Dignity and Depravity

Chapter XXII

The wind blissfully brushed Amelia's cheeks as she wandered across the acreage.  The nip in the harvest air tingled her fair skin and brought forth a complexion as ruddy as the apples on the trees.  Each inhalation struck her lungs with a crisp freshness that smacked of fall and all the bountiful harvest it brought.  Hopeful late morning sunshine was still brightly shining between the autumnal leaves, shedding some warmth along with its light.

Amelia had always loved to explore this remote area at the back of the Eagleton property when she was younger, but now it had become her refuge.  It provided a solitary haunt when she needed to escape the however well intentioned but overpowering attentions of her dear husband and M. Lemaire.  In the earliest days of her acquaintance with her man midwife Amelia had felt positively stifled within the house, as he had insisted she rest while he became familiar with her "case".  Luckily this season did not last, as both M. Lemaire and John touted the benefits of exercise in pregnancy and soon encouraged her to take daily walks. 

Amelia's sojourns had since become the most prized and precious moments of her day.  She often slipped away quietly from the household, lest someone offer an unwelcome accompaniment that would trespass upon her privacy.   Damp days became a curse as they forced Amelia to be housebound and she often confined herself to the quietude of her bedchamber, an act that Amelia resented.  There will be plenty of time for lazing about when I am another riveted woman convalescing during my lying-in, thought Amelia.  Until then, I shall always prefer to breathe the fresh, free air out of doors, and to do so of my own free will.

It was also during these walks that Amelia was able to reflect on her own thoughts and feelings.  The initial terror of pregnancy had slowly evolved into a complacent acceptance of her current circumstance.  Amelia often gazed in marvel at her abdomen, imagining its future expansion as it grew to accommodate its occupant just as assuredly as her heart had grown with love for her child.   Now if only her mind could settle as easily on other matters.  Just as she had conveyed this morning, Amelia was still dismayed at John's insistence and employing a Frenchman to care of her and the babe.

Although Amelia believed there was some validity to M. Lemaire's education, she still could not fathom his titular role as an expert in childbirth.  He would never know the intimacy of carrying a new life within him, nor would he know how quickly one ceased to feel alone.  Motherhood had taken root in Amelia's soul the moment the babe began to grow and she knew she would never cease to care for the life within her. 

M. Lemaire's focus on organization and regimentation left Amelia feeling concerned for what was to come.  No matter how pleased she now felt to be pregnant, Amelia could not shed the dread she felt about the birthing process.  It is one thing to witness another in the throws of action and quite another to have to stand over such a precipice oneself.  Can this man really quell my fears during as I labour if I do not trust him implicitly? Amelia wrestled internally.

It was these reservations that had urged Amelia to engage John anew in a discussion about the aspects of her care.  She had intended to appeal to her husband's logical side and thus perhaps warm his countenance towards her needs, yet the discussion had gone astray.  Her peckish sensibilities had betrayed her into a peevish state, and she felt she had too closely resembled a wounded dog futilely licking its lacerations.  No more than a caterwauling nuisance begging for scraps at the table or gnashing my teeth in defense thought Amelia, cursing herself.  It is of no wonder that John did not attend to my concerns!

Reflecting on the morning's events, Amelia felt positively rigid.  Small crescents had formed on the palms of her hands when she finally uncurled her digits.  Amelia rubbed each indentation to reinvigorate the circulation.  As the arches began to disappear, she began to trace the lines that creased her palm.  Amelia wondered fleetingly if the chirologist she had once met at a drawing room party could have foretold the acute torment plaguing her today.  Tears pricked at her eyes as she recalled the angry way in which John had spoken to her.  I may have set up his bristles, Amelia reflected, but in no way did I strive to demean his authoritative position.  If only he would understand that my uneasiness comes from a place of care and concern!