The Marquess and the Midwife (*On Hold*)

1 Norah

"I need you to hold her. Robert, are you paying attention? I need you to hold her so that I can get to the calf?"

I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, dirt and hay comingling with the perspiration to form a claylike mud against my skin. But my focus remained on the miracle of birth taking place before my very eyes. That and the traumatized farmhand staring wide eyed down the business end of a heifer's birth canal.

"Robert," I barked again and the farmhand's attention snapped to me. "I said grab her."

Slipping on mud and hay and amniotic fluid, the farmhand rushed to the head of the heifer, placing a soothing hand upon her snout and muttering comforting phrases that I was quite certain was more for his benefit than the beast's.

I turned my attention to the calf emerging from the heifer's birth canal, both front hooves and a good portion of its head having already emerged.

"I sent for Lord Watts, Miss Collins. He should be here as soon as–" Robert started.

"There's no time," I told him. "Give me the chains."

Robert hesitated but did as he was told, reaching for the obstetrical chains that my brother-in-law, Lord Finnley Watts, had kept hanging in Mona the heifer's pen for this precise reason. He handed them to me without leaving the animal's front. I grabbed them, nearly dropping them through fingers coated in watery discharge, and tied each one around a hoof, pausing to count between contractions as they occurred.

"Alright," I called out, sweat dripping down my brow as I gripped the other end of the chains tightly and prepared myself. "I'm going to start pulling with her contractions. When I do, she's going to fight it. Be ready."

Robert nodded, digging his heels in and bracing himself for impact. I took a deep breath and watched closely, waiting for the muscle contractions to tell me when. The moment I saw them seize, I gripped the chains and yanked as hard as I could. The heifer screamed as the calf slid inches out of her. I took another deep breath, my shoulders lifting, and waited. Another contraction and I pulled with all my might once more.

It was difficult work, calving. Not for the faint of heart or the weak of arm as my brother-in-law always told me. But there was something rewarding about it as well. Not in the same way as the human births I had assisted with were. That was a feeling of euphoria like no other. But still, this was bringing life into the world. It was ugly and disgusting at times and far less miraculous than the preening mothers in polite society would have a young woman believe, but it was beautiful in its own way. And the work was more gratifying than anything I had ever known.

So I pulled on those chains again and again, every time those muscles contracted, until my arms were so sore I could barely stand to lift them, until I was splattered in blood and viscera and all manner of fluids, until those hooves dropped shakily onto the muddy earth and I slid down into a heap beside it. I raised my eyes to the calf, taking its first wobbly steps forward, and let out a breathy laugh, arms shaking with exhaustion, tears stinging my tired eyes.

"It's done?" Robert asked from where he stood at the mother's head.

"It's done," I repeated, nodding even though he couldn't see me.

And then I stood, my dress stained with mud and afterbirth, and strolled on trembling legs toward the front of the heifer. I placed a bloody hand on her snout and stroked.

"Well done, old girl," I told her, unable to keep the smile from my lips. "Alright, Robert. Let's get them cleaned up."

The process of cleaning was nearly just as grueling as the birth. Eventually, I found myself without a clean spot on my apron upon which to wipe my hands and told Robert I was going to get some air before I returned to help again.