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The carriage shudders to a turbulent stop and Sidney raises his head sharply. He can hear the neighing of the horses, the dull shouts of the coachmen.
“Did we stop?” Charlotte murmurs, sitting up from where she had been asleep on his chest. She rubs her eyes and blinks at him blearily. “Are we there?”
“Not quite, darling,” he tells her, helping to ease her upright. “There might be a problem with the coach. Go back to sleep; I’ll see to it.”
Charlotte nods, still a bit lost in dreamland. She curls up on the other side of the bench, resting her head near the window.
Sleep has not been coming easy to her of late. She is nearly at the end of her pregnancy, with Dr. Fuchs assuring them that their little one will be with them before the new year, and most days she finds it exceptionally difficult to get comfortable. Sidney had been relieved that she had fallen asleep at the start of their ride to Willingden, and he is loathe to disturb her much-needed rest.
Fastening his coat and adjusting his thick scarf, he opens the door to the carriage and jumps out. He is immediately hit with a blast of frigid air, so cold it nearly shocks him still. It takes him a moment to recognize that he has jumped into a considerable pile of snow. It had been coming down in soft flurries when they had left Sanditon, but it seems that throughout their journey it has increased in ferocity. The wind whips violently and Sidney squints against the assault as he trudges through the snow to the front of the carriage.
The coachmen are digging at the front left wheel, swearing as they do so.
“What has happened?” Sidney yells over the wind.
“What hasn’t happened?” one of the men replies exasperatedly. “We lost a spoke, the wheel twisted, and it seems to be jammed in something under the snow. We’re trying to wrench it free.”
“And what of the wheel? If you manage to free it, will it still work?” he asks.
The other man makes a face. “I’m not sure, sir. Perhaps if we go awfully slow.”
Sidney sighs. “Alright.”
“I hope we didn’t disturb Mrs. Parker too much,” the man who spoke first says. “We’ll find a way to fix this, sir.”
Sidney stifles a smile. They have only been in his employ for a few months, but of course his wife has charmed them, too. “Thank you for your concern, she is just fine. I trust you’ll do your best. Let me know if...if I can be of any assistance.”
When Sidney jumps back into the carriage, shivering, he is shocked to see Charlotte sitting upright and not fast asleep again.
“It’s dreadful out there,” she says, frowning, peering out her own window. “What happened to the carriage? Are the wheels stuck?”
Sidney brushes the snowflakes off his topcoat and takes a seat across from her. He does not want her to catch his chill.
“The front left wheel seems to be stuck in something underneath the snow. They are working to free it now.”
“And if they can’t?”
Sidney runs a hand over his face and looks out the window. The snow does not seem to be letting up anytime soon. “We will figure something out, my love. I promise you.”
To his horror, Charlotte’s eyes suddenly fill with tears.
“This is my fault,” she says, her voice wobbly. “If I hadn’t insisted on going to Willingden…”
“ No ,” Sidney says fiercely. He switches to her side of the carriage and tucks her into his arms. “No, no, do not say another word. This is not your fault, Charlotte. Not in the slightest.”
“We should have stayed at home, it would have been fine. But it was me who wanted to spend the holidays with my family and I—”
“ Charlotte ,” Sidney says sternly. She looks up and he tenderly wipes a stray tear from her cheek. “Please, I cannot stand to see you upset. This was no one’s fault. It was simply an accident.”
Charlotte sniffles and nods. “I know, I know.” She wipes her eyes. “It seems that I’m crying at the drop of a hat these days. You must be at your wit’s end.”
“With you? Never,” Sidney teases. She playfully whacks his arm. “Oof! I jest, my darling. I find you more radiant and lovely with each passing day.”
Charlotte rolls her eyes. “Oh, spare me such facetious compliments. I look like a whale.”
“I disagree.”
“I’m as big as the ship on which you sailed to Antigua.”
“Absolutely not.”
“As big as our house, then.”
Sidney takes pause. “Well…”
“Mr. Parker!” Charlotte turns to him in mock outrage, mouth agape. But she cannot maintain a serious face for long, for when she sees the twitch of his mouth attempting to hide a smile, she descends into giggles. They have been married just over three years, and she loves the fact that their relationship still feels just as fresh and exciting as the day they said “I do”. Their upcoming addition only brings more excitement to the mix, and they both have found themselves in better spirits than they quite possibly have ever been.
Their laughter is interrupted by a sharp knock to the carriage door. Sidney opens it to find the coachmen with somber expressions.
“Apologies Mr. Parker, Mrs. Parker. We’ve managed to free the wheel but the damage seems too severe. I fear we’re stranded for the moment.”
“Forget the carriage. Please, come inside!” Charlotte insists before Sidney can answer the men. “Come sit down before you freeze!”
After a bit of hesitation, and a nod of assent from Sidney, the men climb inside the coach. They settle awkwardly on the bench across from Sidney and Charlotte, blowing into their cupped hands to warm up.
“Nothing to be done now,” Charlotte says, attempting to be cheerful. “We shall wait out the storm together.”
“You’re very kind, Mrs. Parker,” the larger man says.
“And, if I may offer my congratulations.” The other nodding towards Charlotte’s stomach, round and plainly visible even under her many layers. “My wife and I welcomed our first last month. Babies are the most wonderful blessing.”
“Thank you very kindly, and congratulations to you, as well,” Charlotte says, looking up to Sidney with a sweet smile. “We shall meet this one sooner than later, I think.”
“I do hope so.” Sidney takes his wife’s hand and kisses her knuckles. Charlotte squeezes his hand in return and turns her attention back to the coachmen.
“My apologies; I do not think I know either of your names,” she says.
“I’m Peter Graham, and that’s Frederick Ringsley,” the larger man, Peter, says.
“Mr. Graham, Mr. Ringsley, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is ours, Mrs. Parker,” Mr. Ringsley says. “I am sorry we cannot get you to Willingden.”
“We will get there soon enough, I trust,” Charlotte says amicably. “The snow is bound to stop at some point. Even if our journey has been delayed, at least we can take pleasure in the company of our new friends. Right, Sidney?”
“Of course,” Sidney replies indulgently. “Perhaps we can-- Charlotte ?”
His words die in his throat when Charlotte makes a choked sound and suddenly doubles over, her arms curling protectively around her middle.
“Charlotte?! What’s wrong?”
Sidney wraps his arms around her and holds her as she takes a few deep, shaky breaths. She looks up at him with wide eyes, her face pale. She then glances down, and he follows her gaze to a small puddle forming on the carriage floor.
“Sidney,” Charlotte says, her voice a bit unsteady. “I think the baby might be coming now.”
“Now?” Sidney gapes. Charlotte nods weakly.
“You need a doctor,” Mr. Ringsley states, shoving Mr. Graham out the door. “We’ll fetch one for you, Mrs. Parker, not to worry.”
“But the storm--” Charlotte’s protests die in her throat as another wave of pain causes her to tense up.
“Just a little snow, is all,” Mr. Graham says, hopping from the carriage. “Willingden’s not that far. We’ll be back before you know it.”
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Sidney says, helping Charlotte onto her side. “Please, make haste.”
“Absolutely, sir.” And then they were gone, the carriage door slamming shut behind them with one last gust of cold air.
Charlotte lets out a pained cry as soon as they’re gone, reaching out and clinging to Sidney with shaking hands.
“Is it supposed to happen this quickly?” Sidney asks, frantic.
“Well, I might have been experiencing some pains since last night, but I--”
“You what? ” Sidney exclaims. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought they were more false alarms! Dr. Fuchs said they would be common towards the end!” Charlotte groans and rubs the side of her stomach.
Sidney sheds his jacket and scarf, bunches them up to make a pillow for her head as she lays back along the bench. “What do you need me to do?”
Sidney Parker is a man of the world, but he knows painfully little about childbirth. The past eight months or so have been spent catching up, asking Dr. Fuchs endless questions and reading all the literature he can on the matter. He had been in Antigua for the births of his nieces and nephews, and all he can remember from the births of his younger siblings is being entertained by his nanny while his mother screamed upstairs and his father lit cigars with his mates in the study.
In making Charlotte his wife, he had made her a promise to support her at every turn, and that was not a promise he took lightly.
“Mama said I was born within the hour of her first contraction,” Charlotte spits out through gritted teeth. “Said it was the last time I ever made anything easy for her.”
Sidney can’t help but laugh. “Sounds about right.” He kisses her forehead, already damp with sweat. “Tell me what you need from me.”
“Just...stay,” she was weakly. She grips his hand tightly.
“Of course,” Sidney promises. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Charlotte had wanted to return to Willingden for Christmas. They had spent their first Christmas in Sanditon, newly married, and their second in London. Now she wanted to go back home. Pregnancy had her feeling sentimental. They were planning to stay for only a few days and then heading back home since the baby would be coming soon. Sidney was worried about traveling so late in her pregnancy, but Charlotte was stubborn, and he was never one to deny her anything.
Well, at the very least, it seems that this holiday will be their most interesting.
Two hours after the men had left them to go find help, Charlotte is dripping sweat, having shed all of her garments and is just in her sweat-soaked shift. Sidney is similarly undressed, using their clothes as a cushion for her and kneeling between her spread legs as she sits on the edge of the bench and bends over him. His hands are rubbing her lower back and she rests her head on his shoulders, tired from another contraction. They are coming very close together now, which she says is a sign that the baby is on its way.
The wind howls nearly as loud as she does with every painful wave that wracks her body. After a particularly rough one, Charlotte lifts her skirt with shaky hands.
“I think that it’s time to push,” she croaks out, her voice raspy and cheeks stained with tears. “I can feel it.”
Sidney swallows thickly and helps her resituate herself, planting her feet firmly on the bench across from them. When the next wave comes, she grits her teeth and pushes, holding his hands tight as she does so.
“Is that…” Sidney lifts her skirt and peers between her legs, then looks up with a disbelieving grin. “I can see the head, Charlotte. She’s almost here!”
“She?” Charlotte huffs, managing a smile that looks more like a grimace. “You cannot be so sure yet.”
“Oh, I feel sure about this, my love,” Sidney laughs. He takes her hands again, helping her brace herself. “Let’s meet our little girl, shall we?”
With the next contraction she pushes aain, and he lets her nearly crack the bones in his hands as she cries to him. He kisses her sweaty forehead, tells her how much he loves her. He can tell that she is exhausted, her entire body shaking from exertion, but she does not give up. When she grits her teeth and gives one final push, their daughter slips into Sidney’s arms and her beautiful first cries pierce the air.
Sidney cries as he cradles her in his arms, using shaky hands to wrap her tiny frame in his scarf. He keeps a small blade inside his boot, a leftover habit from his days in Antigua, and uses that to cut the cord keeping Charlotte and their daughter connected.
“Give her to me,” Charlotte gasps, reaching for her. Sidney places the squirming bundle in his wife’s arms and kisses her hair. Charlotte marvels at the life they have created, a tiny squealing thing, with a red face and a button nose and a small tuft of brown hair.
“She’s beautiful,” Sidney says reverently, watching in awe as a few soft shushes and the firm hold of his wife soothe the babe into sleep.
“She’s perfect,” Charlotte agrees. Their greatest blessing.
Some time later, a second carriage pulls up alongside the Parker’s coach. Mr. Ringsley and Mr. Graham hop out, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Heywood themselves. They had stumbled through the snow and into Willingden’s only pub, shouting for a doctor. While they hadn’t quite managed to locate one, they had been fortunate enough to catch Mr. Heywood settling his tab and about to leave for home. He led the gentlemen to his own estate, where he woke Mrs. Heywood and all four of them set out to find Charlotte.
Fortunately enough, the snow had slowed considerably, and the team of four were able to quickly locate the Parker’s carriage. The men wrench open the carriage door, unsure what to expect to find inside.
“Well, hello there,” Charlotte says with a soft smile and droopy eyes. She is leaning back in her husband’s arms, a tiny bundle swaddled in her own. “You lot seem to have missed all the fun.”
Mrs. Heywood clambers into the carriage and caresses her daughter’s face. “Oh, Lottie. My sweet, strong girl. You’ve done so well.”
The bundle in her arms gurgles, and Charlotte shifts so that she can uncover the baby’s face. “Mama, Papa, would you like to meet your granddaughter?”
“A little lass, eh? Have you picked a name?” Mr. Heywood asks. Charlotte nods and looks up to Sidney, who smiles down at his girls.
“Everyone, this is Violet,” he says, his voice reverent. “Violet Mary Parker.”