Lullabies, like Petals on the Wind

“Mary! Mary! The wash is ready to be hung outside!”

I hauled the heavy wicker basket of linens out the back of the manor house, out into the bright sun and gentle breeze of April, struggling to keep my hair out of my face and keep my grip on the basket tucked at my left side. I knew I should have tied my hair up beforehand, but it was too late now. I made it to the clothesline, and plopped my load down at my feet before I began pulling the sheets out one by one to secure them. The breeze was perfect out despite my disdain for what it was doing to my hair, as was the weather; not too warm and a sky full of puffy clouds that one could pass the time finding shapes in. The scents of the season were in full swing, for every flower in the garden was in bloom, including the mighty pear tree nearby.

I glanced over towards it, catching glimpses through the sea of white banners the wash had created. Sitting in the shade beneath the tree was the lady of the house, Isabella. She rocked in her chair back and forth gently, holding a book with one hand, and resting her other on her swollen belly. I didn’t know how much longer she had, but at a guess, she was likely due to have the baby any day now, and the house was abuzz in preparation. I admired the lady immensely; she was kind and treated all of the house staff exceptionally well. I admired her nobility as well, even the simplest of acts she carried out with a natural regality that couldn’t be described. I wasn’t sure if it’d been ingrained into her by her upbringing, or if she’d simply been blessed with such a demeanor from birth, but either way she would continue to amaze me every time I saw her.

She was humming a lullaby now, one I’d heard often over the past year that she started doing in the quiet moments of her pregnancy. It was a song I’d likely hear far into the future as well once the baby was born. I shook myself from my musings and daydreaming, my mind alerting me to the fact I’d been inactive for too long and hurried back to hanging up the basket load to dry. As I finished with my duty, I hefted up the basket and glanced at the lady once more to check on her before going back inside. She was in the midst of standing from her chair beneath the tree, and as I weighed the option of going to ask if she needed anything or leave her to herself, she stumbled.

I tossed my load aside and rushed to her, watching as her book fell from her hands, and she clutched her middle in pain, staggering again. I was cursing my slowness, fearing what might happen if she fell and injured herself or her unborn child. I wouldn’t forgive myself for it if she did, and the lady certainly wouldn’t forgive herself either. She looked up to see me coming, her face a mixture of both pain and relief.

“Mary! Mary, I think the baby is coming.”

I helped her inside, shouting for help as I went. The commotion drawing out more of the girls I worked with, who scrambled into action at the sight of their pained Lady Isabella. The head maid and the midwife directed me on where to bring her, and once the she was laid down in the bed, I was put to work in assisting them. I quickly realized the birth was not going to go quickly or smoothly. The lord of the house was in town on business, a couple hours ride away, and we’d sent one of the hands on the speediest horse to fetch him. Even with the trip there and back, the lady was still in the midst of her labor when he returned. It did not look like it would end soon even then. The lord stayed at her side, through the deepest hours of the night. No one rested, even when we were all well past the point of tiredness and exhaustion. Finally, as dawn came the following day, so too did a beautiful baby girl. All breathed a sigh of relief, and the worry and weariness on our faces was replaced with the joy of a new life in the house. This was the first child of the lord and lady as well, and despite a long and complicated birth, the midwife pronounced both mother and child quite healthy…

“Mary! Mary! The wash is ready to be hung outside!”

Out the door of the house I went with an overflowing basket of linens for the clothesline, hair tied back and out of my face this time. As I set my load down and began to work, I glanced over to the old pear tree, once again covered in innumerable white blossoms. The lady Isabella sat rocking in her chair as usual, singing the familiar lullaby to her daughter, clutched gently against her chest. Mary Dawn they’d named her, in homage to how she’d been born in time with the light of a new day breaking over the horizon. While the lady never revealed what inspired the child’s first name, there’d been much abuzz amongst the staff whether or not she’d been named after me. True or not, it’d been to my great embarrassment for quite some time. That had all been two years ago now, and I still happily serve milady, and hope to watch her for many days to come in the shade of her favorite pear tree, singing lullabies to her child, as many as petals on the wind.