Chapter Eighteen #2
She felt terrible, like she’d swallowed a rock and it was sitting in her stomach.
Owen deserved to know about his son, and sooner than now.
Her excuse, that he’d been busy with Parliament, felt weak now.
If only she’d gotten that letter in the mail the day she wrote it!
Likely Owen would not have made it to Wales sooner, since the baby had come early, but at least she wouldn’t be surprising him like this.
Once the shock wore off, he would be upset with her, and she would have to live with that.
He followed her over to the crib, which she’d had the staff put at the foot of the bed.
She’d slept in here with Dafydd the first few nights after his birth, but then she’d worried that if she made noise in the night she would wake him, so she moved to Owen’s bed in the adjacent room but left the connecting doors open so that she could hear Dafydd if he cried.
Their son was asleep, but his lips were pursed and he made a sucking motion.
Owen looked into the crib and stood perfectly still for a long moment, just staring.
Grace couldn’t tell if there was much family resemblance.
Dafydd had a head of dark hair and a chin dimple like Owen’s, but otherwise he mostly looked like a baby to Grace.
He was beautiful, though, and he was hers and she was fiercely protective of him, to the point where everyone thought she was mad.
“My son,” Owen whispered.
“Dafydd Gruffud.”
Owen put a hand over his mouth. “That is perfect.”
By Grace’s calculation, Dafydd had been asleep for nearly three hours and was about due to wake up, but she didn’t want to disturb him. Catrin’s advice had been to rest whenever the baby was resting, which had been sound so far.
But, perhaps sensing his parents were staring at him, Dafydd stirred.
Remarkably, he did not cry. He looked up at Grace and moved his arms around. She wondered what he was thinking, if his little baby brain even understood.
She reached into the crib and scooped him up.
“Hello, baby,” she said to him. She rocked him in his arms a little. “Do you want to meet your papa?” She looked up at Owen. “Do you want to hold him?”
“Can I? I’ve never held a baby before.”
“A lot of it comes by instinct. Just make sure you hold his head carefully. Like this.” She held up Dafydd to show Owen how to hold him.
Owen held his arms out, so Grace placed the baby in them.
Dafydd just stared at his father for a long moment.
“I can’t believe it,” Owen said.
“He’s very handsome, don’t you think? Just like his papa.”
“Yes. A very handsome boy. And everything is all right with him? He has all his fingers and toes?”
“Yes. He’s perfect, Owen. That is, he does not do much at this stage of life. He mostly cries, sleeps, eats, and fills his nappies. But every day I look at him and I’m amazed.”
As if understanding that he was not fulfilling his assignment, Dafydd began to cry.
“What do I do?” Owen asked.
Grace took the baby back. She rocked and soothed him and he began to calm back down.
“Did you just need your mum?” she asked Dafydd.
“Is there a nurse? Or a nanny?” Owen asked.
“No. I have interviewed a few candidates, but haven’t found one I like yet. I’ve been feeding him myself.”
“That is unorthodox.”
“So everyone says. I will hire a nanny, once I find one I trust. In the meantime, I am his mother, and I should be able to take care of him.”
“Of course.”
Dafydd calmed and drifted back to sleep. Grace placed him carefully back into his crib.
“You should know, though,” Grace said. “The labor was quite difficult. I lost consciousness for a while, due to lack of blood.”
Owen’s mouth fell open. “That is… Thank God you are all right now.”
Grace walked toward the master’s bedroom and through the room that connected them. Owen followed.
“He was born here,” Grace said. “I had to replace the mattress and bedding.”
“Oh. Oh, Grace. I’m so sorry that I was not here.”
“I didn’t tell you. I should have told you.”
“Have you been abed these last three weeks?”
“Not entirely, but a lot of the time. My friends and the staff have been helping. I sent them away today because I knew you were coming and I wanted to see you alone.”
“This Catrin woman you wrote me about?”
“She has several children of her own. She helped me a great deal when Dafydd was first born. And Morfudd and Gwen Williams have been here too to look after him so I could sleep. And Mary, my maid, she’s helped a great deal, too. You should give her a raise.”
“I will,” said Owen. “You’ve been taking care of Dafydd by yourself?”
She nodded. “I will hire a nurse. It’s just hard. I don’t know how noblewomen leave their children in nurseries on distant floors, to be taken care of by strangers and then just go back to their lives like nothing significant has changed. I love him so much, Owen. I struggle to be apart from him.”
Owen put an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “You should raise him however you see fit. But if you are still recovering, you should perhaps get some help. I can afford to hire help.”
“I’m so sorry, Owen.”
“I know. And I am quite shocked, so I may have more to say on this later, but… I am just glad you are all right. That you both are.”
“I can sleep in my own room tonight so that you can have the bed.”
“It’s all right. If you are sleeping here and do not mind a large earl taking up part of the bed, there is no need to sleep elsewhere.”
“I do not mind, but I cannot… That is, I am still recovering and a bit sore, so I won’t be able to…”
“It is all right. I will make no demands of you.”
That was a relief. “I am glad to see you,” she said.