Page 38 of My Highland Rogue
Jennifer nodded and picked up the book. She noticed, as she read, that Mrs. Farmer seemed to listen along as well. Anything to keep her from mentioning how long the labor was going to be.
For most of the morning, nothing further happened. Then Lauren’s face suddenly contorted. She gripped the sheets with both hands, her eyes wild.
Jennifer turned to find the midwife. “Mrs. Farmer!”
The woman looked over at the bed. “It’s only the birthing process, Lady Jennifer. She’ll have plenty of those pains before the bairn is born.”
Yet the contraction seemed to last forever. When it was over, Lauren sagged against the pillows, her face damp with perspiration.
More women lived than died during childbirth. She had to keep that thought in her mind. It became even more difficult during the next hour as Lauren experienced three more laborpains. During the last one she cried out, and all Mrs. Farmer did was bathe her forehead with a damp cloth.
“Isn’t there something you can do?” Jennifer asked.
“This is why I don’t like to have young misses in my birthing rooms,” the midwife replied. “You don’t understand the pain that a woman has to go through in order to bear children. It’s something that God decreed. Would you have the countess be spared?”
“Yes,” Jennifer said. “Queen Victoria had the use of chloroform. Why shouldn’t Lauren?”
The midwife looked decidedly disapproving now.
“I think it’s time you left.”
“On the contrary, I’d like to stay.”
“As I told you earlier, Lady Jennifer, Her Ladyship will probably be in labor for quite some time.”
“Is there anything she needs, Mrs. Farmer? Or anything I can get you?”
“Rest and patience. The good Lord will bring this child into the world on His timetable, Lady Jennifer. Not ours. In the meantime, your presence here is scandalous. You’re a single woman.”
“It’s all right, Jennifer. Truly,” Lauren said. She looked exhausted and it had only been an hour. Her hairline was damp. Her face was pale except for spots of color on the top of her cheeks. Even her lips looked a little bluish.
She made a gesture with her finger and Jennifer bent close.
“Don’t make the dragon mad,” Lauren whispered. “She’ll be even more unbearable.”
“Are you very sure?” Jennifer asked, holding her sister-in-law’s hand.
“I am. You can go and welcome my father, who I’m sure is going to be here any minute.”
“And Harrison.”
They smiled at each other, and Jennifer hoped she wasn’t lying.
Where was her brother?
Chapter Fifteen
Since she didn’t want to disturb Gordon when he was with Sean and it was too early for lunch, Jennifer left the Hall, her destination the bench beside the loch.
Nothing here ever changed. The years passed in tranquility; the beauty of the Scottish scenery remained as awe-inspiring as it had for centuries. The loch didn’t dry up. The hills didn’t crumble. Nothing ever changed.
She’d come to this spot when it was evident her mother wasn’t going to recover from the pneumonia that was sapping her strength. She’d come here after she’d made all the funeral arrangements, since Harrison didn’t seem to want to accept any of his responsibilities. It was here she’d come when he brought his carousing friends home, some of whom had wandering hands. She’d had to slap a young man because he’d made an advance toward her. Her brother hadn’t said a word to him.
They were only a year apart, and when they were small, they’d played together and been friends. As they grew, however, they’d grown apart as well. Harrison was only too cognizant that he was the sixth Earl of Burfield. All otherlesser mortals, even a sister, were beneath his notice.
She didn’t know if Mr. McBain had anything to do with Harrison’s arrogance or if he’d gained an inflated opinion of himself away at university. She suspected it was a combination of the two.
Once his education was finished, Harrison spent more time in Edinburgh and London. Nor did that change after their mother’s death. He’d attained his majority, so there was no further need for a guardian. All restrictions on the Adaire fortune were released as well. Harrison seemed to think that his only task was to live a life of hedonism.
