Chapter Twenty #2
“Place your head in my lap; no one will mind,” she insisted and urged him to find a more comfortable position.
He shot a skeptical glance at the room, but Amelia and Dori did an admirable job of minding their own business.
Eventually, Pearce complied. He sighed pleasantly when she began stroking his thick hair, admiring the way the firelight glinted off the golden strands.
He was in need of a trim; his hair had grown long enough to curl at the ends.
His breathing slowed, his body relaxed, and he was peacefully asleep in a matter of seconds.
Smiling, Clara tilted her head back, savoring his comfortable weight nestled against the babe in her womb, feeling as if she held her entire heart in the circle of her arms.
She must have drifted off without realizing it, because Clara’s eyes shot open with a grimace, an uncomfortable ache in her low back making itself known.
Pearce continued to sleep deeply with his head pillowed on her lap, so she did her best to remain still so she would not disturb him.
That lasted all of ten seconds before the ache grew too intense and she needed to shift her position.
However, that only caused the cramp to wrap around to the front of her body.
Amelia looked up from her writing at Clara’s small sound of discomfort. “Are you well?” she asked in a soft voice so as not to disturb Pearce.
“I think so,” Clara said with a wince as the pang finally released her. “I think I have been sitting in one place for too long. It is better now.”
Clara watched as Amelia glanced over at her Dori, who had also looked up from his work.
They exchanged a look that unnerved Clara.
Her mind still groggy, she tried to recall the date, and it was then that she realized what the look meant: They believed she was beginning labor.
The midwife had reminded Clara several times that they could only approximate the day she would give birth, but the week had finally arrived.
She glanced down at Pearce’s sleeping face, not wanting to wake him, knowing now, more than ever, he would need his wits and composure for what was to come.
“It is fine,” she said as much for herself as the others in the room.
As concerned as she was for Pearce, Clara’s own nerves were making an appearance.
She’d never given birth and knew only of what to expect from the assistance she’d provided Amelia.
She prayed she could weather the task with as much strength and grace as Amelia had, but she wasn’t so sure.
“You will let me know if the pains persist,” Amelia said, more a statement than a question.
Clara nodded in agreement and settled back onto the couch just as Pearce released a contented snore. While the pressure in her lower back remained, no other cramps came…at least, not until much later.
She thought she did an admirable job of masking her discomfort throughout the remainder of the day and the evening meal.
Though Amelia kept sending questioning glances her way, Pearce seemed none the wiser.
She was grateful that he’d been able to rest some in the library because already his eyes seemed brighter and his mood was much improved.
The pain was still infrequent and inconsistent, so Clara decided she would not alarm him until it was absolutely necessary.
Later that evening, Clara brushed off Beth’s efforts to comfortingly rub her back as another cramp banded around her stomach. “I am fine, Beth,” Clara insisted, pointedly ignoring the taut expression her looking glass was reflecting back at her. “It is merely some late-pregnancy discomfort.”
The maid was not to be put off. “At least allow me to help you get into bed,” she fussed. “Can I fetch you anything? A cool compress?”
“Thank you, no.” Clara shut her eyes, instantly regretting how harsh her tone had been when Beth had only been trying to help.
She took a bracing breath and tried again just as the pain ebbed away from her and she could stand straighter.
“Lady Kempton has informed me on no less than three occasions that birth is imminent when the frequency of the pains becomes close together. I can still speak and walk around. I have monitored the clock and there is still no pattern to the pains. The last thing I wish is to sound the alarm and rouse the household for no reason. I would be mortified if it turned out to be an overreaction. Please, trust that I will send for whatever and whomever I need when the time is right.” She squeezed Beth’s hand to convey her sincerity. “And thank you for watching over me.”
After Beth took her leave, Clara tried both sitting and lying down, but she was too uncomfortable, too restless, so she paced.
The hours passed, but the discomfort and pressure refused to abate, lapping at her body and her mind like the erosive force of the ocean on shore. In small increments, it began to wear her down until she was desperate for a distraction.
Suddenly, as she stood before her chamber’s narrow window, her waters broke with a trickle and small gush, promptly followed by a pain that stole her breath.
It was so powerful that she was forced to grip the bedpost to keep her knees from buckling.
When the pain abated some, she stepped over the puddle she’d created, too uncomfortable to be embarrassed, and pulled the bellpull as she hobbled over to the door. She could put it off no longer.
She needed her husband.
She needed Pearce.
She needed his arms and his voice. She needed to stare into his eyes, letting them ground her.
Breathing carefully, the damp hem of her nightshift clinging to her legs with every step, Clara crossed the hall and opened his door without bothering to knock.
She found him still clothed in a linen shirt and breeches, standing before the fire with one hand propped upon the wooden mantle as if he’d been waiting for her.
“Pearce…”