Epilogue
The baby was born on a freezing January morning, just before sunrise. The staff in the castle had been awake for hours, and everyone, from the stable boy to the butler, was frozen in suspense. They went about their duties as usual, but there was an air of tension abroad as if they were all walking on tiptoe and waiting for something to happen because something stupendous was in the offing. Upstairs, in the master bedroom where it had been conceived, a child was being born.
Maxwell had been waiting outside the bedroom for hours while he listened to the agonized screams from within as Kenna strove to give birth to the infant. He had paced the floor back and forth so many times that the maidservants complained that he was wearing a hole in the carpet.
Effie Douglas, the housekeeper, was so anxious about Maxwell that she came upstairs to find out how he was. She was dismayed to find him in such a state of distress that he was sitting in a chair with his head in his hands, and for a moment she thought he was weeping.
Her heart went out to him, and she went to stand beside him, then she impulsively put a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, startled, then looked up, and Effie withdrew her hand at once as if it had been burned.
"I am sorry, sir," she said anxiously.
Touching the laird or any member of the family was not permitted, and she had just crossed a line between servant and master.
However, Maxwell was not his father, and his rules were much less rigid.
"Don't worry, Effie," he consoled her. "I need some company."
At that moment another horrendous wail issued from the bedroom and Maxwell gritted his teeth and moaned as if he was in pain himself.
"Sir, is it goin' tae help if ye sit here distressin' yerself?" Effie asked anxiously. "The mistress wouldnae want ye daein' this. Come downstairs an' eat somethin'. Ye will feel better, an' the guard by the door will come an' tell ye when the babe is born."
Maxwell sighed and shook his head. "I know you are right, Effie, but I cannot bear to leave her like this."
"The babe will be born whether ye are here or no', sir," Effie pointed out. Her eyes were kind as she looked into his, and she gave him a sympathetic smile. "I have birthed six babes, I had nay help fae anyone, an' I am just an ordinary woman."
Maxwell stood up, sighing, and cast another glance at the bedroom door.
"I know you are right, but I can't help wishing there was something I could do."
Effie laughed. "This is one time when us women are stronger than ye, an' ye can dae nothin' about it. The mistress is in good hands, an' she is a strong an' healthy young woman."
Maxwell allowed himself to be led downstairs into the small parlor that he and Kenna often used. He sat down and waited while Effie called a chambermaid to light the fire. Thankfully, he could no longer hear Kenna's screams from this part of the castle, but he knew she was still in agony anyway.
Presently, a tray of cold food and a cup of ale arrived for him, and he sat at the table to eat but found that he could not manage even a morsel.
"Master, try an' eat just a wee bit," Effie urged. "I promise ye will feel better. Would a glass o' wine help?"
"Yes," Maxwell said thankfully.
Effie brought him a bottle and a glass, then poured it for him and made to leave, but he stopped her.
"Stay a moment, Effie. I don't want to be alone. Sit down and pour yourself a glass too."
Effie's eyes widened in surprise, but she obeyed, then watched while Maxwell ate, slowly clearing his plate until it was empty. She felt infinitely sorry for him. He was not like many of the upper-class people she knew, who were aloof and standoffish. Perhaps it was because of the hardships he had suffered, she thought, or perhaps it was simply who he was.
Suddenly he looked up and smiled at her. "Thank you for your good advice, Effie. I do feel much better now. Do you like the wine?"
"Indeed I do, Master," she replied, smiling at him. "I have never tasted wine before, an' it is lovely."
"I will be sending a few dozen bottles for all of you to share when the baby is born," he said, standing up. "Now I must go. Thank you so much, Effie."
He turned and strode away, leaving Effie by herself.
She followed him with her eyes, thinking what a kind man he was.
Halfway up the stairs, Maxwell heard a beautiful sound: the heartbreaking first cry of a newborn baby. His heart skipped a beat, and he doubled his speed as he fairly leaped upstairs, taking them two at a time, then sprinting along the corridor. Finally, he arrived in front of the door of the room where his wife and child were. He tried the door handle, but it would not open, then he banged on the door with his closed fist.
"Let me in!" he roared.
Inside, Kenna was still recovering. The midwife's young assistant had taken the baby away to wash it, and Mistress Kane was busy washing Kenna and tidying her up.
Kenna sat up, alarmed, as she heard the din Maxwell was making outside, but the midwife merely shook her head and sighed.
"I have heard it a' before, hen. They are a' big babies themselves. Let him wait 'til ye are clean an' tidy."
Kenna continued to submit to Mistress Kane's ministrations while listening to the racket outside.
"He will kick the door in," she said fearfully, frowning.
The midwife made a shooing motion with her hand.
"Let him try!" she said grimly. "They are a' wee lads inside. I have faced down bigger men than him."
Looking into the midwife's fierce brown eyes, Kenna could well believe it.
A few moments later she was fresh and clean, then the baby was put into her arms. She looked down at the little face, which was red and indignant at having been pulled out of its warm dark home, and her heart filled to overflowing with love.
Just then, the midwife opened the door and a great, angry, bearded man stumbled in, wearing a fierce frown, which lifted as soon as he saw Kenna sitting on the bed with his child in her arms. Suddenly he was lost for words, mesmerized by the sight of them.
"Oh, God!" he exclaimed at last. "Kenna, are you all right? Is the baby well?"
Kenna chuckled. "Yes, Max. Your daughter is well."
"A little girl?" Maxwell looked down into the tiny face, and his eyes were filled with tears. "I love her already," he whispered. He kissed the tiny forehead, then Kenna's lips. "My two lovely girls."
He gently took the baby from Kenna's arms and gathered her into his own, tucking her into the crook of his elbow.
"She looks like you," he murmured.
"It is a little early to tell," she remarked, chuckling. "What shall we call her?"
"What is your mother's name?" Maxwell asked.
"You know that already. It is Flora," Kenna answered, smiling happily.
"Flora," Maxwell said gently, then smiled widely. "Flora Forbes. It sounds so right."
"Oh, Max," Kenna breathed. "Mammy will love that. I can't wait to see her face when we tell her!"
Maxwell gave his daughter back to her mother, and the midwife came to help the baby latch on to her breast for the first time. Little Flora sucked greedily, making comical little grunts which made them both chuckle.
Maxwell climbed onto the bed beside them, then folded them both in his arms.
"I never thought I could love anyone as much as my Kenna, but I may love my Flora even more!"
Kenna chuckled. "I am so glad to hear it, Max. Every girl needs a loving father to look after her, and I cannot think of a better one than you."
Maxwell's heart was overflowing as he tightened his arms around his little family, and they fell asleep.
They would never be parted.