I wouldn’t want anyone to think I lived in permanent crisis because I didn’t, mostly my days were active and fulfilling especially when I helped Dr Grieve with his patients. Increasingly, he trusted me to do things properly, without him having to look over my shoulder. He was a good teacher and explained the purpose of every action. My nature was always to be clean but he took cleanliness to what others might consider extreme levels. It was so exhilarating to be party to his knowledge and observe his skills in real situations. Recently, I had begun to copy his notes with a fair hand and I was of real help to him in transcribing his spidery writing and annotations into detailed records for each patient.
We never discussed the moment when I had criticised his choice of clients in favour of those who paid. But, I think I must have pricked his conscience as he occasionally agreed to see those who had no money. Usually, he passed them on to me for practical treatment, but it was a start.
Cecilia was almost at her term and she looked very healthy though a trifle ungainly. We had agreed on a gentle plan of exercise – we walked as far as the orchard and back when the weather was fine. I was fast asleep one chilly morning when I was awoken by John, it was still dark with no sign of the coming dawn and I was cold even under my blankets. Autumn was well under way and the first frosts tinged the grass with sugarlike trails.
‘Esther, wake up, Cecilia needs you.’ It had begun.
Once I had worked out that the birth was not going to happen for a while yet I went back and dressed myself in the work dress I had recently purchased. I asked John to send a message to Dr Grieve that the contractions were well spaced at the moment and would he please come after his breakfast, then we all sat around waiting. We tried to allay Cecilia’s fears and did everything possible to keep her calm, even playing cards. The baby was perfectly positioned for birth and Cecilia was young and healthy so it was all in her head that there might be problems. I told them both that every birth was very different and what happened last time need have no relation this time and so it proved because once the doctor arrived things moved on quite quickly. John Elwood went downstairs and left us to it and within just a few hours of full labour we were able to deliver a big strong boy, as healthy as you could wish for. We were all very emotional and many joyful tears were shed by the entire household. John was thrilled – his pride in his son was immeasurable and Cecilia was his clever girl, as she was mine.
The next two days were a whirr of congratulatory visitors and tenants who all came to pay their respects to the Elwoods. A message had been despatched to Cecilia’s mother who thankfully, was unwell with a bronchial condition, and couldn’t therefore descend on the household.
Gradually, we all settled into a routine that revolved round young Master Frederic Elwood, who was named for his late paternal grandpapa. Cecilia blossomed into motherhood and it did not take long for her to regain her strength despite Farmer Elwood trying to mollycoddle her. Beth loved her little man and whenever possible tried to supervise his bathing. I think Cecilia’s mama was disapproving that she fed the baby herself but I thought it the best thing and I know it gave her great joy. We talked about it a lot and felt very sorry for the society ladies who employed a wet-nurse. Dr Grieve said that some women would prefer to keep their figures than feed their babies.