“Ooh, the darkness can be a comfort, I s’pose,” said Mrs. B. “It’s the darkness binds you to her, and her to you. S’where we all begin, don’t we?”

When the missus didn’t answer, Mrs. B turned to see a shadow sweep across her face as she gazed outside, pulling her shawl close around. Mrs. B took her as chilled, and stepped toward the open window.

“Let me close that for you.”

“No!”

Startled by the sharp edge in her voice, Mrs. B let go the tall panes, and felt her own fleshy shoulders drop. She was tired, there was no way around it, eleven days straight, the thrumming chaos of the Westminster Lying-In Hospital, and now this, before a day of rest. Rhythm, routine, as long as was possible, she thought. She could bear up one more time, she told herself, letting the soft breeze dry the water pooling heavy at the back of her eyes. She wouldn’t say a word, never would. It wasn’t her place. She was tired, that’s all.

“I like the feel of it on my face,” the missus said, Mrs. B supposed by way of apology. “I cannot abide still air. I can’t breathe.”

“Open’s fine, till you tell me different.” Mrs. B set her shoulders and returned to the table. She poured a dram of gin from the bottle.

“You think she can hear me?” asked the woman.

“Oh yes. Same as the whoosh-whoosh of your heart. Has done, all along. Why, you and her’ve known each other a good long while already.” She held out the small glass, an offering. “And with God’s blessing, you’ll have a good long time to come.”

The pregnant woman took the glass, held it high, and swirled it, watching the gin catch the light.

“And you think I can talk her into the world?”

“Well, there’s no talking her out of it.”

The woman’s eyes smiled. She tipped her head back to drink down the gin in one swallow, closing her eyes for the burn of it down the throat, which seemed to fortify her. She put the glass in Mrs. B’s hand, cupping her own slender fingers around the midwife’s.

“Call me Mary,” she said, as if restored. “I am Mary Wollstonecraft.”

Mary W

Another girl. In this world.