Jane was able to inhale slowly and open her eyes. “Actually, I would like for you to go.”
His face had already been pale with worry, but now his brows turned up, completely stricken. “Muse…”
She put a hand on his arm. “We have guests.”
“You cannot think I am going to dinner while you are in here—” He waved a hand at her middle, unable to finish the sentence. “You cannot expect that.”
“I want you back later, but it will be hours before there is anything except discomfort. Let Nkiruka get me settled while you at least start the dinner.” She could see that he was going to protest again. “I promise I will have someone call you when Dr. Jones arrives.”
Vincent opened and closed his fists, jaw tight. At last, he exhaled forcibly and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “I love you.” Straightening, he looked at Nkiruka. “Call me the moment anything changes. The very moment.”
*
Nkiruka helped Jane out of her gown, petticoat, and short stays so that she wore only her chemise. Over that, she pulled a morning gown, which gave her the illusion of modesty, but would be easy to remove when needed. At Nkiruka’s suggestion, Jane took a turn around the room when the discomfort became too strong to sit still. She was walking, hands placed against her lower back, with Nkiruka at her side, when rapid footsteps and a brisk knock announced the arrival of Dr. Jones.
Still in her riding coat, the doctor opened the door and eyed Jane. “You need to lie down. Immediately.”
Jane raised her head, frowning. “Nkiruka suggested this, and it does seem to help the pain.”
“Has your water broken?”
“I do not think so.”
Dr. Jones looked past Jane to Nkiruka and raised her eyebrows in question. The older woman shook her head. “Not yet. The pain just start.”
“Thirty weeks. We do not want labour to begin.” Dr. Jones set her satchel down and pulled off her riding coat to disclose a simple Pomona green round gown of stout linen. “Mrs. Hamilton, I want you to lie down on your left side, please.”
Jane was too unsettled to fully understand her and needed a nudge from Nkiruka to move. Dr. Jones had said, “do not want labour to begin” as if there were a choice. Jane sat on the edge of the bed, her frown sinking. “Can you stop the labour?”
“My hope…” Dr. Jones pulled a tightly stoppered bottle from her satchel and set it on the side table. “My hope is that you have not begun labour in earnest. If you have not, then we might be able to put it off for a while yet.”
While they had been waiting for Dr. Jones’s arrival, Nkiruka had stripped the bed down to a single sheet plus some pillows. Jane lay down and then rolled onto her left side, which put the doctor behind her.
“Nkiruka, will you take this to the cook and ask her to steep it in milk? I want it warm, but not hot. Also, a basin of hot water and some clean towels.”
Patting Jane on the arm, Nkiruka left her side. “Quick quick.”
Jane glanced over her shoulder in time to see Nkiruka take an oil-paper envelope from the doctor. She lifted her head a little. “Will you please tell Vincent that Dr. Jones is here?”
“Na worry.” And Nkiruka was out the door.
Not worry? Jane had a better chance of sailing a ship to the Arctic Circle. No. No, she was not her mother. She would not fret before knowing what was happening. Another bearing pain took hold and Jane let her head drop back to the pillow. She tightened against it, trying not to make a sound.
“Bearing pain?”
Jane nodded and managed to say, “Yes,” though her voice sounded choked, even to her.
Something light and metal rattled behind her. “When was the last?”
“I do not—do not know. Half an hour?”
“Hm.” Behind her, Dr. Jones poured some liquid into a glass. “I shall want you to drink this. The taste will be quite strong, but please drink it all.”
“What is it?”
“A strong claret infused with ginger, passion fruit, wild yam, and Hoffmann’s anodyne. Let me know when the pain eases.” She crossed around the bed to Jane with a glass in one hand and a watch on a chain in the other.
To Jane, the band around her stomach felt as though it were tightening rather than softening. She did not know how much time passed before she could nod that it had dwindled. It could not have been that long, as Vincent had not arrived yet. “It is better.”
Dr. Jones snapped the watch shut. “The wine will likely make you dull, but its purpose this evening is to try to relax you, with the hope of stopping the bearing pains, or at least slowing them.”
In the hall, rapid footsteps that were not quite at a run gave notice of Vincent’s approach. He stopped outside the room. Jane could imagine him composing his expression. Indeed, when the door opened, Vincent gave every appearance of being quite calm, if one dismissed the rapidity of his breath. He bowed. “Doctor.”