Page 48 of Lady of Milkweed Manor

“You cannot help if you faint on me.” He turned to Charlotte. “Miss Lamb, please.”

Charlotte gently took the bowl and rag from the elderly midwife and began wiping Betsy’s forehead. She was sweat-soaked and clearly weak. Charlotte smiled at the woman, who was close to her own age. “I saw your new daughter in the parlor. What a beauty she is.”

“Is she?”

“Oh, yes.”

Betsy smiled faintly.

“I shall have to attempt to reposition the baby,” Dr. Kendall announced sternly.

Betsy grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Take her hand, there, Miss Lamb,” he instructed.

Mrs. Henning had already risen from her stool to take the other.

He pushed and strained against the woman’s abdomen, sweat pouring off his forehead. “I cannot ... quite ...”

“Thomas can help,” Charlotte said. “Thomas!” she called without thinking.

Thomas strode into the room, babe in arms.

“Give her to me,” she ordered. “The doctor needs your help.”

When Dr. Kendall looked at Thomas and hesitated, Mrs. Henning said, “He’s good, he is. He can help.”

“Just tell me what to do,” Thomas said.

“You push on her abdomen, here, when I tell you.”

Together the two men struggled and Betsy cried out and moaned.

“Hang on, Betsy,” Thomas said, looking pale as he glanced at his cousin’s contorted face.

Dr. Kendall looked again beneath the sheets. He swore beneath his breath. “I shall have to use the forceps.”

“No! Please, no ...” Betsy moaned and began sobbing. They all knew the dangers for both mother and child with the dreaded instrument.

“Mrs. Henning ...?” Betsy beseeched.

The older woman shook her head grimly. “Nothing else I can do, love.”

Betsy turned her head toward her cousin. “Thomas, please. Do something,” she begged.

Thomas nodded and said to Dr. Kendall, “May I try?”

Before Dr. Kendall could answer, Thomas was already moving into position at the foot of the bed, leaving Kendall little choice but to step aside.

“There now, Betsy, relax. Everything’s going to be all right. Just relax now—ease those muscles.”

Hunching low, one hand propped on the bed and the other reaching under the sheet, Thomas’s face was gripped in concentration.

“Sorry, Betsy, won’t be long. Try to relax.”

“All right, Thomas, all right,” Betsy panted.

“There’s the little one. I feel his head and neck. Come on, little one, come on ...”

His expression tightened with the effort of tempered strength.

Betsy cried out.

“Not yet, not yet. Now push!”

Betsy gritted her teeth and pushed.

“Here he comes. Here he comes.”

Thinking swiftly, Charlotte pulled out the bottom drawer of Betsy’s dresser and laid the first baby into it. Then she leapt forward to hand Thomas a clean sheet left there for this purpose.

“That’s it—get ready to catch him, Miss Charlotte.”

With a final cry, Betsy pushed and Thomas retracted his arm and together he and Charlotte guided the slick infant into the sheet.

Relieved and revived, Mrs. Henning hurried over and helped Charlotte rub the infant dry and clean out her mouth and nose before handing her to Dr. Kendall.

“It’s another girl, Betsy,” Mrs. Henning announced.

“Is she all right? I don’t hear anything—is she breathing?”

Dr. Kendall carefully turned the child upside down. When she didn’t respond, he swatted her gently on her bottom, then once again more smartly. The baby whined, then broke out in an angry cry. Dr. Kendall handed the child to Betsy, and her tears became those of joy.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you, all.”

Charlotte turned to look at Thomas. Dr. Kendall was staring at him too, clearly impressed. “How did you know to do that?” he asked.

Thomas shrugged. “Works with sheep.”

“Indeed?”

“I’ll go brew some yarrow tea for Betsy,” Thomas said quickly and left the room.

Dr. Kendall watched him go, amazement on his face.

“Who is that young man?”

“His name is Thomas Cox.”

“Ah yes ... I’ve heard of him. Friend of yours?”

“Yes.”

“Has he ever considered the medical profession?”

“I believe he has.”

“I wonder if he would be interested in an apprenticeship.”

“I believe Dr. Taylor wonders that as well.”

Charlotte returned to Lloyd Lodge two hours later, only to hear the baby’s piercing cries before she had reached the door.

Charlotte hurried inside. Mrs. Taylor was pacing the parlor, bouncing the child in an attempt to soothe her.

Lizette’s face was flushed red, and it was clear both mother and daughter had been crying for quite some time.

“ Ici . Take her.” Mrs. Taylor thrust the child toward Charlotte. “I cannot make her stop crying. It seems only you have such power.”

“No power, madame,” she said gently, taking the child in her arms. “Only milk.”

“ Non. It is clear my daughter prefers you. My husband as well ...”

“No, madame. Anne only wants me when she’s hungry.

” She sat down and skillfully unfastened the hidden front flap of her nursing frock, discreetly allowing the child to nurse with minimum exposure of her person.

“There you are.” She looked back up at Mrs. Taylor, hoping to assure her.

“As for Dr. Taylor, he was a friend to my family long ago, and I appreciate his offer of employment. I am grateful to have a position with such a respectable family as you are.”

New tears filled the woman’s eyes. “You say the right words. I know I should believe you. I should be thankful that you are here, taking care of my child. But I am not. I want to nurse her myself. But I cannot.”

“I am sorry.”

“My body, my mind, betray me. My husband ...”

“No, madame. Never your husband.”

“ Non ? Then, why am I so angry? Je pleure de rage .”

Lizette Taylor turned and strode from the room, the echo of her words capped with a sob. I am so angry I weep .

After laying Anne down for her nap, Charlotte knocked softly on Dr. Taylor’s study door, her heart pounding painfully.

“Yes?”

She stepped inside, leaving the door ajar.

“Good afternoon, Miss Lamb.”

“Good afternoon.” She cleared her throat. “Dr. Taylor, I am afraid the time has come for me to leave your employ.”

“Pardon me?”

“Do not think me ungrateful. I do appreciate all you have done for me. But it is time I moved on. I wonder if you might consider sending a messenger to find Sally? If you find her quickly, before she takes another position or her milk fades, she would serve you well, I have no doubt. Or if that does not suit, perhaps another nurse from the Manor.”

“But why? Has Lizette said something?”

“No. But I am certain Mrs. Taylor will understand my decision.”

“Charlotte. You have done nothing wrong.”

“Thank you. But I want you—both of you—to be happy, and I do not wish to be a hindrance to the peace of your family.”

“You are not—”

She lifted her hand to stop him. “Dr. Taylor, I know how your wife feels about me. In many ways, I understand her fears, her jealousy ...”

He looked at her, eyes wide. “You do?”

But she was not referring to him. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she whispered, “I know what it feels like to have my child look at another woman as his mother.”

He swallowed. “But this will be the case with any nurse.”

“Dr. Taylor ...”

“Forgive me. Of course that is not entirely true. She has no doubt seen my ... regard for you. Careful as I have been to conceal it. Have I not treated you with the utmost propriety?”

“Utmost.”

“I’m afraid Lizette is, by nature, a jealous person. I cannot deny I am concerned for your well-being, but of course, other aspects of our relationship are long over.”

“Of course,” she echoed. “Still. I feel it would be best if I leave. As soon as possible.”

He rubbed his hand over his eyebrows. “Do you think Sally would come?”

“I do. And it would put my mind greatly at ease if she did.”

“Very well. I shall do my best to find her.”

“Thank you.”

Charlotte walked from the room, still in control of her emotions. She walked quickly from the cottage to the seashore, where the waves could swallow her cries and a bit more salt water would not be noticed.