“Those aren’t my shoulders, and that’s not the world, it’s your son.” She smiled through her tears, thinking again how much she loved William. He was so unfailingly good to her, so tireless, he had been so incredible restoring the château, he had worked endlessly only because she loved it. Except that he had come to love it, too, by then, and knowing that touched her as well.

“Do you suppose this little monster is ever going to come out?” she asked, sounding tired as he rubbed her back. He still had to go downstairs and put away the dinner things, but he didn’t want to leave her until she’d relaxed, and it was obvious to him that she hadn’t, and probably wouldn’t for a while.

“I think he will eventually. He’s right on schedule for the moment. What did Lord Allthorpe say? September first? That’s today, so he’s only late as of tomorrow.”

“He’s so big.” She was worried about being able to get the baby out. In the past few weeks she had grown even more enormous. And she still remembered what the local doctor had said about the baby being large.

“He’ll come out. When he’s ready.” William bent over her and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “You just rest for a little while. I’ll bring you a cup of tea.” But when he returned with what the French called an “infusion” of mint, she was sound asleep, on their bed, in her clothes, and he didn’t disturb her. She slept beside him that way until morning, and she was startled when she woke up, she had a sharp pain, but she had had them before, and they always came and went and eventually subsided. Actually, she felt stronger than she had in a long time, and there was a long list of things she wanted to finish in the nursery before she had the baby. She hammered and banged there all day, forgetting her worries, and she refused even to come down for lunch when he called her. William had to bring her lunch upstairs, and he scolded her for working too hard, as she turned to face him and laughed. She looked better and happier than she had in weeks, and he smiled, feeling relieved.

“Well, at least we know I’m not going to lose the baby.” She patted her huge belly, and the baby kicked her soundly, as she took a bite of baguette, and another of apple, and went back to work. Even the baby’s clothes and diapers were waiting in the drawers. By the end of the day, she had done everything she had set out to do, and the room looked lovely. She had done everything in white lace, with white satin ribbons. There was an antique bassinet, a beautiful little armoire, a commode that had been in the house, which she had bleached and sanded herself, and the floors were a pale honey color, and there was a tiny Aubusson on the floor. The room was filled with love and warmth, and the only thing missing was the baby.

She went downstairs to the kitchen at dinnertime, and put together some pasta and cold chicken and a salad for them both. She warmed some soup, and bread, and then she called upstairs for William. She poured him a glass of wine, but said she didn’t want any. She couldn’t drink anymore, it gave her terrible heartburn.

“You did a good job.” He had just been upstairs to see, and he was impressed by how much energy she had, she hadn’t been that lively in weeks, and after dinner she suggested they go for a walk in the garden.

“Don’t you think you should rest?” He looked faintly worried, she was overdoing it. No matter that she was twenty-three years old, she was about to go through an ordeal that he had always heard wasn’t easy, and he wanted her to rest.

“What for? The baby may not come for weeks. I’m beginning to feel like I could go on like this forever.”

“You certainly act like it. Are you all right?” He eyed her intently, but she looked well. Her eyes were sparkling and clear, her cheeks pink, and she was teasing him as she laughed.

“I’m fine, William, I promise.” Her conversation tonight was about her parents, and Jane, and his mother, and the house on Long Island. Her parents had done extensive work there, too, and her father said everything would be back to normal again by the following summer. That was a long time, but there had been a lot of damage from the storm. They still missed Charles, and there was a new caretaker now. A Japanese man, and his wife.

She seemed very nostalgic as they walked along through the gardens. Tiny bushes were beginning to grow here and there, and the garden seemed filled with hope and promise, just as she did.

They went back to the house finally, and she seemed content to lie down and rest. She read a book for a while, and then she got up and stretched and went to look out the window at the moonlight. Their new home was beautiful, and she loved everything about it. It was the dream of her life.

“Thank you for all this,” she said gently from where she stood, and he looked at her from the bed, touched by how sweet she looked. She looked so young and so enormous. And then as she started back toward the bed, she looked around, at the floor, and then up at the ceiling above. “Damn, we’ve got a terrible leak from someplace, one of the pipes must have burst.” She couldn’t see it above her or on the wall, but the entire floor was covered with a pool of water.

He stood up with a frown, and looked at the ceiling as she had. “I don’t see anything. Are you sure?” But she pointed to the floor, and he looked around her, and then at her back again. He had understood before she did. “I think you’re the one with the leaky pipes, my love,” he said gently, not sure what he should do to help her, as he smiled.

“I beg your pardon!” She looked highly insulted as he brought out a pile of towels from the bathroom they had fashioned from the room next to their own, and suddenly understanding began to dawn in her eyes. It had never even occurred to her. Her water had broken.

“Do you think it’s that?” She looked around, as he soaked it up with the towels, and she realized then that her nightgown was damp. He was right. It was her water.

“I’ll call the doctor,” he said as he stood up.

“I don’t think we have to. He said it could be an entire day before anything happens after that.”

“I’d still feel better if we called him.” But he felt a great deal worse after he called the hospital in Chaumont. Le Professeur Vinocour, as they referred to doctors in France, had left with three colleagues for Warsaw. They were going to offer their services to help there, and do whatever they could, and in addition there had been a terrible fire in the next village that night. All the nurses were helping there, and there were literally no doctors. They were desperately shorthanded and the last thing they needed to concern themselves with was an ordinary accouchement, even for Madame la Duchesse. For once, absolutely no one was impressed with his title. “A baby is no great thing to deliver,” they told him. They suggested he call one of the women from a neighboring farm, or someone at the hotel, but they couldn’t help him. He wasn’t even sure what to say to Sarah as he walked back upstairs, feeling sick, knowing that he should have taken her back to London, or at the very least Paris. And now it was too late. He had delivered puppies once, but he certainly had no idea how to deliver a baby, and neither did Sarah. She was even more ignorant than he was, except for her miscarriage, and they had given her a general anesthetic for that. He didn’t even have anything to help her with the pain, or to use to help the baby, if there was a problem. And suddenly, he remembered what she had said, that sometimes there was a lapse of an entire day before the pains began. He would drive her to Paris. They were only two and a half hours away, it was the perfect solution, he decided as he ran up the stairs to their bedroom. And then he saw her face with dismay, when he walked back into the room. The contractions had started out of nowhere with a vengeance.

“Sarah.” He ran to the bed, where she seemed to be struggling for air, as she wrestled with the pain that overwhelmed her. “The doctor isn’t there. Do you feel strong enough for me to drive you to Paris?” But she looked at him with horror at the suggestion.

“I can’t… I don’t know what happened … I can’t move … they just keep coming … and they’re so awful …”

“I’ll be right back.” He patted her arm and dashed back downstairs, deciding to take the woman’s advice. He called the hotel and asked if anyone could help him there, but the girl who answered was the owner’s daughter, and she was only seventeen and very shy, and he knew she would be of no use. She said everyone else had gone to the fire, including her parents.

“All right, if someone comes back, anyone, any woman who thinks she could help, send her up to the château. My wife is having a baby.” He hung up on her then and ran back upstairs to Sarah, who was lying on their bed, bathed in sweat, rasping as she breathed, and moaning by the time he reached her.

“It’s all right, darling. We’re going to do this together.” He went to wash his hands and came back with another huge stack of towels, and surrounded her with them. He used a cool cloth on her head, and she started to thank him, but the pain was too great for her to speak. For no reason, he glanced at his watch, it was almost midnight. “Well, we’re going to have a baby tonight.” He tried to sound cheerful as he held her hand and she thrashed with the pain while he watched her. He had no idea what to do to help, and she begged him to do something each time one of the vicious pains ripped through her. “Try to go with it. Try to think of it as something that will bring you our baby.”

“It’s too awful … William … William … Make it stop … Do something! …” she wailed, and he sat helplessly beside her, wanting to help, but not knowing how. He wasn’t sure anyone could, and she was overwhelmed by how awful the pain was. The miscarriage had been terrible, but this was infinitely worse. This was worse than her worst fears of what the birth would be like. “Oh, God … oh, William … oh … I feel it coming!” He was relieved that it was so soon, if it was going to be ghastly for such a short time, then she would survive it. He prayed that it would be quick now.