Free The Apothecary's Daughter by Charlotte Betts

slightly, he pressed his ear to her stomach, rolled up his sleeves and prodded at her belly. ‘The infant is feet
     first and must be turned,’ he pronounced.
    ‘I’ve tried that,’ said Goody Tresswell, hands on hips.
    ‘It’s as dark as the pits of hell in here. Light another candle!’ Ogilby said. ‘Right, let the dog see the rabbit!’ He dragged
     up Elizabeth’s nightgown to expose her swollen belly, with no regard for her modesty. He grasped hold of her, kneading and
     pummelling until he was red-faced and sweating, while Elizabeth moaned and sobbed.
    In tears, Susannah watched him. Ogilby’s fingernails were dirt-encrusted around the edge, as if he had been digging vegetables.
     It seemed indecent to have such rough, dirty hands touch her mother’s white skin.
    Finally Ogilby gave up and sat on the edge of the bed scratching absent-mindedly at some old flea bites on his chest. ‘Little
     devil isn’t having it,’ he said. He put his ear again to Elizabeth’s belly and listened, holding up a hand and shushing Susannah
     as she attempted to comfort her mother. ‘Still alive. Fetch your father,’ he instructed.
    Susannah ran downstairs into the parlour where Cornelius and Tom waited with white faces.
    ‘Dr Ogilby wants you.’
    Cornelius stood up and Susannah saw that his chin was trembling. Suddenly frightened she ran to him. ‘Mama will be all right,
     won’t she?’
    He held her tight but didn’t answer her question.
    Outside the bedchamber, Dr Ogilby waited for them. ‘Which one do you want?’ he asked Cornelius.
    ‘Which one?’
    ‘Your wife or your child? They may both die but I’ll try to save one of them for you.’
    Susannah let out a cry.
    ‘My wife,’ said Cornelius, his voice catching on a sob.
    ‘You’ll need to hold her down. She’ll struggle.’
    Elizabeth didn’t look as if she could struggle. She lay deathly still, her forehead sheened with sweat.
    Ogilby took off his coat and directed Susannah to hold her mother’s arms while Cornelius and Goody Tresswell pinned her legs
     wide apart. Then he went to his black bag and took out a number of instruments: a small saw, a long thin knife and a sharp
     steel hook. He turned away but not far enough to conceal the flask from which he drank.
    ‘Put the basin ready and hold her tight,’ he said, wiping rum off his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘We’ll soon have it
     out.’ Suppressing a belch, he picked up the knife with the long blade.
    Susannah gripped her mother’s arms with hands that shook uncontrollably.
    Elizabeth screamed. Wild-eyed, she reared up.
    ‘I said hold her still, damn you!’ shouted the doctor.
    ‘Don’t hurt my baby! Don’t hurt my baby!’ Elizabeth’s head rolled from side to side as she fought her oppressors.
    ‘Mama, Mama! You must keep still!’ sobbed Susannah as she wrestled to stop her mother from bucking and twisting.
    ‘Don’t let him hurt my baby!’
    The flickering firelight cast Ogilby’s gigantic, hunched shadow onto the bedroom wall.
    At last Elizabeth’s screams subsided into moans.
    Susannah could not bear to look but mingling with the reek of doctor’s rum-soaked breath she could smell the metallic tang
     of blood.
    Ogilby reared up. ‘It’s done,’ he said. ‘And you might stop that wailing and show a little gratitude, madam. You’d have been
     dead yourself if I hadn’t acted.’
    Elizabeth lay still now, her eyes tightly shut, though that didn’t prevent the tears seeping from under her lids.
    Susannah, shaking and sobbing, kissed away the tears and smoothed her mother’s hair, murmuring endearments into her ear.
    Cornelius stood in a shocked daze, staring into the basin.
    Ogilby leaned onto Elizabeth’s belly with one hand and took hold of the umbilical cord with the other and began to pull on
     it.
    ‘Stop!’ Shocked into action, Cornelius grabbed Ogilby’s wrist. ‘She’ll bleed if you do that.’
    The doctor shook off Cornelius’s hand. ‘Are you