The Midwife and the Marquess

Chapter 19: Sleeping Beauty

Maria tried to be content.

She had been—for a while—yet as the days crawled on, she found herself growing more and more restless. She'd heard from Evan only once these past three weeks; a short note that'd been personally delivered by one of the estate's errand boys about a week hence, comprising all of one sentence:

Not much longer.

Whatever that meant.

Maria sighed and counted her stitches. She'd made three baby blankets since returning from Granfell manor. Three. She'd been knitting like a mad-woman, never letting her hands have a moment without something to do. Ironically, she felt as if she'd go insane if they didn't.

He'd offered to court her, hadn't he? Perhaps she'd gone terribly wrong with the last batch of mushrooms she'd foraged for Mrs. Crumb and she'd hallucinated the entire ordeal. No, she still had that abominable document hidden away in one of her drawers upstairs.

Wasn't the proclamation of a courtship followed up by... something? It wasn't as if she wished he'd call on her here. That would be out of the question. Maude and Susie wouldn't be fooled for a moment and the whole neighbourhood would speak of the marquess who sought after the midwife. But at least they could meet somewhere in private, certainly.

She sighed dolefully. She knew he was busy tending to Laura's houseparty like the dutiful elder brother he was and, really, she shouldn't lament his goodness... But still; she missed him, damn it all!

After losing her count for the second time, Maria set down her knitting and turned her attention to her dearest friend. Maude sat at the table across from Maria, her round spectacles propped up on her bird-like nose. She was reading through the pile of correspondence that had amassed while she'd been sick.

Maude had remained ill the first two weeks after Maria returned. She'd been bedridden with a terrible fever and for a while they'd feared the worst, but she was a hardy old woman too stubborn to leave this world quite yet. She'd fully recovered about a week ago and had been furiously making up for her absence ever since. Susie had been too busy, split between keeping the practice afloat here and in the neighbouring villages and caring for Maude, to attend to the steady stream of letters they consistently received.

Maude sighed, "That Mrs. Norton is with child again."

Susie snorted from where she stood kneading dough at the counter. "It's a wonder she even bothers telling us. By now Mr. Norton is as practised at catching babies as any of us."

Maude gave a dirty laugh that amused the two other women more than the witticism had.

Still huffing with mirth, Maude took a new envelope and sliced into it with a bone letter opener. She read it for a moment then stopped, her eyes flashing first to Maria, then to Susie, before she carefully refolded the missive and slipped it under the table. Maria took the letter from Maude, her cheeks flushing, and tucked it discreetly into her skirt pocket. Maria felt Maude's intense gaze on her as she stood from the table, collected her basket of knitting and excused herself.

Maria made for the garden and out the back gate. She walked down the road alongside the fields used for grazing until she came upon a babbling stream that cut this part of the valley in two. She sat on a rock and fished the letter out of her pocket.

Mia, an epithet he'd somewhere along the way started using for her.

It began. She read the letter once, then twice, before settling her hands in her lap. She watched the sun dance on the hilltops in the west until it vanished entirely. Then, finally at peace for the first time in what felt like ages, she stood, dusted off her skirt, took up her basket and set back for her cottage.