Читать книгу The Historical Collection - Stephanie Laurens - Страница 31

“Hurry along.” Gabe kicked the blocks in place to keep the wagon wheels from moving, while Ash and Chase adjusted the wooden ramp to the wagon bed. “We need to have this done before the ladies return from the shops.”

“What’s the hurry?” Chase said.

Gabe hedged. “So they can arrive at Ashbury’s country estate before nightfall. Safer for men and beasts that way.”

In truth, he didn’t want to risk meeting with Penny. Conversation was to be avoided at all costs. Nothing she could say would change his mind, and nothing he could say would make it any easier.

“Come on, then.” He clapped his hands. “Angus is waiting. We need to have Marigold loaded before I can settle the hens.”

“We have a problem,” Ashbury called from the mews. “The goat won’t move. She keeps stamping at the ground and bleating. Her belly doesn’t look right. It keeps bunching and shifting.”

Chase and Gabe followed him into the stalls.

“Penny always says the creature has sensitive digestion,” Gabe said. “Perhaps the goat ate something that didn’t agree with her.”

“Or maybe it’s something else,” Chase said.

“Like what?”

“I’ve been reading up on things.” Chase jammed his thumb in his waistband. “You know, since it will be Alexandra’s time soon. Humans and goats are different animals, but some qualities among females must be universal. A contracting abdomen and a great deal of moaning being two of those qualities.”

Ashbury wiped his brow with his sleeve. “Chase, what the hell are you saying?”

“I’m saying I think Marigold is preparing to give birth.”

Gabe smacked his gloves against his thigh. “Damn it, I knew it. I knew this goat was breeding.”

Ashbury braced his hands on his hips. “She’s been too free with her favors, eh? The scarlet strumpet.”

“Watch yourself,” Gabe snapped. “Marigold’s not that kind of goat.”

“Yes, let’s not shame the poor girl,” Chase added. “Perhaps it was star-crossed love.”

“Bringing this back to reality for a moment, if you don’t mind,” Gabe said. “What the hell are we supposed to do?”

“We definitely can’t move her in this state,” Ashbury said.

“Don’t animals know what to do on their own?” Chase asked. “It’s instinct. All we need to do is wait.”

And so they waited.

And waited.

After what felt like hours, Gabe paced the stall back and forth. “Should she really be making that noise?”

Ashbury shrugged. “Have you ever heard a woman in her labors?”

“No,” Gabe cautiously replied.

“I regret to inform you, it doesn’t sound much different than this.”

“Why are you telling me these things?” Chase complained.

“That’s it,” Gabe said. “I’m sending for a veterinarian. Two of them. Three. We’ll wait on their advice.”

And so they waited.

And waited.

After what felt like hours, no veterinarian had appeared.

Marigold braced her head against the side of her stall, pawing the ground and bleating. Her tail lifted.

“Hold a moment. I think something’s happening.” Gabe beckoned to the other two. “One of you should look.”

“You do it, Ash,” Chase said.

“Why me?”

“Because your wife’s given birth. You said that you were there.”

“I said I heard it. I didn’t look.”

Chase rose to his feet and went to the hind end of the goat. “I’ll look. I’m not afraid. I intend to be there for every moment of the miracle of my own child’s birth.” He crouched and squinted. “And … I’ve changed my mind.”

Chase retreated to the far corner of the stall and sat on a crate, his pallor having turned a pale, sickly green.

“Fine,” Ashbury said. “I’ll do it. If I could stomach my own injuries from that rocket blast, I can stomach this.” He went to look, then reeled a step backward. “Oh, God. Something’s coming out.”

“Of course something’s coming out,” Gabe said. “A baby goat.”

“No,” Ash said grimly. “No.”

“If it’s not a goat, then what is it?”

“It’s a punishment for all my earthly sins, is what it is.”

“Describe it,” Chase said. “I’ve done my research. What does it look like?”

“Picture a soap bubble,” Ashbury said slowly. “Then picture a soap bubble blown in Hell, by a demon with a phlegmy cold.”

Chase doubled over. “I think I just vomited in my mouth.”

“Maybe it’s the placenta,” Ashbury suggested.

“Ash, you idiot.” Chase had his head between his knees. “The placenta comes after. That’s why they call it the afterbirth. Didn’t you do any reading when Emma was pregnant?”

“Yes. I did all sorts of reading. I read every other type of book to take my mind off the entire affair.”

“Rather cowardly, Ashbury.”

“Yes, and you’re an exemplar of courage over there, heaving your luncheon into a milk pail. Reading about it does nothing but tell you everything that can go wrong. I didn’t need that. I could imagine too many things going wrong on my own.”

“Thank God one of us prepared.” Gathering himself, Chase wiped his brow with his sleeve. “That thing you’re seeing is no doubt the bag of waters. Also known as the amniotic sac.”

Ash stood up. “It went back in. Jesus. It went back in.”

Gabe turned to Chase. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“You just said you’ve done your reading.”

“That wasn’t in the book.”

“Wait, wait. She’s pushing it out again. There’s more of it this time, and it looks … phlegmier.”

Chase retched. “Ash, please.”

“You’re right, I think it is the bag of waters.”

“Well, what do you see inside? A nose? A leg?”

“How should I know? Why does it even matter what part it is?”

“A nose means it’s headfirst. And that’s good. A leg would be bad. I think.”

“You think?”

“It depends on whether it’s a foreleg or hind leg.”

“How do we tell which it is?”

“I don’t know!” Chase exclaimed. “I’m not a veterinarian!”

Ashbury threw up his arms and walked in a circle. “Now it’s gone back in again.”

Gabe lost his patience. He didn’t know where the hell the veterinarian was, but it didn’t matter. Sooner or later, Penny would return home, and Gabe would rather die than be the one to tell her Marigold was gone. “Listen, the two of you. This goat is not dying tonight. We need to stop bickering and do something.”

The three of them gathered at the hind end of the goat. On her next contraction, they gathered their fortitude and crouched behind Marigold for a closer examination.

Chase sucked in his breath. “That’s not a foreleg or a hind leg. That’s a tail.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s bad. Possibly very bad. That means the baby is in a breech position. She’ll have a devil of a time delivering it that way. One or both of them could die.”

“I told you, they’re not going to die,” Gabe said. “Not if there’s anything we can do to prevent it. And there must be something we can do. What’s it say in the book, Reynaud?”

“With a woman, the midwife will try to change the baby’s position. So if both Marigold and the kid are going to survive, I think … I think we have to turn it.”

Ashbury tilted his head. “How do you do that?”

“By fiddling a waltz,” Chase quipped. “By reaching inside the womb, of course. With, you know, a hand.”

The three men looked from one to the other, slowly pushing their hands into their pockets as they did.

Gabe looked at Chase. “It should be you.”

“Why me?”

“You’ve read the book, and you’re the smallest.”

“I am not the smallest. I’m taller than both of you.”

“Yes, but you’re slender.” Ashbury reached for his friend’s arm and lifted it. “Look at that. I’d go so far as to say willowy.”

Chase snatched his arm away. “I am not willowy, for Christ’s sake. Why not you?” He took Ash’s arm and flopped it up and down. “You’re scarred and withered. You won’t even feel the sliminess.”

“We don’t have time for this.” With a curse, Gabe nudged the other two out of the way. He didn’t need to read a book on childbirth to know that the longer this went on, the greater the danger to both Marigold and her kid. “I’ll do it.”

Gabe didn’t know what the hell he was doing, but he was dead certain about one thing: He had to be in love with Lady Penelope Campion. Nothing less could have persuaded him to do this.

Penny, this is for you.

He rolled his sleeve to his biceps, drew a deep breath through his mouth, and shook out his hand. “I’m going in.”