The Surrogate

"What are the odds that both of this is happening at the same time?" came the shrill voice of a woman who Cecille recognised as the lady from one of the noble households of Antibes. From her position, a few meters away from the first floor window, it was obvious to her that nobody could witness her body lying painfully on the bed. However, she had the luxury of taking a peek at the ladies waiting downstairs and the noble lady was just one among many, gossiping endlessly about the unlikely scenario that was unfolding at the Henry household. 

Well, good day to you, reader. I am the narrator of this story. I had a raging internal debate on whether to narrate this story through the eyes of the beautiful damsel Cecille to whom we were just introduced or the noble Mr. Henry whom you shall meet in a moment. After enormous contemplation, I dare say, I decided that I was the better narrator than either of these unreliable folks. And so with the question of the narration settled, lets move on.

While all the ladies talked and waited on something in which they could play no part, a few yards away from the house, the noble men of the town had all assembled together, waiting to hear from Mr. Henry. None of them could deny that the circumstance was the most peculiar. Mr. Henry was the son of the most reputed author of Antibes. His father had been one among the distinguished authors who had published their books with the newest invention of man, the printing press. The town naturally expected Mr. Henry to follow his famous father's footsteps. The boy had been expected to write from the time he was ten. Though his father had maintained to the folks of Antibes time and again that his son had the freedom to choose his life, the story within the household had always been different. Mr. Henry grew up under the stern and scrutinising gaze of his father who had rejected and scathed almost about every line of English Mr. Henry had ever written. At the age of twenty three, Mr. Henry had married a woman from a nearby town but had still not come out with his publication. The folks of Antibes had slowly begun losing their patience with some men even secretly talking that Mr. Henry, after all, had not taken after his great father's shoes. A year after the marriage, when you would normally expect a child, came the rather devastating news that Mr. Henry's father had passed away. Mr. Henry continued to write, albeit unsuccessfully, while the men of Antibes continued to wait, in eager anticipation of his publication which leads us to this day of peculiarity.

In a rather dramatic fashion, on this said peculiar day, Mr. Henry was waiting on his toes to unveil his publication to the men folk. The women meanwhile were waiting on Mrs. Henry to deliver her first child. The folks of Antibes had never seen something so dramatic, a child and a book coming out at the same time, both very long overdue. 

Now, you might ask, if the baby was suddenly due, why hadn't Mr. Henry postponed his book launch? Some of the men and most of the women waiting outside the Henry household had the same question in their mind but none of them dared to voice that thought and I would advise you the same but, lucky for you, I also happen to know the reason behind this drama.

Mr. Henry had conveniently ensured that the only women during the apparent pregnancy of his wife were - his wife, the doctor and their aid. All of the women folk had been asked to wait outside the house, clearly indicating that their entry inside was most unwelcome. The men were busy with the book launch and this also ensured that the male aids, Iean and Charles, were at Mr. Henry's side throughout the launch. Nine and perhaps more months of planning had all come down to this day.

Mr. Henry looked up at the skies smiling proudly. He had finally achieved everything his father had wanted. His first book was moments away from launch and the select critics who had been given the manuscript beforehand had raved about the story. And very soon, he was going to have his first child. But not even Lady Henry knew what had gone into this nine month effort. It had all started within the first year of their marriage. They had tried and tried so many times but to no avail. Mr. Henry had been hoping he could please his father with a grandchild as literature hadn't been his forte but it seemed to him that fortune didn't want things to go his way. His father had soon passed away but the pressure to deliver a child was insurmountable. That was when he had met Cecille. He introduced her to Lady Henry as a woman who was ready to 'bear their child'. Lady Henry had been initially apprehensive but they had gone over the plan in detail and were convinced they could pull it off. 

Now, you might wonder what all the fuss is about. I would like to remind you here that this was the time around which the printing press was still a wonder. I doubt if the very word "surrogacy" had even been coined. To the town of Antibes, an unknown lady from a far land (which Cecille was) carrying the child of one of their noble folk was a crime of unspeakable volume. Besides, that would also require Mr. Henry to consummate with Cecille which the noble folk considered an act of impurity. 

And so the act had started. Cecille entered the Henry household as an aid. And only few days later, word got around town that Lady Henry was pregnant. Cecille, meanwhile, went around town claiming she had been pregnant the day she had set foot in Antibes and most folk had no trouble believing her. The Henry household, safely and secretly, housed two pregnant ladies - one who faked her pregnancy and the other really pregnant.

Cecille had gone into labour that peculiar morning and Mr. Henry had seen this as a perfect opportunity to launch his book which had been due for publication any day. The cover was perfect and there was no chance of it being blown. 

I know you must be wondering what untoward thing is going to come their way now to make the story spicy. But I must disappoint you by denying any untoward activity. I assure you Mr. Henry has gone through way more trouble than he is worth and he really needs this taste of victory in his life. So why bother telling this story then? And this is when we go back to Cecille. 

While Mr. Henry had started reading out his speeches of valour, explaining how much he had toiled for the release of his debut publication, Cecille was experiencing the terrible moments of her labour. Her pain was two fold - the labour in itself and also the deep sadness that had enveloped her knowing that she would lose her baby the moment she brought it into this world. In the midst of all her pain, she thought about her father. She knew he would treat her as a vile woman for bearing someone else's child but he had never believed her to be noble to begin with. The main reason she had found herself at Mr. Henry's doorstep a little before ten months ago was because she had run away from the comforts of her home.

Before you judge Cecille a little too harshly for running away, which I must admit is a pretty galant act in 16th century France, it is important to understand the core truth of this story. 

Cecille had grown up accustomed to the comforts of luxury. Warm beds, delicacies from distant lands and gifts from foreigners had all been a part of her childhood. She grew up reading the first books that came out of the printing press and boy was she enamoured. The world of books and storytelling clouded her mind. She began to view them as the greatest luxury the world could provide, and if I may add, quite rightly so. 

When Cecille brought in her first manuscript to show her father, she hoped that he would acclaim her with the same warmth as he did with the literary contemporaries of her time. Imagine her surprise when her father threatened to lock her up if she ever wrote again.

"Women must not write," he said. 

Cecille was hurt deeply. It wasn't just grossly unfair, it was a huge disrespect to her talent. But any individual growing up reading stories cannot help but learn that it is never impossible to escape a situation. And so Cecille ran away, with just a bag of her clothes and her beloved manuscript, hoping she would find a publisher somewhere in France.

She searched for a whole year only to find out that no publisher was interested in taking in a woman's writing. She almost felt she had to resign herself to fate when she heard about Mr. Henry, a struggling writer who was yet to publish his novel. And that is when she came up with her plan. A true writer is not worried about fame or personal glory, they only care for the world to see their story. Cecille knew she was never going to see her a name under a publication but she also knew that was no reason for the world to not read her stories. She approached the Henry household with conviction that she could sell her story to him.

I must apologise if so far Mr. Henry looked like a timid and dumb-witted man to you. I assure you, he was a smart man. His first meeting with Cecille was the proof.

When Cecille approached Mr. Henry with her manuscript, instead of welcoming the opportunity shamelessly with open arms, he feigned disinterest.  He knew that even though he was desperate for a story, Cecille's condition was far worse. He decided to bargain her into doing something more for him. He claimed to take a pity on her condition and offered to do her the "service" of publishing her novel in his name but also flatly told her that he expected something in return.

Cecille was shocked but agreed nonetheless. She was ready to go to any length to get her story published. Mr. Henry made it clear to her that his wife had a situation and that Cecille had to carry his baby instead. She was not allowed to tell anybody about the baby or the book. Lady Henry knew about the baby alone (she had to, not a choice there) but Cecille and Mr. Henry hid the matter of the publication from the Lady (I suspect if she would have allowed, she was a far more noble lady).

And so the pact had been sealed. Mr. Henry had consummated with Cecille and impregnated her with a child she would never see after delivery. In return for her help, Mr. Henry did the "charitable work" of publishing her novel under his name.

A wild pain brought Cecille back to the present. She could hear the doctor muttering something to which she absently nodded. As the seconds passed, she felt her energy rapidly draining. She knew it was only a matter of time before which she would lose consciousness. She tried to keep herself awake at all odds holding out to the Lady's hand who gripped it with firm determination. Just as she was about to lose consciousness, she heard the loud moan of her baby. Lady Henry shrieked gleefully while Cecille heard a louder cheer from a group of men a few yards away. 

Cecille smiled proudly knowing fully well that, even though she would get nothing, everything she had created was finally outside for the world to see.