Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,181

for the safe deliver-ance of Adeliza and their unborn child. The midwives had been with her all night and into this blustery March morning with rain spattering in the wind. She had not fared well while carrying, and except for the round swell of her womb and her engorged breasts, she was skin and bone, with exhaustion-shadowed eyes. Pressing his clasped hands to his forehead, he swore to God that if she survived this birthing, he would not seek her bed again, no matter how much she entreated him, or how much he desired her, because her safety and well-being far outweighed a few moments of intimacy, physical pleasure, and her driving need to prove she was fruitful.

When eventually he made to rise from his knees, the pain and stiffness was so great that he could scarcely move. He walked slowly round the chapel, easing feeling and movement back into his limbs, and then went to the door. Outside, the children were playing tag, their voices bright and eager. Wilkin, his light brown curls tamed by a recent haircut, was ducking and twisting as Adelis sped after him, her skirts kilted up like a peasant’s. She 448

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was as fast and lithe as a boy, with vibrant, delicate features.

Godfrey danced after them, shorter-legged but determined, and three-year-old Reiner ran along last, happy to be shouting and using his little legs, but not really involved in the game. Their youngest sister, Agatha, aged twenty-two months, and conceived on their visit to Rising, was asleep on a cushion, being watched over by her nurse. Will swallowed. Each of his sons and daughters was a precious gift. He thanked God for their lives and their good health, because he knew how precarious both could be.

Not many families went unmarked by the loss of a child, or of a woman in childbirth. He and Adeliza had been blessed five times already and he was afraid that such grace was running out.

Glancing beyond his playing offspring, he saw Juliana coming towards him, and his stomach knotted. She had been bringing him reports throughout the morning and they had not been particularly encouraging. The baby was big, and Adeliza was struggling. Juliana’s face was pale and serious and he did not want to hear what she had to say.

“Sire, the countess has been safely delivered of a son,” she announced.

He stepped sideways so that he had the support of the wall at his back because he was shaking. “You speak truly? Adeliza…

is she…?”

“She is weak, sire, and very tired, but God willing she will recover. The infant is strong and lusty.” She gave him the ghost of a smile.

“Praise God.” He had to pinch tears of relief from his eyes.

Juliana curtseyed and returned to her duties. Drawing himself together, Will cuffed his eyes and summoned the children from their game to tell them that their mama had given them another brother. With the nurses in tow, he brought them to the chapel to light candles in gratitude for Adeliza’s life, and that of their new sibling.

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Later, alone, Will climbed the stairs to the confinement chamber, hesitated outside, then, taking a deep breath, went in. Adeliza was lying in bed, propped up on numerous pillows.

Her hair, stranded with grey, lay on her breast in a single braid, bound with a purple ribbon. She was awake, but her face was white and exhausted. The baby lay in a crib beside her, swaddled and sleeping. Gingerly, Will leaned over to kiss her.

“I was worried about you,” he said gruffly.

“God and Saint Margaret saw me through,” she said with a faint smile.”

“Perhaps, but we should have no more.”

“When I wed you, I thought I might not bear any at all,” she whispered.

He picked up her hand to kiss the wedding ring he had set there. “I never doubted you would.”

“I would not deny any of them their lives. They are God’s gift.” She directed his attention to the cradle. “I want him to be named Henry.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Henry,” he said flatly.

“To honour my first husband, and be insurance for the future,” she said. “Stephen cannot object because it is the name of his uncle and his brother, and fitting…and it is what I want.” Fatigued, she lay back against the bolsters.

His expression softened. “As you wish.” He leaned over the cradle to touch the baby’s cheek. “I will attend to his baptism tomorrow. I…” He raised his head and