Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
Dustin’s two maids had joined in the waiting, helping Griselda with her every need so that the midwife could focus her complete attention on Dustin.
Thirty-two hours into her labor, the baby’s head was finally beginning to crown.
After two hours of hard pushing, even Griselda was growing concerned, but when she saw the dark little head forcing its way into the world, she felt a certain amount of relief.
“The child’s head is appearing, my lady,” she encouraged Dustin. “Push as hard as you can with your next pain.”
Dustin was spent. She had been spent for hours and hours but there was no mercy for her weary body.
She, the bedclothes, and the mattress were absolutely soaked with perspiration and fluids.
When the next unbelievable pain hit, she grunted loudly and tried to push, but she honestly did not think she could.
She’d been pushing for hours, or was it days, and nothing had happened.
She was so very, very tired that she did not care at this point if she died or not.
But this contraction did not subside like the others had, it continued until Dustin was shrieking with agony.
She could hear Griselda’s matronly voice, light and reassuring, encouraging her onward, but she has ceased to hear her words long ago.
She was wrapped up in her own world of agony until the pain suddenly subsided a bit and she felt a great, slippery rush and the pressure diminished substantially.
“Is…is it born yet?” she breathed heavily, feeling one of the maids swab her clammy brow.
“Almost,” Griselda said. “Another push and ’twill be free.”
Dustin seemed to snap out of her lethargy then; one more push. She began to live for that one more push and when the contraction came, she bore down with her remaining strength and was rewarded with a tremendous sense of relief. Almost instantaneously, she heard a thin wail.
More alert than she had been in over a day, she struggled to sit up to see the babe as Griselda and the maids fussed over the infant.
“Well? Is he all right? Is he healthy?” she demanded.
Griselda smiled and suddenly there was a fat, squalling, red infant displayed for Dustin to see. “Your daughter is fine,” she said. “Look how big and strong she is.”
Dustin was immediately entranced. She realized that she did not care that it wasn’t a boy; it was a beautiful, healthy daughter and she reached out and touched the tiny, sticky fingers. Tears of relief and joy coursed down her cheeks.
“She is big, isn’t she?” she whispered. “Oh, give her to me, please.”
Griselda cleaned the infant a bit and wrapped her in warm, clean swaddling.
Dustin had never experienced anything so sweet as holding her daughter in her arms for the first time.
She cooed to the baby, examining her tiny hands and touching her little face, all the while completely unaware that she was crying.
All of the pain and exhaustion from the past day and a half was suddenly worth the effort.
Griselda and the maids stood back a moment, watching the new mother with her new daughter, smiling happily between them.
But Dustin was very pale and very weak and needed her rest; the babe would still be there when she awoke.
Sending one of the maids for the wet nurse enlisted from the village, she gently took the babe from Dustin and handed it off to the other maid for more serious cleaning.
Dustin protested weakly at her child being taken away, but Griselda shushed her firmly. “You will be holding that child for years to come, my lady. Now we must take care of you.”
With that, she bade Dustin to drink a nourishing concoction that tasted terrible, but settled her stomach. Now that the newness of the moment had passed, Dustin began to quiver as if terribly cold and Griselda bundled her up in layers of coverlets and furs.
Warm, bone-tired but elated, Dustin was asleep before she even realized it.
*
Christopher must have fallen asleep with his head resting on his palm, because the next thing he knew, he heard David’s astonished voice and he shot out of his chair, instantly alert.
It took him absolutely no time at all to spy Griselda descending the stairs with a swaddled bundle in her aged arms.
Christopher felt his knees go weak, be it because he rose too fast or because he was overcome with rampant emotion, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the old woman approaching him with a smile on her face was cradling his child and he could not take his eyes off of the white blankets.
“Dustin?” he managed to croak.
“Fine, my lord, fine as I told you she would be,” Griselda replied. “And your daughter is a fine, healthy baby.”
Daughter. He had a daughter. Disappointment was nonexistent as he timidly took the babe and gazed for the first time on the chubby red face.
At that very moment there were no possible words to describe his emotions, for all that he seemed to be feeling was a peculiar euphoria that filled his body like warm honey.
He could only stand there and stare at the miracle he and his wife had created, his gratitude for both lives spared were immense.
When the baby stirred and made little sucking noises, he was instantly, deeply, in love.
The infant mewed like a kitten and the entire roomful of men and vassals let out a collective sigh of approval, moving forward to get a better look at the baby, but Christopher backed away from them and shielded the baby’s face with his free hand.
“I shall not have you breathing on my daughter like a pack of jackals,” he snapped, although it was done gently. He then turned to the midwife. “She is fine? I mean, my daughter?”
“Fine, fat and saucy,” Griselda nodded confidently. “Look at her for yourself, baron, and see how large she is.”
“I see,” he said softly, pushing a massive finger into a tiny palm and being rewarded with a strong grip.
He could not stop himself from smiling broadly.
David pushed forward, trying to peer into the creases of the cloth and Christopher took mercy on the man.
“See your niece? Isn’t she the most beautiful female you have ever seen? ”
“Aye, verily,” David agreed sincerely. “She looks just like her mother.”
Being reminded of Dustin again, Christopher looked at Griselda. “I must see my wife now.”
“She’s sleeping, baron, and in good hands,” the old woman assured him. “She will not know the difference if you spend a few extra minutes admiring your daughter.”
And admire he did. He crooned softly to the infant, announcing with satisfaction that she opened one tiny eye when she heard his voice.
His knights had ignored his warning and were crowding around anyway, so he threw back the folds of the blanket and displayed her quite plainly for all to see and cherish.
She was so very beautiful and perfect and in all his life he had never known such pride.
David was admiring her, too. But as he admired his new little niece with pride, another sinister, darker emotion entangled itself within the others and he uncomfortably shirked off the jealousy he was feeling.
Yet, as persistent as the rising sun, it bloomed again, stronger than before and David took a step back, hoping the evidence of his envy wasn’t visible on his face.
He took a good look at his brother, as happy as he had ever seen him, yet there was more to it.
There was a contentment he had never seen before and suddenly, he was wildly jealous.
His brother had a beautiful wife, a daughter, a keep and loyal vassals.
Once, David fit into those plans but he suddenly felt like an outsider.
For so long it was only he and Christopher, against all others, but now he suddenly realized it was he alone against all others.
Christopher had changed before his eyes and he had been left behind.
There were no flaws to Christopher’s and Dustin’s marriage.
They loved each other desperately, that was obvious.
The only negative intrusion had been that of Marcus Burton, and even that influence had simply faded away.
Aye, his brother and Dustin were stronger than ever, and with the introduction of the baby, David’s place in Christopher’s life was dissolved.
He had been shoved aside and he knew it.
The longer he looked at the babe, the more consumed he became.
“What are you planning to name her?” Leeton asked, touching the silky skin.
Christopher raised his eyebrows slowly. “ ’Tis likely to create a bit of a problem for, you see, my wife selected only one name, a male name. I have no idea if she had even considered a female name.”
Christopher caught sight of a figure descending the stairs and looked up to see his sister. Her face was a mask of thrilled astonishment as she saw what her brother held.
“The baby!” she shrieked. “Dustin had her baby. Oh, why didn’t anyone awaken me?”
She rushed to Christopher, begging to hold the infant and he reluctantly complied. She cooed and ogled and gushed, declaring the babe to be the most beautiful one she had ever seen. Then, she began calling the baby Curtis and Christopher stopped her.
“It is a girl, Deborah,” he informed her.
Deborah looked at him blankly for a second before her face spread into the most marvelous smile. “A girl? Thank God. There are too many men around here for my taste as it is.”
They all snickered as Deborah kissed the baby and told her over and over how very perfect she was.
Christopher crossed his arms across his weary body, simply content for the moment to watch his daughter as she was admired by all.
He felt as puffed-up as an arrogant peacock, but as the seconds passed, his heart was being pulled to the second floor bedchamber where his wife lay sleeping.
The baby began to fuss and wail lustily and Christopher was alarmed. “What’s wrong? Why is she doing that?”