A Laird for All Time by Angeline Fortin (room on the broom read aloud txt) 📗

pain.  Fresh from her recent apprehensive thoughts on childbearing, Emmy rushed to her side pushing the other women out of the way.  “Dory, what it is?  Do you feel pain?”  Emmy ran her hand knowledgeably down the woman’s stomach and drew back in surprise.  “Are you still wearing that thing?  I thought I told you not to,” she scolded.

“Please,” Dory whispered as perspiration dotted her brow.

“Someone find a footman to carry Dory to her room,” Emmy commanded leaving the woman to scatter as she turned her attention to the woman who looked so much like her.  “Don’t worry, Dory, it’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure,” Emmy patted her hand as the footman arrived.  “Take her carefully up to her room,” she directed.

“Maybe we should call for a doctor or a midwife,” someone, Cousin Gladys, she thought commented.

“I am a doctor,” Emmy said firmly, “and I will take care of Dory.”  The women murmured among themselves at her pronouncement but she waved them away.  “Someone should find Ian though.” Just in case, she added mentally but kept the thought to herself.

On the way up the stairs, Emmy called for a maid to fetch her boiling water, the strongest soap they had and some towels.  What she wouldn’t give for her small medical bag from the hotel!  Or at least a pair of latex gloves!  She was just getting Dory settled on the bed and shooing the ladies out of the room when a trio of maids arrived bringing what she needed.  So quickly, but of course! Dory kept water handy at all times for her tea.  “Margo!” she called and snapped her fingers several times at Dory’s personal maid, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

“Susan, m’lady,” she bobbed a curtsey.

“Susan, you and Margo get Dory into a nightgown, just the gown and nothing else,” Dory blushed and started to protest, “Nothing else,” she repeated firmly.  “On top of the covers, not under.” Emmy went to the windows and flung the curtains wide open allowing as much natural light as possible to enter the room.  Thankfully Dory’s room faced the courtyard and thus had the larger windows.  “You,” she pointed to the third maid she didn’t recognize.  “Bring more lamps closer to the bed.”  As the maids scrambled to do her bidding, Emmy rolled her sleeves and washed her hands thoroughly hissing at the hot water.  “Freakin’ middle ages,” she muttered under her breath.  “Dark, no tools, no stethoscope.  Could use one of those.”  Hmmm, they might have come up with that already…maybe.  “Margo, does the local doctor, is there a local doctor?  Does the doctor have a stethoscope?”  When the girl looked puzzled Emmy explained, “Something that lets him listen to a heartbeat?”

Margo’s expression brightened.  “Aye, m’lady, I’ve seen him use it before on my mum.”

“Would it be possible to send someone to see if we can borrow it?” Emmy asked.  “We don’t need the whole doctor, just the stethoscope,” she clarified to make sure they didn’t bring some under-educated quack back with them.

“I’ll send my brother to ask, m’lady.”  Margo bobbed a curtsey and left the room.

Emmy moved to the bed where Dory lie curled up against the pillows still looking tense and scared.  “Any blood?” she directed this to Susan who had helped Dory change.

“No, m’lady.”

“Good!” Emmy sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at the woman everyone thought to be her sister.  “Relax, Dory.  Breathe.  You look wound up enough to blow your cork.”

Susan giggled and Dory offered a strained smile.  “I’m scared, Emily.”  Emmy started at the use of her real name.

“Just, Emmy,” she returned patting her hand.  “And don’t be scared, you’ll be just fine.”

“My baby,” she moaned stifling a sob.

“Well, let’s just see, shall we?”  Emmy forced Dory on to her back and took her feet one by one and raised them up as they would have been if she had an actual exam table.  Putting a hand on either side of her bulging stomach, Emmy pressed in.  Intently, she waited for some sign of movement from within or, worse case, a contraction that would indicate a miscarriage or premature labor.  Feeling nothing after a moment, she moved her hand to the top of her stomach and pushed down.

As she waited a moment wishing for a fetal monitor, Emmy changed the subject.  “I thought we discussed that corset, Dory.”

“I know, Emmy, I’m sorry,” she whispered.  “I just thought I could still wear it.”

Emmy tsked.  “And after Ian was sooo nice to you yesterday, too,” she admonished.

Dory blushed then giggled just a bit.  Her stomach jumped beneath Emmy’s hands and Dory squealed in terror.

“Shhh, Dory!” Emmy laughed.  “It’s just the baby kicking.”

“Kicking?” Dory responded in confusion and squeaked again as the baby kicked more forcibly.  Emmy put her hand over the spot and savored the feel of the baby’s movement.  It had always been her favorite thing about expectant mothers, the one thing the envied them for and longed for herself.

“Active little bugger,” she said fondly.  “See?  Just kicking and a little gymnastics.  Is that what you felt downstairs?  Or is there actual pain?”

“No,” Dory replied in wonder and put her own hands on her stomach as the baby continued to roll.  “No pain now.  But this is not what I felt before.  That hurt.  But this has been scaring me as well.  I feel it all the time.  Is it truly just the baby moving?  It didn’t realize what it was and it doesn’t happen as much when I wear the corset. Little nudges here and there but never that!”

“The corset probably inhibits the baby’s movements.  Leave it off and let the baby move, okay?” Emmy lectured.

“I’ve never carried a baby long enough before to feel this,” Dory elaborated.

“Well, I’d wager you’ll get to feel a lot more than that this time.”  Emmy shifted until she was sitting closer to the foot of the bed and put a hand on each of Dory’s knees.  “Susan, do you have a