“You are not to worry about him. Concentrate on your wife.” Frank put a hand on Vincent’s shoulder and squeezed. “I need to go back to the great house. Will you be all right?”
“Thank you, yes. I know I should come, but…”
“There is no need to explain. And truly, unless you have dealt with arson before, you are simply another body to carry water.”
The amount of work that must needs be done would be tremendous. Jane squeezed Vincent’s hand. “You should go.”
“I am not leaving you.”
“Sitting in the waiting room will not suit you. You do better when you have some activity.”
“I am not leaving you.” A spasm of fear rattled Vincent’s mask of self-control for a moment before he governed himself. He shook his head firmly. “I am not leaving this room without you.”
Most husbands would have been shocked to have been asked to even approach a birth chamber. Jane could not comprehend how she had been so lucky as to have one who wanted to be with her. “You understand that it will get worse, and will likely be difficult for you to watch. There will be blood. I will scream. I might hate you. Are you certain?”
“Do not ask me again. Please.”
She smiled at him as the tears that she seemed to be plagued with, pressed into her throat. “Well then. Consider yourself warned.”
*
Dr. Jones pushed the door open with her hip, carrying a steaming basin in her hands. Tendrils of her hair had escaped their kerchief and curled against her cheeks. “Mr. Hamilton, you will be more comfortable in the waiting room.”
“I am staying.”
“We have already had this argument, I am afraid.” Jane was taking a turn about the room between pains and had her hands pressed against the ache in her back. Nkiruka followed her on one side, with Vincent on the other.
“Hm.” Dr. Jones set the basin on the little table. “Well, lie down and let me see where we are. I left my other patient with one of the midwives but should get back to her quickly. Are the bearing pains still fifteen minutes apart?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Let me see if I need to wake another midwife or if we have time.”
“Are you not going to attend to her?” Vincent held Jane’s arm, unnecessarily now, as she walked back to the bed.
“With two patients in labour at the same time, I have to order my time based on need.” Dr. Jones spoke with exaggerated patience, as though this was a speech that she had given many times. “The midwives are trained in this, and I should only be necessary for an emergency. My other patient is farther along, so she is likely to need me before your wife does.”
Jane lowered herself to the bed and, without being told, turned on her left side, drawing her knees up. “I quite understand.”
Dr. Jones moved Jane’s shift out of the way and for the next few moments gave her something to distract her from the ache in her back. Vincent shifted from one foot to the other, staring fixedly out the window.
“Good … good.” Dr. Jones stood, nodding, as she pulled Jane’s shift back down. “You are well dilated, but I would guess that we have another few hours before the bearing pains begin in earnest.”
Vincent’s voice cracked in disbelief, “In earnest? What has been occurring thus far?”
Though Jane was not at all encouraged by the reminder that her discomfort would grow yet worse, she could not help laughing at her husband. “Are you certain you do not wish to wait outside?”
His jaw firmed. “I am staying.”
“Mr. Hamilton. Your wife needs to conserve her energy for labour, not cheering you.” Dr. Jones stopped at the door. “If I have any cause to think that your distress, which is only natural, is affecting her delivery, I will ask you to leave. Do I make myself clear?”
He wiped his hand down his face, smearing the soot so it blended with his bruises. “You do. Thank you.”
“Hm.” She nodded to the basin on the table. “There are towels in the cupboard. Please wash yourselves before I return. This will be a dirty enough business.”
*
Jane paced around the room in random patterns, Nkiruka and Vincent trailing her. At regular intervals, Jane needed to stop and brace against one of the bearing pains. They came more rapidly now. She stood with her hand against the whitewashed wall, arm outstretched and rigid.
Vincent shifted his weight and ran a hand through his hair. “Try breathing rapidly, in little pants.”
“I did not know you were educated in childbirth.”
“I am not … but I have some experience with pain.”
At this point, Jane was willing to try anything. So, feeling a little foolish, she panted. Whether it was the shallow breaths or because the bearing pain was ceasing on its own, she felt somewhat better. It would be preferable if Vincent did not have the experience to offer that advice, but the relief was welcome.