Chapter Four #2
“And now I have a son I have no idea how to take care of,” Anthony said.
“That is, I’ve hired a nurse, and she is up with him now.
But I do not know how to be a father. I always thought, you know, Matilda and I would figure out how to be parents together, but now she is gone, and I…
I have no idea what to do, Lark. Not the foggiest clue. ”
Lark was glad he hadn’t partaken of drink today, because Anthony was in a bad way, and Lark would need to keep his wits about him. He tried, “What is his name? Your son, I mean.”
“Henry.” Anthony smiled softly. “Perhaps not the most original name, but Matilda was named for England’s first queen.
Henry I’s daughter, who would have been Queen Regnant if her cousin Stephen hadn’t made a claim on the throne.
So I had the thought to give the boy a good Plantagenet name. It suits him.”
“That’s lovely.”
“Yes, well.”
Anthony was clearly hurting, and understandably so. His life had just irreparably changed. Lark tentatively reached over and put what he hoped was a comforting hand on Anthony’s arm.
Anthony looked over at Lark. “I don’t know what you’re doing here or what you expect to happen, but—”
“I only came to see if you needed assistance or support. My intent is merely to offer you anything you need.”
“Lark.”
“I know we’ve barely seen each other since your wedding, but you are and always will be my friend. So whatever you need, tell me and I will provide it. That is what a friend would do.”
“Will you come to the funeral?”
“Of course, if you want me there.”
Anthony nodded. “I’m afraid I am incapable of rational thought right now, so I can’t even think of what to ask of you. But I fear I cannot face the funeral on my own.”
“You are mourning and not expected to think rationally. I can accompany you to the funeral if that is what you need.”
Anthony let out a breath. “I honestly do not know what I need. I am glad to see you, though.”
Lark smiled. He wanted to weep. “I cannot know what you are experiencing, but all I want to do is take your pain away.”
“I know. That is how you would feel.” Anthony shook his head. “Can you tell me about something trite and stupid? Gossip, parliamentary business, something to get over this overwhelming feeling I have that my life is ending.”
It was perhaps advantageous that Lark had recently taken to reading the scandal sheets again. “Certainly, I can do that. The Duke of Cambridge just married. The race is on to see which of the king’s children will be the first to give the country an heir.”
“What a godawful mess,” Anthony said, clearly happy for the distraction.
“The king has been in the grips of some madness for nearly a decade, and his oldest son, who is supposed to be ruling in his place, is a ridiculous dilettante who apparently only lay with his wife the one time, but now his daughter is dead, and somehow none of the king’s, what, twelve children has managed to produce a legitimate heir? What is wrong with that family?”
Lark laughed. “Is this a sufficient distraction?”
“Lark, if I could find a way to father a child, surely one of those seven Hanover men can discern the mechanics of it.”
“One would think. I guess we are about to find out.”
Anthony rubbed his eyes. “Well, thank you for that. Look at me making a joke.”
“I don’t love seeing you this way,” Lark said. Anthony had almost laughed, but it was clear he was deeply upset. “Your sadness is palpable.”
“I am in a bad way,” Anthony admitted. “The shock is too fresh for me to understand what I need, but I could use a friend right now.”
“I can be that for you. Truly.”
Anthony nodded. “Thank you, Lark. Would you like some whisky?”
“I am trying to refrain.”
“I’ve heard that you basically live in a bottle now.”
Lark supposed word would have reached Anthony, even if they had not been at any of the same events all Season. Anthony had barely attended anything. And yet. “Near the truth,” Lark said. “Hence refraining. Or trying to.”
“It’s unlike you to overindulge.”
“I suspect you know why.”
Anthony sighed. “I reckon I do.”
“Let us not talk about that now. I could use some tea.”
Anthony tugged on a nearby cord to summon a servant. A maid appeared in the door.
“Mary, could you please bring Lord Waring a tea service?”
She curtsied. “Of course, my lord. I will see to it.”
“Thank you,” Lark said.
“The staff is also mourning the mistress of the house, so I cannot guarantee that tea service will come with anything other than tea.”
“That is fine. A cup of tea is all I’m asking for.”
“Under normal circumstances, Cook would send up some little cakes or sandwiches or something.”
“It’s really fine. I understand.”
“Let us just sit for a few minutes then, hm?”
“Yes. Let us sit.” And Lark did not mind the quiet one bit, not now that he was in the same room as Anthony again.
He knew things would never be the same, that they could not just resume their relationship, but Lark could help Anthony now when he needed it.
That was what one did for loved ones, was it not?