Chapter 18 #2
The morning air was cool enough that Pierce immediately questioned the wisdom of allowing Hugh beyond the safety of Ravenfield House.
He stood rigidly beside Margaret while the servants kept close, his attention fixed upon every movement of his son as though danger might emerge from the hedges at any moment.
Home meant safety, walls, locks, servants and rules, whereas the garden offered open space, unpredictable weather and a hundred things Pierce had not yet thought to guard against.
"This is becoming a waste of time," he muttered, glancing towards Margaret. "And potentially a dangerous one."
Margaret continued watching Hugh with maddening calm.
"He has been outside for approximately two minutes, Your Grace."
Pierce frowned. "Two minutes is quite sufficient for something dreadful to happen."
He was already preparing to order everyone inside when Hugh suddenly made a bright, bubbling sound that stopped him cold. Pierce turned towards the child, scarcely believing what he had heard, and then Hugh laughed again, his little face brightening beneath the morning sun.
Pierce froze. He had never heard that particular sound before.
Margaret smiled knowingly as she glanced towards him. "There," she said softly, touching Hugh's cheek. "He has laughed like this before, you know?"
Pierce swallowed, his gaze fixed upon his son. "Not with me."
The simple admission felt heavier than he expected.
He thought of all the mornings and evenings he had missed, all the moments that had occurred without him while he had been consumed with finding answers, restoring order, and protecting himself from another loss.
He had been so determined to keep Hugh safe that he had forgotten a child required more than safety. He required a life.
Margaret seemed oblivious to the storm of thoughts passing through him as she crouched beside Hugh and spoke to him in that gentle voice that seemed to calm him better than any command ever could.
"You like the sunshine, do you?" she asked, smiling when Hugh kicked his little feet. "I thought so."
Pierce watched her, captivated despite himself, as she tilted her face towards the sunlight and then looked back at the boy.
"I believe he must have lived somewhere farther south," she explained, glancing towards Pierce.
"Somewhere sunnier, in the countryside. Look at him. He is positively enchanted by it."
Pierce frowned thoughtfully. "How could you possibly know that?"
Margaret shrugged. "I pay attention." She brushed Hugh's sleeve smooth before adding, "Babies communicate in any way they can, and so do adults. One only has to pay attention."
Pierce had spent weeks questioning servants, investigators and strangers, searching for the smallest clue about Hugh's past, yet Margaret had discovered something useful simply by watching his son.
It irritated him that she had succeeded where his careful methods had failed, although beneath the irritation was something dangerously close to admiration.
"You make it sound remarkably simple," he observed.
Margaret looked up at him with a teasing smile. "You make everything more complicated than it needs to be."
His mouth tightened. "I prefer certainty."
"And I prefer results," she replied, looking back at Hugh.
Pierce almost argued, but Hugh laughed again, and the sound silenced him more effectively than any retort could have done.
After another few moments, Margaret rose and carefully held Hugh towards him.
Pierce stared at the child in alarm. "What are you doing?" he asked, taking one uncertain step backwards.
"Giving you your son," Margaret replied. "You know, the one you have spent all this time protecting."
Pierce's expression hardened. "He may become distressed."
"Then I shall help you," she said patiently. "Take him."
Pierce hesitated. He had held Hugh before, but always with the uneasy awareness that he did not know what he was doing. Margaret's confidence made him feel both reassured and absurdly inexperienced.
"Come here, little one," he murmured, extending his arms. "Let us see whether your father can manage five minutes without causing a national emergency."
Hugh fussed the instant he changed hands, his little face crumpling as he squirmed against Pierce's chest. Pierce stiffened. "I knew this was a mistake."
Margaret stepped closer. "Do not panic."
"I am not panicking."
"You look as though you are preparing to negotiate with Parliament."
Pierce gave her a dark look. "Margaret."
She hid a smile and began humming softly, the familiar tune immediately catching Hugh's attention. Slowly, his fussing stopped. His little fingers curled against Pierce's coat, and then, to Pierce's astonishment, Hugh lifted his face and smiled.
Pierce stared down at him, scarcely breathing. "He smiled," he whispered.
Margaret's expression softened. "He did."
Pierce looked from his son to his wife, something warm and unfamiliar spreading through his chest. "I chose correctly," he said quietly.
Margaret laughed, her eyes bright with amusement. "That is the nicest thing you have ever said to me."
Pierce looked at her over Hugh's head. "Do not become accustomed to it."
"I shall treasure the occasion."
"Naturally." He looked down at his son again, unable to keep the faint smile from his face. For once, he did not care whether Margaret teased him.
A moment later, his valet approached across the lawn carrying several letters.
"Your Grace, these arrived only moments ago," the man said, extending the correspondence respectfully.
Pierce glanced at the sealed envelopes and then back at Hugh, who had settled peacefully against his chest.
"Later," he ordered, dismissing the valet with a gesture. The man bowed and retreated without question.
Margaret watched Pierce with quiet surprise. "You have just ignored your correspondence."
"Yes."
"You?"
"Do not sound so astonished."
She smiled. Pierce looked down at Hugh once more, feeling the small weight of his son in his arms. Nothing was going to steal this moment from him. Not letters, not business, not secrets from the past, and certainly not the rules he had once believed mattered above everything else.