“Mr Patmore, the doctor wants to know your decision now in case…” The midwife hesitated and wiped her hands on her apron as she looked down, avoiding his eye. “In case he can only save one of them.” She cleared her throat. “Would you prefer the doctor to save your son or your wife?”
He looked at her as if she were mad. There was no question about it; Eliza would come first every time. It was only now he registered that the child was a boy. He bit down on the brief flare of excitement. Nothing mattered except Eliza’s welbeing.
“Mr Patmore, before you answer, you must know that there’s a possibility your wife will be unable to have more children.” She sent him an almost challenging look. “You need to know that before you decide.”
“No, I don’t.” He shook his head, closing his eyes as he digested this piece of news. “As long as Eliza makes it through this, that’s all that matters.” He gripped the curtain, wanting to wrench it from its position as a mark of his rage.
Every day for the last two years, he’d been lucky enough to cherish Eliza. She’d made the days warmer, his life happier, his world brighter.
“I can’t bear to lose her.”
“Yes, sir,” the woman said, returning to the birthing chamber.
With his eyes still closed, he slumped down on the window seat by the half-open door that separated the two bedrooms. He could hear the sounds within as the doctor issued orders to the midwife. Rufus had insisted on a London physician rather than a local midwife, although his sisters had been critical. Eliza had smiled and said she’d do whatever made him happy.
It’s how she was. Full of joy, always kind, ready to make so many little concessions to add peace and comfort to Rufus’s life, yet not being afraid of telling him when she thought he was wrong. God, he loved her!
And now he feared that his insistence on having his own way might have cost Eliza her life. The Princess Charlotte had died in childbed not long before, under the care of a male physician.
He put his head in his hands and tried to stay strong. Something was happening in the next room, and the increasing urgency transmitted right throughout his body.
“Eliza, my dear one, I don’t know if I can go on without you,” he whispered to himself. He was unaware of time.
Perhaps hours had passed, perhaps only minutes, when he jerked his head up at the sound of his name being called softly by the midwife, standing on the threshold.
“Mr Patmore, Mr Patmore, would you like to come in now?”
“Eliza…?” he began, his voice breaking.
“Your wife is fine, Mr Patmore. And so is your son.” Discreetly, the midwife produced a cloth so he could wipe his streaming eyes. “You may go in and see them now.”
“Eliza!” Rufus hurried into the room, unwilling to believe what only his eyes could tell him.
“Rufus!” Pale, and with dark shadows under her eyes, but serene as ever, Eliza was lying in the bed, propped up on pillows. She lowered her voice which was full of pride. “Darling Rufus, look at our new visitor.” Smiling, she gently pulled back the soft cloth that was swaddling their new baby.
Rufus went down on his knees and put his arm around them both, resting his head for a moment on Eliza’s breast before he raised his eyes to look at her. A love so great it was almost unbearable filled his heart. “You are so brave. I heard it all. I haven’t left that room. Eliza—” his voice broke— “I don’t think I would have wanted to go on if anything happened to you.”
“I wasn’t going anywhere, dearest,” she told him, leaning over to kiss the top of his head. “Not when there’s so much more happiness to be had.” She stroked his face and he gripped her hand, not trusting himself to speak as she went on, “So I just followed the doctor’s instructions until this little fellow arrived. And now we’re a family.” Her smile was like the breaking dawn of a new and wonderful day. “You, and our baby son.”
“And Jack,” murmured Rufus without pausing to think as he kissed her gently on the lips.
THE END
Part I
Copyright © 2017 by Beverley Oakley
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Chapter 1
Katherine wasn’t frightened of the dark.
Not when she could still hear the strains of the lively polka she was supposed to be dancing with George.