Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager - By Sarah Mallory Page 0,51
and they would be able to send again for the midwife in the morning, but as the evening wore on Jane grew more restless and the pains more frequent. Susannah fetched a bowl of warm water to bathe Jane’s face and hands, and later Bessie came up with a tray, saying the viscount had ordered her to bring up tea and bread and butter for them both.
Susannah did not touch the food but she sipped gratefully at the tea, while Jane refused everything. She shifted uncomfortably on the bed, becoming more and more restless until eventually she was gasping and straining. Susannah knew the crisis must be very near now and she held Jane’s hand tightly, praying that nothing would go wrong.
The birth, when it came, was mercifully brief. Jane was crying out with the pain while Susannah stood by her, feeling helpless as she could do nothing but wipe her brow and murmur inadequate words of comfort. Jane’s anguish was growing by the moment and Susannah was on the point of calling for help when she saw with a mix of terror and delight that the baby was coming. Tentatively she reached out to cradle the head while she continued to encourage Jane. She watched, entranced, as the little body gradually emerged and she found herself crying with relief. The tiny form looked perfect and its angry cries were oddly reassuring. With infinite care she wiped the baby and wrapped it in a soft cloth before lifting it into its mother’s arms.
‘Look, Jane,’ she whispered, her voice hushed with awe and wonder. ‘You have a little girl.’
Chapter Ten
While Jane reclined against a bank of pillows and sleepily watched her baby taking its first, tentative feed, Susannah summoned Bessie to help clear up, then she went to tell Violet and Lizzie that all was well. The hour was advanced by the time she made her way downstairs once more and there was no sign of the viscount in the parlour. She followed the rumble of voices through to the kitchen, where she stopped in the doorway, staring in amazement.
A black range had been installed in the huge fireplace and the viscount was standing before it, stirring the contents of a saucepan. He had removed his jacket, rolled back his voluminous shirt sleeves and tied an apron over his pristine white waistcoat. He glanced round.
‘Ah, you are come down at last. Do come in and shut the door. Bessie told me the news. How are your patients?’
Susannah smiled at the term.
‘They are not my patients. I did very little, and we still need the midwife or a doctor to visit them as soon as the weather improves. But for now mother and baby are both well and resting.’ She looked towards the scullery, where Bessie was cleaning dishes. ‘You have had dinner, then. I am glad.’
‘There was a leg of mutton in the meat safe, so I have made collops for everyone.’ He reached for a frying pan and settled it over the fire. ‘Bessie and the ladies above stairs have already dined, but I was waiting for you to come down so that I could cook yours fresh for you.’
‘Oh, but there is no need, I am so tired, a little soup will do...’
‘Nonsense, you need to eat.’ He came across and took her arm, guiding her to the cook’s armchair at the head of the table. ‘Sit down there and do not move, save to drink the glass of wine I have poured for you.’
She gave a shaky laugh. ‘I do not think I could move if I wanted to, I am quite worn out.’
Outside the wind was buffeting the house and hurling icy pellets against the windows, but the kitchen was warm and comfortable, and Susannah was content to sit back and relax. She watched, entranced, as the viscount moved around the kitchen with all the assurance of an accomplished chef. Bessie, too, was completely at home, pottering between the kitchen and the scullery, responding to his instructions as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be directed by a peer of the realm.
‘I did not realise how hungry I had become,’ murmured Susannah as the viscount slid a plate in front of her.
‘No, you have been far too busy.’ He brought his own plate to the table, along with his glass and the decanter of wine. Before he sat down he went to the scullery.