Harriet was not sure how long had passed since she had realised that her daughter no longer drew breath, she did not care in honesty, she cared about very little at this moment in time, in fact she was very much numb from the pain. Her agony was still ever so present, although her loud sobs had subsided into a steady stream of silent tears cascading down her flushed cheeks, her throat was too hoarse and sore to make any real sounds. In her arms lay her daughter, so beautiful and peaceful that it almost looked as if she were merely asleep and a part of Harriet wanted to believe it for it could have easily been mistaken, however she knew better, she knew her daughter was dead.
Every time she thought about the word it sounded bitter and almost left a foul taste within her mouth, it was heavy and dense and made her want to retch. It couldnât be that her daughter was dead. Elizabeth had always been a healthy child, so full of life and exuberant, it could not be the same child which lay in her arms, not this child with such sullen and cold skin, no this could not be her little Lizzie. But it was, her features were still the same even in death, her hair still as golden as the sun, she was still Harrietâs precious little girl even in death. Moving her position slightly, Harriet pressed the girls head towards her chest, her hand gently entwining within her locks to keep her close. As she did she rested her own head upon Lizzieâs, trying to remember everything about her scent that she could whilst placing gentle kisses upon her locks.
âOne more push, my lady, just one more!â The cries of the midwife echoed around the room, her voice just loud enough to be heard above the whimpering of Harriet. Sinking back into her motherâs embrace, the woman merely shook her head, she was tired, exhausted in fact and the agony was just too much to bear, her mother had warned her about the pains of childbirth and Harriet thought she had done enough to prepare herself mentally for the pain. It hadnât been long into her labour that she realised nothing could have prepared her for what she was about to face.
She shook her head with the strength which she could muster as Eleanor dabbed a cool cloth against her brow, âI canât-âshe whimpered behind her streaming tears, âI canât do anymore.â Harriet was certain that all her strength had relinquished, her body racked with pain as the babe tore her apart.
âYes you can Harriet, you are strong, you can do thisâ Annabelle spoke adamantly, she was not about to let her daughter give up, Harriet would not be one of those women, those too weak to survive this trial. She herself had birthed six babes, four had only survived infancy but she had delivered six babes nonetheless and her mother before her had birthed ten! Marcus and Stanford women were naturals when it came to childbirth and Harriet had both blood causing through her veins, she was a fighter, she would see this through.
Beside her Eleanor lightly dropped to her knees and took her sisters hand within her own, pressing her lips against the gentle flesh, âJust one more push Hattie, then you and Charles can have your child.â She encouraged with a smile. Harriet stared at her for a moment, her brow glistening with droplets of sweat, her tear soaked cheeks glistening against the candle light. Eleanorâs words had not been strong nor defiant, like her motherâs had been, instead they relayed the innocence of her tender seventeen years, but they had given her the motivation she had needed.
With a faltering smile Harriet did what she could to squeeze her sisterâs hands before turning back to the midwife with a small nod. Her teeth grinded together as another wave of pain shot through her body, her cries didnât remain silent for long for soon a loud scream ripped from her throat, her eyes forcibly shutting as she gave her finally push. It must have lasted only seconds, although it dragged on for Harriet like hours, but shortly a high pitched wail sounded around the room and Harriet collapsed back against her mother.
âItâs a girlâ the midwife beamed joyously as she wrapped the tiny babe in a blanket, wiping the blood from her body. Although she knew her husband had wanted a boy, Harriet could not fathom the will to care, the child was born with breath as breath still remained in her body and thatâs all she could have hoped from the birth. âPass her to me Ellie.â
Following her sisters instruction, Eleanor rose to her feet and moved to the foot of the bed, gently taking the crying babe from the midwifes arms, âoh Hattie she is beautiful.â Eleanor smiled broadly as she looked up from the child towards her mother and placed her down into Harrietâs waiting arms.
Her sister was right, the child was beautiful, perfect even and the product of the love she shared with her husband, âshe isâŠshe looks like Charles.â Harriet commented with a smile as the babe began to relax within her arms, the high pitched wailing lessening as the seconds past until the child looked up at her through ocean blue eyes that significantly matched her fathers. âDo you think he will be disappointed that she is not a boy?â
Annabelle gazed down upon her granddaughter with a tearful gaze, what a wonderful moment she had just witnessed, she felt blessed to have experienced the birth of her first grandchild. âOf course not, my love, boys will come and even if he is it wouldnât be for long after he looks into those eyesâ she spoke confidently before placing a kiss to her daughters head.
âS-so, it is trueâŠOur precious child is dead.â Harrietâs eyes opened suddenly at the sound of Charlesâ solemn voice- she hadnât even heard him enter the room. Through her glazed hues, she watched him as he lowered his head into his hands and pleaded to god.
Harriet looked up from her child for a split second as the door opened, her smile only widened as she saw Charles enter the room before looking back down at her daughter, she simply could not tear her gaze away from more than a moment, âitâs a girlâ she announced gently as he slowly approached the bed.
âAye, your mother told usâ Charles smiled warmly, his eyes transfixed upon the small bundle in his wifeâs arms. Slowly he neared the bed, his heart quickening with every beat, it was a moment that he had been waiting for, for months, something he had anticipated eagerly and feared at the same time. âShe has your eyes,â Harriet spoke quietly, not wanting to scare her new born.
Charlesâ own eyes widened slightly at her statement, âshe does?â he repeated. Harriet nodded, glancing back up towards her husband, âwould you like to hold her?â she asked to which Charles could only nod. In a swift movement he gingerly perched himself beside Harriet on the bed, careful in case his movements caused her more pain. âMake sure you support her headâ Harriet instructed as she tactfully placed the babe within her husbands arms. Charles took the baby slowly, as if afraid he'd harm the small child by simply taking her from her mother's arms. Had he even held a child this small before? Nervously, he gulped and let out a soft little laugh, coupled with a worried expression. That was his child...his flesh and blood. Slowly, Charles shook his head as he placed his hand behind the girl's head, with was much smaller than his hand. Yes, he most certainly would have preferred a boy. The boy would have ensured the continuation of his family's blood line. On the other hand, though, he found it impossible to be upset in the presence of his wife, his daughter, and the nurses around them.
The smile on his lips seemed to stretch ear from ear as he looked down at his daughter. She was perfect. She was absolutely perfect and he swore that there was absolutely nothing he wanted to change in that moment. Supporting her in his slightly bent arm, Charles rubbed a thumb slowly against her cheek which caused the young girl to shift slightly and let out a gentle protest at the calloused flesh. It didn't faze him, though, that she didn't like it. Instead, he hesitantly leaned down and pressed his lips to her smooth, pale forehead as his smile broadened.
"Oh, my darling little girl," he whispered just an inch or so above her face but in a hushed whisper, as he feared speaking loudly would cause this moment to end abruptly. "My beautiful, darling little girl..." He turned to Harriet, his smile still broad and excited. "What shall we call her, love?"
Harriet could only smile at the scene before her, for a little while she had been worried that her husband would have been disappointed at her for the child being a girl, but now she could see from the joy in his features, that her worries had been unnecessary, completely unnecessary. Sinking back into the cushions, her smile only broadened, "I think she suits Elizabeth, what about you darling?"
Charles, for a while, was only able to nod slowly with the same smile on his face. "Elizabeth?" he repeated, trying the name out himself. "Elizabeth." Again, he said it as if to confirm the name. "Yes, Elizabeth sounds wonderful..." He probably couldn't have cared what they named her in that moment. Charles was so jovial at that point, he'd almost tuned out everything. He was a father! God, he still could not believe it, despite the fact that he held actual proof. Finally, he seemed to realize his wife might want to hold the child again and so he turned to hand Elizabeth over to her, planting a kiss gingerly against her lips as he did so. "She's beautiful, Hattie...absolutely gorgeous." Years ago, before he'd married, he would have scoffed at the idea of settling down or having a child, but now he couldn't imagine life without a child.
As Harriet took their Elizabeth back in her arms she continued to beam, nobody could have prepared her for this day, the agonising pain had been unbearable and frightening, but then the elation that followed had caused her to forget all that she experienced and now all she was filled with was unending happiness. âShe is beautifulâŠsheâs perfectâ
Charles sobs caused a mixture of emotions within Harriet, anger was present; her teeth gritted, she just could not stand the sound of his cries, it was only making her own grief worse. It was a selfish thought, that much she knew but it she could not sit here and listen to his tears, not when he had abandoned her when she had needed him the most. Charles had left her and their dying daughter, he had forced her to sit there alone, without comfort as Lizzie passed on in her arms and that was something she would never forgive him for what he had done, just as she would never forgive herself for what she had done.
Yet she also felt sympathy for her husband and that was perhaps the strongest emotion, asides her anguish, that she was feeling. It took the remainder of Harrietâs strength to no reach out to Charles, pull him into her arms, but he had hurt her in ways that she wasnât sure she could ever forgive him and that thought alone was enough to stump her affection.
[color= #AEC8CC] âI needed you, but you never came back and for that I donât think I can ever forgive you.â[/color] Harrietâs voice cracked under the strain of the crippling emotions, she did not give him time to respond or criticise her further, turning sharply on her heel, she left the room, leaving Charles alone with his grief just as he had done to her.
Not to Annabelleâs surprise, Charles had entered the room on his child without paying those waiting outside any acknowledgment and she couldnât blame him, his mind had been solely focussed on Lizzie to pay anyone else any mind. Annabelle herself had been in her own state of anguish, quite naively she had never thought she would lose a grandchild, not one who had lived past the dangers of infancy, but children died daily around the kingdom and being the child of a King and Queen did not save you from disease. It was almost killing her being parted from Harriet at this time, but she stayed put and waited until she was beckoned, the truth was, she was almost frightened to step foot into that room, she did not know if she could handle the sight of their little Lizzie without life. However should Harriet will her presence she would easily set aside her fears and enter the room.
Walking over to George she ran her hands up and down his arms, offering a small but watery smile, it was obvious that he was suffering also, there was sorrow in his glassy hues that matched most peopleâs that evening and so she did what she could to comfort him. âLady StanfordâŠI am not too late am I?
The familiar voice of Mary Rayleigh echoed down the corridor and on any other day Annabelle would have grimaced at the tone. Mary was not a woman she got along with particularly well, it was evident that the Duchess of Vale, the Kingâs mother did not care to greatly for the Stanfordâs. The lack of royal blood in their heritage had branded them, in her eyes anyway, commoners from the beginning and since Eleanor and Jonathanâs deflection to the Lancastrian forces, Maryâs resentment towards them had only worsened. Still, today of all days was not one to dwell on such things.
âI am afraid so Lady Rayleigh, It would seem our granddaughter has just passed.â Annabelle spoke gently, emotion lacing every word and syllable, it was almost impossible to keep her tears from falling after speaking the words aloud and she knew from a fact that Mary would not take to kindly to tears in public, she had always been a stoic sorts like that, but again, at this moment she could not care less what the woman thought of her.
Suddenly the click of the door caught her attention and turning sharply, Annabelle stared at the wooden mount waiting to see who was to appear. Her heart shattered when she saw her daughter emerge, her eyes reddened by hours of constant tears, her skin pale from shock, her movements small from weakness, âoh my love.â Rushing towards Harriet, she wrapped her arms around her daughter trying to offer what comfort she could.
Harriet melted into her motherâs embrace, taking what comfort she could, looking up she spotted George and reached out to embrace him also. Their union was short as Harrietâs eyes fell upon her, Charlesâ mother, the ever emotionless Mary Rayleigh, she would have rather been facing the entire Lancastrian army naked at this moment, than having locked eyes with her. Although, to her credit she kept her composure and greeted the woman with a small nod, âCharles will need you,â she spoke quickly and curtly before turning away from the woman, she could not bear to look at another Rayleigh at this moment, hell, she doubted she could ever look at another Rayleigh again.
As Harriet turned and began the walk back to her own chambers, Annabelle offered the Duchess a quick nod before hurrying after her daughter, George close behind her. It was a little comfort to know that Mary was in Briar now, at least she would not have to worry about Charles as much knowing that his own mother was here to comfort him, then again she wasnât entirely sure just how much comfort the woman would be to the grieving King.