The child is gone.
When Bjorn stepped through the door to Erna’s room, he had already come to terms with that grim reality. Distraught maids were busying themselves with removing all the bloodstained sheets. The air was pungent with the smell of it and medicines. There was a doctor and a couple nurses who all wore sombre expressions, leaving no room for doubt or denial.
The doctor came to him and nodded, readying any number of rehearsed apologise and excuses. Bjorn ignored him and made his way to his wife’s side. Erna lay unconscious, a deathly pallor to her dry skin.
Bjorn swallowed a lump and leaned in to check her breathing. She let out a very faint and shallow sigh and he could see the nape of her neck throb with a pulse.
“She needs rest, Your Highness, I have prescribed tranquilliser for now,” the doctor said, keeping a respectable distance. “There was nothing I could do, Your Highness, I’m really…”
“Tell me the main point,” Bjorn said coldly.
“Her Highness’ body was weaker than anticipated and there may have been an issue with the health of the baby. While she was bleeding heavily, her condition became dire and it was either lose the baby, or both. Once her health is fully restored, she will be able to conceive again, Your Highness.” The doctor conveyed genuine compassion and regret.
Bjorn acknowledged with a brief nod and the doctor, along with his nurses, departed. The maids quickly followed suit once they had all the bloodstained linen gathered up.
Once they were left alone in the room, Bjorn switched off the lamp and plunged the bedroom into darkness. A fishy smell wafted in through the window that had been left open to ventilate the room.
Bjorn sat in a chair and watched Erna sleep, almost in a comatose state. Although he had the urge to carry her to a fresh room, he didn’t want to disturb her slumber.
The child is gone.
Bjorn repeated the words in his head, a fact that he had already accepted. When he clasped Erna’s hand, he could feel her warmth had left her and now she just felt cold.
He sat at the bedside, holding her hand until he could feel the warmth return to it. He stared intently at his wife, his mind slowly beginning to clear, although the child was gone, Bjorn found solace in the fact that Erna was safe.
Bjorn didn’t delve too deeply into his own feelings, it would be a futile exercise, he already knew they were meaningless. He concentrated in comforting his wife as she recovered.
He breathed a heavy sigh of relief upon noting Erna’s breathing became stronger and deeper. Bjorn left the room as carefully as he could and entered into the drawing room of the suite. He felt at a loss, unsure of what to do next. The sorrowful eyes of those present focused on him.
“Bjorn, I’m sorry,” Isabelle said.
Bjorn maintained a respectful silence in response to his mothers consoling words. He could see that everyone was waiting for him to say something, but he couldn’t find the right words.
Erna is safe.
He used that fact to build a foundation in his mind and built up his thoughts from there. Their misfortune was not unique and Erna would get better, stronger, allowing things to return to normal. They would be able to try again for a child. Was having a child an important part of their marriage? Bjorn couldn’t say for sure.
Bjorn knew that a miscarriage was tragic, but it wouldn’t shake the foundations of their lives. After letting go of the grief, he would be able to live a carefree life with Erna once again, who was now safe. That was how Bjorn looked at things.
Running a bloodless hand through his messy hair, Bjorn saw the stack of boxes piled up in the reception area. They all seemed to like meaningless little things now.
“Clear that lot away,” Bjorn ordered calmly. “Get it out of my sight.” He saw, scattered about the suite, all the little baby things Erna had gathered together, like a mother bird decorating a nest, “get rid of everything.”
*.·:·.✧.·:·.*
Erna woke up early in the morning, with the summer having passed and the days growing shorter, outside the window, the word was still shrouded in a deep blue darkness. Without delay, she got out of bed and turned on the lamp, bathing the room in warm light.
After making the bed, Erna went to splash water on her face and get changed into some fresh clothes. The cool breeze was enough to make her shiver.
She put on her gloves and hat. Taking a deep breath of chilly air, she looked out the window to the river beyond. The view was different from the one in the Grand Duchess’ room and after only a month, she was already used to it.
Erna wrapped herself up in a woollen shawl and set out for an early morning walk. She passed the Great Fountain, which had been turned off earlier than usual and made her way to the point where the Abit River met the waterway. The rhythmic sound of her footsteps echoed softly in the cold, crisp morning air.
This had become Erna’s new routine; waking up early, taking a morning walk, resting and eating when the time came. Her recovery had been remarkably swift in comparison to her poor health. Sometimes, she felt like her body rejected the child, a thought that made her physically sick.
Standing by the river, Erna gazed out at the deep blue water and the morning glow. It was serene and breathtaking, but she needed to go back now.
When she had woken up that first time, she found that everything had been organised. Perhaps it was the overdose of emotions, the pain, the tears and countless agonising cramps, but she didn’t feel as sad, or as tormented as she thought she would be. Everything was just accepted with a calm finality.
Her only wish was to leave the room that was now marred with such painful memories for awhile and Bjorn readily agreed. She thanked him with a smile, despite her black mood. She didn’t know if it was a pretty smile for him, but it was genuine.
Erna stood at the river bank, staring up at the mansion for a long while. Then started back with weightless steps, she felt like a ghost. The servants encountered her on the way and greeted her with a more familiar manner than before, acknowledging her presence with newfound respect.
She won’t last a year.
Their voices swam about Erna’s memories. Most of them had bet on her being gone by now, not lasting the year in the mansion. Erna wondered who would claim the prize money if she didn’t last.
Did Lisa participate in the bet? It would be amusing if she could become Lisa’s trophy. As her mind wandered through those malignant thoughts, she found herself outside her bedroom door without realising it.
Resigned, she went into the room and got on with her day. She ate breakfast when it was brought to her and read the morning paper. Princess Gladys’ name still dominated the headlines, but mixed in was the reports asking for Prince Bjorn’s whereabouts.
Opinions on the matter of Bjorn returning to his rightful place as the Crown Prince was a topic hotly debated constantly. Others argued that the current Crown Prince, who was doing a great job, should remain where he was.
What will Bjorn do?
As Erna checked through the greetings, she realised that it had been a long time since she had a decent conversation with Bjorn. They met up and sat together everyday, but none of their conversions stuck in her mind.
Going through the last of the letters, her wrist started to hurt from the constant writing of replies. To her amazement, the ladies that openly ignored her before, were now scrambling over each other to send the Grand Duchess letters and gifts. Most of the correspondence’s were just attempts to bad mouth Princess Gladys and praise for Princess Erna and her ability to endure.
Erna was always unsure what to respond to these letters, so she stuck to the polite ones first. She found great comfort in one letter, which shared a miscarriage experience and was filled with empathy for her pain, even though it was a formal courtesy. The usual statements of hoping the next baby to be delivered safely next time felt all too vague.
“Next time…” Erna whispered.
Erna’s face twisted as if she was trying to grasp some foreign language. She knew all too well what was expected of her and so long as her marriage to Bjorn endured, she would have obligations to fulfil. It was one of the few uses left to the Grand Duchess.
“Next time.”
Her face grew even more pale as she repeated the words. She was sat still, in the chair, but she found herself short of breath and braking into a cold swear. The room span around her and she lost her grip on the pen, its clattering to the desk sent spots of ink to stain her stationary.
A sharp knock at the door brought Erna back from the brink and noticing her mistake, grabbed the blotting paper.
“Your Highness, its Mrs Fitz, the Prince would like to have lunch together.”
Erna froze at the unexpected request, her breath catching in her throat.
*.·:·.✧.·:·.*
The Grand Duke’s lunch table was set in the garden room, as per Bjorn’s request. He had also personally arranged the lavish flower decorations, the delicate lace tablecloth and the white fish dish with subtle scent of sauce.
Bjorn had come early to get everything set up and eagerly awaited Erna’s arrival. He had decided to end this stalemate once and for all. Despite the fact that they had shared a bed, he couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the vast distance that had grown between them. He found it absurd and irritating, it was time for everything to return to its rightful place.
Bjorn finished up arranging the tropical plants and looked at the clock that sat on the mantelpiece. Nervousness shivered through his body as he saw that Erna was late. Only by five minutes, but it might as well have been hours and Bjorn started to convince himself that Erna was not coming.
Then her heard soft footsteps as delicate and subtle as falling snow. He turned expectantly and found his wife, Erna, standing in the doorway.