“And say what, exactly? She has had twelve children; nine of us survived. She won’t understand. She’ll tell me to be patient, to wait, but I’m sick to death of waiting. I want a child! What am I to do?”

“I don’t know,” Margaret said, feeling utterly helpless in the face of such raw pain and anger. “Have you consulted a doctor?”

Julia recoiled. “It is bad enough exposing myself to my husband.”

“Then have you a married friend you could consult?”

“I could not.”

“Well, what about a midwife?” Margaret suggested, acutely aware that she had reached the limit of her own knowledge.

But Julia shrank still farther away from her. “Can you imagine the gossip, if it were known I had done so? If Wingfield found out, he would be furious.”

“I can’t help but think that if you discussed the matter with him—”

“No!” Julia covered her face with her hands. “My husband is clearly not one of those men who relish the—the intimate side of married life.” Tears seeped through her fingers. “But he does at least try to do his marital duty. Forget I said that. It would be wrong of me to imply that the fault was somehow his.”

“I’m sorry,” Margaret said. “I’m being worse than useless.”

Julia sniffed, tucking her handkerchief away. “Please don’t apologise. I was at a low ebb, but I should not have discussed such a very personal subject with you. You are an unmarried young lady—it is not a fit topic for your ears.” Julia picked up her needle and selected a strand of lilac wool. “I appreciate your sympathy and your willingness to hear me out, but I’m afraid there are some things which cannot be fixed, no matter how much you want them to be.”

“You’re not a failure, Julia. You mustn’t think that.”

“No? It’s how the world views a childless woman.”

There was no disputing this. No matter how unjust, it was the truth. “You don’t need to pretend that it doesn’t matter, though. You shouldn’t bottle it all up.”

“I am not the weeping and wailing sort,” Julia said primly, pulling her embroidery frame towards her. “I have never seen the point in bemoaning my fate. It doesn’t make me feel any better, for there is nothing I can do save wait for my husband to return, and hope that when he does, fate will look more kindly upon me. When you are married, you will understand.”

Margaret sighed. “Speaking for myself, I think there are more than enough children in the world anyway. I would rather do what I can to help those already here than add to the numbers.”

“What an odd way you have of looking at things.”

“I am aware of that,” Margaret said, grimacing, “but I am coming to the conclusion I can’t look at it any other way.”