The Wet Nurse's Tale (10 page)

The next morning the door to the nursery opened quietly, and I rose from my chair and bobbed my curtsy for Mr. Holcomb. My face had swelled, I felt sure, from having cried all night but there was naught I could do for it. I put the baby in the crib and he was good and did not cry.

“Susan,” said he, “Mrs. Holcomb feels she has been too hard. She wishes you to know that you may have the three days you wish for.”

I gasped for I had not thought it would turn thus. “Oh, sir,” said I, my voice hiccoughing with new tears. “I am so grateful to you.”

Mr. Holcomb cleared his throat. “She worries, Susan,” said he, “that you will decide to remain in Leighton. She feels that it would be difficult to immediately find a replacement nurse for William and that his health would suffer for it.”

“I promise to return with haste,” said I. “I promise . . . on Jesus’ own name, sir.”

He smiled. Then he said quickly, as if he were explaining, “Mrs. Holcomb is herself so innocent, you see. She feels . . . she believes . . . that you care as much for William as . . .” and then he bit his tongue. “Well,” he said, “I have said too much and perhaps made the both of us uncomfortable. Susan, you have been careful of Mrs. Holcomb’s feelings these months; please do not let your sensibilities diminish in this regard.” And then he bid me good morning.

I hardly knew what he meant with that last, but I was so happy I hardly cared. My milk let down just to think of my own baby’s face, and I thought to pick up little William and offer him to suck which he did do. I smiled down at him in my joy. I thought about what Mr. Holcomb had said about Mrs. Holcomb and how she wished for me to love the baby, not just nurse it. She has learnt a hard lesson, I thought, and perhaps a bad one for me. It’s like King Solomon did with the two mothers who wanted the same baby. When he threatened to halve the baby and give each woman one piece, one of them agreed and the other refused, and that’s how he knew which was the real mother and which the false. Perhaps that’s what my mistress is thinking to herself even now: that I would let her baby be cut in twain if twere to serve my purposes. “Ah,” I whispered as I looked down at the sucking baby, “your mother’s near a fool, isn’t she, my dear.”

I waited anxiously for the days to pass. While I watched the babe in the night, I burned a tallow candle that I might sew my Joey a bonnet from a scrap of muslin I had bought in the shops. I have never cared for needlework much, but I wanted to bring a gifty with me. I had some ribbons for Ada and some loose sugar for my mother and I meant to buy an orange for the children, once the time for leaving came close.

Once Mrs. Holcomb came in and saw me sewing at the bonnet in candlelight and gave me a smile before she looked at her baby in his cradle. I saw how it was: she did not offer me the use of one of the house lamps, which she would have done before I had asked for the leave.

Three days before our journey, Mrs. Potts and Mrs. Holcomb both wished me to make an errand to the baker’s shop while the baby had his nap. Mrs. Holcomb had neglected to advise Mrs. Potts that there’d be company for tea, and Mrs. Potts had naught but brown bread in the cupboard as the next day was her baking day. I welcomed the errand. Partly, it felt lovely to be out of doors as I had been in the nursery for many hours that day; William was hurting with a tooth coming in and squally. And partly I wanted to make up to the mistress, as I knew it would go better for me once I was back in her good graces, so I thought to do the job fast and well.

I was diligent in my errand and bought a lovely plum cake which I got for less as it was crookedly rised but, I thought to myself, Mrs. Potts will serve slices after all. I took up the cake and walked quickly back to the house and meant to give it over to Mrs. Potts as quick as could be but she was not in the kitchen. I put it in the pantry and when I came out, there was Mrs. Potts and Mrs. Holcomb both, having come down the stairs together. Behind them was someone I could not see as both those ladies tended toward tallness.

“Oh, Susan dear,” said Mrs. Holcomb and I curtsied and wondered at her face, teary, but that was almost usual, and then I saw Mrs. Potts look at me with great concern and out from behind them stepped my own sister Ada. Her face was struck with sadness and I did not know why.

“Mother?” I said, clutching her. “It’s not Mother?”

“No,” said she, shaking her head. “Mother is well. It’s . . .” And then she stopped and gave a sob.

“Ada,” said I, “tell me quick,” and then she said, “It’s the babe, Susan,” and then I sat down hard on the floor like my legs had broke and I could not move.

When I remember next, I think I was sick. The doctor had come and given me a dose which had put me to sleep, and when I opened my eyes Ada sat by me holding my hand. “Susan,” she said. “You’ve woke.”

“Tell me, Ada. Tell it to me.”

So she told me that our mother had tried her best to feed the baby by spoon and by sucking rag and that it had seemed to work at first. “She did it for the little babe with red hair, do you recall, Susan?” said Ada. “Perhaps when we were nine or ten years? His mouth was misshaped, remember, and he couldn’t suckle at first? She fed him by hand for ever so long and remember we all took turns? And he lived so nicely!”

Joey had seemed fine at first, though he wished for the breast, you could see it, she said, but then, two or three weeks ago, he began to turn away his little mouth at the spoon and then, when a fever came, it took the little mite, and so very fast.

“We buried him on Tuesday,” said Ada, “and oh, Susan, you would have liked to see it, the little coffin, so clean and white.”

“Oh, Ada,” I sobbed, “my baby, my sweet darling, and I never got to see his face again, not once. He needed his mother and his mother had to work and that’s what killed him. I shall burn for it, I hope I burn for it. Poor little thing. His little hands was so soft. Do you know: I would go to him as he slept and feel the smoothness of his little hand. I thought I was touching a cloud.” And I wept.

Ada stayed with me and soothed me and petted me. Later that night there was a soft knock on the door and Mrs. Holcomb came in carrying a tray with her own hands and with tears on her face. I thanked her, but I could not speak well for crying, and so she spoke to Ada in a quiet voice. Ada said that she had said that I should not worry about little William for he was being looked after by Ratliff, the same as who would have suckled him when I was with my very own child. But I did not care who nursed him. It did not matter to me.

I wondered if I could bear to suckle little William ever again. But as it turned I woke in the morning with one breast red and hard as a rock and so painful that I had to bite on a rag to keep from shrieking even simply to change my shift.

“Susan, it is milk fever,” said Ada, “like Mother had once and she said that the only thing for it was to suckle. It is because your milk curdled with all your tears!”

“Ah,” I said, “I am so weary. It’s not the tears, it’s the milk lying fallow because there was no baby at the tit. Go get him then, for this pain in my heart and on top of it both will make me mad.”

And Ada said, “What shall I tell them?”

“I care not; just get the baby.” And then as she made to leave the room I said, “Wait, Ada. Tell them that I miss little William so and please may I have leave to hold him. Tell them like that.”

Ada brought him to me, and he suckled though it made me groan and groan, but whether it was because of the pain in my breast or because of the loss of my precious Joey, no one knew, nor I.

I remained with the Holcombs for I had no desire to return to my home with that Joey was not there. When their baby was ten months old, Mrs. Holcomb thought it best that he be weaned but she found me another spot with a friend who needed a nurse. The Holcombs made me a present when I left, of two pounds over my salary, because, as Mr. Holcomb said, “It is a melancholy reflection that our William was sustained at the expense of your child.” I thanked them kindly for the gift but thought it not enough, considering.

My new station was at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Cooper, also in Aubrey. I stayed only a short time in this position as I could not make myself understood because of the broadness of my accent. Mrs. Cooper was from London and had brought her servants with her from there, else she’d never have eaten any dinner or had a carriage brought, for not being able to speak with her men and her maids. I lasted only six weeks there until she brought in another nurse all the way from Parkingham, where I reckon the accent was more to her ear. By my luck, Mrs. Holcomb from before had called by to see how Mrs. Cooper’s baby fared. When she heard that I was to be turned out, she took it upon herself to ask around, and that’s how I come to be in this position I have here with the Chandlers. And so I sit and nurse the babes and dream of what’s behind me and too, of what’s to come. I recall that I asked Mrs. Cooper to thank Mrs. Holcomb for me when next she saw her, but I do not think she understood the words I said.

MRS. DUNAWAY’S REASON

By God’s grace and love, I was delivered forth of two healthy babies yesterday evening. Ever have I had an easy time of it in childbirth for which I can only thank the good Lord in Heaven. I was calm though my labors were fierce, for I thought only of His trials and tortures on the cross, and in this way my own, in my bed, seemed insignificant.

My own sister Hannah attended me. When she discovered after birthing the first that there was a second at his heels, she wept that my labors would be protracted. I recall that I rejoiced through the pangs, to know that another Christian soul lay in my vessel and that he should come forth to be raised in a household that holds the commandments so dear. “Pray for me, sister,” said I, over and over, through my pains, and she did as did I.

The babies are healthy and please God may they remain so. My husband named the first to be Luke and the second to be John and this pleased me. I meant to leave the bed and kneel in a prayer of thanks but he begged me to stay where I was.

“My dearest wife,” said he, “our Lord in Heaven will hear your prayers from your childbed as well as if you were on your knees.” As he is my husband, I conceded to his wishes.