Excerpt from Love and Fury by Samantha Silva, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"We ought to have a good long time together, looks as if," said Mrs. B, rolling the woman's gown back over her calves.

"Are you sure?"

"We must have a little patience."

"Those were my mother's words to me as she was dying."

"'Tis true, comin' or goin'." The midwife gave her a quick pat on the bodice of her dress. "Let's get you out of this into something easier."

The woman signaled toward a wardrobe, where Mrs. B found a clean, pressed chemise, not a single heavy bedgown in sight, typical for lying-in but much too warm. She was of the view that nothing should be added to dress or bedclothes that the patient wasn't accustomed to in perfect health. When she turned back, the woman was on her feet, arms surrendered to the ceiling, at ease in her body. Her hair was all soft chestnut curls, brown eyes to match, her figure like a bulging flower vase.

"Not to worry," said the midwife, undoing the gown at the back and coiling it up over her belly, head, and arms. "Everything's in a fair way. You'll meet her soon enough."

In seconds the new garment replaced the old.

"Her?"

"Mmm."

"But we were expecting 'Master William.' We've been expecting him from the first."

All the bending and up-and-down had Mrs. B blotchy in the face. She stopped to blow a few strands of hair away, and saw the surprise on her patient's face.

"Everyone does. Expect a boy. But you're fleshy all over, not just out front. Feet nice and warm. Skin smooth as a plum." The midwife put her hands on her hips to squint at the woman's eyes. "Pupils closed up and small." She put her nose in the air and took a satisfied sniff. "But it's that smell of apple dumplings gives her away. You've a yen for sweets. That means a girl. Who'll take her time with you, upon my word."

Mrs. B bent over for her bag. She set the gin and satchel on a near table, and began unpacking.

"Another girl," said the woman almost under her breath, "in this world."

Something in the cadence of her voice made Mrs. B turn to take her in. The missus had stepped back into her slippers and redraped her shawl. She was very still, hands circling her swollen belly, staring down through the thin white linen with a wistful smile on her lips, as if saying hello and good-bye all at once. She'd looked so unafraid of everything until then: an older woman, late thirties maybe, experienced, with the way of the world about her. The midwife thought most women made far too much of the difficulties and inconveniences of childbearing, that it was a natural condition—not a disease at all—and ought to be treated as such. The woman in front of her now seemed not like them at all. No, she seemed the sort to look the task in the face, let Nature take charge, but help it along where she could, a short country walk, she guessed, gentle ride in a carriage, walk up and down the stairs, or busy herself in the early going with the distraction of dumplings, the spiced scent of a groaning cake. But standing there, some softness bled through the woman's strength.

"Shall I call you Mrs. G, then?" asked the midwife. "Just to shorten things up, same for both of us?"

"Mrs. G?"

"Or Mrs. Godwin, if you like."

"Mrs. Godwin? Who the devil is that?" the woman said with a bright laugh.

Mrs. B looked at her, confused.

"I'm sorry. It's only that I don't think of myself that way. 'Mrs. Godwin.' Though it's been four months already."

Mrs. B made the count of months in her head. She was a Christian woman but didn't judge. "Well, then, new married. Congratulations, I guess, are in order."

"Except that it goes against everything I believe."

"What's that?"

"Marrying at all."

Mrs. B was accustomed to women in her state saying things they might otherwise not, especially as the pains came closer together—sometimes things they would later regret, causing them to swear her to silence. She had heard secrets and gossip, pleas and gibberish, screaming, moaning, crying and curses, but never a declaration so clearheaded as this. Mrs. Godwin seemed to be staring at her, almost daring her to disapprove. But Mrs. B only smiled, in a way that didn't show her teeth.

Excerpted from Love and Fury by Samantha Silva. Copyright © 2021 by Samantha Silva. Excerpted by permission of Flatiron Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.