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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 5 years ago

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The Guardian’s Oath, Part Fifteen

I seem to be all over the place with the lengths of these posts. Hope that’s not a deterrent!

If this is the first you’re seeing of TGO, you’ll probably want to check out some of the earlier parts which are linked in the Master List.

The story is set in 19th century Ireland and tells of a young woman sent to work as the governess for two precocious children in the home of Reverend Feargal Devitt, a young widower. While there, she finds herself drawn to her employer and to the story of his troubled first marriage, and to the supernatural tales of the Demon Finn Balor, whose spectre seems to hang over the family.

Thank you so much to those who have followed along thus far!

Pairing: Feargal Devitt/ Finn Balor x OFC

Word count: 3,703

Content advisory: Nothing, although if the subject of childbirth makes you uncomfortable, you’re not going to enjoy it

Nothing had prepared me for how difficult the birthing process could be and although I had been warned to expect pain, no warning could have made me understand how much pain and how long it would continue. On top of the pain was the fear that gripped me from the moment I realized that something was wrong. I was terrified of dying. I was terrified that my baby was dying. The doctor was efficient but did nothing to soothe my mind or my body and so I was left to my own devices to pull myself through the many hours that followed.

I never understood the precise nature of the problem and I can’t be sure that anyone else did. I was bleeding and therefore too weak to push the baby out. Every time someone, the doctor or his assistant, who was also his wife, tried to ease the child from me, it felt like they were tearing my stomach out. It felt like what they were doing was wrong and dangerous for me. I did my best to try to help them but no matter how hard I tried, I could not muster the strength.

Several times, I asked for Feargal, to no avail. He would be summoned when the baby was out, not sooner.

I know that I was in and out of consciousness for much of the time, sometimes because of the drugs that the doctor gave me and sometimes because the pain and the pressure in my abdomen was too much. I told them frequently to leave me and that I wasn’t capable of giving birth, that I couldn’t bear trying any longer, but they insisted in no gentle way that I did not have a choice. I had no idea how long this had been going on when I felt a slight change in the pain, that it became sharper but at the same time it felt like my body was making some progress. I heard the doctor’s voice as if it came from some distance, as if there was a vat of water boiling next to my ears that distorted everything else.

“I can see it,” he yelped and his assistant nodded her confirmation.

From that moment, I pushed desperately, although it still wasn’t enough to get the job done. When the doctor brandished his forceps, I fully believed that he meant to tear the baby out of me in pieces and struggled, screaming, to get free. In the end, he was able to use his tools and brute strength to accomplish what I couldn’t. We were all covered in blood, my blood, as we waited for the infant to show some sign of life. I heard it, a strange, high-pitched scree like a seagull but again, it seemed to come from far away.

“Is it alright?” I gasped. “Is it alive?”

There was a shuffle of bodies before the doctor answered me. “He’s fine, Mrs. Devitt. You need to rest now.”

“It’s a boy? I want to see him! Let me hold him!”

I could hear the baby crying more clearly now, crying for me.

“Give him to me!” I tried to shout, but I wasn’t strong enough and my voice flagged at the second word, falling to just a harsh whisper.

“Take the boy to his father,” I heard the doctor grumble. “I’ll tend to her.”

His wife walked away, my baby snug in her arms and I was pushed back onto the bed, hard. The doctor rested his hand on my shoulder as he produced a large needle and jammed it into the side of my hip. I could sense the change immediately as my legs felt numb and tingling. He stood over me, pushing my legs apart and frowning as if I was disobeying him. Although many of the details of that time were lost for me, I knew right away that I would hold that image with me always: this gray-haired man with an angry expression, splattered with my blood as he stared at the most intimate parts of my anatomy.

The next time I awoke, even opening my eyes felt arduous. There was little pain, in fact there was little feeling in my body at all, but I had never imagined I could be so weak. It was quite dark in the room but I could make out a shadowy figure sitting near the bed.

“Feargal?” I squeaked.

There was no answer, but I saw the person shift a little at the sound of my voice.

“Is the baby ok?”

Still nothing, save the sound of breathing.

I felt like it was my husband in the room with me but at the same time, the presence was making me nervous.

“Say something!” I hissed.

But there was no sound. The form moved a little in its seat once again. I tried to keep my eyes trained in case the danger I sensed was real but I quickly felt myself getting towed under into sleep again.

When I opened my eyes again, there was some light in the room. I was slick head to foot in sweat and there was a scent in the room that made me feel sick to my stomach but just seeing the light made things a little better.

“Are you awake, Mrs. Devitt?”

I recognized the voice of the doctor’s wife and nodded, feeling too drained to speak.

“Well there’s someone here who’s been eager to meet you.”

She leaned down and placed what at first looked like just a pile of blankets. Then she peeled back some of the fabric and nestled within it was a tiny, wrinkled face, red but not feverish. Its eyes seemed even heavier than mine, barely open at all and fluttering just a little when I pressed my fingers against its little chest.

“I need to feed him.”

“He’s fine, ma’am. We’ve had a nursemaid to tend to him. You’ve been out the better part of two days.”

“Two days?” I looked up at her, trying to read her hard expression.

“Lay with him for a while but don’t worry about anything else. It’ll be taken care of.”

Although I knew the practice was common enough, I hated the idea that another woman had been feeding my baby. My brother had required a nursemaid because my mother was dead but I was very much alive. Wasn’t I?

“Is everything alright?” I asked her.

“The baby is fine. He’s small but he seems hardy. You were the one we were worried about but it looks like you’re through the worst of it.”

I raised myself a little- as much as I could- and looked into the tiny face of my son. I ran my hand over him, marveling at the impossible softness of his skin. He stirred a little but did not cry and eventually the weight and warmth of my hand seemed to ease him to sleep. In my state a puppy could have easily overpowered me. How could I protect something so completely vulnerable as him? Or the children, who I’d promised to keep safe? As long as I was in this state, we were all in danger from whatever it was that stalked the house.

“I’m going to get stronger again, as fast as I can,” I whispered to my son. “You shall have nothing to be afraid of while I live.”

Neither the doctor nor his wife approved of the fact that I insisted on taking over the feeding of my son and that I refused to take the drugs for the pain except when it truly became unbearable. I didn’t back down, though. The longer I stayed in bed half-asleep, the longer my family was vulnerable. I knew enough not to say exactly that but I could tell they still thought I was a little mad.

“You have to keep an eye on her,” the doctor told Feargal when he thought I was asleep. “Having a child takes a great toll on a woman and sometimes they can become hysterical.”

I hated to think what effect those words would have on Feargal and it was at that moment that I decided I didn’t like the doctor. I knew that what I was thinking seemed crazy but I also knew that I had seen things since I had arrived at this place that defied explanation. Sophia had some inkling of it. Even William did. Feargal wouldn’t speak of it but it was possible that he was infected by it, that he needed saving more than any of us. The first Mrs. Devitt had tried to resist and had been overwhelmed. I would not allow that to happen, I told myself. I had been sent here because I was strong enough to break this curse.

So I nursed my son and fought through the pain, telling myself that I needed toughening up. Feargal hated the idea that I was suffering but he also seemed relieved that I had the strength to be so obstinate. It was by watching his reactions to me that I realized that I had come very close to death. If I gave any sign that I was in pain, any little grunt or twitch, he would immediately go through a series of questions to determine what was wrong and refused to dismiss anything as unworthy of attention. If he was near me, he was almost always touching me and if he wasn’t, his eyes were always fixed on me.

His behavior certainly made me feel loved but there were moments when I felt I was under scrutiny, or that myself and the baby were under scrutiny. This was never more true than when the other children were around. It felt like months since I’d seen them since they’d been kept out of the bedroom while I was recovering. And although they had met the baby, it wasn’t until they saw him with me that they got to touch him and look at him up close.

“Can I hold him?” Sophia asked the first time she and William were allowed in to see us.

“No, dear. Babies are fragile when they’re born and he’s heavy.”

“I’m a strong girl,” she insisted.

“I know, but it’s always best to be careful. You’ll get to hold him soon.”

“But then won’t he be even heavier?”

“Yes, but his bones will be stronger.” I shuffled the infant in my arms a little and took hold of Sophia’s fingers. “Here, press just a little.”

I guided her fingers to his head. The facility where I had been raised by the church had on several occasions been used to shelter unwed mothers and I had been pressed into service on several occasions when help was needed with the babies. I was happily surprised at how the knowledge I had picked up during that time had come flooding back into my mind now that I was a mother myself. I cautiously guided Sophia’s hand over the soft spot in her brother’s head, smiling when she shuddered because I remembered that I had had the same reaction the first time someone had shown this to me.

“That feels awful!” she exclaimed.

“We all start out like that. Don’t worry, in a little while his head will be as hard as yours.”

William crawled up on the sofa and leaned on me, trying to get a better look at his brother’s face.

“Why haven’t you given him a name yet?” he asked.

I laughed a little as he squirmed against me. “What’s the rush?” I giggled. “It’s not like he minds.”

The truth was that Feargal and I hadn’t even discussed it. We had talked about the rough nature of the birth and how frightening it had been. We had taken turns reassuring one another that the baby looked fine and was eating well. But the fact was that both of us were spooked and were hesitant to give the child a name until we felt certain that we weren’t going to lose him. So eight days after his birth, we still just called him “the baby”.

William pressed harder into my side and I realized that he wanted me to wrap my arm around him. This required moving the baby from one side of my body to the other, which was nearly impossible with William moving and I was trying to figure out a delicate way to tell him to stop when a sharp voice cut in.

“William, go take a seat over there.” Feargal pointed at the small chair near the window. I could see that the boy wanted to argue because this would take him away from both the baby and me, but his father’s frosty blue eyes flashed with warning. Dejectedly, William slunk over and took his place in the corner.

“The boy does have a point, though,” Feargal mused. “The baby needs a name. So let’s come up with one.”

“William and I have names from your family,” Sophia opined, “so why shouldn’t he have one as well?”

I looked at her nervously, waiting for her to suggest ‘Colin’ but she remained quiet, looking from her father to me as if challenging us to come up with a better suggestion.

“Well I’ve already had the chance to name a child for my favorite aunt and my elder brother, may god rest their souls,” Feargal answered. “Perhaps Helen would like to name her first born for her father?”

“No,” I answered quickly.

“Or your brother?” Sophia suggested.

I shook my head again.

“We should name him Jesus!” William cried, his admonition forgotten.

Feargal and I both laughed and were rescued by Sophia.

“You can’t name a baby Jesus,” she chided. “That’s the name God chose and that means no one else gets to have it.”

It was Feargal who finally suggested that we name the baby Michael, after Reverend Potter, the man who had been responsible for getting me my post as governess to begin with. Since all of us liked the name, we settled on that quite quickly.

“When will he be baptized?” Sophia asked.

“That will have to wait until I’m able to get around a little more.”

“He has to be baptized so that God will protect him,” the girl scolded me.

“You’ve learned well,” her father answered, “but most babies aren’t baptized until they’re a couple of months old.”

“I just want to know that he’s safe,” she added softly, fixing me with her peculiarly mature stare.

Was that the secret? I wondered. Was she trying to tell me that the baby was in danger only as long as he was unbaptized? I couldn’t imagine how Sophia would know this but I also had to admit that she seemed to know many things beyond her years and experience. Perhaps she was making a guess, in which case it wasn’t entirely farfetched.

“I shall write to Reverend Devlin about it so that we can arrange it as soon as possible,” I promised her.

“I’ll speak to him,” Feargal said sharply.

I looked up, a little surprised at his tone and saw that his eyes appeared even lighter and chillier than usual. Was this a flash of jealousy because he remembered that night months earlier when the young Reverend had seemed flirtatious? Or was he resisting the idea of rushing the baptism? I couldn't tell and didn’t dare mention either possibility, so I smiled meekly and nodded at him.

My recovery went slower than I anticipated. It seemed like every time I tried to move around, it reopened the internal wounds I had sustained and I would be sent back to bed until the pain and bleeding subsided. By the time I was able to go outside again, the weather was starting to turn cold. Because of the issues I had had, Feargal insisted that I be accompanied by either Kate or Susan whenever I left the house, lest I take a weak turn. However, on one particularly glorious autumn day, I did end up going out by myself.

Feargal was gone for a few days with the children: William had been accepted into school but his start had been delayed so that he could be at home with us when the baby arrived, but his father had wanted to take him to see the school and to meet his teachers before he started officially. Sophia was still dejected that her brother would be going to school and she wouldn’t and so she had been invited along in order to keep her from feeling left out. Of course, no sooner had they left when Kate’s sister fell and broke her arm.

I insisted that our poor cook spend as much time as she needed with her sister’s family, pointing out that I was capable of feeding myself for a couple of days and that I had Susan to help me. Indeed, it was quiet but not unpleasant with just the baby and the young servant.

It was the day that Feargal and the children were due back and I had just gotten Michael down for his afternoon nap when I found Susan muttering in frustration as she went through the pantry shelves.

“Is there a problem?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I just noticed that we don’t have any more eggs and I need two for the bread. I’ll head up to the market to pick some up.”

“I’ll go.” She looked surprised at my offer but I was eager to get outside, especially since I knew the cold weather would soon have me housebound for months. “I’d like the walk and the fresh air.”

“You aren’t supposed to go walking, especially not alone.”

“I’ll be fine. I have to start doing things for myself eventually. You have work to do here. It’s only fair that I should take care of this.”

She acquiesced and I headed out, walking slowly and deliberately but relishing the feeling of the glorious autumn air. It was late for the farmers’ market but I managed to secure a few eggs. I was turning to head home when I heard my name called.

“How lovely to see you up and about, although I’m afraid my wife will be upset that you beat me to the last eggs.”

Revered Devlin gave me a broad smile and a slight bow.

“I don’t think we need all of these today, so I could give you a couple,” I told him.

“You’re too kind. It’s not an emergency, though. We can make it until tomorrow and it’ll be a lesson to me to get my errands done earlier in the day.”

“It’s no trouble, I insist. I know how much work you have.” I reached into my bag but he shook his head. “Actually, as long as I have you here, I might as well ask you about work as well. Now that I’m able to get around, I’d like to set a date to have our son baptized.”

“Of course you would. I’m so sorry that I haven’t been around to speak to you and Reverend Devitt to arrange it. What is the baby’s name?”

I felt a little tremor go through me. “Oh, I thought that Feargal had been in touch with you. We’ve named the baby Michael.”

Reverend Devlin shook his head. “No, I’m sure he meant to, but he didn’t speak to me. But it’s no problem, I’m afraid that there’s been two funeral services I’ve had to arrange in the last couple of weeks so it will be a pleasure to attend to something joyous.”

The young man insisted on walking me home, despite my assurances that I was fully recovered. In fact, I was getting twinges of pain the longer I was on my feet and I was happy to have his arm to lean on. It was also nice for me to speak to someone new, even though the way he looked at me made me blush. He was pleasant company and the walk passed quickly. As we reached my home, I was visibly limping and he insisted on helping me to the door, one arm around my waist to steady me.

I was startled when the door flew open to meet us, and my sudden movement caused him to tighten his hold on me.

“Reverend,” Feargal greeted him with a tight smile, “how good to see you again.”

My husband reached out and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me across the threshold without moving his eyes from the other man. They exchanged pleasantries as I took my leave and rushed to the kitchen to hand over the eggs. Susan looked nervous and thanked me more than necessary. I wanted to ask her what the matter was but she scurried away saying that she needed to get the bread started.

I made my way up to the bedroom and was surprised to see that Feargal was already there, holding Michael up as if he were inspecting him. He stood in front of the window, the light behind him making him appear dark and shadowy in form, the expression on his face inscrutable even as I approached him.

“Here comes your mama,” he cooed to the baby, turning his piercing eyes on me. “Where has she been?”

I held out my arms for him to hand Michael to me but he stayed still, even pulling back a little.

“Feargal,” I whispered, “let me have him.”

He gave an unkind-looking smile but placed the baby in my outstretched arms. I cradled him, avoiding my husband’s stare for a few minutes until I returned the tiny figure to his crib next to the bed. Feargal crowded close to me, his breath condensing against my neck as I watched Michael drifting back to sleep.

“Where are the children?” I stammered, feeling his hand close around my arm.

“Fast asleep, would you believe? I had to wake them to come from the coach and they went to bed as soon as they went inside.”

He placed a kiss on my temple and pressed against me so that I was trapped between his body and the wall.

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