“This child is coming whether I want him to or not,” she wailed. “There’s nothing I can do to stop him. Nothing!”
Lydia’s face looked blurry through Amy’s fresh onslaught of burning tears. “Send Benchley to find Colin,” she said weakly, closing her eyes. “And wake Aunt Elizabeth from her nap. Wake her now.”
“I already did,” Lydia said, kneeling to gather everything back onto the tray. When Amy forced her heavy eyelids open, Lydia amended with, “Wake your aunt, I mean.”
Aunt Elizabeth arrived then, stepping over the broken crockery and taking charge.
“I’m hot and sweaty,” Amy complained, and Aunt Elizabeth peeled back the covers.
“I’m chilled,” she said, shivering, and Aunt Elizabeth piled them back on.
Amy felt nauseated, certain she was going to vomit, then she forgot her queasy stomach as waves of drowsiness overwhelmed her. She jerked awake when the next pain seized her, and the cycle started again. Through it all, Aunt Elizabeth kept up a knowledgeable, reassuring patter.
“You’re so nice and helpful, Mrs. Talbot,” Lydia said frantically. “Lady Greystone is lucky.”
Amy opened her eyes long enough to glare at her.
“Oh, heavens,” Lydia breathed, her eyes widening. “Milady, I can see it!” She moved closer and stared between Amy’s thighs, but Amy didn’t care enough to be embarrassed. “It’s a shilling-size circle, covered with slimy black hair.”
Amy grimaced, half in pain, half because she’d never heard anything sound quite so disgusting.
“Hush, Lydia!” Aunt Elizabeth admonished. She craned her neck to see Amy’s face over the mound of her belly. “It’s your baby’s head, dear. He’s ready to be born.”
Aunt Elizabeth signaled Lydia closer and instructed her to hold Amy’s hand.
“Push now, Amy,” she encouraged. “Push as hard as you can.”
Amy took her words to heart. She pushed with all the might she could muster, wanting nothing more than to get this horrible business over with.
“Ouch!” Lydia tried to jerk her hand away, but Amy tightened her grip.
When the pain ended and Lydia reclaimed and massaged her fingers, Amy felt guilty. Then it started again, and Lydia leaned over her, sweeping the hair off her forehead and clucking sympathetically.
“Will you stop touching me,” Amy spat. She seemed trapped on a seesaw of emotions, unable to control herself. As the pain peaked, she squeezed Lydia’s hand again, and she couldn’t care less if she were hurting her. A tiny part of her was shocked at her behavior, but not enough to change it.
She rested, panting, then pushed, then rested and pushed again. She pushed until she was certain her insides would spill out onto the sheets, but still her son remained stubbornly stuck in her womb.
When the urge to push subsided, she closed her eyes, but the tears were leaking out all over again.
“Push, Amy, push,” Aunt Elizabeth yelled.
Oh, no, it was coming again, so soon. Amy’s frustrated tears flowed faster. This was so unfair! Her nails dug into the palm of her hand that wasn’t clenching Lydia’s.
“This isn’t the place for you,” she heard Aunt Elizabeth say firmly. “Pour yourself a brandy and wait in the study.”
The words were more than confusing, but Amy’s eyes were shut tight, and she was concentrating on the pushing.
“No,” a deep voice countered. “I must speak with Amy.”
Her eyes flew open. “Colin?” she moaned through the pain.
He hesitated, his breath coming heavy as though he’d been running. He glanced from Amy to Aunt Elizabeth and back again.
“I just want you to be happy, love.” His fingers drumming against one thigh, he looked to where Lydia’s gaze was rooted. His eyes widened before he refocused on Amy’s face. “I have something I need to ask you, tell you. This is important to me.”
When the pain waned, Amy nodded. “Come here. Tell me.”
“I miss my ring.” He moved toward her, smiling, absently rubbing the spot where it used to be. “Do you suppose you could make me another one?”
“Colin, not now,” Aunt Elizabeth growled.
Though the pain had ended for the moment, Amy feared her heart had stopped instead. “You…you want me to make you a ring?”
“We can build a workshop. I was thinking by the kitchen—”
“Oh, Colin!” Tears sprang to her eyes for the countless time that day. “How did you know? It’s just—”
A pain ripped through her, and she grabbed his hand, shutting her eyes, pushing, pushing, pushing. Her son was coming; she could feel his head stretching the entrance to her body.
It was a miracle.
“Will you teach our children your craft?” Colin asked. “Your blood—your jeweler’s blood—it runs in this child’s veins as much as mine.”
“Your blood will be running if you don’t leave,” Aunt Elizabeth warned.
“No, don’t leave!” Amy panted, squeezing his hand.
“And if you don’t mind living simply—”
“I don’t! I’ve told you that,” she wailed as the pain subsided.
“Then we’ll save to replace your inheritance. And someday, a younger son who cannot inherit will open the finest shop in London.”
“A younger son?” Lydia scoffed, mopping Amy’s brow. “Cuds bobs, d’ye think she’ll have another after going through this?”
“If you can all shut up for one minute,” Aunt Elizabeth interjected, “this baby is about to arrive.”
“Colin,” Amy breathed.
She had so much she wanted to say, but the urge to push distracted her.
“Amy, it’s time,” Aunt Elizabeth encouraged. “Push.”
Amy pushed hard then, harder, harder still—and her babe slipped out into the world.
“It’s a miracle,” she managed to choke out. “Everything.” Then laughter bubbled up from her throat, even as tears flowed down her cheeks. And their babe’s cries added the sweetest sound to the emotional confusion.
Colin moved toward the foot of the bed, his eyes registering sheer disbelief as his child was wiped off and wrapped in a blanket. Aunt Elizabeth set the wriggling bundle on Amy’s abdomen, opened the blanket halfway, and used clean linen strips to tie the cord in two places.
Then Colin touched his offspring for the first time, holding the child still while the pulsing lifeline was severed.
“It’s a miracle,” Amy whispered to herself. Her precious son. Colin’s wonderful plan
