Miranda jumped on the excuse. 'Yes, yes, that must be it. I shall slow down.' Thankfully, the conversation changed directions when Lady Rudland drew Turner into a discussion of the bill he'd recently supported in Parliament. Miranda was grateful that his attention had been engaged elsewhere; he'd been watching her too closely, and it was getting difficult to keep her face serene when she felt a contraction.
Her belly clenched again, and this time she lost her patience. 'Stop that,' she whispered, looking down at her middle. 'Or you will certainly be Iphigenia.'
'Did you say something, Miranda?' Olivia asked.
'Oh, no, I don't think so.'
Another few minutes went by, and she felt another squeeze. 'Stop that, Nigel,' she whispered. 'We had a bargain.'
'I'm certain you said something,' Olivia said sharply.
'Did you just call me Nigel?' Turner asked.
Funny, Miranda thought, how calling him Nigel seemed to upset him more than her leaving the marriage bed. 'Of course not. You're just imagining things. But I vow I am tired. I believe I shall retire, if none of you minds.' She started to stand up, then felt a rush of liquid between her legs. She sat back down. 'Perhaps I'll wait for dessert.'
Lady Rudland excused herself, claiming that she was on a slimming regime and could not bear to watch the rest of them eat their pudding. Her departure made it more difficult for Miranda to avoid the conversation, but she did her best, pretending to be engrossed in her food and hoping no one would ask her a question. Finally, the meal was over. Turner stood and walked over to her side, offering his arm to her.
'No, I believe I'll sit here for a moment. A bit tired, you know.' She could feel a flush creeping up along her neck. Good heavens, no one had ever written an etiquette book concerning what to do when one's baby wanted to be born in a formal dining room. Miranda was utterly mortified and so scared that she could not seem to pick herself up off the chair.
'Would you like another serving?' Turner's tone was dry.
'Yes, please,' she replied, her voice cracking.
'Miranda, are you certain you're feeling well?' Olivia asked as Turner summoned a footman. 'You look quite odd.'
'Get your mother,' Miranda croaked. 'Now.'
'Is it…?'
Miranda nodded.
'Oh my,' Olivia said with a gulp. 'It's time.'
'What time?' Turner asked irritably. Then he glimpsed Miranda's terrified expression. 'Holy bloody hell. That time.' He strode across the room and scooped his wife into his arms, oblivious to the way her sodden skirts were staining the fine fabric of his jacket.
Miranda clung to his powerful frame, forgetting all her vows to remain indifferent to him. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, letting his strength seep into her. She was going to need it in the hours ahead.
'You little fool,' he murmured. 'How long have you been sitting there in pain?'
She chose not to answer, knowing that the truth would only earn her a scolding.
Turner carried her up the stairs to a guest bedroom that had been prepared for the delivery. By the time he had laid her down on the bed, Lady Rudland had come rushing in. 'Thank you so much, Turner,' she said quickly. 'Go summon the physician.'
'Brearley has already taken care of it,' he replied, looking down at Miranda with an anxious expression.
'Well, then, go keep yourself occupied. Have a drink.'
'I'm not thirsty.'
Lady Rudland sighed. 'Do I need to spell it out for you, son? Go away.'
'Why?' Turner looked incredulous.
'There is no place for men in childbirth.'
'There was certainly place enough for me beforehand,' he muttered.
Miranda blushed deep crimson. 'Turner, please,' she begged.
He looked down at her. 'Do you want me to go?'
'Yes. No. I don't know.'
He put his hands on his hips and faced his mother. 'I think I should stay. It's my child, too.'
'Oh, very well. Just go over to that corner and stay out of the way.' Lady Rudland waved her arms, shooing him away.
Another contraction gripped Miranda. 'Eeeengh,' she moaned.
'What was that?' Turner shot over to her side in a flash. 'Is this normal? Should she be- '
'Turner, hush!' Lady Rudland said. 'You're going to worry her.' She turned down to Miranda and pressed a damp cloth to her brow. 'Pay him no mind, dear. It's perfectly normal.'
'I know. I…' She paused to catch her breath. 'Could I get out of this dress?'
'Oh, goodness, of course. I'm so sorry. I forgot all about it. You must be so uncomfortable. Turner, come here and give me a hand.'
'No!' Miranda exclaimed sharply.
He stopped short, and his face went cold.
'I mean, either you do it or have him do it,' Miranda told her mother-in-law. 'But not both.'
'That's the childbirth talking,' Lady Rudland said soothingly. 'You're not thinking clearly.'
'No! He can do it if you want because he's…seen me before. Or you can do it because you're a woman. But I don't want you seeing me while he sees me. Don't you understand?' Miranda gripped the older woman's arm with uncharacteristic force.
Back in the corner, Turner suppressed a smile. 'I'll let you do the honors, Mother,' he said, keeping his voice flat so that he didn't burst out laughing. With a sharp nod, he left the room. He forced himself to walk halfway down the hall before letting laughter take over. What a funny little set of scruples his wife had.
Back in the bedroom, Miranda was gritting her teeth against another contraction as Lady Rudland peeled off her ruined dress.
'Is he gone?' she asked. She did not trust him not to peek in.
Her mother-in-law nodded. 'He won't bother us.'
'It's not a bother,' Miranda said, before she could think the better of it.
'Of course it is. Men have no place during childbirth. It's messy, and it's painful, and not a one of them knows how to be useful. Better to let them sit outside and ponder all the ways they should reward you for your hard work.'
'He bought me a book,' Miranda whispered.
'Did he? I was thinking of diamonds, myself.'
'That would be nice, too,' Miranda said weakly.
'I shall drop a hint in his ear.' Lady Rudland finished getting Miranda into her nightgown and fluffed the pillows behind her. 'There you are. Are you comfortable?'
Another pain gripped her belly. 'Not. Really,' she squeezed between her teeth.
'Was that another one?' Lady Rudland asked. 'Goodness. They are coming very close together. This may be an uncommonly fast birth. I do hope Dr. Winters arrives soon.'
Miranda held her breath as she rode through the wave of pain, nodding her agreement.
Lady Rudland took her hand and squeezed, her face scrunching in empathy. 'If it makes you feel any better,' she said, 'it's much worse with twins.'
'It doesn't,' Miranda gasped.
'Make you feel any better?'
'No.'
Lady Rudland sighed. 'I didn't think it would, actually. But don't worry,' she added, brightening a bit. 'This will all be over soon.'
