Wynna has nothing to do

“How late?” Colburga and Osgyth asked together.

“About… one month…” Wynna mumbled, as if speaking distinctly would have made it more true.

“A month?” Osgyth shrieked.

“Shut up!” Colburga cried. “Her mother is downstairs.”

“A month?” Osgyth repeated softly, as if Colburga’s reprimand had made it less true.

“Honey, you’re a month late and you’re just now telling someone?” Colburga asked.

“But I…”

“I know, I know,” Osgyth said. “You were hoping it was only a scare.”

“But now you have one less month in which to think about what you’re going to do,” Colburga said. “What’s the matter with that boy?” she sighed and shook her head.

“What’s the matter with all boys?” Osgyth asked.

“I know! One has to remind them every time, or they ‘forget’.”

“Forget what?” Wynna squeaked.

“Forget to be careful.”

“What do you mean?”

“Wynna!” Colburga groaned. “You do know he’s supposed to take it out before he finishes, don’t you? Don’t you ever listen to anything we talk about in here?”

“Yes…”

“Well, didn’t you tell him?”

Wynna blanched. “How are you supposed to tell him… that?”

“English is good!” Osgyth said.

“Honey,” Colburga said, “if you’re old enough to sleep with him, you’re old enough to tell him what he can do and what he can’t do. You can’t just let a man do whatever he wants, or he will try to do some crazy things you don’t even want to hear about.”

“But…” Wynna whimpered.

“Anyway, it’s too late now,” Osgyth said. “What are you going to do? Or perhaps you will simply lose it. That happens sometimes.”

“That only ever happens to girls who want their babies,” Colburga corrected. “The ones who don’t want them always end up having them. But anyway, honey, you love Anson, don’t you?”

“Of course!” Wynna said.

“I’m sure you didn’t tell him,” Osgyth said and rolled her eyes, “since you didn’t tell him the other thing.”

“No…”

“Well, don’t worry too much, Wynn,” Colburga said. “Your mother did the very same thing with your father. That’s how Bertie came to be, and we aren’t sorry about that, are we, Gyth?” she snickered.

“Shut up, Colburga,” Osgyth scowled.

“So,” Colburga continued, “she can hardly be angry at you. And even if she is, you can always come and stay with me and Alfred. I’m sure he won’t mind. Or if he does I shall tell him to shut it.”

“But…”

“She wants to be with Anson, anyway,” Osgyth said. “If he’ll marry you.”

“He says he will!” Wynna said eagerly.

“I thought you didn’t tell him?” Osgyth frowned.

“He wants to marry me anyway. As soon as he has a house.”

“Ohhhh…”

“But I wanted to get married first,” Wynna began to sniffle. “Then I would have been so happy to have a baby. And now I shall have to get married with a big belly, and everyone will talk about me.”

“Well, if you’re only a month late,” Osgyth said, “why don’t you go ask Red Curran’s youngest girl what she did? She drank something when she got in trouble and she started bleeding again two days later.”

“Hmm, that’s an idea,” Colburga nodded. “But if she’s already a month late?”

“But I can’t do that!” Wynna cried. “That’s how my aunt died!”

“What?”

“She was having a baby she didn’t want, and she took some herbs, and she died. That’s what my mother said.”

“Oh!” Osgyth scoffed. “Perhaps your mother only told you that to scare you. Perhaps she only meant to kill herself.”

“Osgyth!” Wynna gasped in horror.

“Red Curran’s girl is still alive, isn’t she? And she didn’t have a baby, did she?”

“She must be doing something right,” Colburga said. “She ought to have twenty babies by now, the way she goes.”

“But I can’t do that,” Wynna insisted in a trembling voice. “It’s a sin.”

“Honey, it’s too late to start worrying about sins now!” Colburga laughed. “Let her be, Gyth. If she wants the baby, let her have it. When would it come, anyway?”

“Summer,” Osgyth said immediately.

“How do you know?” Colburga asked.

“Easy. If you get it in the fall, it’s born in the summer. If you get it in the winter, it’s born in the fall. And so on.”

“June, I think,” Wynna murmured.

“Oh, how sweet!” Osgyth cried. “Won’t it be cute?”

“We ought to have a double wedding, that’s what I think,” Colburga said. “You’ll have to tell your mother by January, anyway. You’ll be starting to show.”

“How sweet!” Osgyth sighed.

“Care to join us?” Colburga cackled. “We can ask Bertie and keep it all in the family.”

“Shut up!”

“Will you be starting to show by then, too, my chickie?”

“Shut up!”

“Or does Bertie ‘remember’?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

“But what shall I do?” Wynna wailed, beginning to cry again.

“Oh, Wynn!” Colburga moaned and pulled Wynna to her feet to embrace her. “Let’s keep it between us three for now. It’s always safest not to say anything until you feel the baby kick so you know it’s there.”

“How sweet!” Osgyth giggled.

“Perhaps you are only sick or something. Or perhaps you will lose it after all. So let’s not have a fuss for nothing. That’s what I think. Don’t you think, Gyth?”

“I think she should have thought of this before,” Osgyth said ruefully. “Did you think that simply because you didn’t want a baby now, somehow by magic you wouldn’t have one?”

“Shut up, Gyth. That’s not helping now. Listen, honey. If I’m old enough to get married, so are you, so my father can’t say anything. And your mother did the same thing when she was your age, so she can’t say anything. And anyway, we’ll stand by you, won’t we, Gyth?”

“Of course we will. I think it’s sweet.”

Wynna smiled from equal parts courage and relief. She had finally told someone – two someones – and they did not think it was a catastrophic thing. And better still, they had told her precisely what she had wanted to hear: for now, she had nothing to do.