Lucy nodded gratefully. She, too, was not willing to give up the comforts of the marital bed, but truly, there had to be something they could do to end the constant stream of babies.
“What shall we name them?” Gregory asked, making silly eyes at the baby in Hyacinth’s arms.
Lucy nodded at the midwife and handed her the baby so that she could lie back down. Her arms were feeling shaky, she didn’t trust herself to safely hold the baby, even here on her bed. “Didn’t you want Eloise?” she murmured, closing her eyes. They’d named all of their children for their siblings: Katharine, Richard, Hermione, Daphne, Anthony, Benedict, and Colin. Eloise was the obvious next choice for a girl.
“I know,” Gregory said, and she could hear his smile in his voice. “But I wasn’t planning for two.”
At that, Hyacinth turned around with a gasp. “You’re going to name the other one Francesca,” she accused.
“Well,” Gregory said, sounding perhaps just a little bit smug, “she is next in line.”
Hyacinth stood openmouthed, and Lucy would not have been at all surprised if steam began to shoot forth from her ears. “I can’t believe it,” she said, now positively glaring at Gregory. “You will have named your children after every possible sibling except me.”
“It’s a happy accident, I assure you,” Gregory said. “I thought for sure that Francesca would be left out as well.”
“Even Kate got a namesake!”
“Kate was rather instrumental in our falling in love,” Gregory reminded her. “Whereas you attacked Lucy at the church.”
Lucy would have snorted with laughter, had she the energy.
Hyacinth, however, was unamused. “She was marrying someone else.”
“You do hold a grudge, dear sister.” Gregory turned to Lucy. “She just can’t let go, can she?” He was holding one of the babies again, although which one, Lucy had no idea. He probably didn’t know, either. “She’s beautiful,” he said, looking up to smile at Lucy. “Small, though. Smaller than the others were, I think.”
“Twins are always small,” the midwife said.
“Oh, of course,” he murmured.
“They didn’t feel small,” Lucy said. She tried to push herself back up so she could hold the other baby, but her arms gave out. “I’m so tired,” she said.
The midwife frowned. “It wasn’t such a long labor.”
“There were two babies,” Gregory reminded her.
“Yes, but she’s had so many before,” the midwife replied in a brisk voice. “Birthing does get easier the more babies one has.”
“I don’t feel right,” Lucy said.
Gregory handed the baby to a maid and peered over at her. “What’s wrong?”
“She looks pale,” Lucy heard Hyacinth say.
But she didn’t sound the way she ought. Her voice was tinny, and it sounded as if she were speaking through a long, skinny tube.
“Lucy? Lucy?”
She tried to answer. She thought she was answering. But if her lips were moving, she couldn’t tell, and she definitely did not hear her own voice.
“Something’s wrong,” Gregory said. He sounded sharp. He sounded scared. “Where’s Dr. Jarvis?”
“He left,” the midwife answered. “There was another baby . . . the solicitor’s wife.”
Lucy tried to open her eyes. She wanted to see his face, to tell him that she was fine. Except that she wasn’t fine. She didn’t hurt, exactly; well, not any more than a body usually hurt after delivering a baby. She couldn’t really describe it. She simply felt wrong.
“Lucy?” Gregory’s voice fought its way through her haze. “Lucy!” He took her hand, squeezed it, then shook it.
She wanted to reassure him, but she felt so far away. And that wrong feeling was spreading throughout, sliding from her belly to her limbs, straight down to her toes.