. With the mood broken, and Yvette’s ankle now the center of attention, the Duke seemed perfectly happy to ignore what they spoke of, and Yvette certainly wasn’t going to be the one to voice it.
What is it going to take for us to say what is on our minds? What do we need to happen so that we might finally take a chance…
She was afraid, was why. Still, the lingering fear deep within so that if she was to do something about it, she needed a final push.
She tossed and she turned with these thoughts, and it was made even worse by the state of her ankle. It throbbed painfully, it rolled up her leg and through her body, and every time she turned over or moved without consideration, a spike of pain would shoot through her body.
For hours she tried to find sleep, and it would not come. Desperate, and out of options, she decided to make her way to the kitchens and have some chamomile tea – her father used to drink it when he struggled to sleep, and she prayed that it would help her do the same.
She limped through the house silently. She hugged the walls and used them to balance. She crept down the stairs, wincing with each step taken. Finally, after what felt like hours, she stumbled into the kitchen.
“Yvette!” Lucinda was there. “What are you doing?”
Yvette started at the sight of the cook. The kitchen was perfectly dark, the house sat in a state of absolute silence, but there was Lucinda, wide awake and very much pregnant.
She sat on a stool by the sink, hands on her swollen belly, staring out the window and into the night as if searching for answers. The moon shone across her face, she smiled to see Yvette, and then she laughed as if at a joke.
“Maybe you should be the one asking what I am doing,” she chuckled and shook her head. “Nothing nefarious, I promise you.”
“Now, why don’t I believe you?” Yvette smiled as she approached the pregnant cook.
Lucinda grinned. “Just trouble sleeping, I promise! It’s this darn thing!” She held her belly with both hands and jiggled it. “It is impossible to find comfort, no matter what I do.” She grimaced suddenly and then winced with pain.
“Lucinda…” Yvette took a hurried step toward her.
“I am fine,” Lucinda assured her, although her breathing was suddenly heavy. “Just a cramp. I have been having them all evening.”
“Are you certain?”
Lucinda snorted. “She asks while having no idea herself…” She side-eyed Yvette, who came in beside her. “Although, maybe one day that will change.” She raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Perhaps…”
Yvette looked away, praying that Lucinda would not ask any follow-up questions. It was funny that she had managed to avoid speaking of pregnancy for much of her life, only to suddenly have the topic thrust upon her everywhere that she turned.
“So, are you going to tell me?” Lucinda’s breathing was still heavy but at least she was no longer wincing.
Yvette grimaced and looked away, her heart thumping. “Tell you what…”
“Why you are awake, of course!”
“Oh.” Yvette breathed a sigh of relief. “That.”
“Yes, that,” Lucinda laughed. “I thought I was the only one crazy enough to be up at this hour.”
Feeling tremendous relief, Yvette shared with Lucinda the story of her twisted ankle. She hoisted up her shift, showing off the swelling, happy to laugh at herself for attending her first-ever ball, only to make a fool of herself almost immediately.
“Oh, I am sure it was not that bad.”
“No?” She scoffed. “Picture this. His Grace, having to carry me in his arms from the ballroom as half the guests watched on.”
“Carried you…” Her eyebrows rose above her forehead. “That sounds… romantic.”
Yvette looked at her flatly. “Do not even go there.”
Lucinda grinned. “So, I take it you are after something to stop the swelling?”
“Just some tea,” Yvette said. “I thought it might help me sleep.”
“Say no more!” Lucinda slapped her thighs and went to stand.
“What are you doing?” Yvette took hold of the woman’s shoulders and pushed her back down.
“My job, is what…” She tried to wiggle free, but Yvette refused to let her.
“I am perfectly capable of making my own tea, thank you.”
“As am I!” she protested, albeit with little effort.
She was acting strangely, and Yvette could see the way she constantly tried to hide how much pain she was in.
She claimed it was just cramps… but Yvette sensed something was wrong.
“I am pregnant, not an invalid. Now, let me go…” She shrugged Yvette back.
“Lucinda, please,” Yvette begged. “You do not need –”
“I do.”
“I can –”
“As can I!”
The two women glared at one another… and then burst into laughter. With that, the feigned tension was dispelled, and they agreed that they could help one another make tea.
“I will miss it here,” Lucinda said as she waddled across the kitchen in search of tea leaves. Again, her breathing was a little too heavy to not be noticed…
“What do you mean?”
“Once the baby comes,” she said. “Even though I plan on coming back, it won’t be for some time. And His Grace…” She rolled her eyes. “He insists that my days in the kitchen will be done. Too busy raising the baby, he says it.”
“He is just watching out for you.”
“Oh, I know,” she agreed. “But that does not mean –” Her eyes suddenly widened, she grabbed hold of her belly, and she doubled over in pain.
“Lucinda!” Yvette hobbled across the kitchen, ignoring the pain in her ankle. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing…” the cook grimaced and groaned. “Just another cramp. I’m – argh!” she doubled over further, clutching her belly, nearly collapsing to the ground. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“I was sure it was too soon. But… the baby… I think… yes, it’s coming…”
Naturally, Yvette lost all composure.
She stumbled back as Lucinda panted and groaned. The room turned as Lucinda started to breathe in and out. And her legs trembled and then buckled as Lucinda screamed and water began to drip down her legs.
Oh no… no, no, no, no… not again…
Memories flooded Yvette’s consciousness in ways that she tried so desperately to stop. Images of her mother covered in blood. Sounds of screaming. Her father’s wailing. And the baby…
“Yvette!” Lucinda puffed and stumbled toward her. A hand grabbed Yvette by the arm and pulled her from her imaginings. “I need… a bed… help… you need to…”
“Oh!” Yvette shook her head and pushed the horror away. Then, thinking quickly, blocking out the memories the best that she could, she lifted Lucinda’s arm around her shoulder and took her weight.
Her ankle cried out in agony, Yvette nearly lost balance, but she pushed through the pain and started to guide the pregnant cook through the kitchen.
“Spare room…” Lucinda panted. “Down the hall… by the… the servant’s staircase…”
Yvette knew the room that she spoke of, and she led her there as quickly as she could.
But it was slow going, the manor was pitch black, and each step they took not only had Lucinda groaning and panting and puffing, but Yvette’s ankle throbbed so painfully she wondered if it might be easier to snap the thing off entirely.
The room was empty, but what was needed. There were several single cots lined against the walls, and Yvette led Lucinda to the one closest.
“Careful…” Yvette said as she helped the pregnant woman onto the cot. “There you… almost…”
“Thank God!” Lucinda exclaimed as her body collapsed onto the cot with a thud.
She breathed heavily. She sweated terribly. And even in the darkness, Yvette could see the physical toll that labor was taking on the poor woman. She writhed and groaned as she held her belly, and all Yvette could do was gape.
“Mrs. Fletcher…” Lucinda panted. “She… she will know what to do…”
Still, Yvette stared blankly.
Again, she was visited with memories of her own mother.
Yvette had been just ten years old at the time, and she remembered the day as if it was yesterday.
They were outside in the field, playing in the sun, the world was perfect, and Yvette did not have a single care.
That was when her mother started to scream…
“Yvette!” Lucinda cried. “Go!”
“Y – yes!” Yvette stumbled back. “I… I will be…” She turned and staggered from the room.
Yvette could not remember what happened next. Not with any real clarity. Vague images of her rushing through the house and waking Mrs. Fletcher. Blurred visions of her babbling about Lucinda’s pregnancy, tears streaming down her face, feelings of utter uselessness.
Thankfully, Mrs. Fletcher was far more composed than Yvette could ever hope to be. The elderly housekeeper was quick to push past Yvette and rush to wake the maids. Then, she was just as quick to take them downstairs, where they began to help Lucinda with her delivery.
Yvette wanted nothing more than to go to bed and forget that this had ever happened. To wake tomorrow and hear joyous news of the birth and how nothing went wrong. But she knew that was not possible.
Her body rebelled against her as she started back toward the room where she had left Lucinda.
As she went, she heard the poor cook crying out in pain. The sound of her wailing echoed through the house and battered Yvette to the ground so that she had to drag herself closer. When they reached the room, she was relieved to see that the door was closed. That was until she heard it…
The sounds that came from beyond the closed door struck terror into her, and there was no way that she could bring herself to go inside.
She fell into a heap on the floor. Back against the wall. Knees into her chest. She rocked back and forth as she listened to Lucinda, her friend, screaming and crying and begging for mercy.
What are they doing to her… how can this be happening… please, please get through this… you must!
The labor went on for what felt like hours. Throughout, Yvette stayed right where she was. She had her eyes closed. She had her knees hugged to her chest. And she fought against the visions of blood and death that tried to destroy her.
Finally… after many hours… silence…
Yvette took a moment to recognize the silent din.
She slowly lifted her head and found the closed door, her brow tight and furrowed as she listened for any sign of what had happened beyond.
But the silence continued so that it was deafening, and Yvette forced herself back to her feet. She had to see for herself.
Slowly, hand shaking, she opened the door.
There were several lanterns placed across the floor, and their light cast the room in a soft orange glow. Beyond, she spied several of the maids crouched around Lucinda’s single cot. And past their shoulders, Yvette held her breath as she peered through…
Oh no…
Blood. It was everywhere. Yvette lurched back and nearly screamed. The room turned, and she stumbled and just about fled – she might have, were it not for her ankle.
It had happened again. Death, brought through childbirth, and just when she was finally starting to come to terms with it. Just when she was starting to consider that she might…
Yvette very nearly gave in then and there.
On the verge of breaking, it was all she could do not to burst into tears when she was saved by a sound that she could not quite describe.
She thought she imagined it, that her suffering had brought it on.
But no… that sound… that heavenly cry… it was the soft wailing of a newborn babe.
She had never heard anything so perfect. It shattered the darkness, it broke through the misery, and it reached out, took hold of Yvette, and dragged her from her sorrow.
Yvette staggered forward, her heart soaring.
The maids parted way to reveal Lucinda, very much alive.
The sheets that covered her legs were stained in blood, but it was nowhere near as bad as Yvette had thought.
And while Lucinda did indeed look on the verge of death, she wore such a bright and tremendous smile that it was like the sun rising over the darkest of night.
In her arms, tucked in nice and close, was her newborn child.
“There she is…” Lucinda beamed when she saw Yvette. “I thought I lost you.”
“Me?” Yvette’s laughter was broken and awkward.
Lucina chuckled along. “You see…” She gestured to her baby. “It’s not so bad. Might even say it was worth all the effort.”
Yvette could not agree more.
She stood over the bed and gazed upon the newborn child.
She recognized the beauty of the moment, the purity and the innocence of this most wonderful event.
She saw the love in Lucinda’s eyes, she saw the tears of happiness streaming down the maids’ faces, and she felt peace in her heart like she had no known was possible.
I was wrong. This is not a nightmare. This is not the end. This is not terror and pain and death like I imagined. It is… beautiful.
She wanted it for herself. She wanted a child of her own. She wanted someone to share it with. And she wanted the life that such a thing promised her. She wanted… her own happily ever after.