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thought, attempting to cheer herself out of her gloomy musings. Uncle James, her father’s brother, was a career captain in the Black Watch regiment. He was always welcome at Hyndford Close, not only because he insisted on helping with expenses when his brood visited Edinburgh between army assignments, but because the three Maxwell sisters thrived in the warm affection he and his wife Elizabeth expressed toward each other, their children, and their nieces and nephews. Their two boys, Murray and John, provided companionship for Eglantine, as they were just her age, and Jane, for the first time in years, had found in her Aunt Elizabeth someone in whom she could confide.
    Aunt Elizabeth had wanted the lying-in for her new baby to take place in Edinburgh. Their old family friend and doctor, Sir Algernon Dick, president of the Royal College of Surgeons, would see that she got the best of care. Jane had watched her aunt’s belly grow round and hard over the weeks, and Aunt Elizabeth calmly answered her persistent questions about the mysteries of how babies were created and came into the world.
    The door to Jane’s low-ceilinged bedchamber opened abruptly, and through half-shuttered eyes, Jane observed her mother in the entranceway.
    “I want you three lasses up and dressed and down to breakfast right now !”
    Lady Maxwell’s crisp tone carried unusual urgency. Jane sat bolt upright in bed. Almost sixteen, she’d grown so tall, she nearly tumbled fourteen-year-old Eglantine, who had been sleeping dangerously close to the edge of the mattress, onto the floor. At the same time, Jane thought she heard a muffled moan coming from the direction of the hallway past her mother.
    “Is the bairn on the way?” Jane asked excitedly.
    Lady Maxwell looked at her sharply. She had not heard any of the talk between Jane and her sister-in-law concerning pregnancy.
    “That’s none of your affair, missy,” she replied, looking crossly at the three patched linen shifts hanging on the walls on wooden pegs. She wondered how she would ever outfit her pretty daughters to make the good matches they deserved, let alone provide dowries for them.
    “As soon as you’ve dressed and had some porridge, I have a number of errands I want you three little maids to do in town. Fiona will go with you.”
    “But I’ve promised to help Hector in the garden!” Jane protested. She had so looked forward to pulling up the last of the autumn vegetables and gathering in the remaining herbs, their pungent and spicy odors tickling her nose.
    “Hector Chisholm has dug turnips for seventy-odd years, my dear,” her mother responded acidly. “He will accomplish his tasks on his own today, just as you’ll complete the ones I’ve planned for you three. Now quickly—all of you! Dress and join me downstairs. And I want no nonsense today from you , Mistress Jane!”
    With that, Lady Maxwell turned on her heel and quickly shut their door, but not before Jane was positive she had heard the guttural sounds of someone in great pain wafting toward her from the far end of the hallway.
    “She is having the baby!” Jane exclaimed excitedly.
    “It must hurt something terrible… listen!” Eglantine whispered fearfully. “Aunt Elizabeth sounds like—”
    “An injured animal,” Jane completed her sentence for her. “She said that women make those sounds to help them bear the agony, but that the pain comes in waves, with little rests in between as the body pushes the baby out. Thomas told me sheep do the same thing.”
    “You spoke of this subject with Thomas?” Catherine asked incredulously, patting her face dry with a rough linen towel hanging next to the basin.
    Jane shrugged and began dressing.
    “It was a long time ago… before he left.”
    Jane involuntarily glanced down at the remnants of the forefinger on her right hand. The small red stump still pained her when the bitter weather set in, and she never looked at her hand without feeling the loss anew. First,