Chapter Sixteen
“If you close those doors and windows again, I shall have you shot,” Joy said to Flora, then immediately felt guilty about threatening the poor maid.
Of course, she would never have her shot and therefore should never say so.
It wasn’t Flora’s fault that Joy felt like something Nimbus had dragged in from the gutter.
“Never you fret, my lady.” Thankfully, the maid ignored Joy’s fractiousness and moved a small table against the door on the right. “I am merely propping it open. This one keeps trying to swing shut. Shall I tell Severns so he can have a man check the hinges?”
“Not until my constitution calms enough for me to leave this room.” Joy resettled herself yet again in the mound of pillows the maid had propped around her. “And I am sorry for being such an ill-tempered cow.”
“She has never handled illness well,” Blessing assured the maid as she wrung out a cloth, then offered it to Joy.
“Press this on the back of your neck. That always helped me in the early days of my Rorie. Thankfully, the little one I’m growing now seems quite agreeable. Must be a milder-tempered girl.”
“Or perhaps an easygoing boy? Here is another mint sachet,” Fortuity said to Joy. “Quill made me feel wretched for the first month or so. Never you worry. You shall feel right as rain soon enough.”
“A month?” Joy shoved the bundle of mint against the end of her nose and inhaled, wishing it worked on her nerves as well as it worked on her stomach. “I cannot be like this for an entire month. I have a life. Things that demand my attention.”
“Take heart, dearest, and make the best of it. Some women suffer even longer,” Blessing said. “I had bad days off and on throughout the entire time. You remember how I was.”
“I remember you ate everything that didn’t bite you first,” Joy said, then found herself awash with guilt all over again. “Sorry.” She swallowed hard, trying to keep the burning bile from rising in her throat. The mere mention of food almost made her retch.
Blessing perched on the edge of the bed and gave her a sympathetic smile. “You will be impossible until you hold the babe in your arms. That is part of it—and you are allowed to be so.”
Fortuity sat on the other side of the bed. “What early name shall we call the new Winterstone?”
“Early name?” Joy said.
“Rorie was Starpeeper,” Fortuity said. “Quill was Quill Seshat. What early name shall your baby have before it is born?”
Joy pressed the cool cloth to her eyes, trying to alleviate the pounding in her head. “I have no idea. Menace comes to mind because the little rogue is making me so miserable.”
“No,” Blessing said. “It cannot be something bad or the little one will think itself unwanted. Think of something, Fortuity. You are a novelist.”
“Wager.” Fortuity grinned. “Joy loves gaming. This is the most precious wager she will ever make in this game of life.”
Blessing bounced on the bed and clapped her hands. “Perfect! Little Wager.”
“Chamber pot!” Joy shouted. “And stop shaking the bed.”
Blessing fetched it for her, cringing as Joy hung over it and started heaving.
“I am so sorry,” Blessing said. “Quite thoughtless of me.”
Joy gagged and strained, feeling as though she were turning herself inside out. “Does this hurt the child?” Her voice echoed in the empty porcelain chamber pot. She needed to drink something to have something to vomit back up.
“No.” Blessing pressed a fresh, cool cloth to the back of Joy’s neck and another to her temples. “Your baby is safe. Rest easy on that count, dearest sister. We Abaroughs were made to be mothers.” She wiped Joy’s face and gave her a sip of water.
Joy concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths to keep the water down. Aurelia’s toasted crusts of bread had worked wonders this morning. Perhaps an afternoon serving would work again, too. “I wish Aurelia were here.”
“Where is she, by the way?” Fortuity asked.
“She was the blackmailer, and Jansen sent her to live with a distant cousin.”
“Aurelia? The blackmailer?” Blessing dropped the cloth she had just wrung out back into the bowl. “But why?”
“She thought it a guarantee to keep Jansen and me together. Common enemy and all that.”
“Well,” Fortuity said, “I suppose it worked.”
“And now she is gone.” Tears welled and overflowed. Again. Joy pointed at the top drawer of the nightstand. “Handkerchief, please.”
“The incessant need to weep will ease off too, dearest.” Fortuity pressed a fresh handkerchief into Joy’s hand. “You are having to adjust to the new little resident in your middle. Your insides are somewhat in a state of disrepair. Redecorating, so to speak.”
Joy dabbed at her eyes, swollen and gritty from so much crying. “I do not recall you two being this ridiculous.”
“Oh, we were,” Blessing said. “We simply hid it as you are doing. You won’t be this way when you finally feel sturdy enough to emerge from your rooms.”
“I never thought a Wager would make me feel so terrible.” Joy smiled at the name Fortuity had chosen. “Wager. If it is a boy, perhaps we should work that into his name.”
“Wager Winterstone?” Blessing cringed. “That would be too cruel for a real name. We shall help you write down several choices for boys or girls. You will be amply prepared before little Wager comes into the world.”
“Amply prepared,” Joy repeated as she sagged back into the pillows and handed off the chamber pot to Blessing. “I look forward to being amply prepared rather than floundering. I wish Mama were here. I need her wisdom, too.”
Blessing smoothed Joy’s hair back from her face. “Mama is here, and she is overjoyed that there is going to be another grandchild for her to watch over. Close your eyes and listen closely. You shall hear her voice when you need it most.”
“Thank you, Blessing.” Joy smiled at her sister, and then at Fortuity too. “And you as well. Thank you both for being here.”
“We would never think of being anywhere else,” Fortuity said. “Now, sleep. Maybe you will dream of Mama.”
*
Six nights in a row, Jansen had conquered his night demons and slept through till morning.
He felt so rested it was ridiculous. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so soundly and so well.
Now, as soon as his angel felt better, and he had at least another fortnight of calm nights, he would tell her they could attempt an entire night together.
She had started emerging from her rooms for a few hours each day, every day, a little longer than the one before, but she still wasn’t well.
Her pallor concerned him. Bearing children was a dangerous business indeed.
He knew many a man with a second or third wife because childbirth had stolen the others.
What gave him hope, what kept him from tumbling off the ledge of worry into the abyss of sheer panic, was that she had three sisters who had successfully brought forth healthy children and survived it quite well.
Blessing was even with child again and not suffering nearly as much as she had the first time.
Or so Joy had told him. He prayed this was true and not just a tale to give her hope.
Blessing had seemed hearty enough when she had visited to lift Joy’s spirits.
“Jansen?”
He turned from perusing the garden through the library window. “My angel, I do believe your color is better. Dare I hope you are having a good day?”
“I am having a good day. Just avoid any mention of f-o-o-d.”
“Absolutely, dearest.” Although he didn’t understand why spelling the word didn’t make her sick as well. But whatever it took was fine by him.
“I thought to stroll in the garden. Would you like to join me, or are you busy?”
“I am never too busy for a stroll in the garden with you.” He hurried to her side and offered his arm, thrilled at the rosiness of her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes.
As he led her out to the garden via the library’s terrace, he patted her hand.
“Soon enough, you will be doing so well that we can ride in the park.”
“I hope so. I tire of riding that bed.” As they stepped onto the path that meandered through the roses, she paused and sniffed a crimson bloom. “Exquisite…and speaking of being tired of my bed, how is your project coming along? Any hope of my moving into your rooms?”
“I have had six good nights in a row, but I still feel we should wait. At least another fortnight.”
“Why?”
“Because I do not wish to harm you or little Wager.”
“I do not think you would ever harm us. I think you would stop yourself.”
He halted and forced her to look him in the eye. “I shoved you on our first night together. Never will I ever forgive myself for that.”
Her gaze hardened with stubbornness. “You pushed me away. You did not attack me, nor did you come after me. When I left you alone, you continued fighting yourself. If you should revert and start losing to your demons, which I do not think you will, I will take cover and wait for you to awaken.”
“You will not, because I am not ready to try it just yet.”
“I am not afraid of you, Jansen. You would never hurt me. I know it in my heart.”
“No, Joy. Now leave it.” He immediately regretted the sharpness of his tone. “Please, my love. Were anything to happen to you because of me…never could I bear it.”
“Fine.”
“Joy.” He knew what she meant when she said that word that way. “Please?”
“I said fine!”
Instinct told him he best be on his guard. Her fine meant she was plotting.
*
Standing on her balcony, the cool night breeze wafting through her hair, Joy smiled up at the sliver of moon rising in the night sky.
No one ever told Joy Abarough Winterstone to leave something alone and lived to tell about it.
Whenever they did, she considered it a challenge.
Tonight, she would slip into Jansen’s bed, then when he awakened in the morning and found her there, he would realize she was right and, more importantly, that he was wrong.