Ahead of Schedule

[Odira Potter]

Odira had, at last, found something that all the book learning in the world could not prepare her for; something she was decidedly not suited for: childbirth.

Having “missed out” on her sisters’ deliveries by virtue of not getting on with the eldest Brownes, and having few friends married, never mind mothers, the question of whether or not to be in the birthing room had never previously arisen. Still, when she and Bennet had received word that Eulalie had gone into labour—early—Odira had not thought twice about going to her sister-in-law’s side. Bennet, as was appropriate, had waited downstairs, a choice Odira herself would come to envy.

It was, really, natural curiosity that had done her in. She had asked the midwife to explain what was happening and had been shown more than she had ever cared to see* of Eulalie Potter. The witch had gone white as a ghost and had to excuse herself from the room, lest she vomit upon the laboring redhead.

Still rather shaken, Odira lay fanning herself on the bed that had been her own whilst she and Bennet had been Eulalie’s guests, in the time that had followed the fire. Collins, the other Mrs. Potter’s lady’s maid, had been given strict instructions to fetch her when the child was properly arrived, and had been sent to find Bennet in the meanwhile. While she did not wish to make a show of her…her inability to remain in the room, Odira did not think herself quite able to wait alone without distraction.

* Dilated vagina.

[Bennet Potter]

This was not the first time that Bennet had waited outside a birthing room, although it was the first time that that the babe within had been legitimate. His wife had opted to go inside, and so Bennet was waiting alone. Last time he had waited with Darcy, and he had not joined his brother in waiting for Jameson's arrival.

He was somewhat surprised to hear that Odira had taken faint; she was quite solid in many ways, and Bennet had thought her too sensible to have vapors. That meant, to him, that what took place in a birthing chamber must be especially disturbing. Surely midwives must be the strongest of all women to see to birth for a living!

"Odira," he asked tentatively as he stepped into her guest room. "Are you all right?" Of course she wasn't, but Bennet knew himself to be the king of awkward questions, and perhaps awkwardness in general.

  

[Odira Potter]

“My body is fine, though my pride a bit bruised,” she admitted sheepishly, not quite energized enough to sit up, but turning her head to smile up at her husband. “I can’t even remember the last time I fainted so; you must think me terribly silly!”

Or rather, she thought herself terribly silly; Odira knew Bennet well enough to doubt that he felt similarly (or if he did, he had the sense to lie about it).

[Bennet Potter]

"Nonsense," Bennett David kindly. "I dare say I would faint in a birthing room before five minutes had passed! I would rather not know what lies beyond the door, and think you quite brave for trying to be there for Eulalie."

  

[Odira Potter]

“You’re a man, Bennet,” the witch replied dryly. “Until you acquire some sort of medical training, your place is in the corridor waiting anxiously. As a woman, though, one might expect me to take it with a bit more dignity.”

In spite of herself, however, Odira smiled bit—as much making fun of herself as anything.

[Bennet Potter]

Bennet blushed and adjusted his glasses awkwardly. He was wearing them more often of late; it seemed like he needed them for more than just reading. "Most women without some sort of training in midwifery or medicine are in the birthing room their first time when they have their first child," he pointed out gently. "You have neither training nor experience."

It occurred to him briefly that they had not done anything which might end with Odira in a birthing room since their wedding night, but this was hardly the time to bring it up.

"Once you are recovered, you can come and wait with me," Bennet said soothingly as he patted his wife's hand gently. "When everything is done, we can greet Darcy's child together."

  

[Odira Potter]

With some effort—she was still, perhaps, a bit woozy—Odira rose properly and slid to her feet, as if defying herself to fail again.

“Shall we?” she asked, offering her hand to her husband.

[Bennet Potter]

With a soft, loving smile, Bennet took Odira's hand and placed it gently on his arm. He then led her back to where he had been waiting, a careful eye kept for signs she was not yet feeling properly well. She did not seem wholly recovered, and yet there seemed to be no reason to urge her back to lie down.

The sounds from within seemed to indicate Eulalie was still struggling to bring forth the babe, and as Bennet moved to settle his wife in a chair, he looked her over in concern. What if the sounds reminded her of whatever had caused her to faint in the first place?

  

[Odira Potter]

Odira couldn’t help but wonder if childbirth was always so miserable—Eulalie did not sound like she was enjoying things in the least. Idly, she made conversation with her husband, if only to drown out the sounds from within until, finally, the midwife emerged, looking far more grim than Odira thought appropriate.

[Bennet Potter]

The look on the midwife's face made Bennet's stomach drop; it was far too much like the look on the midwife's face when Lyra had delivered her doomed daughter. "The baby?" he asked anxiously.

"The little lass is fine."

A knot of dread twisted his stomach. "And the mother?"

  

[Odira Potter]

The midwife’s expression was surprising, but Bennet’s was absolutely concerning. It was enough to forewarn Odira of what was to come, though her stomach still plummeted as the words were said aloud.

“I’m afraid not.”

It was one thing to serve as guardian for two children that were not her own, but now Eulalie—whom she had had a chance to grow fond of—was dead and now Odira was the closest thing that Jameson and the new arrival had to a mother.

Merlin help her.

[Bennet Potter]

"Mrs. Potter had a blanket," the midwife said. "Well, two -- the other was for if it was a boy, and that shall never be."

As she spoke, Bennet's eyes were on the door behind her opened again and a nursery maid came out carrying a sleepy-seeming bundle in a pale blue blanket. As the girl held the baby out to Odira, Bennet saw the corner folded out to reveal the elegantly embroidered name sat in white flowers: Elspeth Lyra Potter.

Bennet felt as though he was going to faint; he put a hand on Odira's shoulder tightly half to reassure her and half to steady himself. His niece, named by her dead mother after his dead mother and his undead sister -- it was almost too much for him to take. "I -- it's a beautiful name," he said, his voice breaking.

  

[Odira Potter]

Elspeth. It was quite fitting, Odira thought, that Darcy’s children should both be named after his parents. A touch morbid, perhaps, but the family had seen a great deal of pain—and so she would choose to see it instead as a tribute.

“A lovely name,” she responded, a bit more solidly than her husband, taking the infant in her arms. Baby Elspeth’s hair was dark, as her father’s had been; there was little in her of the mother who had given her life to bring her into this world. Perhaps that might age as she changed.

“Thank you.”