Chapter 37 - Stephen, One Year Later
Stephen ducked under the awning and flapped his coat, sending a hundred glittering droplets to the flagstones below.
He paused to knock the mud from his boots before opening the front door.
Things weren’t the same without Vera by his side on nights like these.
It was much harder to leave the house without her, and he longed to return as quickly as possible.
He sat on the wooden chair by the door and pulled his boots off, stacking them near the small stove to steam.
He draped his coat over the rack, ruffled the excess of water from his hair, and set off down the hall in his socks.
Perhaps some might have found it shocking, his lack of shoes, but it was one of his favorite things, sneaking up on his family.
It was his tiny reward after a night such as this, where things hadn’t gone the way he hoped.
Stephen found them in the front parlor. Benjamin and Anne were freshly washed, ready for bed.
Anne had insisted she have a dressing gown to match Benjamin’s, so she wore a quilted robe of scarlet belted over her nightdress.
She was slumped against Vera’s side, barely keeping her eyes open.
Benjamin was focused on the pages of the book Vera read from, looking at the pictures.
As for his wife—Stephen suspected she knew he lingered in the doorway, watching, judging by the small smile on her lips.
Or perhaps she always smiled like that. His eyes softened at the hand at her waist. It was a new habit, a protective gesture that he’d seen a thousand times before from other women.
Vera was just starting to show. She hadn’t told him about this one until she was nearly three months along. He didn’t blame her; they’d lost their first early. The pain of it had taken him by surprise. He’d always thought of it as a woman’s loss. Now he knew better.
It wasn’t until she’d thrown up while assisting him with some stitches that she’d finally said the words out loud. Words that made it real, made them both feel vulnerable once more. He didn’t tell her that he’d known from nearly the beginning, when she ordered Mrs. Portence not to serve any fish.
This time it was going well, it seemed. And though they both missed her working alongside him, it was more important that she be rested and not exposed to all manner of ills or infection.
Vera glanced up at him, smiling. It seemed his time as an observer had come to a close.
“Papa!” Anne cried, her chubby cheeks bunching with her smile.
She held her hands up to him eagerly and he took her upon his lap with a melodramatic groan. “You’re getting too big for this, Anne.”
“No, I’m not.”
She wasn’t, not by a long shot, but it delighted her to argue the fact every time. And perhaps it was a reminder to him, that it would one day be true. Stephen intended to soak in the years before she wore petticoats and beaux came knocking at the door.
Vera raised her eyebrows in silent question. Stephen shook his head; her smile slipped.
“Are you going to listen to the story?” Anne asked.
“That sounds perfect. Benjamin, will you read us the next page?”
He nodded and began. Stephen listened intently at first. Benjamin’s reading was much improved these past months.
The tutor he shared with Canterbury’s son must be doing something to earn his wages, then.
The fire flickered and popped. He glanced over, making sure no errant ember had made it through the tight lattice of the screen.
But all was as it should be; all was well.
Soon, Stephen slumped against the sofa cushions, his head tilted back, his eyes closed. With the warm weight of Anne against him and his feet upon the padded ottoman, he began to drowse. Later, Vera rousted him by gently squeezing his shoulder.
“Are the children in bed?” he asked, cracking a yawn.
“I certainly hope so, as that’s where I put them.”
Stephen sat up and blinked. “I’m sorry I nodded off.”
“He didn’t make it, then?” Vera asked, her voice canted low.
“His lungs were too full; the fever never broke.”
“I’m sorry, my love. Was Hamish a help, at least?”
He nodded. “Offered the man a carrot to make him feel better, though.”
“He did not.” Vera shook her head, a reluctant smile upon her face.
It was a running joke. The first time he’d helped Stephen, Hamish had made a comment that he was good with horses, and that humans should be easier to help.
It was a fair point—humans could describe their ailments and horses couldn’t, but Stephen had never forgotten how Hamish had as much suggested that his experience with farm animals was equivalent to a medical education.
Stephen stretched his arms over his head. “How are you feeling this evening?”
“A bit tired, but pretty well. Anne tried to sneak a tart that wasn’t fully cooled yet, so that was a delight.” Vera snuggled into his side and folded her legs up next to her onto the sofa. “She shrieked like a banshee when she bit into it.”
“Is she all right?”
She nodded. “Not even a blister. Mrs. Portence made her shaved ices all afternoon. I think she felt bad, though it was completely Anne’s fault.”
“Not with sugar, I hope.”
“Just plain ice. Anne didn’t seem to notice. Tomorrow will be interesting—I’ll see if I can wean her off the habit.”
They sat like that for a moment, her against his side.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “About taking on a real apprentice.”
“Oh?”
“Horse jokes aside, Hamish is wonderful, but he’s only helping for now because I need someone. Dr. Halveston says he has several promising students. One has a lung condition that makes him better suited for country life, and he’s asked if I would take him on.”
“That’s high praise from Dr. Halveston, that he’d ask you to do that.”
“I thought the man could live in the cottage near the gatehouse for the time being. Once he’s fully trained, he can take lodgings wherever he likes, or he can stay there, for all I care. The house is sound and no one’s living there; if it stays vacant it will just fall into disrepair.”
Vera gave a hum, but he couldn’t tell if it was agreement, and he couldn’t see her face with it pressed against his chest.
“I wanted to talk to you about it first.” He picked up an ash-brown curl and slid it between his fingers, watching the light play off the strands. “Would that be all right?”
“I think it’s a lovely idea. You’ll be an excellent teacher. And heaven knows I’ll have my hands too full to help you.”
“Are you sad about it?”
“Yes and no. It’s strange—I have fond memories of that chapter and it’s bittersweet to see it come to a close. Yet I’m filled with excitement and hope for the next.”
“I’m happy to hear that.” Stephen tightened his arm around her. “I want you to be happy.”
“I am,” she said. “Truly.”