An Inconvenient Anthology

The Midwife and The Marchioness

"And she is feeding now?" The midwife cooed at the tiny life in her arms, little Ainsley squirmed in the other woman's arms in protest, crying out for her mother who was currently busy feeding her twin. Seraphina had still not been able to wrap her head around the upper class idea of having someone else nurse ones child. Why would she do that when her body was more than capable of nourishing her two newborns? Luckily her husband was a loving, indulgent man and rarely protested against anything she wished to do.

"Oh yes, your advice about soaking a rag with milk was most helpful, now she eats as much as her brother does," Sera replied.

"I can see that, they've both gained a good amount of weight over the last week, and they are healthy. No signs of jaundice either. The little ones are doing perfectly. Isn't that right, little one? You're going to grow to be a big strong girl, aren't you? You'll need all that sustenance to wrangle her naught brothers."

And yes, it had been twins. Curses had been cursed, husbands had been threatened, promises to God that she would never allow her husband liberties were made; all in the nearly day-long process of bringing her offspring into this earth.

Her poor saintly husband had borne with a lot that day, she was almost certain that he had worn down the rug in the study. He'd already not been happy with Seraphina's insistence on returning to her village for her confinement and the arrival of their newborns, but Sera had not been able to explain what it was about her physician in London that had severely put her off. He'd been even less pleased when they had found out that the lauded midwife who had brought both Sera and her brother into this was no longer practicing. In her stead was her daughter, to whom her husband had not quite politely snapped:

"Midwife? You look like you were in the womb yourself two days ago!"

Mrs. Avery had not been impressed and had primly informed him that she had been practicing alongside her mother for well over a decade and had been operating by herself for years now.

It may have helped her case that Mrs. Avery's hulking brute of a husband had looked like he would put his fist through her husband's face. And for all that Sera was confident in her ability to defend herself, she doubted that she would be able to do much in the face of the man with the physique of a bear while she was six months pregnant.

Quite frankly, what kind of humble farmer looked like that?

And how did a man of foreign descent end up in her sleepy little village?

Something about the man made the warning bells in Sera's head ring, in the same way she felt around Lord Carlisle. As if the man was a far more dangerous creature than he let on. Along with his impressive physique, the man had a permanent scowl etched on his face, the scars on his face pulled tight. It made for a rather terrifying picture. He moved so soundlessly that it made Seraphina uncomfortable. And he usually held himself so still that he may as well be mistaken for some sort of statue. People made noise, lots of it usually. It was unnatural for a man of that size to move with the sort of stealth that he did. And his eyes, they watched with an uncanny attention that made one feel as if they were on the dissection table.

Mrs. Avery, on the other hand, looked like someone's fairy godmother, with her plump figure, her rounded cheeks that dimpled when she smiled- which was nearly always- and her entirely sweet demeanor. They were an entirely unlikely pair.

And he always hovered over his wife whenever they were in the vicinity of each other, and he always seemed to be in a hurry to take her away back home.

The signs spelled trouble to Sera.

"How long have you been married, Mrs. Avery?" Sera asked casually.