Page 263 of The Ladies Least Likely

Harriette nodded and kept her face calm as another contraction gripped her. “He seems to be doing well so far. When we visited last year, for our wedding trip, he and Dietz had made some wonderful restorations to the castle, and more importantly they had made some improvements to the farming practices on our lands. I will be interested to see how the harvest goes this year with the new implements we provided, and I want to see how some of the public buildings we started are progressing. There should be at least one town in Löwenburg that is a center for culture and learning.”

“Harriette is an enlightened duchess.” Ren smiled and squeezed her hand. “She makes sure Franz Karl does not become a despot and that her people are not kept in poverty.”

“As you are an enlightened mill owner, my love.” Harriette squeezed back. “Ensuring that your workers have proper wages, proper doctoring, and proper food, and you do not employ children who are better off being schooled.”

“Bah,” said Aunt Calenberg. “Remind me not to visit again until the honeymoon is over. Being around you two, I scarcely need sugar in my tea.”

Harriette’s hand flew to her stomach as the next contraction gripped her, and Ren saw. “What?”

Of a sudden, Sorcha was at her side. “Are they regular? Close together?”

“No, only one every few minutes.” Harriette drew in a breath as the sharp clench subsided.

“It’s early days, then,” Sorcha decided. “Come, Duchess. Let’s walk.”

Harriette’s travailslasted the day and she very much doubted that, as she’d been assured, she would forget the pain once the child was placed in her arms. One did not lightly forget the pain of having one’s insides rent to impossible proportions. But she was glad the child chose that day to emerge, for she had all her favorite people in the house, and the sounds of movement and life downstairs helped her feel less alone in her agony as she withdrew to the upstairs room that had been prepared as a birthing chamber.

In the end it was Sorcha, Chima, Natalya, and her aunt in the room with her, along with the midwife, who insisted on having pots of hot water and everything she touched dipped in it, including their hands. To her surprise, Natalya proved the most soothing presence, holding Harriette’s hand as she walked the room, pushing her damp hair away from her face.

“I had twins once,” she said off-handedly, as if she were remarking on the weather. “Such slippery little eels they were! Their father wanted them, and they are being raised in his house. I will go back to see them someday, when they are old enough to know me.”

Harriette couldn’t imagine being parted from her child, but the thought of Natalya as a mother occupied her as she squatted over the birthing stool and pushed. And pushed. And pushed again, screaming, until a great gush issued forth and her shrieks were joined by a small, shrill cry.

Sorcha expertly wiped and dried the babe, then handed her to Chima while she attended to the rest of what Harriette had to expel. Harriette obeyed, her eyes on the tiny form as Chima cleaned her mouth, ears, and eyes. It annoyed her that others got to hold her child before she did, but then again, she had the rest of her life with this child. She hoped.

“Is it—is it—” Her voice was strangled. “For heaven’s sake, unwrap it so I cansee!”

“A girl, Hari,” Aunt Calenberg said. Her eyes were damp as she led Harriette to a chair. Sorcha carried away the bowl of afterbirth, and Chima, as if she had assisted at a hundred births, pinched the cord and snipped it. Then she handed the bundle to Harriette.

With trembling hands she took her babe. The tiny head was covered in a fierce mop of black hair, the tiny eyes twisted closed. Harriette’s fingers shook as she laid the bundle on her lap and unwrapped it. Four perfect limbs, a straight little back and bottom. Ten fingers, ten toes. Everything was there.

“She’s perfect.” Harriette could barely breathe.

The child squinched up her face and howled. Harriette’s sound was part laugh, part cry. “She’sloud.”

Ren burst into the room and lurched toward her. He was too heedless to care about his limp, only that he reached them quickly. Harriette cradled the tiny neck and bottom and held up their child for inspection.

“A girl, my darling,” she said. “Isn’t she amazing?”

Ren dropped to his knees, his face ablaze. “She’s right,” he said hoarsely. “She’s—she’s not?—”

“She’s perfect,” Harriette said again.

He took Harriette’s head in both hands and kissed her, fiercely, deeply. “A future duchess for Löwenburg,” he said. “Well done, my love.”

“We’ll have a boy for Renwick next time,” Harriette said.

“Can we have twelve? I want a round dozen.” Ren’s eyes were soft and full of wonder, yet there was something so fierce on his face as he looked at their daughter, then at Harriette. “That is, if you?—”

“Day by day, my love,” Harriette said. “One miracle at a time.”

He kissed her again, and she forgot anyone else was in the room. This was the heart of her world, here in her arms, these two people.

“You’ve fixed everything,” he said into her neck. “Thank you.”

“Oh, hush,” said Harriette, and to her great astonishment, she began to cry. “I did nothing.”

“You’ve made everything right. For me, for this child—all of it. Rhette, are you crying?”

“You finally did it, you great oaf,” she sobbed. “I’ve never cried in my life, but now—I’m sohappy—I might never stop.”

“There it is,” Ren teased. “A hysterical woman. I knewthere was one in there all along.”

“Oh, hush,” Harriette told him, sniffling, and she kissed him through her tears, and he kissed her, and then they both covered with kisses their tiny daughter, the duchess-to-be, who squinched up her face again and made clear what she thought of this family, these parents, this strange and astonishing world, and that she demanded to know where within it she might find her first meal.