God, the perspiration alone and now with the placenta open she'll be losing fluids and I don't know if I did the right thing, I don't know—

"Gemma, what comes next?"

Jennie screamed aloud as another contraction gripped her.

Gemma looked up at her platoon of warriors. Mr. Bing's wrinkled, wonderful face. Lysander's darkly beautiful, trusting, willing eyes. Self-possessed Atalanta, who quite frankly looked intensely interested, but not terribly alarmed by any of it.

I can do this.

I have to.

"First, we birth the baby. Then we save Jennie."

Mr. Bing nodded sagely. "Aye, that's how she'd want it, all right."

"True," Gemma grimaced. "But it's also simply how this works. As long as Jennie remains pregnant, her life is in danger and so is the baby's. Birth will ease the battle going on inside her." And they had to make it happen before Jennie's heart failed. But she kept that part of it to herself, unable even to say the words aloud. That extra bit of truth wouldn’t help anyway.

Atalanta tilted her head and regarded Jennie's belly dispassionately, even as she eased another sip of water through Jennie's mumbling lips. "How do you make someone have a baby?"

Gemma swallowed hard. She wasn't looking forward to this part.

"We have to help her push."

All three of her assistants gaped at her.

"Push?" Lysander frowned.

"The baby?" Atalanta tilted her head and narrowed her eyes.

"How?" squeaked Mr. Bing.

Gemma didn't have time to explain. "We must, or I shall be forced to reach in and pull it out," she stated flatly.

That thought spurred them to action. Atalanta began to shift from her position at the head of the bed. Gemma waved her back. "You are still on hydration duty. Lysander, make sure Jennie can't slide down the bed, no matter how she thrashes. Mr. Bing, you and I are going to place her hands just so, and when her contractions start, we shall — "

But Mr. Bing had put his hands behind his back and stood shaking his head.

"What is the difficulty?" There wasn't time for this!

"Lay hands on another man's wife? While she's birthin'?" His head shook faster. "I can't, Missus, I just can't!"

"Very well." Blast it, she'd hoped to spare Jennie's husband but needs must. "Fetch Shepherd Gosling. You," she pointed a finger at Mr. Bing, "go mind the children!"

Childless, confirmed bachelor, Mr. Bing nodded eagerly. "Mind the sprogs. On my way, Missus."

"I'll fetch Poll," Lysander offered. "And Button and Cabot."

Gemma nodded. She didn't care whose hands helped, and although she knew — hoped! — Jennie would later take a snit about being tended by strangers, right now Jennie was in no condition to complain.

Gosling came in and, once allowed through the door, refused to budge again. Gemma compromised by putting him at the head of the bed to keep feeding Jennie sips of water. She sent Atalanta to get more water on the boil.