London
Sunday, 19 December 1835
"Push harder Antoinette." The midwife said, her voice laced with panic and urgency.
Antoinette let out another shrill cry. Her body dampened with sweat and her eyes closed shut as she bawled up her fists and nails that dug so deeply into her flesh that it drew blood.
"Push!" The midwife said once more, and a few moments later, the sound of a baby's cries filled the air.
Another midwife who caught the child beamed with joy. "You did it, your grace, you did it."
Antoinette gave her a weak smile before the child was placed in her weary arms. She looked down at the mop of strawberry-blonde hair and huge blue eyes which searched hers. As Antoinette clutched her tiny baby right then and there, she never thought anything could be more precious to her. Or was it possible to love anything more than this life she had just brought into this world?
"My wife...is she okay?" Her husband rushed into the room.
"Yes, my Lord, it is a girl. Congratulations, you have a healthy baby girl."