Epilogue #4
She felt entirely bruised from the inside out. The little baby on her chest squirmed against her, his tiny fingers flexing and tightening as if searching for something.
Everything seemed fine. Better than fine. Miraculous!
But as soon as Frederick had stepped away, another pain sliced through her middle.
Her eyes went wide. Searing, but not different than the ones she’d had before. Then another with increased intensity. She gasped from the suddenness after a reprieve.
Her gaze locked with that of Dr. Ross, who rounded to the end of the bed again.
She was going to die!
“What is it?” Frederick was back at her side, his attention shifting from her to Dr. Ross.
“Take the baby,” Dr. Ross ordered, his face solemn as he looked up from the foot of the bed.
Grace’s palm pressed against the tiny bundle on her chest. If she was going to die, couldn’t she do it with her baby in her arms? “Why?”
The doctor’s entire expression softened into a faint smile. “You’re going to need your strength for a little longer, my lady.” One of his brows crooked. “There’s another baby on the way.”
Another? On the way from where?
Which seemed a ridiculous question, but … well … her thoughts weren’t entirely in order.
“What?” Frederick blurted, even as Mrs. Powell took their wriggly son from Grace and placed him in Frederick’s arms.
Grace shook her head, attempting to gather her wits. “Another baby?”
She knew what twins were. Had read about them. Seen a few. Understood the concept, of course.
But how on earth could one more fit inside of her?
It seemed impossible.
“But you never … in all the examinations.” The words barely made it through Grace’s parched throat. “You never said—”
“The second baby must have been positioned behind the first,” Dr. Ross responded calmly, though he moved nonstop in preparation. “It happens sometimes. But, Lady Astley, there will be a few more contractions like before.” His gaze held hers. “I need you to push again.”
Her body was so tired. Energy spent. “I … I don’t …”
“You can, darling.” Frederick was back at her side, their little son in his arms. His smile so warm and wonderful.
And somehow she caught courage from his smile as she had the first time.
Strength too. He tilted their son toward her so she could see him more clearly, his little face scrunched in a yawn.
“You just did this once. You can do it again.”
And she did. The pain. The pushing. The moan of release.
And … another baby’s cry split the silence.
Another boy. And this one boasted a head of sparse red curls.
Somewhere in the distance, mingling with the cries of their second son, the sound of carols drifted from deep within the house. Male voices. Harmonies.
“Joy to the World.”
Grace sniffled out a laugh as Dr. Ross placed their second son into her arms. The Christmas song, even at a distance, somehow filling the room. The sweetness. The truths.
The joy!
“And wonders of His love. And wonders of His love.”
Love. God’s love. Grace looked down at the baby in her arms and then raised her gaze to Frederick, tears shining in those dark eyes of his, his hair in disarray from the way his glasses pushed it back in all directions, and their firstborn son cradled against his chest.
She’d never imagined loving him more, but … she did.
Wonders of love? Certainly!
An hour later, when the babies had been fed and Grace somewhat situated to receive visitors, Zahra and Lily came first, both in awe of their new siblings. But then a very special request was made to invite Blake and Brandon into the room. Evie, of course, accompanied Blake.
Brandon was entirely uncomfortable at the afforded intimacy, but Frederick and Grace would not wait to reveal a very special surprise to some of the dearest people in their lives.
“Two?” Blake laughed. “Of course you’d outdo everyone, wouldn’t you, cousin?”
“He must have loved me so well, I couldn’t help but double.” Grace laughed, then groaned a little at the residual pain.
She held one of their sleeping sons in her arms, and Frederick held the other.
“I wanted you to meet our sons before anyone else did.” Frederick’s grin looked as if it might break free from his face, it was so broad. Oh, the joy! Yes!
And Grace laughed again, out of sheer delight, even if it hurt and she was exhausted. Because she knew.
Knew what was going to happen next.
Frederick waved a hand toward their dark-haired son lying in Grace’s arms. “I would like you to meet our firstborn son, Stephen Oliver Percy.”
Blake’s gaze shot up, all humor fleeing his face. “What?”
“We wanted them named after men who matter in our lives.” Frederick’s expression had gone serious, his attention fully on his cousin. “Good, strong men. Grandfather … and you.”
Blake looked from Frederick to Grace and back, jaw dropping. He pushed a hand through his hair, and the slightest watery sheen filled his eyes. “You’re not playing fair now, Freddie. Going and getting all … sentimental like that.” But the awe in his voice contradicted his teasing.
“And,” Grace said, turning her full attention to Brandon, “our second-born son.” She nodded to the little redhead in Frederick’s arms. “His name is Christopher Jason Percy.”
Brandon’s lips parted, and his eyes grew wide. He shook his head as if attempting to clear it and then looked again. “I … I don’t know what to say, my lady.” He dipped his head to Frederick. “Sir.”
“If our sons grow up to be half the men they are named after, then they will be remarkable,” Frederick said, his words emerging on a rasp.
Somewhere deep in the house, a solo—given by Lieutenant Ashford, Grace thought—drifted up to them. The final song of the men’s concert. They’d continued to have it, most likely for the men but also to celebrate the new life of this family.
The room grew quiet. All listening. Absorbing.
The words quieted Grace’s soul, reminding her of what she believed. Whose she truly was—she looked over the faces surrounding her, new tears warming her vision—she and her family:
“Christ is the Lord! O praise His name forever,
His power and glory evermore proclaim.
His power and glory evermore proclaim.”
Grace reached out and took Frederick’s hand as he stood by her bed. “I know we still have a few days until Christmas, but …” She smiled. “Merry Christmas, my dear Lord Astley.”
“Happy Christmas, darling.” He bent down and brushed a kiss to her head. “And it certainly is the happiest one of my life.”
“And just think”—she looked from her husband’s handsome face to their newest little members—”our little sons have already shown their interest in mysteries.”
Frederick’s head turned toward her, brow raised. “Mysteries?”
“They certainly created one for us tonight.” She sighed, closing her eyes and relaxing back into the pillows of the bed.
“ ‘The Case of the Hidden Twin.’ Quite clever for their first day.” Her lips curved into a tired smile.
“I suppose, instead of sleuthing partners, we ought to refer to ourselves as a sleuthing family now.”
A quiet groan came from her husband, but when she opened her eyes, he was smiling down at her. “Would you mind, awfully, if we at least wait to send them on their first excursion until they can walk?”
The room filled with gentle laughter, and a sweet warmth spread through Grace that had nothing to do with the fire crackling in the hearth. She looked around at the faces of those she loved—Frederick, their sons, Zahra, Lily, Blake, Evie, even dear Brandon—and smiled.
This was the greatest mystery she’d ever solved.
Not who stole the jewels or who the traitor was, but how a second-choice sister and a second-born earl had found each other and built something extraordinary together.
A family. A home. A love that multiplied with each person it welcomed in.
Mystery upon mystery. Grace upon grace.
“It certainly is a happy Christmas,” she whispered, squeezing Frederick’s hand as little Christopher yawned against her chest and Stephen made a tiny sound in his sleep.
And as the last strains of the carol drifted up through the house, carrying the ancient promise of hope and joy and peace, Grace closed her eyes and thanked God for his goodness.
His love.
And this remarkable adventure.