Mary Bennet and the Meryton Midwife: Mary of Longbourn #5

Mary Bennet Sutton, as a woman, had never been able to obtain the level of higher education she desired. And although much had been learned by working alongside her new husband, she still yearned for something to call her own. Unfortunately, in the area of medicine, precious little was allocated to women. Only midwifery offered an area of expertise that was rarely challenged by men, even doctors. Nell Watby was one such woman, having delivered most of the children in Meryton, including Mary’s own younger sisters. A no-nonsense sort of person, Nell had begrudgingly taken Mary as her apprentice.
“I will not tolerate any newfangled gadgets or ideas unless they meet my standards. I do not care what modern doctors claim, women have been tending to their own since the dawn of time,” the old woman had insisted, giving Mary an appraisal of her plain dress and sensible shoes. As far as gently bred ladies went, Mary Bennet had always been the odd one out, but perhaps that was exactly what was needed. More women were choosing doctors to catch their babies, reducing her skills to that of a charwoman. It was insulting, but perhaps the wife of a doctor would breech that foolish notion. And unfortunately, time was not on her side. Age was the bane of everyone, and eventually, someone must be found to take her place. If only that handsome doctor was not always poking his nose where it was not wanted.
Of this, Nell had bluntly informed her new protégé.
“Keep that young man of yours in his surgery where he belongs and you and I will get on fine.”
That had been nearly six months ago, and Mary believed she had made considerable progress, but still held reservations. In truth, childbirth terrified her and despite the wealth of knowledge, she did not feel confident in doing it alone. It was something that she had not shared with anyone, even Atlas, but Mary knew that Nell was aware…and frustrated. Perhaps now that the wedding was over, she could refocus her attentions, and her nerves. Giving her husband’s hand a squeeze, Mary sighed. They had promised never to keep secrets from one another.
“Not so much cross as disappointed. But I am frightened, and when frightened, I tend to say inappropriate things. I never realized that there was so much that could go wrong. What if I am never ready to attend someone by myself?”
To this revelation, Atlas turned to gaze directly into Mary’s eyes. Never before, had she ever given the impression of being afraid of anything. But he had to admit to having borne the brunt of more than a few tongue lashings from his now bride. Had she been afraid of him? It was laughable to think so, but bravado was Mary’s forte, even when faced with the impossible.
“I believe in you, and remember, medicine, in any aspect, takes practice. Sometimes, things do not work out as hoped, no matter what we do. It is the intention that matters. We both wish to heal people, not harm.”