Margaret of the North (31 page)

"Tell her to breathe calmly
in, out," Dr. Donaldson commanded John softly.

"In, out, in, out………"

**************

Margaret delivered a blonde
blue-eyed girl not long after and when John went back into the room, she was
sitting up, holding the baby.  She was sweaty and exhausted, strands of hair
matted on her forehead but she beamed brightly at him, "We have a
daughter." 

He smiled broadly and, in a few
quick strides, was by her side.  He sat next to her, kissed her salty lips, and
put his arm around her as they both looked down at their daughter.

"How tiny she is!" 
John touched a curly golden lock with his finger, "And she is
blonde!"

"Your sister Fanny is
blonde.  I was a blonde baby, wasn't I, Dixon?"  She asked Dixon who just
came back into the room.

"Yes, mistress and your baby
looks like you when you were a baby."

"I am not so certain about
that.  I think she has John's chin and mouth."  Margaret looked at her
husband, "Don't you think so?"

He smiled at her indulgently,
"Of course, she does."

"You must rest now,
mistress.  Dr. Donaldson said I must make sure you do soon.  You need to have
enough strength if you decide to nurse her."

"I will nurse her,"
Margaret asserted as she handed the baby to Dixon.

"I will put her in her crib
in the room we prepared for her.  Mary and I will take turns watching her while
you rest."  Dixon left the room cradling the baby in her arms.

"Are you sure about nursing,
my love?"  John asked as she lay back on the bed.  "Dr. Donaldson
says he knows a couple of good wet nurses."

"Do you have any objections
to my doing so?"

"No, not at all.  He did
also say that nursing her yourself is probably healthier for her and good for
you."

After two days of sleeping from
which she awoke only to eat, nurse her child, and attend to her hygiene,
Margaret regained her color, her appetite and the usual animation in her
manner.  When he came home that evening John found her sitting up in bed
nursing the baby.  Except for a few stray wisps, her hair was neatly gathered
up in a simple chignon and the pale rosiness in her translucent skin was
evident again on her face and her exposed breast.  The crib had been brought
into the room.  He kissed his wife before he sat down next to her.

"You look quite well, my
love."  He gazed at her, silently and tenderly, as their baby suckled at
her breast.  It was, to him, a glorious sight that, a year ago, he never
imagined he would see.

"Margaret glanced at him
briefly, blushing at his fascination.  "We have to give her a name."

"Yes.  How about Maria,
after your mother?"

"How about Hannah, after
yours?  She came in to see us this morning and she appeared pleased enough.  I
can't help thinking she would have preferred a boy."

"Doesn't everyone?  But as
far as a name is concerned, our daughter looks rather delicate and fair and so
unlike my mother.  More like yours, actually."

"True.  But perhaps, if we
called her Hannah, she will grow up as strong and resilient."

"Would you like that?"

"Yes.  She will need to be,
in a society that favors men and boys.  A good mind will help greatly,
too."

John stared at Margaret, somewhat
startled and yet, he could not dispute the truth of what she said.  Although it
was not the first time she said something that gave him pause, this time he
frowned, looked away and became pensive.

"Are you shocked about what
I said?  But you know it is true."

"It is startling
nonetheless.  It just never occurred to me to think of it in that way."

She had finished nursing and she
held the baby out to him.  "Here, take her while I button my shirt." 
She saw him hesitate and she reassured him.  "It's easy.  Fold your arms
in front of you, palms up, and I'll put her on top.  Don't worry.  You will not
drop her."

He complied awkwardly but when
the baby was cuddled in his arms, he remarked in amazement, "How light she
is and how nice she smells."

"Yes, she is our little
angel.  Maybe, things will be better for her when she is twenty."  In a
more lighthearted tone, she added, "Meanwhile, she needs a name."

He nodded.  "Perhaps, Maria
Hannah or Hannah Maria but………  "—gazing at his sleeping daughter and then
smiling at his wife—"Margaret seems more appropriate for the young woman
you described."

She shook her head at him, a half-smile
on her lips, "You're teasing me."

"Not at all.  She would be a
formidable charmer if she grows up like my Margaret."

Eventually, when John could not
be budged on the name Margaret, they compromised on Elise Margaret.  They would
call her Elise.

**************

The arrival of the first child
delighted the servants particularly those who had been in the household since
the Thorntons moved into the mill house.  They had begun to dread serving a
home that grew increasingly somber and gloomy after Miss Fanny married and
left.  When the master returned home with the beautiful young Southerner who
protected him from the rioters, some of them felt as if she had brought
sunshine with her.  Now, she just gave the household the joy and normalcy that
only children could bring. 

They chatted about the baby
endlessly for days, speculating on why she was blonde, who she looked like, why
Mrs. Margaret would not employ a wet nurse, what she should be named.  Dixon
and Mary, who had both known that childbirth could threaten a mother's life,
had been deeply concerned about Margaret.  Mary's mother had died delivering a
son who would have been her younger brother while Dixon had witnessed
Frederick's difficult birth.  Mrs. Hale lost so much blood that it had taken
her several months to recover.  Dixon and Mary were both greatly relieved that
Margaret had a normal delivery.  The following day, they greeted her with a
large bouquet of flowers that Mary and the younger servants went into the
countryside to pick.  When Margaret felt well enough to come down to dinner one
week later, Dixon celebrated by preparing Margaret's favorite dishes and baking
a special cake for everyone to partake of.

John stood by his daughter's crib
looking down at her as she slept, her eyes tightly closed, her long dark lashes
resting prettily on plump ivory cheeks—a tiny helpless creature, only three
weeks old, who he had helped bring into the world and was now completely
dependent on him and Margaret.  The thought was both awe-inspiring and
humbling, the responsibility and challenge it implied exceeding anything he had
ever been faced with.  He watched her for some time, amused at how she
occasionally pursed her pink tiny lips and twitched her limbs.

"How peacefully she sleeps. 
Do you think she's dreaming?"  He asked Mary.  John had come home early
from work and found Mary in their bedroom seated by the crib, rocking Elise to
sleep.

Mary merely smiled and nodded.

"Where is my wife,
Mary?"

"She's at her bath, master. 
Would you like me to tell her you're home?"  She began to get up.

John smiled at her as he raised a
hand to stop her from getting up.  "No need to, Mary.  I'll go.  Little
Elise needs you more."

John closed the door noiselessly
after him as he entered the bathroom.  Margaret, with her back to the door, was
lying in the tub.  Her eyes were closed and her wet hair, piled up in a bun,
cushioned the back of her head.  She heard him come in but she neither budged
nor opened her eyes and assumed it was Mary.  "I am not ready to get out
yet Mary.  This warm water is just too wonderful to leave."

John walked towards the chair
next to the tub, picked up the robe draped on it along with the towel folded on
the seat and sat down quietly.

Margaret raised her eyelids
reluctantly and lazily as she sensed a presence next to her, "Oh, it is
you!  You are early today."  She extended a wet shining arm to him.

"Yes.  We completed a huge
order early today, ahead of schedule, and I decided to dismiss the workers right
after.  They have been working very hard the past few weeks, some of them
staying beyond closing time."  He grasped her hand and bent over to kiss
her lips, warmer than usual and soft and wet from the vapor rising out of the
tub.

She closed her eyes as his kiss
lingered.  Her lips tasted like ripe peach and he wanted to savor their
lusciousness again but as tempted as he was, he merely gazed at her until she
opened her eyes slowly.

She smiled placidly at him,
leaned back, and commented casually.  "The mill appears to be doing quite
well."  She closed her eyes and allowed herself to go slack once more in
the enveloping warmth of the rose-scented water.  Still, she was conscious that
he was feasting his eyes on her.

"I expected it to.  There is
growing demand for cotton and we will be getting new contracts soon."

"Hmm," the sound barely
escaped her throat as she nodded, hardly moving her head.

John sat watching Margaret
luxuriate in sensuous content in her bath, fascinated at the sight of her
figure undulating ever so gently under the water with every breath she took. 
How different it was in that room from the noise and chaos he just left not
even a quarter of an hour ago!  He sat for many minutes, amused at himself that
he could sit there, unperturbed, relaxing and nearly hypnotized by the
stillness that surrounded them—a stillness that nothing intruded into it but
their breathing and the occasional tinkling of water when Margaret adjusted her
position.

At length, Margaret slithered up
the tub and broke into his reverie, "The water is getting cold.  Time to
get out, in any case.  Help me up, please, John."

"I will do better than
that," he replied in a playful tone.

He got up, reached for her hands
and pulled her up.  She turned her back to him as he wrapped her robe around
her.  Then he lifted her up from the tub and unto the rug.  He turned her
around to face him so he could dab her face and her arms with the towel.  He
proceeded to dry her hair and her scalp vigorously until her head tingled. 
Throwing the towel back on the chair, he rubbed his palms together to warm them
up and then lightly patted her cheeks and her arms until her skin took on a
rosier tint.

"Does our service meet with
your approval, madam?"  He asked in a servile tone.

"Excellent, monsieur!"
She answered in French, going along with his playful mood, flashing him a
bewitching smile.  "Indeed, I am extremely pleased you have not forgotten
that I like to get my blood going with vigorous drying."

"Yes although it has been
awhile," he said as he clasped her close and started kissing her. 
"Ah, how good you smell," he whispered between kisses, "How warm
and soft."

She murmured against his mouth,
"Come back to our bed tonight.  It cannot be too pleasant sleeping in your
study."

"No!  It's lonely sleeping
by myself in that cold narrow bed.  But what about Elise?  Don't you need to
nurse her in bed at night?"

"That was only for a little
while so I could go on sleeping when she cried out to be nourished in the
middle of the night.  Now, she sleeps almost all the way through and I have
caught up on my sleep.  We will place her crib closer by the fireplace and I'll
put her back in it."  She laid her head on his shoulder, snuggling in his
embrace, "I miss the warmth of you at night.  Don't you miss me?"

"How could you even ask me
that?" He answered as he untied her robe and placed his arms inside and
around her waist.

**************

A couple of weeks later, as he
was about to go to bed, John noticed that the crib had been moved out of the
room, "Where is Elise?"

"She's back in the room we
prepared for her.  Mary will be staying with her at night from now on."

He nodded, threw his robe on a
chair and climbed into bed.  Margaret lay with the sheet up to her neck.  He
thought it odd on a warm late spring night; he himself was without his night
shirt.  "Are you ill?"

"No," she answered
hesitantly, throwing him a quick glance, biting her lower lip as she looked
away as if she had just been caught at some transgression and was hiding her
face, fearful of what he might see in it.

He was perplexed, even somewhat
concerned.  "What is the matter my love?"

She turned her face towards him
but she did not answer, quickly averted her glistening eyes, and sucked her
breath in through tremulous parted lips.  She kicked the sheet with one swift
movement, baring naked shoulders, arms and a breast.  Pleasantly surprised, he
cradled her face between his palms to force her to look at him; then he smiled
at her, his eyes shining under his dark brow.

As he bent over to kiss her, she placed
her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, his face only inches from
hers.  She gazed deeply into his eyes.  "You have been back with me for
some time.  You kiss me and caress me but you have not………"  Her voice
trailed and she lowered her eyes.