The Midwife and the Marquess

Chapter 13: News

Maria spent the morning licking her wounds. Tentatively she rolled out of bed. She did not know how long she'd lain there, and the part of her that should care seemed to have been wrapped in wax paper and left to collect dust on the back shelf of her consciousness. The light in the room had not changed for some time now. She shuffled to the window and pulled back the curtains to find the sun full in the clear sky. The sudden brightness hurt her eyes, and she ducked her vision to focus on the windowsill instead. With a flick of her finger the latch on the window unlocked and she pushed the pane out enough for crisp, cool air to waft into the room. She retreated a few steps until the back of her knees hit the high bed, whereupon she reflexively sat down.

She was back where she'd started. She couldn't seem to move forward. She looked at the rumpled counterpane, the imprint from her body still left in the thick mattress, her mind blank with a fog so thick, any semblance of coherent thought was simply out of the question.

Last night had really happened. All in one night, over the course of just a few fleeting moments, they had come together, beautiful and bold, only to be inevitably, terribly, torn apart again.

Marriage? The man was a fool. Her breath hitched several times before she violently seized control over her lungs, forcing her inhalations to slow and stabilize. There was no possibility for marriage, let alone any kind of respectable relationship, between them. It had been cruel of him to even suggest the idea, and crueler still to so quickly acquiesce to her objections. If being with her was so important to him, he could have at least argued the matter a little bit more.

Her brow rumpled at the memory. It made no sense. He'd seemed genuinely remorseful for not being there for her when she'd lost the baby. He'd made it seem as if he wanted to do better. So why had he been so fickle and insensitive as to offer marriage—marriage—only to immediately revoke the proposal? Did he suppose that since he'd offered and she'd denied that his debt, his guilt, was thusly forgiven? Was he so conviction-less? Did he truly not care after all?

Silly, silly woman. Of course he doesn't care. He shouldn't. He is a marquess and you—

She was getting tired of repeating the same thing to herself over and over again. It changed nothing. It helped nothing. There was still a big, gaping, black hole in her chest. There was still a cold side to her bed.

She surged up onto her feet, her body acting on the sudden and sheer need to move, to be away, from the bed, from the room, from the memories and thoughts that seemed to permeate from the very walls. One thing was painfully clear to her: she could not stay here much longer.

She dressed in a blur of gray wool and crisp linen. She wrapped her hair and secured it with her cap, pinning it into place. Not once did she look in the mirror.

Down the hall Maria knocked on the door belonging to Mrs. Thorne and her husband, but instead of an answer coming from the bedroom, the door to the adjoining parlor room opened and Mrs. Thorne peaked her head around the corner of the door frame.

"We're in here," she called. Maria turned and followed the woman into the parlor room. To Maria's surprise, Lady Laura was sitting in one of the chairs, the baby cradled in her arms.

"Good morning Lady Laura, Mrs. Thorne," Maria said with a small curtsy.

Lady Laura shook her head and said with a luminescent smile, "Please, there is no need for such formalities. I feel that we are already friends, and as such you must call me Laura, and I will call you Maria, if you'll allow me."

Maria recovered quickly from her surprise. "Of course, I do not mind," she replied with a genuine smile before smoothing her skirts and taking a seat.

"And please call me Diana." Mrs Thorne returned to her seat next to Maria and began pouring a cup of tea. "I've never been one for formalities myself. All this Mrs-this and Lady-that makes me feel terribly out of place."

"Thank you," Maria murmured as she received the offered china saucer. Tentatively, she took a sip. The tea was hot but fresh. It was very good. It occurred to Maria that Mrs. Thorne— Diana—had, similar to herself, grown up in a boarding school for orphans. Laura had spent much of her early childhood running around a simple vicar's parish. Perhaps these women weren't so different from her after all. Perhaps she need not feel so terribly condescended to or awkward and out of her depth.

And yet, she knew that she was still the midwife; she was here to do her job. Maria eyed the baby sleeping peacefully in his distant cousin's arms. She had meant to weigh him today, but it seemed that would have to wait until later. As a rule she was against waking sleeping babies.

Laura caught Maria's gaze and returned it with a widening of her eyes, "I know!" she exclaimed in a half-whisper. "Who would have thought I could make a baby fall asleep!" She looked down and rubbed his cheek with one finger. "It gives me hope that I won't be a complete disaster with my own one day."

"I am certain you will have one soon enough. And you will do just fine." Diana said around her teacup, her lips upturned in a coy smile.

Laura flushed prettily and looked down and to the side. "That is the hope; that I will find a husband in London this season. Evan is determined to have it seen to."

"And yourself, my lady—Are you determined to find a suitor this season?" Maria inquired.

"Oh yes..." Laura sighed. "I am determined, it would seem. I am not so foolhardy to think I can make do without a husband, one of fortune or title. I can only hope he is handsome and kind."

Laura's gaze lingered on the floor for a moment before her face suddenly lifted, a mischievous smile of her own on her lips. "It seems my window for premarital torrid affairs is somewhat limited then. Ooo! Or perhaps I should catch my spouse by letting him lead me astray: to a back room perhaps, or the garden on a moonless night."

"Laura!" Diana chided, her own smile wide. Laura laughed good naturedly and Maria couldn't help but chuckle.

It was then that the baby decided he'd had enough of his cousin's bosom, and he was swiftly returned to his mother's. Several minutes of amiable conversation later, the baby was done with his luncheon and Maria imposed upon him the most inconvenient routine of undressing and weighing. She held his little form aloft in the air, dangling from the mechanical scale, squirming and swinging gently in the fabric hammock used for the procedure.

"Well done, mum!" Maria exclaimed upon reading the measurement. She mentally subtracted the weight from the cloth, laid the baby back down and jotted the number into her notebook. "He has gained weight since I measured him yesterday; that is very good. Most babies lose weight the first few days, and admittedly I was concerned, as he is already somewhat premature, but it seems my worries have been for naught. You are doing an admirable job in keeping him well fed."

Diana gave a tired smile. "That is good news indeed. I will have to inform the Captain when he returns."

Maria straightened from her position over her notebook, frowning. "Captain Thorne has gone somewhere?"

"Yes, unfortunately he needed to go to London with Evan for several days to settle some estate matters, and some other such things." She waved her hand as if the matter of her son's inheriting a marquessate was of little consequence.

"Oh, but brother and Thorne will be back in time for the house party. Evan left a note for me explaining he'll escort the London guests back personally."

Maria slowly, carefully, placed her pencil into the middle crease of her notebook. She blinked. She forced herself to breathe. So. Just like that, he was gone.