For the third morning in a row, Amelia cursed the greenhouse at Eagleton Manor and its resplendent offerings, an occurrence that was so utterly unwelcome and incongruous in her mind that Amelia nearly cursed herself as well.  In actuality, Amelia cherished the building, nearly as much as her husband did.  The late Mrs. Dyer had overseen the plans for the creation of the structure, and John and Amelia had watched its creation brick by brick and were fascinated by the work.  Upon its completion, the greenhouse had become an inviting locale in which to play and the friends had toiled away many childhood hours about the sunlight premises.  

Intended originally to be orangery, the edifice was not attached to the manor as had been the fashion at the time.  Rather, it was set a part and lay but a short distance across the lawns.  This choice allowed the glasshouse to be southern facing, maximizing the beautiful bursts of light that flooded in through the windows for the bulk of the day.  Furthermore, the short venture outdoors was a welcome one in both summer and winter allowing one to take advantage of the fresh air.  Upon the late Mrs. Dyer's request, the building was to remain thoroughly accessible to both the family and the household staff so as to be the perfect compliment the manor house in both architectural attributes and welcoming nature.

The outer walls of the planthouse matched those of Eagleton Manor, constructed of fine white stone brought in from Bath.  Tall, multifaceted windows extended the length of the sides separated by fine looking Grecian pillars that offered a distinguished and simple profile. The corbel gutter similarly was compromised of clean, square lines.  The only curves were those that traced the opening for the large, wooden, arched front doors.  The door were heavy enough to provide adequate insulation for growing plants in the summer months, and in the summer they could be thrown open to admit the warmth of sunshine and warm winds.  It was not surprising that the greenhouse was one of the constructions that most attracted visitors, and was well loved in the neighbourhood.  Almost all who espied the it deemed it "simply perfection."

During the winter, citrus and even pineapples trees thrived, providing a constant supply of tropical fruits to the manor as the building was heated from below using charcoal stoves.  These ranges pumped warm warm smoke along the floor and up the northern wall, and the exited through a decorative flue at the rear of the building.  Often, in the colder months, when Amelia was searching for solitude she found herself among the fragrant fruit trees.  Privacy was even more of a possibility after Mrs. Dyer had also commissioned the erection of a less ornamental forcing house close to the kitchens.  The smaller structure produced fresh vegetables, melons and other fare year round and was tended to lovingly by the Mr. Hale, the gardener. 

The generous bounty grown at Eagleton Manor was easily shared with the tenants of the property, and had been helped many gain strength during times of ague.  Amelia herself had proudly plucked choice fruits and shared them with her acquaintances.  Yet, as Amelia contemplated yet another breakfast consisting of sliced cucumber and tomato, and half a grapefruit she wished that not another seedling would take root under those rooves.  If so, Amelia though, I fear I shall become too well planted at the table, never wanting to eat again.

Amelia stared longingly at John's full plate. It boasted a full serving of cured meat, fresh eggs and muffins warm from the oven. A cup of coffee adorned John's hand, and he lovingly raised it to his mouth and took a sip. Sighing deeply, Amelia reached for her own cup of heavily watered wine and let the unwelcome taste fill her mouth.  This concoction had becoming her life's blood in the last few weeks, and she felt positively vexed at the thought of drinking another glass.  Even a mouthful of vinegar seemed more appealing, for at least it would provide a variation in the monotony of her routine.  Gone were the days of her beloved hot chocolate being placed on the table, a loss she felt most keenly.  It was not simply her palate that was offended by this change, but her heart felt heavier as the placement of her favourite concoction had being a simple outward gesture of John's affections for her. 

"Darling, must I really endure this diet for the coming months? It has been a fortnight since I have been given a proper serving of meat and I feel like I should waste away," Amelia asked genuinely as she lifted a single slice of cucumber to her lips.  She scarce dared a nibble before bile rose to the back of her throat forcing Amelia to abandon her efforts.

"Please, my love, you must persevere.  As it has been explained, your constitution is experiencing a plethora during this time.  These food are mean to be cooling and to reduce you back to good health, a state a very much wish to see you maintain once you have reached it."

"I am fully aware of the rationale, husband.  You have provided me with a fair elucidation on numerous occasions.  However, feeding my mind does not fill my belly properly.  Can I not even be offered a warm cup of tea to break my fast?  I do believe it would be instrumental in brewing a much better mood for my day."

"Partaking in such heating foods would be in direct opposition to the recommendations made to us," said John patting Amelia's had affectionately.  "My dearest, Monsieur Lemaire was adamant that you follow this lowering diet and he is most experienced in these matters.  We must trust his judgement."

"Yes, our fashionable man-midwife" replied Amelia with more than a hint of derision in her voice.  "I find it difficult to trust completely in the notions of an individual who has never been and never will be placed in this condition," Amelia stated poignantly as she gestured towards her abdomen.

"Darling," John cautioned his wife.  "I understand you are still sore that we did not engage the services of Mrs. Blythe.  She may have served the Moore family well over the years, but the are new developments in reproductive biology that she has not had the privilege to study.  M. Lemaire has spend many years in school to become an accoucheur and he is prepared for any eventuality.  "

"I should think that assisting in hundreds of births, including many of her own, would have provided Mrs. Blythe with more command.  Having a child is not a medical crisis but rather a natural event.  Having M. Lemaire present makes it appear as if I am party to a construed scientific observation and not a normal event.  Furthermore, Mrs. Blythe is familiar to myself.  I should feel reassured by her presence."

"Amelia," John said more emphatically, using her first name to quiet her protestations. "I have listened to your reasoning for long enough and I shall not bend my resolution. M. Lemaire is a gentleman and his care has been above reproach. I have full confidence in his scientific methods, and will not continue to tolerate your dissent.  I am your husband."

"Yes, and you were also once my friend and my confidante.  Have you forgotten so that so easily?" Amelia questioned with emotion.  "I may now be your wife, but that does not change who I am or that you have up until now heavily valued both my person and my opinions."

"Do you not believe that you remain valued?" John replied, his voice increasing in register.  "I have gone to great lengths and expense to provide the best care possible for you and our son. How can you even imply that I have been negligent?"

"Expenses that are not needed or required.  Mrs. Blythe would have gladly overseen this process for a mere trifle of the cost.  Instead, I am reduced to living on water and grass like a common cow and am subject to the ridicule of those in the vicinity who staunchly oppose the presence of men during childbirth.  Even my own father has expressed his concerns for this ungentlemanly pursuit.  Have you placed equal consideration of this fact in your evaluation?"

"Science is the way of the future," John replied as he waved his hand dismissively, "and I fully intend to see my child born under its influence. I shall not be questioned further!" John angrily banged his hand on the table in conclusion.

"It seems I am lucky, then" stated Amelia with a keen sense of cynicism, "that I shall be allowed to carry this child at all for it seems you believe my scientific pretensions to be as weak as my constitution in this delicate condition."

"Tread carefully, darling, for you are dangerously close to betraying yourself as a thoroughly modern woman.  What would the neighbourhood think of that?" John taunted, passion blazing through his voice.  He narrowed his eyes and stared at his wife.  Amelia's green eyes were dancing with fury and her cheeks were pink with frustration.  "You are entering perilous waters and I should hate to see you drown." 

"Oh let me drown, sir, if it means I will have channeled one droplet of sense into your obstinate opinions," Amelia said vehemently jumping up from her chair as she finished her words.  Her chest was puffed up in anger and tears began to prick her eyelids with the force of her emotion.  She glared at John, willing him to see that he was being unreasonable.

"You forget yourself, Madam," said John with a quiet, even tone that was laced with anger. "For you are my wife and have agree to honour me.  If you do not trust in M. Lemaire, fine, but I do expect you submit to me and be heedful of my decisions."

John's words pierced Amelia's heart as sharply as a dagger, feeding a poison of shock and disappointment into her heart.  Amelia had always been sure that John saw her as a good match.  He was a gentleman and she was a gentleman's daughter, and thus were equal in society.  Moreover, they had spent many hours toiling through books and debating philosophy and literature.  John was well aware of her more modern inclinations and for him to use that very fact to hurt her made Amelia question her understanding of their love.  Was it not built on friendship and mutual respect after all?  In marrying John, did she lose her friend and gain a master?  I should not have imagined, thought Amelia, that becoming one flesh would lower his opinion of me so substantially.

Across the table, John was also assessing his currently predicament.  On one hand his was acutely aware of the pain and dismay he was causing his wife by being so resolute.  Amelia had strong convictions of her own, often surprising him with her wisdom when they were growing up.  Her perceptions were unlike those of any woman he knew.  Yet he could not disregard her violent opposition in the matter of care for the child growing inside her.  John felt he needed to view his wife with new eyes.  Were Amelia's modern inclinations too wild to be sown into the role of mother and caregiver for his children?  John would never wish for Amelia to lose her internal fire and passion, but he did believed he should he douse some of her flames if it meant protecting his reputation as a man and father.

The dining room was fraught with tension and each second was marked by the ticking of the large clock in the hall.  Neither John nor Amelia spoke for several minutes.  Rather they regarded each other fiercely, willing the other to heed to their wishes.  Comically, the situation resembled the disagreements they had as children over whose favourite game they would pursue at any given moment.  However, unlike spillikins or battledore and shuttlecock, the stakes were much higher.  Finally, as often was the case in their early years, Amelia sighed heavily and broke the silence. 

"Do not forget yourself either, sir," Amelia replied quietly as she struggled to gain power over her emotions. "When we were joined in matrimony, you spoke an oath to love and cherish me as well. I do not seek to dishonour or disobey you.  I love you, my dearest.  I simply request that you consider my wishes as dear to you as your own are. Not because you must, but because you love me in return."

Astounded and feeling deflated, John did not respond immediately.  This prompted Amelia to approach him slowly and stood directly next to his right shoulder.  She then placed her left hand delicately there and pressed it lightly.  John glanced at her digits, noting the strong and enduring quality of the golden ring on Amelia's finger that symbolized their marriage that for the first time seemed tarnished in his estimation.  Saddened, John returned his gaze to his breakfast plate and gave no further response to his wife.

Pained, Amelia removed her affectionate gesture and folded her hands in front of her.  She took a breath and contemplated what to do next.  It was then at that very moment that a creak was heard from the floorboards in the vicinity of the doorway.  Amelia glanced up and noted a motionless and chagrined looking Mr. Archer.  Once again his unerring ability to intrude on Amelia during the most inopportune moments had served him well. 

"Oh, Lud!" Amelia cursed under her breath.

Mr. Archer shifted his weight uncomfortably between his feet, a loss for words.  He had not intended to cause offense to the Dyer couple, but rather had rushed down to breakfast.  His daily correspondence had been more involved today than other days, having taken on a new client of his own as well as many of John's endeavors.  Had he not been in such a hurried state, he might have noted the raised voices emanating from the dining room and kept his distance.  Instead, he had landed himself straight into a matrimonial spat. Decidedly troubled about the matter, Mr. Archer remained frozen to his spot.

"Pardon me, I shall leave you both," stammered Mr. Archer has he prepared to make an about turn to exit the room. 

"No, do not go Mr. Archer," Amelia interjected.  "It is I who must excuse myself."  She then nodded first towards the guest and then towards her husband and quickly quitted the room.