A warm and glowing feeling came over Chloe, just knowing that Mrs. Crescent was stil herself. She brushed Mrs. Crescent’s hair out of her face.
Henry scanned Chloe from her slightly askew amber necklace to her muddied hemline.
Chloe looked away and her eyes fel on her fan and reticule at the washstand. “Mrs. Crescent, you’l be happy to know I remembered my fan and reticule.”
Mrs. Crescent clenched the stiff sheets on her sleigh bed.
Chloe’s knees went wobbly. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t a nurse and this wasn’t a hospital.
“Time to push again,” Henry said with the utmost calm.
Mrs. Crescent banged her fists on the bed. “Ugh!”
Chloe let go of the wet washrag.
“One, two—” Henry counted, easing Mrs. Crescent into a more comfortable position.
Chloe’s head throbbed and she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t take it anymore. “Henry! We need to get her to a hospital. It’s not real y 1812 here, you know. She needs an epidural—now. Who the hel has a baby without an epidural?”
The cameraman aimed at Chloe. Henry dropped his watch and it dangled from his watch fob.
“Sorry. That was very unladylike.”
Henry looked with affection and sympathy at Mrs. Crescent. “Three. And breathe.”
Mrs. Crescent could breathe, but Chloe couldn’t. She broke out in a sweat.
Henry massaged Mrs. Crescent as he glared at Chloe. “Miss Parker, this is what Mrs. Crescent wants. A natural birth. It’s too late for the epidural now. Please. Get ahold of yourself. You’l upset our rhythm.”
She gulped. She didn’t know Henry could’ve been so—type A.
Mrs. Crescent leaned over and picked up a brown medicine bottle from the night table. “Should she have a dram?”
Henry shook his head. “If you don’t need it, she doesn’t. I just concocted it for fun in my lab.”
Chloe straightened and clenched her Empire waist. “What is it? Maybe I could use it.”
“It’s laudanum, and no, you can’t have any. You don’t have any medical reason.” Henry handed the bottle to a servant. “Take it away.” The servant hid it behind Mrs. Crescent’s dressing-table mirror and then hurried to change Mrs. Crescent’s bed linens.
Mrs. Crescent huffed and puffed. “It’s an opiate.”
Chloe tilted her head. “As in opium?”
“Yes.” Henry continued to massage Mrs. Crescent’s back. “It’s used for everything from headaches to liven up an evening in a drawing room. It’s a sort of cure-al .”
Chloe put another cool washrag on Mrs. Crescent’s forehead.
“Look.” Henry reached for a shelf above Mrs. Crescent. He lowered his voice. “We have a mobile phone in case of emergency. An ambulance is at the ready.” The phone glistened in his latex-gloved hand. Without thinking, Chloe took it from him. She squeezed it in her hand, held it close to her chest. If only she could cal Abby. Emma. But knowing she or Henry could cal the ambulance made her feel better, and she put the phone back on the shelf.
Henry’s valet burst into the room. “Ice shards, sir.”
“Set them near Miss Parker. Thank you.”
The valet took one look at Mrs. Crescent and bolted out the door.
“Miss Parker, please give Mrs. Crescent an ice shard—”
Mrs. Crescent opened her dry mouth and Chloe put a piece of ice on her tongue. The ice brought it al back to her. So much swirled around her.
Birthing Abigail. The ice-house. Sebastian. The look on Henry’s face before he rode off.
Henry looked at his watch. “In just a bit, we’l push again.”
The camerawoman readied for another dramatic scene.
Mrs. Crescent pushed, exhaled deeply, until at last the baby crowned.
“My baby!” Mrs. Crescent sweated and squealed with joy.
Chloe’s eyes teared up, remembering her first sight of Abigail’s face. She’d do anything for Abigail. Anything. Even this. Even marry the on-again off-again Sebastian in a fake ceremony.
Henry turned to Chloe with a list of instructions as he supported the baby’s head and eased it into the world. He lowered his voice to a whisper.
“A shoulder is stuck. I need to guide it out. Here. Hold the head.”
“Should I cal the ambulance?” Chloe cringed as she watched Henry work the tiny shoulder out.
“We’l be fine. We can do it.”
