Chapter 9
Alan had tossed and turned all night. Near dawn, he gave up any pretense of sleeping, dressed, and made his way to the study to await his brother-in-law.
Not in the mood to play another round of Buffy Gruffy last night, he’d excused himself and gone in search of Hamdon, but he’d been closeted in the nursery with George and Emma.
The last thing Alan had wanted to do was upset Emma, especially in her condition.
A condition he’d hoped she and Lord Hamdon would avoid, given her brush with death the last time she’d brought a child into the world.
That Hamdon had been so callous as to put her in this position, and so soon after George’s birth, made him angry enough to call the man out, but instead he’d left a message to meet him before breakfast.
Stepping into the study, the smell of leather and ink brought a calm he could not manage anywhere else in the house. He crossed to the window and watched the sun rise above the treetops.
“The sunrises here are some of my favorites,” his sister’s voice said from behind him.
He spun to face her. She stood just inside the room, her dressing gown pulled tightly about her.
“What are you doing up? I thought with your condition you’d be sleeping.”
Her hand slowly slid to her middle. “So you noticed. I suspected that was why you wanted to meet with my husband.”
“He told you.”
“Of course, Alan. We do not keep secrets from one another. And if I know you like I think I do, your protective older brother side took over last evening, and you wished to throttle him.”
Alan paced to the desk and placed his hands firmly on it. “And why shouldn’t I, Emma? He has placed your life in danger… again. Does the man have no restraint?”
“So you wish me to never enjoy my husband’s company again?”
The way her spine straightened and her eyebrows rose let him know he’d initiated a battle of words that he’d never win.
In all his life, he’d never met a woman who matched his sister in wit.
He could not count the times he’d started an argument against her only to somehow end up agreeing with her. Even so, he had to help her see reason.
“Certain types of company you can surely avoid.”
“For what? Life is never guaranteed, Alan. I may die tomorrow choking on the roast goose. Yes, bringing children into the world is a risk, but it is something I am willing to do so we might enjoy the blessing of family.”
“And if you die?”
“Then I will die knowing I have loved my husband to the fullest. That I have lived to the fullest.”
Her words sliced through him. They were completely logical and yet the pain of their shared past still ached in his chest.
His knees buckled and he sat hard in his seat. Head in his hands, Alan pushed the words up through his constricting throat. “But Mama…”
Her light footsteps crossed the room, and her gentle hand settled on his back.
“I know. It was devastating losing her during our baby brother’s delivery, but if it were not for her, we would not be here to experience the joys of life that we do.
What if she’d decided to stop having children after you were born? ”
His eyes strayed to hers. There had been two babies lost between him and Emma, but if their mother had given up, he would not have her. He’d have been alone.
He rested his hand on the one she’d placed on his shoulder. She meant so much to him. His heart seized every time he thought of those agonizing weeks after George’s birth when they’d all watched and waited, every day worrying it would be her last.
He sighed. “I do not know if I can handle another birth like George’s.”
Her laugh filled the room. “I believe I am the one who will be going through the travail.”
Alan smiled. “You know what I mean, Emma.”
“I do. And your concern is valid. Anthony is equally concerned, which is why I came in his place.” She took a deep breath. “Alan, you cannot confront him. He may not show it, but he is struggling with the prospect of another child. I think he feels a great sense of guilt over my suffering.”
“As he should.”
“No Alan. I chose this. It may be hard to see”—she gestured to her petite form— “but I am no longer a child. I am a grown woman, and I make my own choices.”
He opened his mouth, but she beat him to it.
“And before you make the assumption that Anthony makes any choices for me, remember how many times I have bested you in a battle of wills.”
Alan snapped his mouth shut. She leaned over and kissed the top of his head, much like their mother used to do.
“It will be all right. I trust God will guild me through the travail and save me from death again.”
Emma’s faith had always impressed Alan. She had held firm to the words Mr. Clayton had taught them, even in times of trial.
He, however, was not so sure. The world of war was fraught with reasons to doubt, and the years he’d spent abroad fighting for king and country had made him a bit of a cynic.
But deep in his heart, he still wanted to believe a loving God existed.
Perhaps that was why he was so drawn to Grace. She also held a deep conviction. Then again, it was another reason he was not suitable for her. Was there not something in the holy script about not yoking two unequal people?
“You still look troubled,” Emma said. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Alan’s gaze sharpened on her. “No.” He patted her hand again, then rose. “No, I think it best we break our fast. Do not let it be said that Alan Hensworth kept an expectant mother from feeding her unborn child.”
“I see. This is all for my benefit, then.”
He grinned. “No, I am famished, but I must lay at least some small claim to chivalry.”
She giggled, and Alan did not think there was another sound so wonderful as Emma’s laugh.
Sparkling brown eyes full of mirth appeared in his thoughts. Ones set in a sweet oval face and accompanied by a pert nose with enchanting freckles. Perhaps there was one other laugh that could compete with his sister’s.
Snow fell later that day and Alan paused at the window, trying to remember when it had ever snowed so much in Oxfordshire. The whole year had been rather cold, but he’d not expected it to be this intense.
The door to the sitting room flew open and Miss Prudence skipped in. “Do you see it? Is it not lovely?” She stopped in front of the window, giving a little bounce. “We should all go out and catch snowflakes.”
Alan blinked at her, then peered about the empty room. Miss Prudence did not seem to notice.
She latched onto his arm. “Come on, Gladsby, we need to get the others.”
In no time at all, he had been dragged to the library, where the others had apparently gathered. Prudence announced her request but was met with little enthusiasm. It seemed the others were as reticent about going out into the cold as he had been when she first announced her intent.
When Grace rose to her feet, however, and declared it a splendid idea, all reluctance fled.
“Do go on ahead.” Emma stood. “I believe I shall retire to my room for a rest.”
“An excellent idea,” Mrs. Lenning said, joining her.
There was something in the way the two ladies glanced at each other that made him uneasy. He did not have time to ponder it as Miss Prudence insisted they hurry before the big fluffy flakes stopped falling.
Outside, the chill in the air turned their breath into miniature clouds. Miss Prudence giggled and began experimenting, letting out short and long breaths to see them rise. After much cajoling, Grace joined her.
Alan watched the sisters, smiling as they attempted to blow air toward each other like some sort of cloud fight. For just a moment, he wondered if Emma would have had this sort of relationship had one of their mother’s lost babies survived.
“You look pensive, Lord Gladsby.” Grace gave one more puff of air toward her sister then paused. “Nothing too troubling, I hope.”
Miss Prudence lost interest in the breath clouds and began catching large white flakes in her mouth.
He cast Grace a reassuring smile. “Not at all. I was simply admiring the closeness you seem to share with your sister.”
She approached his side, and they slowly followed Miss Prudence as she chased flakes. “It is a joy and a challenge.”
“How so?”
“There are many opportunities to grow close, but when you are constantly in proximity with someone with a vastly different temperament, it can be agitating. Pru loves people and cannot see how anyone would not want to be in company with others all the time. I, on the other hand, need solitude, something hard to acquire when sharing a house, let alone a room, with such a vivacious person.”
“That is understandable. The first time I was required to share quarters was when I ran off to join the Royal Army. If I had been smart about it, I’d have bought myself a commission as an officer, but I was headstrong and impetuous and therefore had to share sleeping quarters with the other enlisted men.
It was a difficult adjustment, and I often wanted to shove wads of dirty stockings in men’s mouths. ”
She giggled. “So you do understand.” Opening her mouth, she let a flake glide gently in, the white of it disappearing as it landed on her tongue. “What was it like?”
He blinked a few times, realizing his attention had been on her mouth instead of her words. “Pardon?”
“The army, what was it like?”
“Mostly dirty and smelly. That happens when you put a large number of men together in inadequate living conditions. I knew it would not be easy when I left, but I greatly underestimated the difficulty.”
She tipped her head to the side. “And why did you… leave, that is? You were in line for a barony.” Her eyes widened. “I do apologize, that was terribly forward of me. Prudence must be wearing me down.”
He placed a gentle hand on her arm, the need to touch her growing too great to resist. “Do not apologize. I believe we have known each other long enough that we need not skirt the hard questions.”