boy.”
Mrs. Blackwell barely had the strength to open her eyes. Dawn was painting pink streaks in the sky, and she’d been laboring all night long. Both mother and baby were exhausted, but Sarah knew it was important for both of them to get the child to nurse immediately.
“I know you’re tired,” Sarah said as Mrs. Blackwell looked down uncertainly at the baby. “But if you can feed him even a little right now, it will help with your recovery, and I’m sure he could use the nourishment.”
“Oh, I’m not going to feed him myself,” Mrs. Blackwell said in surprise. “I’ve hired a wet nurse. Someone should send for her. Granger knows where to find her.”
Sarah frowned. Many wealthy women hired nurses for their children, so she shouldn’t have been surprised. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Even if you could just feed him for a few days, it would be so much better for both of you.”
“Oh, no,” she insisted, a little alarmed. “Edmund would never allow it. He said no gently bred woman should nurse her own children. Besides, I have to be free to travel for his lectures ...” Her voice trailed off as she obviously remembered her husband would be giving no more lectures. “Oh, dear,” she said very faintly and very sadly.
“I’m sure if you’d like to take care of the child yourself, there’s no reason why you couldn’st,” Sarah suggested, tactfully not mentioning the fact that Dr. Blackwell’s opinion no longer mattered. It was all she could do.
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Blackwell said. “I wouldn’t know where to start. I don’t know anything about babies. Send for the nurse. She’ll come right away. She said she would. Oh, and someone should notify my father. He’ll want to know immediately.” She looked down at the babe on the bed beside her, studying its tiny face. “He’s awfully small, isn’t he? I really ... I don’t know what to do with him.”
“Just hold him for now,” Sarah suggested. “You can learn the rest as you go. Look how sweet he is,” she added, hoping to get Mrs. Blackwell interested in the child. “And where did he get that red hair? Does it run in your family?”
Unfortunately, her words seemed to have exactly the opposite effect. Instead of being enchanted with the child, as most mothers would be, Mrs. Blackwell looked down at him in horror. “Please, I don’t ...” Mrs. Blackwell said in despair, and Sarah had no choice but to take the poor child away.
An hour later Sarah had sent a servant to notify Mrs. Blackwell’s father and met the wet nurse, a sturdy-looking woman who seemed, to Sarah’s relief, both respectable and clean. Satisfied that her work was done, she left the baby in the nurse’s care and Mrs. Blackwell sleeping on fresh sheets and made her way downstairs.
The house was quiet as she descended into the front hallway. The servants would be engaged in their regular activities, and certainly no visitors would be lingering. Or so Sarah thought until a short, plump man emerged from the front parlor at the sound of her footsteps. He was well dressed, if a bit rumpled, and his rather homely features were twisted into a scowl. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“I’m the midwife,” she replied. This usually had the effect of satisfying any such inquiry. People seldom cared what her name was once informed of her profession.
Instead of placating him, however, the information seemed to alarm him. “Mrs. Blackwell? How is she? Shouldn’t you be with her?”
“She’s perfectly fine, she and her new son. They’re both resting comfortably now.”
“Oh, thank heaven,” the man said, placing a hand over his heart, as if trying to still it. “After the shock of finding poor Edmund, I didn’t know ... What a terrible, terrible thing.” He shook his head for a moment and then looked up again, his small brown eyes anxious. “Do you think ... Will there be any lasting effects? From the shock I mean. She’s such a delicate
Donald Luskin, Andrew Greta