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“Nonsense!” But she turned it into a kiss. “I’m not even feeling all this terrible pain that women complain about. I think it’s because I’m so used to discomfort. I truly think, Simon, that I won’t even feel very much pain at all—”

Her hand tightened, and she blinked.

“OW!”

< 45 =

Uncivilized Behavior

Dr. Ortolon didn’t know what was the most difficult: the labor itself, or the husband. Of course, it was often that way. As the premier accoucheur in London, he’d found that men could be quite as troublesome as their wives. But this husband outdid the entire gender, even the royal dukes, who combined sentimentality with bullheadedness. Mr. Darby had seemed a logical man throughout the pregnancy. He appeared rational during those consultations at which he appeared, expressing a measured level of concern for his wife.

But in the last week or so, the man had come unhinged. In fact, he had apparently changed his mind about the pregnancy.

“It’s a bit late for that,” Dr. Ortolon said with a rusty chuckle. Of course, he laughed alone. Mr. Darby was pacing the entrance hall like a wild animal. And when Ortolon headed up the stairs, the man raged at his side uttering threats and generally impolite remarks.

And then he followed Ortolon straight into the birthing chamber!

Lady Henrietta was in some discomfort by that stage, al-Fool for Love 347

though she was controlling herself well. Mr. Darby barged to the head of the bed and began speaking to his wife. When Ortolon suggested that Mr. Darby leave so that he could conduct an examination, the man swung around with one of the most uncivilized expressions Ortolon had ever seen on a gentleman’s face.

“Don’t even suggest it,” he snarled.

Ortolon fancied he could see bared teeth. He gave in. It did seem to distract his patient to have her husband in the room, and that was all to the good.

The labor progressed nicely while Lady Henrietta scolded her husband for his rudeness and general indecency for remaining in the chamber. Later, as labor grew more acute, his patient amused herself by shrieking at her husband. Normally the mothers-to-be had a tendency to berate the attending doctor, and Ortolon always found that this disordered his nerves. Yes, he thought to himself, husbands could be quite useful in the lying-in chamber, if one could just get around the impropriety of the whole affair. In the end, it was a normal birth. Disappointing, almost. As an artist of the profession, Ortolon rather enjoyed the violent race against death offered by a difficult birth.

“Quite commonplace,” he told his patient. She looked up at him. It was a familiar picture. Her hair was dark with sweat and plastered to her forehead. She was white with exhaustion, and there were dark circles under her eyes. But her eyes shone as she looked at the little bundle in her arms, a bruised ugly little lump of humanity who was already suckling with some enthusiasm.

“What will you call the boy?” Ortolon said, washing his hands once again and preparing to leave.

“Call him?”

Lady Henrietta appeared to have lost track of his question as she traced the little whorls of her baby’s ear. 348 Eloisa

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The baby’s father answered. “John,” he said. “His name is John, for the poet, John Donne.”

Naming a child after a poet! What a heathenish idea. Dr. Ortolon was horrified to see that the man’s eyes were shining with tears. He snapped shut his black bag and left as quickly as possible.

< 46 =

For Love of Johnny

Henrietta could hear the girls coming all the way down the hallway. Their voices were echoing off the walls, as excited little girls’ voices had a tendency to do. Anabel shrieked with laughter, and then she heard Millie saying, “Now calm down, girls, do. You don’t want to frighten your little brother half to death. He’s only a babe, after all.”

The babe had just drunk so much milk that his little stomach was stretched tight as a drum. He lolled in the crook of her arm, looking as drunk and pleasured as a sailor on leave. His father strode in from the adjoining dressing room just as Anabel and Josie burst into her chamber. Anabel was an unsteady runner, but what she lacked in stability, she made up in speed. She made it to the rocking chair first.

“Mama!” she shrieked.

“Don’t wake the baby!” Josie scolded, but it was too late. John Darby opened his eyes and looked around in a dazed sort of way. He had just begun recognizing people’s faces. The girls hung over him, bumping heads as Josie crooned,

“Johnny! Johnny! Smile for me! Smile for me!”

So he did, of course. Who could not? There were his two 350 Eloisa

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