“He’ll be fine as soon as he hears his child squawking,” Mrs. Peebles said, handing Laurel a foul-smelling concoction. “Drink this, lovey. It’ll get the contractions started again and that’s what we want to see.”
After a few minutes, they did start up with a vengeance.
Graelem burst into the bedchamber upon hearing Laurel’s scream. “What the hell are you doing to my wife?”
Mrs. Peebles held her ground, standing up to face him and matching his stance, fists curled at her sides. “Get out, m’lord.”
Fear and heartache were etched on Graelem’s face. “No. This is my bedchamber. That’s my wife who’s suffering. Who’s...” Dying.
“And I’m the one who’ll get her through it. Are ye goin’ to leave or do I have to chase you out?”
Rose and Lily hurried in behind Graelem, apologizing for letting him slip by, though Daisy didn’t think anyone could stop him, not even a regiment of the King’s finest soldiers. None of them were handling the chore of distracting the nervous husband very well. The more insistent the midwife became, the more determined Graelem was to stay.
Daisy felt that he belonged by Laurel’s side, but the midwife was experienced in such matters and she wasn’t about to contradict her orders.
Graelem stood as firm as a wall of bedrock until Laurel opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Sweetheart,” he said raggedly, coming to her side to kiss her brow.
“I love you,” she whispered. “My sisters have been by my side all day and haven’t eaten since breakfast. They could do with some food and a pot of tea.”
Dillie put a hand on his shoulder. “Graelem, help me put a tray together. I’m not familiar with your kitchen.”
A muscle in his jaw tightened. “We have servants for that.”
“Yes,” Lily agreed, “but it’s late and most of them have retired for the evening. It’ll be faster if we do it ourselves.”
“Nonsense—”
“Please, Graelem,” Laurel said. “I need you to take care of my sisters.”
He protested and grumbled and finally gave in because he wasn’t about to deny his wife anything. Indeed, if he could have eased Laurel’s pain by taking it upon himself tenfold, Daisy knew he would have done so in a heartbeat.
“I’m glad he’s gone,” Laurel said, collapsing against her pillows with a groan the moment he’d closed the door behind him. “This really hurts. What did you give me?”
“Something to help along your contractions,” the midwife said.
She let out a soft, writhing gasp. “It’s working.”
Was childbirth always this difficult, Daisy wondered? Was it possible Laurel would die? No! She put her hands together and silently prayed. Please, don’t take her from us. Protect her. Protect Gabriel.
“The babe’s stubborn, but well positioned,” Mrs. Peebles said. “Your sister’s built to deliver a healthy child. She’s broad in the hips and strong as an ox.”
“I resent being referred to as an ox,” Laurel said, maintaining humor despite her obvious agony.
“Ye’ll get no apology from me, since I meant it as a compliment. Be grateful that ye’re not a frail, sickly thing.”
Laurel voiced no further complaint, her efforts once more concentrated on birthing, but as time wore on, there didn’t seem to be any progress, only pain. Daisy had just released the breath she was holding when she heard a resounding crash, then a yelp and a string of invectives that caused even the midwife to blush.
Daisy shot to her feet. “Oh, no! I think we have another problem.” She and Dillie rushed downstairs, following the lingering echo of shattered glass and the clang of a silver tray striking against the marble floor in the entry hall.
“Rose and I tried to help him,” Lily said, her gaze never leaving Graelem, who was flat on his back, his arms and legs sprawled, his shirt soaked with tea and covered in wet cake crumbs, butter, and marmalade. Their uncle was by his side, carefully removing Graelem’s boot to examine his leg—the one Laurel’s horse had landed on with its massive hooves last year.
Daisy had to take several deep, calming breaths because Graelem’s leg was in a very bad position and his complexion was now green. “Uncle George, has he broken it again?”
Lily’s eyes began to glisten with tears. “Rose and I offered to help him with the tray, but he insisted on taking it up himself... and he really ought to have let us help because there was too much stacked on the tray for one person to manage.”
Rose nodded. “We tried to tell him so, but this is his home, and neither of us dared to contradict him after he gave us that imperious glare that cuts one to the quick... though I did continue to warn him, because he can’t discharge us no matter how much we irritate him. We’re family, after all.”