Clusters of Crocus

Short story part IV

2009-06-10T22:09:00.001-04:00

Part IV

“Thanks for that.” Eric placed his utensils in the bowl and pushed it to the table’s edge. “I really don’t need to be picturing a woman I barely know naked.”

John laughed. “Lighten up. It was a joke.”

The waitress came back bearing their checks, and, again, looking at John. He pointedly ignored her, although Eric sighed, picked up his pen, and wrote his own phone number on the back of his receipt. “Might as well give her something,” he said.

“AS long as you didn’t put my number.”

“Nope. All mine, John.”

“Eric wants to go to dinner with us sometime,” John told Grace as they got into bed that night.

“Eric? Why?”

“Why not? We’ve worked together for awhile…he wants to get to know you better.”

“Mm hm.” Grace stuck a bookmark in Jude the Obscure and looked at him. “Isn’t he sort of…weird?”

John shrugged. “What is weird?”

“Different from you.”

“Yes. Very. But that doesn’t make him weird. Just makes him unlucky.”

Grace laughed. “Yes. It does.”

“So you’ll go?”

Grace stretched and put the book on her nightstand. “I guess.”

“I thought I’d have to twist your arm.”

“He’s your friend, John. And we’re leaving. How many more chances we will get?”

“True.” John hadn’t really thought about leaving his friends and family yet. His job, their apartment complex—leaving those was a thought he relished. But leaving everyone else…

“Have you talked to your mom?” He asked her.

Grace shook her head. “I don’t know what to say. ‘Hi, Mom, I’m finally pregnant, but we may have to leave the country and never see you again?’ Right.”

“Might as well wait until we know. The baby could be just fine.”

“She could be.” But John could tell Grace didn’t take this view of things.

“She’s got a75% chance of being fine,” John reminded her.

“I know. It’s just…I’m not used to the odds working in my favor. Usually they don’t.”

“I have a feel about this.”

“Are your hunches any good?”

“Sometimes. I knew I’d marry you,” he said. She hit his shoulder and laughed.

“All right. That was a good one.” She switched off the lamp and pulled the sheets over her. “Hopefully you’re right here, too.”

“And even if I’m not…” he said, wrapping his arms around her, “we will be fine. No matter where we end up.”

“I know.”

“Dinner on Saturday?” John poked his head into Eric’s cubicle the next morning.

“Sure. I’ll find a date.” Eric scrolled through his PDA and clicked. “Jamie. She’s always good for these things.”

“What, it she like your date retainer?”

Eric snorted. “No. Old college girlfriend. She still has a thing for me.”

“And you take an unfair advantage of that.”

“I do.”

“That’s wrong.”

“She’s pretty good-looking. If we’re both still single in a few years I could settle down with her.”

“I need to warn this girl. She needs to go far, far away.”

“Not a chance. Totally into me.”

John rolled his eyes. “OK. Is the Ocean Bar OK? It’s one of Grace’s favorites.”

“Sure.” Eric entered the date. “Time?”

“Probably about 6:30.”

“OK. I’ll call.”

“Thanks.”

“And then I’ll call Jamie.”

“Poor girl. I hope she’s busy.”

Eric reached for his office phone. “She won’t be.”

Eric was right—he showed up at the Ocean Bar with a petite, chestnut-haired woman on his arm, wearing a black silk dress. Diamonds were nestled in her ears. Eric had told John and Grace that Jamie did mergers and acquisitions for a multi-national company.

A jazz pianist was playing in the background as the group was shown to a booth that was tucked into a small, blue velvet draped alcove. The bar lived up to its name by being painted and adorned in various shades of blue, creating the feeling of being underwater.

“So, Jamie, how long have you known Eric?” Grace asked as she placed her napkin on her lap.

Jamie tossed an adoring look at Eric, which he missed. “Oh, since we were in high school. We were in AP American Government together.”

“Wow, awhile then.”

“Makes me feel old,” Eric added.

“Not that old, silly,” Jamie said. “We’re not that old.”

“ Didn’t say we were…just feels that way.”

Jaime smiled at him and opened her menu. “So what’s good here?”

“Hope you like seafood. It’s the specialty here,” Grace said.

“I would hope so, given the name.” Jaime’s eyes scanned the lists of offerings. “I think I’ll have the scallops.”

“I love those. Good choice,” John said.

“Steak and shrimp?” Grace asked her husband.

“Of course.”

“Steak?” Jamie wrinkled her nose.

“John loves a good piece of cow,” Eric said.

“Don’t you find that…disturbing?”

John looked at her askance. “Why?”

“Well, it’s a cow. It was probably mass fed in some dirty Big Ag barn somewhere. How do you know it’s any good?”

“Ohio has animal protection laws, Jamie,” Eric said, a bit annoyed. John knew he had been planning on ordering the lobster and filet special.

“If that law is actually enforced I’ll resign my job tomorrow,” Jamie said. “It’s just so inhumane.”

“How long have you been a vegetarian?” Grace asked.

“Since I was twenty.”

“A change of heart,” Eric muttered. “You used to love the pulled pork sandwiches at the fair.”

“Well now I know how it got there,” she said.

Conversation lulled as the couples decided on their orders. A white-shirted waiter came over to the table, his electronic device poised to record their orders. Grace and John ordered first.

“I’ll have the scallops,” Jamie said. “Does that come with asparagus?”

“It can,” the waited said. Jamie added that to her plate.

“I”ll have the fillet and lobster,” Eric said, handing his menu to the waiter. John flashed him a grin.

“Oh, Eric,” Jamie sighed. “Really.”

“Sorry. I like meat too much to give it up.”

“Men,” Jamie said, taking a sip of her cocktail. “Do you eat meat?” She asked Grace.

Grace cleared her throat. “Right now I’m trying to cut back. But normally, yes. I do.”

“She makes great burgers,” John added.

“Why are you cutting back?”

“She’s pregnant,” Eric said. “Don’t want to have too much red meat. All vegetables and stuff like that.”

“You’re pregnant?” The words dropped from Jamie’s lips like she was spitting them out. “Really.”

“ ‘Congratulations,’ is the standard response, Jame,” Eric said, drinking his lager.

“Well, sure, babies are great. If you go for that sort of thing.”

“Rather have cows?” John asked, a bit caustically.

“I just think there are too many people as it is.” She took a delicate bite of the bread that had just been placed on the table. “Look at India and China.”

“You do realize that vast portions of China are unpopulated,” John said.

“Because it’s uninhabitable.” She turned to Eric. “You know, I was just in Hong Kong. Amazing the changes that have taken place.”

“Always evolving,” Eric deadpanned.

“As long as we can provide for children, and give them a loving, secure home, I don’t see why we shouldn’t have them,” Grace said. “I love children. We both do.”

“We want to have a lot,” John added, taking Grace’s hand and squeezing it.

“It’s too bad we didn’t pass that population growth bill,” Jamie mused. “DIdn’t you work on that, Eric?”

“No. I just did some prelim research for the firm.”

“Good thing it didn’t pass. You can’t regulate people’s fertility like that,” Grace said.

“Oh, but we do,” Jamie said. “That new bill—I think it’s fantastic. We can’t have people bringing more diseased children into the world. We need fewer people in general, and if we’re going to have more at all, they should be extremely self-sufficient. None of this government assistance for ridiculous health conditions.”

“Ridiculous.” Grace’s voice was edgy. “Don’t you think people have a right to exist, even if they’re not perfect?”

“I believe in people being self-sufficient.” She finished her cocktail and signaled the bartender for another. “WE shouldn’t be giving birth to people who will just drain the system.”

“Charles Dickens had something to say about that,” Grace said.

“Who?”

“Charles Dickens. The writer?” Jamie looked at her blankly. “A Christmas Carol?”

“Is that a book? Oh, wait…it was a movie, wasn’t it? Back in the ‘80s?”

“It’s been a few movies, Jamie.” Eric said, embarrassed.

“Whatever. I didn’t study literature in college.”

“Did you read ever?” John muttered.

“The point is,” Grace said, “that we can’t just aarbitrarily decide who gets born and who doesn’t. IT’s wrong. All of us have a right to life.”

“Please. That’s so cliché. It went out the window in the 1970s.”

“Doesn’t mean that the new ideas are right,” Grace fired back.

“You should’ve been a lawyer,” Eric said as their entrees arrived.

“Almost was,” John said proudly. Grace had taken a few undergraduate law classes, with emphasis in constitutional law, but didn’t find the law school admissions process palatable.

“Look, Grace,” Jamie said, “I’m sure you mean well, but think about the ramifications. IT’s a huge burden on society. And no life that’s so handicapped can possibly be worth living.”

“Jaime,” Eric said quietly. “Stop.”

“Well it’s true.” She speared a scallop with her fork and ate it in one bite. “I’m just being practical.”

“No, you’re being an ass,” he said under his breath.

“Like you’d feel any differently.”

“I do,” he said, cutting his filet. “I feel much differently.”

Grace looked at his askance. She knew he wasn’t keen on the idea of her being pregnant. “What?”

Eric looked at her and John. “I mean, I think it’s great that you two are having a baby. No matter what, it’s a good decision. You’ll both be good parents. And the kid will certainly be good-looking.” Grace smiled.

“Thanks,” said John.

“As long as you can provide for it…I guess it’s all right.” Jamie took another scallop onto her fork.

“Well, thank you, Jamie,” Grace said icily. “I’m so glad we have your approval.”

“And anyway, if there’s anything wrong with it, you don’t have to worry. Sort of a win-win, eh?”

Grace’s eyes narrowed and John squeezed her hand under the table. “Not here,” He murmured in her ear.

“That was the worst thing you coud have said,” Eric told Jamie. “They’re Catholic, for pete’s sake.”

“Oh.” Jamie shot Grace a piting look. “Sorry about that.”

“We’re not,” Grace said fiercely. “We’re proud of it.”

“Too bad you won’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice,” Grace said through gritted teeth. “It’s just a matter of making it.”

Jamie looked thoughtful. “True. I suppose if you knew that something could be wrong, you just wouldn’t get pregnant.”

“Everthing OK here?” The waiter interrupted, flashing a brilliant smile.

“We’re fine,” Eric said. The waiter took the empty glasses and left the table.

The rest of the meal was dominated by the men talking business, or, as Jamie called it, “talking shop.” She continued to fawn on Eric and ask him all sorts of questions about current law and the research he was doing. Grace picked at her food but was in a hurry to leave.

The bill came (after an interminable conversation on property rights), and Eric picked up the tab. “My treat, since I invited all of you,” He said, flashing his charge card. “No problem.”

“We should get going,” John said, after thanking him.

“We should. I’m tired. Lots of work going on here,” Grace said, patting her still small stomach.

“I bet,” Eric said. “See you tomorrow, John?” John nodded.

Grace turned to Jamie, who was on her fouth cocktail. “Nice to meet you,” She said.

Jamie nodded sloppily. “You too. Good luck with the kid.”

“Thanks.” John and Grace left the table and headed for their car. As John was opening Grace’s door, his phone beeped. He removed it from his pocket and found a message from Eric:

Removing her number from the list.

John laughed.

Short Story Part III

2009-06-08T22:53:00.004-04:00

(this is rapidly becoming a "Not short story", but oh well)

Parts I and II here.

Part III

At five o’clock, the alarm rang. As John reached over Grace’s body to silence it, he realized that his wife’s side of the bed was empty.

He stood, rubbed his face and walked out of the bedroom. In a pool of light cast by one lamp, Grace was curled up on the couch, a large scrapbook open in her lap. She turned the pages slowly, reverentially, her fingers occasionally lingering on a face or a memento.

John sat beside her, careful not to disturb her position.

He looked at the pages with his wife. These were old scrapbooks, from when Grace was in college—before they’d met. But John knew most of the people in the pictures—her large extended family, her best friend, her sorority sisters, cast shots from the community theater shows she’d done. It was clear which ones had been taken before her transplant. In those, Grace was a shadow of a girl, her eyes the dominating feature of her face. Her cheekbones were sharp ridges against her smooth skin, and the color of her lips evoked a child’s tongue after she’d eaten a pints of blueberries. Her clothes hung on her. In the ‘after’ pictures, she has color and curves—hips are visible under her jeans, and her hair is glossy and thick. Her face has filled out so the heart-shaped look of it is no longer starkly evident; instead, it’s merely suggested.

“I like this one.” John tapped at a photo, protected under the plastic sheet. It was of Grace and her cousin, Charlotte, at the State Fair. The two were about twenty-four in the photo. Charlotte’s red hair flamed in the sun. They were waiting to go on the Sky Ride. John wondered who had snapped the photo.

A ghost of a smile lit Grace’s face. “I miss Charlotte.” Charlotte lived in Israel with her husband, who worked for the State Department, and their four children.

“Invite her to visit,” John suggested. Grace didn’t respond—she just turned the page. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Another show, Grace’s face changed by stage make-up and a wig.

“If this law had been around when I was conceived…” her hands traced the pages. “None of this would have happened.” John looked at Grace’s face in the photographs. She had been caught mid-line, her eyebrows raised and her mouth a perfect ‘O’. She’d been singing. John could summon Grace’s voice in an instant—her singing was always in the corners of his mind, reminding him of her when they were separated. Unbeknownst to her, he’d made an audio recording of her practicing one day and kept it saved on MP3 player. She was singing “The Beauty Is”, from The Light in the Piazza, and “I Don’t Remember.”

Cautiously John reached for her, and she yielded, folding her body into his. “Grace,” he said, smoothing her hair. “We will do everything we can. Believe me. I will not let anything happen to you, or the baby. We will be fine.”

Her eyes bored into his. “Do you trust me?”

Grace snorted. “Aladdin?”

“Do you trust me?” John held out his hand, mocking the movie he quoted.

Grace slipped her hand into his, and squeezed it. “Yes.”

Getting Dr. Wallace to transfer the records was simple. As Leo had said, he praised John for his foresight—“better to get the termination done as soon as possible, if need be,” he said, his tone confidential, like they were lovers exchanging secrets. Leo had called within minutes and said he had Grace’s files. “It’s all in order, so we’re ready.” He had scheduled Grace for her first appointment the following week.

John went to work and studied cases and looked up statutes that meant nothing to him. Soon he wouldn’t even be working here. Eric asked him to lunch a few times, and after the third invitation, John knew he’d have to take it, or Eric would get difficult. More difficulty was not what John wanted to deal with, right now. Act normally, Leo had told them. Right.

Eric chose Traviata, a nearby Italian restaurant with a well-stocked bar and a proscuitto appetizer that Grace loved. It wasn’t anything special—just long strips of meat presented on a cutting board, the paper-thin slices resting on a sheet of wax paper. To Grace, whose father’s family was from Calabria in southern Italy, it was heaven on a plate. She kept proscuitto in the refrigerator at home for a snack. Once a month she made carbonara and served a white wine from Portugal. Those were the nights, usually, that they made love.

“About time you accepted my invitation,” Eric said, a slight hint of accusal buried behind his bonhomie. “What have you been working on?”

“Oh you know…” John perused the menu, stalling. “Ken’s got me busy since I’ve been back.”

“Good. I wouldn’t be surprised if you landed a partnership soon.”

John snorted. “No. That’s for you.”

“Nice try, but I’m not paying for your meal.” Eric grinned. “I might be quick with a web search, but you, my friend, have brains. You’re good at strategy, at seeing all the different options available. That’s what the partners are looking for.”

“We’ll see.” A lithe waitress came up to them, toying with a strand of long black hair. The men placed their orders and Eric saw the waitress toss John a look as she went through the swinging doors into the kitchen.

“She’s got eyes for you, man.”

“Didn’t notice.” John sipped his water.

“How could you not notice?”

“It’s pretty easy once you’re married.”

“Can’t test that.” Eric was a confirmed bachelor, who had a different girl each week. John had long since lost track of his various conquests within the firm. “I don’t like the whole idea of marriage. As an institution…too binding.”

“Heaven forbid you make a commitment,” John teased.

“Really. I haven’t found anyone worth that kind of sacrifice.”

“Maybe you will. If you ever stay with a girl for longer than a month.”

“Not fair. I stayed with Amber in accounts for three.”

“Wow. An entire quarter. Bravo.”

“One small step for man,” Eric grinned as the bread was deposited on the table (not by the waitress, but a teenage busboy). “She was nice.”

“Nice. That’s a ringing endorsement.”

Eric shrugged. “Wasn’t any more than that. It will take a lot more than nice to get me to commit.”

“AS we’ve seen.”

“So how’s Grace? And the kid?”

John’s throat tightened and he took a sip of water. “They’re both fine. We’ve got a gyneclogist who specializes in genetic research. He goes to our church, actually.”

“Is the kid OK?”

“We haven’t done the tests yet. Grace has it scheduled for a few weeks from now.”

“For your sake I hope the kid’s OK.”

“Just for mine?”

“Well, Grace too,” he clarified. “She’s a nice girl.”

“There we go again with the ‘nice.’ Please, give me something else.”
“I don’t really know her. Nice is about as far as I can go without having more information.”

“Please.”

“Invite me over for dinner sometime. Or, better yet, bring her downtown. We can all go out to eat sometime. She must eat, right?” John nodded. “So bring her out this weekend. I’ll find a girl, we’ll go somewhere where things are happening. See and be seen. All that.”

“Grace isn’t really a ‘see and be seen’ girl.”

“She’s an actress, isn’t she?”

“Sort of. Ocassionally.”

“If I remember correctly, she was a professional at one point.” Eric swirled the water in his glass and took a bite of bread. “I’m sure she’ll have no objection to going out on the town for once. When was the last time you went out?”

John thought of their dinners with Leo and Karen. “We don’t get out much.”

“Well there you go. Come on.”

The waitress arrived, bearing their bowls of pasta. John did notice her attempts to catch his eye this time—she wasn’t very subtle. But he managed to avoid eye contact.

“She’s got it bad,” Eric muttered between bites.

“You ask her out then.”

“Nah. I’m just second string. No one wants that. I want to be the first round pick.”

“Please.”

The men ate in silence for a few minutes, working methodically on the large plates of steaming pasta and marinara sauce. Wen Eric had finished he wiped away the sauce ring from his mouth and sighed. “Wish I ate that every day.”

“I’ll talk to Grace, OK? It’s up to her. I don’t know how she’ll be feeling—“

Eric blanched. “Say no more. I don’t need to hear about pregnant women things.”

“You are so ridiculous. How squeamish are you?”

“Very.”

“I’ll remind Grace not to show you her scars.” Eric made a face. “Kidding. You can’t see them anyway, unless she’s naked, and that is something she definitely will not be in front of you.”

“Thanks for that.” Eric placed his utensils in the bowl and pushed it to the table’s edge.

Short Story Part II

2009-06-03T13:15:00.000-04:00

Part One here.

The rectory was empty, except for Fr. McGee in his study, pouring over the documents of a recent episcopal council.

“John. Have a seat.” John took a seat in the carved chair placed before the priest’s desk. “What brings you here today? It’s not a Finance Committee meeting, is it?”

“No, Father. That’s next week.” John cleared his throat. “Grace and I…we have a problem.”

Fr. McGee closed the text in front of him and knit his fingers together. “What is it?”

“Grace is pregnant. And that’s not the problem. We’re so happy about it…”

“It is the law, isn’t it.”

“You know?”
“The Church was one of the few lobbying agents against it.”
“Then you know our problem.” The priest nodded. “Father, we will never….”

“I know. I know you and your wife would not.”

“But what are we supposed to do? The doctor is expecting us for the tests in a few weeks’ time. And Grace will need a doctor, a good one, for this.”

Fr. McGee sighed. “Have you been tested?”
John shook his head. “Grace, obviously, doesn’t need to be. She will be sterilized…forcibly, from what I understand.”

“Yes. She will be. So will her sisters, and her brother.”

“But they might not be carriers!”

Fr. McGee shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. The law says anyone with any immediate family….”

“That’s a huge amount of the population!”
“It’s how they decided to control it. The population. Resources are limited, John. They have to be distributed equally.”

“The 30^th amendment,” John murmured. Ratified four years ago, it was a utilitarian’s dream, prescribing that limited government resources were to go to the most amount of people. People like Grace were stricken from government insurance plans, and without her father’s generous help, she could never afford the medications she needed—not even with John’s large salary.

Fr. McGee nodded. “Limit the amount of people who can have children, and whether or not the offspring will be healthy.”

“They can’t predict that. Any geneticist can tell them that. What about spontaneous mutation?”

Dr. McGee shrugged. “Any scientists that are saying that are not taken seriously. Their research funds are pulled. Hospitals won’t have them.”

“This is…this is outrageous.” John buried his head in his hands. “What are Grace and I supposed to do? These are sins, Father.”

“They are.” He drummed his fingers together. “I think I can help.”

“You have an idea?”
“Perhaps. It is dangerous for you both—if you are found out—and the child…but I see no other way.” Fr. McGee jotted down a name on a piece of paper. “Take this. This doctor is a good man. He is practicing in secret…has already begun. Many others from the parish are going to him. If you call, he will give you the address. His wife is a nurse-midwife, so they are working as a team.”

John nodded and crumpled the paper into his pocket. “Thank you, Father.” He stood. “Pray for us.”

The priest nodded. “Yes. Always.”

Grace was floating in the bathtub, reading a book, when she heard John come in. “John?”

He poked his head through the door. “Can I join you?”

She splashed some water at him. “No! Where were you?”

“I went to St. Jude’s.”
“Today’s not a finance meeting day.”
“I know. I went to light a candle for you and the baby.” He had done that. After he’d talked to Fr. McGee.

Grace’s face melted. “Aw, John. That’s so sweet. Thank you.”

“Anything to help.”
“I should have my sister visit that Marian shrine near her house,” Grace said. “Light a candle or something. Remind me to call her later.”

“OK.”

“Hey, what did Eric say about that law?”

John closed his eyes and turned back into the bathroom. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just pre-birth genetic testing.”

“Do we have to have it?” Grace stroked her belly. “I don’t want to. It doesn’t matter to me. I just want a baby.”
“Me too. No. It’s no big deal.”

Grace sighed and poured water over her body. “Good. I don’t want all those ridiculous tests. Whatever we get, we get. Right?” John nodded. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back. “If my parents had done that…I might not even be here.”

John swallowed, his throat tight. “I know. Don’t worry Grace. We’ll be fine.”

“I know.” She smiled at him, confident in his ability to protect their family.

“Hey, I’ve got to make some phone calls. You just…melt,” he said as he shut the door. Grace’s laughter followed him into the kitchen, where he reached for the phone and dialed the number Fr. McGee had given him.

“The Masons’,” A woman’s voice jangled over the line.

“Is Dr. Mason there?” John gripped the paper in his hand.

“Sure. I’ll get him.”

“Hello?”

“Dr. Mason?”

“Yes. How can I help you?”

“My name is John Connor. We go to St.Jude’s—“

“Sure, John Connor. You’re on the finance committee, right?” John nodded. “I am too but I can never make the meetings…babies always seem to be born on that day.” He laughed. “So what can I help you with?”

“Um…my wife, Grace—“

“The lector, right?”
“Right. Um..,she’s pregnant.”

“Ah. And you need a physician that specializes in high-risk pregnancies?”

“Yes. Fr. McGee gave us your number…”

“Great. How about you both come over on Tuesday, for dinner? My wife would love to meet both of you—she helps me in my practice, and I with hers, you know—so just come over, say, around 6?”

“Sure, sure. Um..we went to our regular OB today…what should I…?”
“Tell your wife it’s just a dinner invitation. Does she know?”

“No.”

“OK. Try to keep it that way. We’ll talk at dinner.”

“Thank you. So much. We…”

“Don’t mention it. We’ll see you then.” Dr. Mason gave him his address, his voice lowered. “And if you have any questions, just call.”
“Thank you. Have a good weekend,” John stammered. He replaced the phone, heart pounding.

“Who was that?” Grace was behind him, wrapped in a towel.

“Um…Leo Mason. He’s on the finance committee with me?” Grace nodded. “He wants us to come for dinner on Tuesday.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. I’ve been wanting to meet some more people in the parish.” “Well, here’s our chance. His wife will be there too.”
“What’s her name? Karen?”

“ I think so. I haven’t met her.”

“Neither have I. I mean, I’ve seen her, at church, and she’s just gorgeous.” Grace’s face fell. “What am I going to wear?”

John laughed and embraced her, kissing her neck. “Don’t worry. We can go shopping tomorrow.”
“You have to work.”

“I turned in the report to Ken, and I can videoconference if I need to. Jet lag is a real pain. Don’t worry.”

“All right. I’m working here anyway, until I get this article written. It’ll be nice to have you home for a change.”

At 5:00 on Tuesday, Grace stepped into a black shirtdress, quickly buttoning the small black buttons. She misted hairspray over her wavy hair and slid grey pearl earrings into her ears.

“Nice dress.”
“Thank you. Glad I can still wear it.”
“You’ve got months until you start showing.”
“Not that long.” She sprayed perfume on her neck. John adjusted a blue tie. “You look nice. I love that tie.”
“I know you do. Want to make a good impression.”
“You know Leo.”
“I meant on Karen.”

Grace swatted him with her powder brush. “Don’t even.”

“Kidding.”

John entered the address into the car’s GPS system and they drove through the late afternoon sun. “They live close,” Grace said, looking at the GPS map. “Good.”

“What, if they lived far we wouldn’t be going?”

“Ha. No, I just like knowing people that live close. Like neighbors.”
“Better than the ones we have,” John muttered.

“Should we start looking for a bigger place? We only have one bedroom, and it won’t hold a crib.”

“Sure.”

“You sound distracted.”

“Just concentrating. Don’t want to get lost.”
Grace tapped the GPS unit with her finger. “John…we can’t get lost.”

“Sorry.”

The house, when they pulled up to it, was large, rambling, really. Almost like a compound. Grace could see outbuilding, small and white, with clapboard shutters, behind the Georgian brick main house. The serpentine driveway curled lazily up to the font door.

A tall, lanky man and a woman who looked so similar to him she could be his sister emerged from the blue front door, heading for the car. The woman opened the door on Grace’s side and squeezed her hand as Grace exited.

The woman scanned her face, looking for something she couldn’t find. Her eyes rested on Grace’s unstretched abdomen. “Ah.”

“Excuse me?”

The woman—Karen, she assumed—shook her head, as if dislodging a particularly stubborn thought. “Nothing. I’m Karen.” Her smooth hand, bedecked with sapphire rings, was cool to the touch. Her skin reminded Grace of cocoa powder.

Grace could hear the men talking behind her—they were already well acquainted, and walked up the stone steps ahead of the women. “Come,” Karen said. “Everything’s ready.” Grace took Karen’s hand and followed her inside.

* * *

She didn’t want to believe any of it—nothing that Karen and Leo were telling her could possibly be true. It sounded too Orwellian to exist anywhere except in a future designed by writers.

She shook her head. “It can’t be true.”
“It is, Grace. That’s why your husband called me.” Dr. Mason sipped his glass of red wine.

Karen laid her hand over Grace’s. “It might be true, but it doesn’t have to be. Not for you. Not for any of the couples that come to us.”

“You can help.” Grace felt like a very slow child as she processed what Karen and Leo had told her.

“If you want us to.”
“Of course I want you to. Why would I…why would I want anything else?” Karen squeezed her hand again. “This is my child, and I don’t care what happens to me, I have to have him…”

“We know, Grace. That’s why we’re going to help you.” Leo stood and motioned to Karen, who helped Grace up. Wordlessly, John wrapped his arm around Grace and helped her out the back door, across the dark lawn, to one of the out building Grace had noticed earlier.

Here, Leo helped her onto the examining table and began to conduct an ultrasound. “There he is.”

“He?”
Leo focused the picture and zoomed in on an area. “Sorry. She.”

“A baby girl,” John said. “Our daughter.”

Our daughter. “She looks beautiful.”

“She is beautiful.” Karen said firmly.

Leo clicked and zoomed on another area. “We can’t really see her face…she’s turned away from me. But we will, at some point.”
“She’s going to look like her mother,” John said in Grace’s ear.

“If we can keep her that long.”

“You will.” Karen’s voice was sharp. “There is nothing to it.”

Leo turned off the machine and wiped the probe’s fluid off Grace’s abdomen. “Call Dr. Wallace and say you have switched doctors—that you’d feel more comfortable with one who deals especially with genetic research.”

“He’ll think that you’re being proactive, having the termination so early.” Karen’s voice was brittle.

“He won’t question it,” Leo said smoothly. “Ask him to send the records here.”

Grace and John nodded.

“Once we have them I will list you as my patient. As for the genetic test he mentioned—we’ll simply use the genetic make-up of another child.”
“How can you do that?” John asked. “Everyone’s genetic make-up is catalogued in Washington.”
“Not if they were never born.” Leo stood and reached under a stainless steel cabinet. A drawer popped open. “I have DNA from babies who were stillborn, or miscarried. I’ve saved them for years. We can simply use their DNA.”

“It won’t compare with mine,” Grace said.

Karen shook her head. “We’ll manipulate the pairs. The important thing is to ensure that, genetically, it looks ‘clean’. Don’t worry about how we do it.”
“The important thing is that we do.” Leo pushed the button and the drawer vanished. “Once we submit those results to Washington, your baby will have her unique DNA strand entered. That will be her number for the rest of her life.”
“After she’s born we’ll make up fake documents with the altered DNA information,” Karen said.

“But what if she gets sick, or needs a blood transfusion?” Grace asked.

“Obviously that’s the tricky part,” Leo conceded. “What we’re giving you is a short-term option, to get you and John and your little girl out of the country. We are sending most of our patients to Portugal.”

“They’re the only country—besides Vatican City—that doesn’t have genetic coding law,” Karen said. “Vatican City still had diplomatic immunity. But it’s so small, we are sending most people to Portugal now.”

“The country’s all but been evacuated,” Leo said. “It’s almost all ‘genetic refugees,’ as the government calls them. And they aren’t being denied entrance.”

“So,” Karen said, “After the baby is born, it’s in your best interest to immigrate. Obviously you don’t have to, but with the risks Grace just brought up, it is much safer. Their medical system is superb, and the quality of life is excellent.”

“Suppose I should learn Portuguese,” John said.
“It doesn’t matter. English is the second official language of all EU countries.”

Grace clutched at her abdomen where her baby girl lay peacefully. “I…Is this the only way?”

Karen nodded. “To save your child? Yes.”

“And yourselves,” Leo added. “The sterilization procedures are not without risk.”

John shuddered, thinking of Grace in the hands of a surgical hack. “What do we have to do to immigrate? ”

“We’ll do the paperwork,” Leo said. “The only thing the two of you have to do is act like none of this is happening.”

“Once the baby is delivered, you can take her home. But you must get out of the country before her first birthday.”

When a child turned one, genetic testing was done again, to rule out any spontaneous mutations. If any were found, the child was taken away and “institutionalized”—but John knew that the children were euthanized, their bodies dumped in mass graves. After he had met with Fr. McGee, he had studied the law more closely, and found gruesome pictures of dismembered corpses, tossed in heaps behind clinics in Vermont and Nevada.

“You will have 11 months to do it,” Karen said. “It shouldn’t take that long to get the papers.”

“You don’t immigrate directly to Portugal. You do it through Italy, then Vatican City, and then to Portugal. The settlements in Portugal are currently divided by country of origin, so it won’t feel very foreign at first,” Leo said.

John and Grace nodded. “We want to do this,” Grace said.

Leo nodded. “All right. Get your files transferred to me, and tell Dr. Wallace that I will do the genetic blood work. He won’t question it—one less test he has to run. I will want to keep a close watch on you, and the baby, to ensure a smooth delivery.” Grace nodded.

Karen handed a book to John. “Our basic What to Expect guide for high-risk parents,” she said. “Nothing Brave New World to worry about.”

“I don’t think this is the brave new world Miranda was talking about,” Grace said as Leo helped her down.

“No. She was thinking of princes,” Leo said.

The pair escorted John and Grace to the car. “Call me tomorrow,” Leo said. Grace nodded and John drove the car down the driveway, towards the avenue.

Grace was silent the entire way home, tears making silent tracks down her cheeks. When they entered their apartment, Grace slipped off her shoes and headed wordlessly to the bedroom. John checked the messages on the videophone and saved the few that pertained to work. In the bathroom he undressed and, carrying his clothes in a bundle, went into the bedroom.

In the dark he said Grace huddle don her side of the bed, clutching her stomach. Her quiet sobs echoed in the room. “Grace.” John dropped his clothes on the floor and lay next to her.

“Tell me this isn’t happening,” Grace said. Her voice was a thin thread in the dark. “My baby does not have a death sentence. We are not leaving our families behind. I am pregnant and it will all be fine. We will have a dozen children.”

He stroked her hair. “We will, Grace. We will. Leo and Karen will make that happen for us.”

“But not here, John. Somewhere…here, my baby…and you..and me…and my family….we aren’t wanted. We’re…”

“I want you.”

“But no one else does.” She said it so softly John wasn’t sure she had actually said it.

New short story

2009-05-25T21:36:00.002-04:00

I KNOW it's been ages, but here is a new short story I started this morning. Not sure how far it will go.

It is 10:30 on Sunday night, and Grace Connor is cleaning the apartment. She put the shoes back in the closet, checked on the bread rising in the refrigerator, and turned off the lights. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and put on the eye cream she liked so much.

In the bedroom of their apartment, she pulled down the quilt and the 250-thread count sheets. The pillows were placed squarely in the center of the bed, since she would take up the entire bed in a luxurious spread with John gone.

The Tiffany lamp on the nightstand tossed enough light onto the bed for her to read a few pages of David Copperfield before she went to bed. But her eyes were watery and she couldn’t focus on the text, instead placing her book mark in a few pages into the text and placing it on the nightstand.

The clock read 11:05. John would be home tomorrow from South Korea, where he was attending some conference on international trade laws. He would be stopping in Olympia to see his parents and pick up the last box of belongings from their house, which he would bring back with him. After they got married he had moved into Grace’s apartment, and he still hadn’t unpacked his boxes. The walls still held Grace’s ballet prints and photos of Notting Hill Gate.

She turned off on her side and curled up. The sheets were satin soft against her skin and she closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to come. It wouldn’t take too long; she was a champion sleeper.

As she drifted she head a car pull up in front of the building. She lifted her head up off the pillow and squinted at the windows. Much good that’s doing me. The headlights went out, and she laid her head back against the pillow.

She drifted off again, thinking of John and the work she had to do on Tuesday. In her dreams she saw John coming through the bedroom door, kissing her hand and getting into bed beside her, pulling her to him.

Her formless dreams were interrupted. Her leg ran into something on the bed. Irritably she thought it was the extra quilt she kept folded up on the bed, in case she got cold. She kicked it slightly, but it wasn’t the quilt. It was more solid.

“Whatever you are, go away,” she murmured.

She felt a hand grab hers, and lips brushed over it. “I don’t think you want me to do that.”

She opened her eyes, still in dreams. “John?”

She focused through the dark and saw her tall, dark-haired husband sitting on the bed, holding her hand. “Hi.”

“You’re home early,” she murmured. “I’m glad.”

“Good, because I wasn’t too sure a minute ago.”

She struggled to sit up. “What time is it?”

“A bit after one.”

“In the morning.”

“Yeah. I just caught a late flight out of Olympia. Dinner with mom and dad, then back here.”

“Must’ve been a late dinner.”

John pulled her into himself. “I wanted to get home.” He kissed the top of her head. “How are you?”

“Fine. Very glad you’re home.”

He laid her back down against the pillows. “Let me undress. I’ll join you.”

“M’kay.”

She watched him loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt—one of her favorite things to do was watch her husband undress. There was something inherently sexy about it. He didn’t fold his clothes—neither of them was very neat, when it came to their clothes—just dropped them where they lay, tossing his shirt and tie over the desk chair.

He pulled back the covers and pulled her to him. “This is so much better than Seoul.”

She giggled. “I hope so. I’m not moving to Seoul.”

“Well of course not. Wouldn’t trust their health care system with you.” He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to him.

Grace sighed. “Glad you’re home.” He ran his hand through her hair.

“Get some sleep now. No other strangers will be wakin’ you up,” he said softly. Grace obliged and closed her eyes, feeling her husband’s chest rising and falling underneath her head.

“Where’s your ring?” John stared at her bare hand as she poured the coffee into the Fiesta mugs.

“I always take it off when I’m cleaning. I was cleaning yesterday. Didn’t you notice?”

“I did.” He took her hand and kissed the pale spot where her ring usually was. “Are you all right? Your hands are sort of puffy.”

“Are you implying that I’m fat?” She teased him as she put the coffee pot on the trivet.

“No.

“Do you want to call the doctor?”

“I’m going to see him next week.”

“Well then. OK.”

“Not that doctor.”

“Which one?”

“My OB.”

“Oh. It’s that time again?”

“No.”

“Well then why are you going?”

“I need him to check on something.”

“And what would that something be?”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“You are?” John put his coffee cup on the table.

Grace nodded. “I think so.”

John pulled her to him, and placed his hand on her belly. “Really?”

“Well you can’t feel anything yet.”

“That’s….are you happy?”

Grace nodded. “Of course I am.”

“Good. I am too.”

“I would hope so.”

John fiddled with his fork. “How am I supposed to eat breakfast now?”

She laughed. “Like you always do. Nothing has changed yet.”

He pulled her to him and kissed her hungrily. “What we’ve always wanted. I just didn’t think it would happen so soon.”

“We got lucky,” she said and winked.

On Thursday at 9:45, Grace and John Connor sat in the waiting room of Dr. Wallace’s office. John was ill at ease, being as he was a man in a gynecologist’s office, but Grace was glowing. She finger the page of Parents magazine like it was holy writ.

“Grace Connor?” At the nurse’s call, (fifteen minutes later than it should have been, John noted as he looked at his watch) the couple rose, John’s hand on the small of Grace’s back.

“155 pounds to start.” The nurse made a notation on her chart. “Room 15 please.” The Connors followed her down the twisted, carpeted corridor to a small examining room. “Change into a gown, and Dr. Wallave will be right in.”

The door closed. Grace took up the mint green gown from the examining table and went behind the curtain. “Don’t look,” She admonished her husband.

“Wouldn’t dream,” John murmured. He looked at his Palm and checked a few emails. What does Eric want? John thought as he scrolled down the page. Eric was his officemate at the law firm; they had graduated from Yale Law together.

He clicked on the envelope icon and began to read.

“Anything interesting?”

“No. Just a new case. Eric wants to know the U.S. statutes we could site.”

“Can’t Eric do his own research?”

“No. He’s hopeless at it.”

“Good.”

He dashed off a few lines of relevant text to Eric, then placed the gadget in his pocket. “You look lovely in that shade of green.”

She laughed. “Ha. I think not.”

“Very becoming.”

“Doesn’t leave much to the imagination,” she said.

“I don’t mind that.”

She snorted. “Ha.”

A knock on the door ended their banter. “Good morning, Mrs. Connor.” Dr. Wallace entered, a red-haired nurse following him and carrying a thin chart. “And Mr. Connor. What brings both of you here today?”

Grace reddened. “I…I think I’m pregnant.”

“Well we can confirm that fairly quickly. Rose, the ultrasound machine?” Rose nodded and went into the hall. “Just lie back.” Grace adjusted herself and Rose turned on the small machine.

“Here you are.” She handed the probe to Dr. Wallace.

“Mr. Connor, you may want to see this.” John stood and held his wife’s hand. Dr. Wallace lubricated Grace’s stomach and ran the probe over it. On the screen, a small 3-D image appeared.

“There is it,” Dr. Wallace said. “You are pregnant, Mrs. Connor. Congratulations.”

Grace let out a small squeal. “Oh, Dr. Wallace, thank you!”

“What is it?” John asked.

The doctor’s probe went more slowly over the baby’s small form. “Well, he or she is lying on his or her side. So I can’t really tell…perhaps at the next visit. I’m not going to poke him into moving.”

“well, whatever it is, she looks perfect.” Grace stared at the screen. “Wonderful.”

“Rose will schedule you t come back for genetic testing in a few weeks.”

“What?”

“What do you mean?” Grace asked.

“You’re a lawyer, aren’t you, Mr. Connors?” John nodded. “Then I’m sure you know all about it. You can explain it to your wife on the way home.” He made a notation in the chart and Rose sponged off Grace’s belly.

“I’ll call you with the date of the testing,” Rose said. She and Dr. Wallace exited the room.

“John, what are they talking about?” Grace’s face was taut.

“I don’t know. Medical law isn’t my specialty. It’s…well, it’s Eric’s, actually.” He helped her off the table. “Get dressed, and I’ll call him when I get home.”

As Grace was changing, John sent a message to Eric. Video conference me when you get home, Eric replied. I’ll talk you through it.

Grace emerged, buttoning her shirt. “Let’s go.”

At the check-out desk, the nurse handed Grace a large book and several pamphlets. Grace thumbed through them as John drove down the outerbelt. “

“I’m going to video conference with Eric when we get home.”

Grace nodded. “A nap. That’s what I’m going to do. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“My fault?”

“Yes. I was too busy enjoying you being next to me.”

John smiled and merged onto the interstate. “Good.”

At home, Grace lay down in the bedroom while John opened up his video chat program. He dialed Eric’s number and waited for him.

“John! You look good—Korea evidentally agrees with you. Ready to report on the proceedings tomorrow?”

“Already did. Emailed the memo to Ken last night on the way back.”

“You are industrious.”

“I try.”

“So how can I help you?”

“Question on medical law.”
“What’s up?”
“Grace is pregnant.”
“That was fast.”
“Thanks for the congratulations.”
“Sorry, but it was. No birth control?”

“We’re Catholic.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does, to some of us.”

“Not to most of you.”

“That’s beside the point, Eric. Look, she’s pregnant.”
“OK. What’s the question?”

“Today the doctor said something about genetic testing? IT being required by law?”

Eric typed something into his computer. “Here is it. SB 1067. The National Assembly passed it…fifteen days ago…president signed it on the twentieth. SO you were in Korea when it happened.”

“OK. Hasn’t it been publicized?”

“Enormously. It passed almost unanimously.”

“Really? Impressive.” John logged onto his work terminal. “SB 1067..OK I’ve got it.”
“Click on the legislative summary.”

“OK. So what does this mean?”

“Basically, all embryos are to be tested for genetic diseases.”
“I thought most states did that anyway.”
“They do. This takes it further.”
“How much further?”

“Read on.”
John continued reading. “Wait a minute. This couldn’t have passed.”
“Just did.”
“This is wrong.”
“Doesn’t matter what you think.”
“So all babies are to have these tests, and then…”

“Yes.”
“But they can’t do that.”
“Yes, actually, they can.”

“Grace won’t allow it. Iwon’t allow it.”
“What do you have to worry about? Some genetic disease lurking in your bloodstream?”

“Not mine. Grace’s.”

“How do you know?”

“She has one.”
“What? I didn’t know that. She looks perfectly fine.”

“She’s not. She has cystic fibrosis. That’s why..”

“Why what?”

“Why she had the transplant.”
“What?”
“She had a double lung transplant six years ago. She’s fine now. We hadn’t graduated from law school.”
Eric frowned. “And you married her anyway?”

“Eric!”

“Well not the smartest thing to do, with this law being passed…what if the baby had her problem?”

“We will not let them kill it,” John said vehemently.

“You don’t have a choice, John. Neither does she.”

John sighed. “Thanks, Eric, for your help here. I mean it.”

“Well that’s not all.”
“What do you mean, not all? What else can there be?”

“Grace will be sterilized. And, if you’re a carrier of anything, you will be too.”

John gaped at Eric. “You can’t….no.”
Eric nodded. There was a knock at his door and Eric turned to it. “Hey, look buddy,I gotta go. We talk more tomorrow if you want.”

“OK. Thanks.” John logged off, but printed a copy of the law. He read it slowly, then took the pages with him, and went to St. Jude’s.

L&A: 21

2008-02-18T01:36:00.001-05:00

In the hallway, Neville encountered Archie, Richard and Lord Spencer, who were huddled around the door, awaiting word. “How are they?” Lord Spencer said, striding over to Neville.

He smiled. “They are fine. Lady Spencer had some trouble in the beginning, but she has delivered a fine baby girl. Mary.”

Lord Spencer closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh. “Thank God.” Richard clapped his father on the back and embraced him.

Archie came forward and shook Neville’s hand. “Excellent work.”

“Join me in the kitchen?” Archie nodded and led the way to the back of the house.

The scullery maid placed steaming bowls of soup with thick-cut bread before them, and two glasses of ale. Archie raised his glass. “To Lady Spencer and Mary.”

Neville nodded and the glasses clinked. “It was difficult,” he confided. “Mary was breach and I had to turn her. I thought—“ he took a deep draught of the beer. “I thought that I might not be able to.”

“But you did. You are skilled,” Archie said. “You did well in your training.”

“It was still difficult. The hardest birth I’ve ever seen.”

“Are the ladies all right?”

“Mary is fine. A hale and healthy girl.” He crumbled his bread into the soup.

“And Lady Spencer?”

Neville was quiet. “I’m worried. That was a hard labor for her. I will have to keep close watch on her to make sure she recovers well.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

Neville sighed. “I will do everything I can. I will stay here tonight to watch her.”

“Should I take the family back to the Manor? Do you need quiet?”

Neville shook his head. “No. But perhaps you could stay and try to keep the others out of the way? I know Edward and Richard want to see Lady Spencer, but she must rest.”

“We can go out riding, or something. Perhaps we’ll go to London for a day or two. Richard has not left home since he’s returned.”

“Where is Rose?”

“She’s gone to the Lennoxes’, to discuss wedding flowers. Lily said she couldn’t bear to be here.”

“How she’s going to have her own children, I have no idea,” Neville said sharply. “I’ve never seen a woman so squeamish about childbirth.”

“Rose is peculiar,” Archie said.

Neville snorted. “Peculiar. Very diplomatic. Odd, that one is. Her beauty is the only thing she has to recommend her.”

“It’s a powerful recommendation.”

“God, Archie, don’t tell me you’re in love with her, too.”

Archie laughed. “No. She recoils from me; she can hardly make herself sit to tea with us when I visit. I am sure Emma forces her to do it.”

“Rose’s manners are not the best,” Neville said. “Lennox must be desperate for a wife.”

“He’s a second son. He cannot afford to be too selective. Not many women would run off to India, anyway.”

“I am glad I have my own profession and do not have to sink to marrying a woman like Rose,” Neville said thoughtfully. “For all her beauty, she is cold. I cannot imagine her being a good mother—or a wife.”

“Lady Spencer hopes Mary will instill some motherly instinct in Rose before she is married.”

Neville drained his tankard. “I hope so, for Albert’s sake. There’s no point in working yourself to death for a fortune if there’s no one to bequeath it to.” He placed the glass on the table. “Still,” he mused. “I hope Mary fares better than her mother.”

“Is it that serious?”

Neville sighed. “It’s not clear. She must rest a good deal. It will be touch-and-go for a while. I am most afraid of her developing a fever and infection.”

“I will do what I can to help,” Archie said. “Whatever you need, that I can do, I will.”

“Thank you. I will need you to distract the family, most of all. I don’t need them all hanging about. And I certainly hope Lady Spencer does not become pregnant again.”

“She’ll be too old soon, won’t she?”

“I would think. But I don’t want to have to struggle through another birth again. Good God, they’ve got their four children, and an heir. They don’t need anything else. You would think she wants to rival Queen Victoria with her progeny.”

“Maybe Richard can marry Princess Beatrice,” Archie suggested, and Neville laughed.

“A coup, for sure.” He stood and stretched. “I will go check on Lady Spencer, and relieve Lily. Make sure she goes to sleep promptly. She’ll wear herself out, too, and I don’t need three patients.”

L&A: 20

2008-01-22T21:50:00.001-05:00

The May sunshine lay heavily upon the fields as Archie rode to Spencer House, a slight breeze stirring the warm air. He noticed that Lily’s garden was in riotous bloom, full of color and fragrance. She had begun teaching him some basic tasks in the garden, such as weeding and trimming, but he would never learn her innate skill and garden sense. It was totally mysterious to him.

Richard, home for the summer, opened the door upon Archie’s arrival. “Oh, thank God, someone to distract us,” he moaned. “Mother is in such a state.”

Archie chuckled as he placed his hat on the table and removed his riding gloves. “Anxious for the baby to appear?”

“Worse. She’s been having pains all day.”

Archie frowned. “Should I get Neville?”

Richard shook his head. “No. Mother says she knows when labor’s begun, and this isn’t it. But Lily and Rose are worried.”

“Where are they?”

Richard led Archie into the morning room, where a bed had been placed for Lady Spencer during her lying-in. The day after the ball she had taken to this room, where she would wait for the baby to be born, as was her custom. Lily sat beside her mother, stroking her mother’s hand as she slept.

Archie came up to her and kissed her cheek. “Oh, Archie,” she said quietly. He could see fatigue and worry etched on her face. She looked pale. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She stood and Archie embraced her, rubbing his hands along her back to soothe her.

“You look worried,” he said as they sat on the couch. Richard took the seat next to his mother.

She nodded. “I am. She’s been in such pain. But she won’t let us call Neville—she says it’s not labor and she doesn’t want him to worry for nothing.”

“But all of you—“

“She says we’re worrying for nothing.” Her eyes were clouded. “Father is so nervous. He paces in his study all day, snaps at the servants…and Rose is no help, of course.”

“Maybe I should send for Neville. Even over your mother’s objections.”

“Would you? If he were here, she would have to listen. I know she is not well.” Tears were in her eyes.

“I will send for him. But you must rest until he comes. You are tired.”

She did not deny it. “I am. Richard and I have been taking turns staying with her….Rose tries, but she’s just not good at these things. And father…he’s got business to attend to, and he just makes mother worse.”

Archie nodded. His own father had been the same way when Neville was born. “I will send a servant for him. And you will rest for awhile.”

Archie went into the hallway and commissioned a manservant to ride to the Manor to fetch Neville. When he returned, Richard was rubbing his sister’s hands and talking gently to her.

“Archie, can you take her upstairs?” Richard said. “She needs some rest, and some food. I’ll send Martha up with a plate.”

Archie nodded. “I’ll take care of her.”

“I will call you, when Neville wants you,” Richard promised his sister.

“You must. I have to be here…” her voice trailed off and she rubbed her temples.

“Come, Lily.” Archie took her hand firmly and the two of them headed to her room, where she lay upon her bed. Archie covered her with a summer quilt. “Try to sleep.”

“I can’t,” she moaned. “I wish I could. I’m so worried about her. She wasn’t like this with Richard.”

“It will be well,” he said. He took her hand and stroked it. “It will be all right. Neville knows what he’s about.”

“I wish I could be sure…”

“Nothing is sure. But he will do the best he can.” He ran his hands over her hair in an effort to calm her. He kissed her forehead.

Lily eventually fell into a light sleep and Archie sat watch, as he had a month before when he first met her.

* * *

A knock on the door a half-hour later roused Archie from his chair, and he went to the door.

“It’s time.” Richard stood there, his eyes wide. “Neville needs Lily’s help.”

“Lady Spencer is in labor?” Richard nodded.

“I am ready.” The men were surprised to see Lily up, her hands tidying her hair. She brushed past them and scurried down the stairs.

* * *

“What can I do?” Lily burst into the room as Neville was unpacking and sterilizing his instruments. The household maids had been enlisted to help, bringing towels and hot water in an endless parade.

“Come,” Neville said. Lily tied a muslin apron around her, and moved to his side. “I need you to calm your mother. She’s fighting it and she can’t. She needs her energy for later.”

Lily nodded brusquely and took her place beside her mother. Lady Spencer’s face was red and damp with sweat. “Lily,” she said, grasping her daughter’s hand. “Oh, you’re here.”

“Of course I’m here,” Lily said. “Mother, you must relax.”

Her face screwed up in pain and she let out a small shout. “Oh, Lily…”

“It will be all right.” She spied a cloth and some cool water on the table, and began to bathe her mother’s forehead. “You must rest as much as you can.”

“It is….hard….this time,” she panted. “Where is Rose?”

“She’s with Richard,” Lily said soothingly. “They are readying the nursery for the baby. All is well.”

Neville examined Lady Spencer, his brow creased. “Lady Spencer, it will be time to push soon. But I must change the baby’s position. She is still breach.”

“What will you do?” Lily asked.

“I must turn her.” Neville enlisted two of the maids to hold Lady Spencer’s legs. “This will hurt,” he said and Lady Spencer nodded grimly. She gasped as Neville began to shift the child.

Lily gripped her mother’s hand and watched Dr. Craven’s movements. The room was tense, the silence broken only by Lady Spencer’s soft cries.

“Neville?” Lily asked, her voice low. “Is she—“

“I think I almost have her.” Neville’s face was taut with concentration. Time seemed to stop as they watched Neville for any sign of success. “There.” He said, gasping out the word. “She’s turned.”

Lady Spencer sighed and Lily smiled at her mother. “There, it’s almost time now.”

“It is time,” said Neville. “Lady Spencer, you may push on the next pain.”

Emma nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. Lily began to pray silently. Emma’s body tensed as she gave a long, steady push, and Lily bathed her forehead with a damp cloth when she had finished.

“Good,” Neville said soothingly. “She will be coming soon. A few more.”

The minutes passed in agonizing slowness. Lily wished Archie or Richard was here to help her, but she knew that was impossible. Even Rose would’ve been a help; but she was nowhere to be seen.

The pushing continued, Lady Spencer valiantly attempting to bring her youngest child safely into Neville’s hands. Neville’s face was dark and tight with concentration, and Lily’s hand ached under Emma’s vise-like grip.

Finally, “I see the head,” Neville said. His voice was deliberate. “Lady Spencer, it is almost time…”

Emma let out a short, strangled cry and pushed again.

“I can see her!” Lily cried, looking past her mother to Neville. The baby’s head was in his hands.

“Just the shoulders, now…” Neville said. With one final push the baby slipped free of the birth canal and fully into Neville’s arms. “A girl, Lady Spencer,” he said, smiling. His face was damp with sweat and he handed the baby to Martha to be wiped off. “She’s lovely.”

Martha swaddled the baby quickly as the child began to wail. “Excellent,” Martha said as she handed the baby to Emma. “She’s a beauty.”

The baby’s dark eyes stared up at Emma. “Oh, mother,” Lily said softly. She stroked her sister’s tiny hand and marveled over the delicate shape.

“What will you name her?” Neville asked.

“Mary Elizabeth,” Emma said, her voice thin. “For my mother.”

One of the maids jotted the name on a piece of paper Neville had on the cart. “I will submit the birth certificate immediately,” Neville said.

“Doctor, there is food in the kitchen. I am sure you are hungry,” Martha said. Neville nodded.

“I leave Lady Spencer and Mary in your hands,” Neville said to Lily, winking. “I shall return shortly.”

L&A: 19

2008-01-22T21:49:00.001-05:00

For a few days after the ball, Neville spoke little to Archie. While this was not, in itself, unusual, since the two had little in common and Neville was often preoccupied with his practice, Archie detected a certain avoidance on his younger brother’s part. Even at meals, he was reticent and spoke only when it was required.

After several days of this, Archie decided he had enough. Neville was unbearable when he was brooding.

“How is Lady Spencer?” Archie asked at lunch that day. Neville had just returned from his daily visit.

Neville shrugged as he took some ham from the platter. “She’s ready to give birth any day. Quite uncomfortable. And I think the baby is still breach.”

“That’s cause for concern, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “It is.”

Silence passed as they ate. Then Archie asked, “And how is the rest of the family?”

Silence.

“Neville?”

“You should know that better than I,” he said sharply. “You’re there as often, if not more, than I am.”

“I have business with Lord Spencer. Of course I should be there.”

“And your business with Lily?”

Archie was surprised. He didn’t think Neville had noticed. “What business?”

“Don’t be coy, Archie. You’re courting her. Openly. Everyone seems to know but me.”

“How do you know? We haven’t made it public.”

“I saw you—and her—at the ball. You kissed her.”

“We didn’t know anyone was there!”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Archie? Did you think you could keep it a secret until your wedding day? ‘Oh, by the way, Neville, old boy, I’m getting married today.’” Neville’s voice was sharp and caustic.

“What is your objection? Why should you concern yourself?”

He couldn’t bring himself to say that he loved her. It would be too humiliating.

“You should have told me,” he said. “I am sure all the Spencers know.”

“Richard is our chaperone. And I had to ask Lord Spencer’s permission. So yes, they know. But no one else.”

Neville swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. “And you will marry her?”

Archie nodded. “As soon as Lady Spencer is recovered, I plan to propose. We do not want to interfere with Rose and Albert’s wedding, of course. Lily is content to wait.”

Neville stared at his plate. Lily married to his brother! It could hardly be borne.

“And…you will live here?”

“Of course. The Manor needs a mistress.” Archie sipped his coffee. “Oh, Neville, don’t worry. We won’t turn you out, if you wish to stay.”

Neville bristled at this. “It’s your house, Archie. I cannot imagine Lily would want me hanging about.”

“Why not? It’s a big enough house for all of us—and the children, once we have them. She does want children.”

“And you?” Archie had never been comfortable around them.

“I want what she wants,” he said simply. “An heir is, of course, desirable. But I think it might be nice to have some children around the place.”

Neville nodded. “We shall see. As you know, I may go to London.”

“Of course, Neville. You are free to do as you please, you know.”

“I know.” He stood, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Are you for the Spencers’?”

Archie shook his head. “Lily has much to do to prepare for the baby. And I have to make a survey of the grounds.”

Neville nodded curtly. “I shall order dinner, then.” He stood and abruptly left the room, leaving Archie alone.

L&A: 18

2008-01-03T18:52:00.001-05:00

Neville stepped back into the foyer, trembling. Archie and Lily! My Lily! How long has this been happening? And I thought he was coming to the house on business—ha! The business of courting…

He went into a side parlor and collapsed on the nearest chair. He could not believe it. “Not Archie,” he said, his voice breaking in the silence. “Not him…it’s not possible she could choose him over me.”

Had she not known of Neville’s intentions? Not seen the attentions he’d paid her? Had she missed the way he looked at her? She was either blind, or disinterested. He refused to believe it was the latter.

XII.

The ball went into the early hours of the next morning, with the Cravens being one of the last to leave. Lady Spencer had retired much early, due to the baby, and Richard, Lord Spencer and Lily were left to escort the brothers out.

“Wonderful ball, Lord Spencer,” Neville said as Lily handed him his scarf and hat. “You and your family must come to the Manor for dinner, once Lady Spencer has received from the birth.”

“It would be a pleasure,” Lord Spencer said. He bowed. “If you would excuse us, Richard and I will settle the accounts with the musicians.” They excused themselves, leaving Lily the sole host.

“I will get the carriage,” Neville said stiffly, heading for the porch. Once they were alone, Archie kissed Lily again. She laughed quietly.

“Oh, we should not have started this,” she moaned. “Now I am desperate for your touch.”

“It will be yours, always, soon enough,” he said. “I promise.”

“I will hold you to it.” She embraced him and he kissed the top of her head.

“I will be over tomorrow afternoon…give your family some time to recover from events,” he said.

“I will wait. Perhaps we can go to the garden.”

“You can teach me. I will be your apprentice.”

She laughed. “I think it is the only thing I can teach you.”

He shook his head. “You are wrong.” He took up his hat from the hall table and went to the door. “Until tomorrow.”

She smiled and locked the door behind him. From the windows she saw Neville and Archie board the coach and head home.

Oh, for the day when I will leave this house and go home with him, Lily thought as she headed up the winding staircase. What a day that will be…

L&A: 17

2008-01-03T18:51:00.001-05:00

The ball began promptly, as Rose had decreed, and the guests arrived in a steady stream of carriages. Rose and Albert were upstairs, since they would be announced once all the guests were assembled, but Lily, Richard and their parents were greeting the company in the foyer.

Lily was polite as she greeted the guests, but her eyes were constantly searching the doorway for Archibald’s arrival. The first dance was to begin soon and, although Richard was leading her out, she wanted to know Archie was there before the festivities began.

“He’ll come,” Richard said quietly to her as he greeted Lady Walsh. “Don’t worry.”

“I am worried,” Lily said through her smile.

“He won’t abandon you.” The crush of people was becoming a bit much, and Lily wished she could hurry out onto the porch, breath the cooler air and look over the horizon for the Cravens’ carriage.

Finally she spotted Neville’s lanky silhouette in the doorway. “Miss Lily,” he said, as he kissed her hand. “You look radiant.”

She blushed. “Thank you.”

“I hope your dances are not all spoken for.”

She shook her head. “Not all.”

“But you will have to move quickly, sir,” Richard interjected. “My sister’s card will not stay empty long.”

“Then I will have to make a claim,” Neville said, his gaze intense upon Lily. She smiled tightly and Neville moved on to greet her parents.

“Miss Lily.” Archie stood before her, resplendent in his white tie and tailcoat, looking like he had just left an audience with the queen.

“Mr. Craven.” She curtsied and gave a dazzling smile. The chemistry between them was tangible. Archie’s eyes were drawn to her lithe figure and the gown’s low-cut, lace-edged neckline. Her hair fell into shimmering ringlets and diamonds dropped from her ears.

“You are a vision,” he said, voice low. “You must save me several dances.”

She lifted her wrist and showed him her dance card. “You will see I have done so.” His initials were marked beside a good number of dances. “Of course I must not show a preference.”

“Of course.” His eyes bore into hers for a moment, then he moved down the line.

“It looks like we’re ready,” Richard said as Charles shut the main doors.

“I have to get Rose,” she said, and headed up the staircase to her sister’s sitting room. She knocked and entered, finding Rose sitting on her parlor chair, composed and cool with her golden skirt spread about her. Albert was adjusting the collar of his military jacket.

“Are you ready?” Lily asked.

Rose’s head jerked up and she nodded. “Albert?”

“I am if you are.” He grinned at Lily and took Rose’s arm. “Shall we?”

Lily headed down the stairs, followed by the couple, who then preceded Lord and Lady Spencer and Lily and Richard into the Hall’s ballroom. The room was alight with candles and lamps, and the women’s jewels shimmered. The applause was warm and loud as Rose and Albert entered, and Lily knew her sister was basking in the moment of her glory.

She and Albert went to the middle of the room to form the first set, Lily and Richard falling into place next to them. Lily noticed Archie was partnered with Lady Walsh’s youngest daughter, Amelia, who was out at the tender age of fifteen and appeared terrified at the prospect of dancing with Archie. Lily tried to suppress a laugh.

Richard was a fine partner, and, as they had danced together since childhood, she found their dancing easy and enjoyable. “You still dance well, Richard,” Lily noted. “I’m sure one of these ladies noticed.”

He rolled his eyes. “I hope not. I have no desire to join the marriage whirl our family seems to be caught in. At least not yet. I have to go to Oxford.”

“Oh, beware, little brother,” Lily cautioned. “Love will come when you least expect it.”

Richard chuckled and swung Lily into the formation as the dance reached its climax. The onlookers applauded the dancers’ skill as Lily curtsied to her brother and the first set ended.

“Miss Lily?” She heard Archie’s voice behind he and she turned, giving him a radiant smile.

“Yes, Mr. Craven?”

“I would like to claim the next two dances, if you are available.”

She made a display of checking her card. “You are in luck. I seem to have an ‘AC’ marked for the next two.”

“My initials are fortuitous.” He winked at her and she laughed.

“How was Miss Walsh?” Lily asked as they waited for the next dance to begin.

Archie stiffened. “Interesting. She doesn’t have much skill.”

“You probably scared her to death,” Lily scolded. “You looked so stern.”

“I do have a reputation to keep up.”

“Men!” Couples began to crowd the floor for the next dance, a waltz. “Where is Neville?”

Archie shrugged. “Probably dancing with Miss Walsh. I think she has every eligible bachelor on her card. Amelia would be good for him. Quiet, young…everything he needs.”

The waltz struck up, (Lily saw Amelia and Neville acknowledge each other) and Archie hesitantly began. His hand was firmly around Lily’s tiny waist and he grasped her hand tightly.

“You are a good dancer,” she said after a few moments. “You should do it more often.”

“With you as my partner, I shall.” The waltz, a Brahams’s, was Lily’s favorite. She was content in Archie’s arms, following his lead and admiring his appearance as they whirled about the room. She could not remember being so happy. Feeling him so close to her was what she wanted, and she wished the dance to go on forever.

“You are a fine dancer,” she said when the waltz ended. Her eyes were bright with excitement and her smile was wide. “You had deceived me into thinking otherwise.”

“I said I was out of practice,” he corrected her. “A different thing.”

“You are full of surprises.”

“Shall I get us drinks?” Archie asked as Lily took a seat near one of the windows.

She nodded. “I think I need a rest before I dance anymore.” She gingerly rubbed her ankle. “Neville wouldn’t be happy if I hurt myself again.”

“Nor would I.” She smiled and he headed off into the crowd.

Lily fanned herself, wishing Rose hadn’t invited quite so many of Albert’s London friends—the ballroom was crowded with couples, local families and mothers with their newly-out daughters. She spotted Amelia Walsh coming towards her with Julia Yates.

“Good heavens, Lily, your sister invited far too many people,” Julia said as she collapsed on the chair next to her. “What a commotion!”

“It is surely not worse than London,” Lily said dryly. The Yates’ spent every season in their London house and had Almacks’ vouchers. Julia could not complain of the crowd here if she had endured that.

“In London you have the best people about,” Julia said, surveying the room. “One can hardly say the same for Yorkshire.”

Amelia giggled. “You are right about that. We certainly have an assortment here tonight.”

“Did you see the Cravens? Well of course you did, Lily, you were dancing with the heir. That was…charitable,” Julia said.

“It wasn’t charitable at all. Mr. Craven is a gifted dancer and quite the gentleman,” Lily replied stiffly.

“We all know you’re a sweet girl, Lily, but that’s taking it too far,” Amelia said. “For all his money, no woman will have him.”

“I heard there was a woman in London who almost married him.” Julia lowered her voice to a confidential tone. “But once she saw his back— well that was enough for her.”

“Poor girl. Must’ve been a fright. How did he disguise it?” Amelia asked, enraptured.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. One can hardly conceal it.”

“There are more important things than appearance, you know,” Lily interrupted. “Perhaps that London woman was only interested in his money and not in him.”

“Any woman would be who married him,” Julia said. “There’s no other redeeming quality.”

“His brother is somewhat handsome,” Amelia noted, pointing. Neville was talking to Rose and Albert across the room, the light catching in his wavy hair. “Mother said if he was the heir she’d have set all of us at him.”

“That’s vulgar,” Lily said, but she was drowned out by Julia’s harsh laugh. She tossed her copper-colored curls and smiled sardonically.

“Rotten luck, Neville being younger,” Julia said. “Well no one will have Archibald. He’s too old, and I can’t imagine he knows anything about women. No sisters, and his mother dead so long—“

“Excuse me,” Lily said. She rose abruptly and made her way across the room, meeting Archie, who held two champagne glasses. She accepted her glass and took a long drink.

“I didn’t know you enjoyed champagne that much, ” he said mildly as she swallowed. He looked at her closely. “What’s wrong?”

“Too much gossip,” she said, taking another sip. “I don’t have the stomach for it.”

“I thought that’s what women primarily did at a ball, other than flirting ridiculously.” He was trying to tease her, but her eyes stayed hard. “It must have been personal to upset you this much.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t. It was just malicious. Julia Yates has the sharpest tongue in the country.”

He looked past Lily and saw Julia and Amelia staring at them, talking rapidly. “We seem to have incurred some interest,” he said. “They can’t stop looking at us.”

Lily let out a huff and finished her glass. “I could use some air. Will you—“

“Lily? I believe we have the next dance.” Neville appeared next to them, his hand extended. Lily pasted a smile on her face and took his hand, handing her empty glass to Archie.

“I’m glad that you’ve taken so kindly to my brother,” Neville said. Talking while dancing was a general rule, but Lily was preoccupied and unable to keep up her end.

“He’s a good man,” she said, scanning the room for Archie. She was relieved he was talking to her father, and that Julia was dancing with Richard, therefore unable to gape at Archie or eavesdrop on her conversation with Neville.

Neville nodded. “I had hoped you would get along.”

“Really?”

“He needs some company. He is too often alone. I was hoping you could help me induce him to get out into society more, and you’ve already done that. You are quite a woman.”

She nodded, distracted. “Thank you.” Would the dance never end? She desperately wanted air.

“You should come to the Manor. We would love to have you and your siblings for tea, or dinner,” he offered. “And your parents, too, once your mother is recovered. I’m sure Archie and your father could conduct their business much better over one of Lucy’s fine dinners.”

Lily’s mind snapped to the conversation as she realized Neville didn’t know Archie was courting her. He thinks Archie is coming to discuss business with my father. Why hasn’t Archie told him?

“I’m sure my family would appreciate it,” Lily said mechanically. “Thank you for the invitation.”

The music, thankfully, ended, and Lily gave a quick curtsy. “All you all right?” Neville asked.

Lily nodded. “I just need some air.”

“Let me accompany you—“

“No, no,” Lily interjected hastily. “I’m fine. I’ll only be a moment.” She smiled tightly and headed for the entranceway, making her escape onto the front porch. The spring night was cool and Lily was relieved to be free of the oppression of the ballroom.

“Lily?” Archie’s voice came from behind her and she felt his hands on her shoulders. “I brought your shawl.” He draped it around her and held her close. “It is cold. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“I couldn’t stay in there another minute. It was too hot.”

“What did Julia say to you? You were fine until she spoke to you.”

Tears lapped at her eyelids and she turned to him. “She—she was speaking unkindly. I wasn’t in the mood to listen to it.”

“It was about me, wasn’t it.”

Her silence was his confirmation. “That is common for me, you know. People don’t know how to address me.”

“It’s awful of them. I can’t believe how shallow these people are.”

“It’s why I prefer my own company.” He took a deep breath and looked at her. Lily’s eyes shone with her tears. “Lily, it will always be like this. I have had a lifetime to inure myself to it. You have not. I will not force this life on you. You are too vivacious to be shut away.”

She shook her head violently. “We will not be shut away. These people are shallow. We will not have to associate with them once we are married.”

“Most people are like Julia. You are the only woman I have ever met who doesn’t seem to fear me on sight.” His voice was dark. “And I know you are kind, Lily. But I don’t want you to feel indebted to me. You are free to be with someone else.”

She grabbed his hands and held them tightly. “No. I don’t want to be with anyone else. I’ve chosen you, and it’s not out of any sense of misplaced gratitude or a sense of debt. I love you, Archie. That will not change. Ever.”

“You will always have people like Julia Yates. They will not spare your feelings.”

“I will not associate with them.” Her voice was fierce.

“You will have no choice. I won’t lock you away from society, from your family, from what you know and love. You’re too young and you’re too social. It would hurt you so.”

“Why don’t you believe that I love you?” She dropped his hands and stared at him.

“Because you’re….you’re…you,” he blurted. “You’re too much. I can’t believe that a woman like you, with the entire county full of men at your feet, would choose to be with me. I simply cannot understand it.”

“Maybe you’re not supposed to. Maybe it doesn’t seem logical to you. But you are a good, kind, wonderful man, Archibald. And I love you for all those things. I want you.” She began to cry quietly.

He lifted a finger and brushed away some of her tears. “Don’t cry.” It was a command and she tried to stop. “I’m sorry, Lily. I don’t want to upset you.”

“Then believe me. Trust me. Please.”

He was quiet for a few moments. “That is hard for me.”

“I know.” She looked at him straight on, her eyes clear. “But you have to trust me. I can live without superficial company and fair-weather society. But I need you to trust me and believe that I love you. Just you. I can’t live without that. I cannot be with you without that.”

He moved towards her and held her, kissing the top of her head. “I will try, Lily. It won’t be easy.”

She nodded. “I know. But I do love you. And I will show you every day that we’re together. It will take time for you to believe it. But you will.”

He turned her around and gently tipped her face towards his to kiss her. The kiss was long and ardent, and, for Archie, explosive. He had never kissed a woman like this before.

They broke the kiss, and Lily stared up at him, enraptured. “And you think that I am with you out of duty?”

Archibald laughed, the sound reverberating in the still night air. “Good God, Lily! You are too much for one man.”

“I only want one man.” They kissed again, longer this time, enjoying the cascade of emotions that fell over them.

“Lily? Are you out here?” Neville came through the doors and saw his brother, silhouetted in the moonlight, kissing Lily Spencer.

L&A: 16

2008-01-03T18:50:00.001-05:00

The day of Rose and Albert’s engagement party could not come fast enough for Lily; she couldn’t wait to be with Archibald in public and to dance with him. She knew his trepidations and felt sure she was prepared to meet them. He would have nothing to fear—these were her parents, her parents’ friends, and local society. He had twice as much money as the richest of them, so even if they didn’t desire his company generally, they would show him nothing but respect. And while fear or respect for wealth was not what Lily wanted for him—or them—she knew that it was at least a start.

“This dress is lovely, Mary,” she said to the family seamstress that morning as she and Rose attended their final dress fittings. “You’ve really outdone yourself with this.”

Emma ran her hand approvingly over the sapphire silk. “It goes so well with your complexion. I’m sure Mr. Craven will like it.”

“Beauty wasted,” Rose grumbled from the corner, where Carrie was adjusting her bustle. “No one will notice Lily, they’ll be too busy staring at him.”

“Rose.” Emma’s voice was a warning. “Leave your sister alone.”

“He’ll be the talk of the evening, coming into society after all these years at my party,” Rose prattled. “He’ll probably not even have proper clothes.”

“He’s not a heathen,” Emma said. “I’m sure he’ll look fine. They did spend several seasons in London, you know.”

“Turn a bit, Miss Lily,” Mary instructed, her mouth full of pins. “A few more places…”

Lily turned, holding her arms chest-level before her so Mary could pin the waist. “I’m sure we won’t do anything to embarrass you, Rose.”

Rose turned and glared at Lily. “Just his presence is enough—“

“Mary? Carrie? May we have a moment?” Lady Spencer asked. The women nodded and left the sisters and Lady Spencer.

Emma seized Rose’s upper arm tightly and Rose flinched. “Listen to me, Rose. This berating of your sister’s choice has gone on long enough. Mr. Craven is a good man, a fine man, who loves your sister and whom your sister loves in return. There is nothing the matter with him or his manners and Lily has made a fine choice. I will not hear another word against him. Is that understood?” Rose nodded mutely. “Now you will be civil to her. And you will apologize.”

Rose muttered something. “I’m sure Lily didn’t hear that,” Emma said. “Do it properly.”

Rose’s eyes met Lily’s square on, and her intense dislike was evident in her blue eyes. “I’m sorry, Lily, for second guessing your romantic choice,” she spat.

Emma closed her eyes and sighed. “That’s enough of that. I’m going to call the girls back in, and lay down. I can’t handle this baby’s gymnastics and your constant bickering.” Lady Spencer left the room and the sisters were silent for the rest of their fittings.

As soon as Carrie unpinned Rose, she flounced down off the dais and slammed the door behind her. Lily flinched, but, to their credit, Mary and Carrie pretended not to notice Rose’s ill humor.

* * *

“You would think she would be happy since this is all about her,” Lily ranted to Richard as they walked about the grounds. After the fitting, Lily needed to get out of the house and clear her head.

“I told you she wouldn’t willingly accept your choice of Archie. She thinks he’s beneath you. The fact that he is going to be at her party sends her into paroxysms,” Richard said. “There’s nothing to be done.”

“She needs to grow up,” Lily growled. “Days like this, I cannot wait for her to be in India. I wish I could be with Archie right now, married and at Misslethwaite. Alone.”

“It will come soon enough,” Richard said. “Peace, Lily. You know it will.”

“I know that I will miss Rose. But today--I cannot help but wish she was far away with Albert already.”

“Rose has never learned to keep her tongue.”

“She needs to learn. Or at least…” she turned to her brother, fiddling with her bonnet strings. “I would never insult a suitor of hers. And she’s been with some pretty stupid ones, if I may say. But I would never do that to her. She’s my sister.”

“She thinks that as your older sister she has a responsibility to you. That includes screening your suitors.”

“Screening!” She gave a derisive laugh. “You mean trying to scare away the ones that don’t meet her standards.”

“Well, yes. Good thing Archie is older than her and not afraid.”

“There are things he’s afraid of, but Rose isn’t one of them,” she murmured.

Richard looked at her, puzzled. “I can’t imagine him being afraid of anything.”

Lily didn’t answer Richard. Instead, she put her hand on his arm. “We should head back. I’m sure Rose will want us dressed and ready so we can help her greet the guests.”

Richard didn’t comment on her brisk change of subject, and the two walked back toward the house.

L&A: 15

2008-01-03T18:49:00.000-05:00

Archie soon became a fixture at the Spencer household, coming over every afternoon to take Lily to her garden and then to sit with her in the parlor, while Martha served them tea. Richard, of course, shadowed them, and occasionally Lord and Lady Spencer would join them. The tea table was always set with the gorgeous bouquets Archie brought Lily every day.

“Lily, have you played for Mr. Craven yet?” Emma asked one afternoon, a few days before Rose’s engagement party. “I’m sure he’d love to hear you.”

“Oh, do, Lil, I haven’t heard you play since I’ve been home,” Richard entreated from the couch.

“I won’t really be able to play properly; I can’t work the pedals yet.” Neville had announced the cast could come off tomorrow. “What about tomorrow, once the cast is off?”

“You’re stalling,” Richard said. “Come on. You know you’ve got about twelve pieces ready to play.”

Lily gave her mother a pleading look, but she found no sympathy. “Very well.” She made her way to the small piano that graced the parlor—not like the Broadwood grand in the Music Room—and shuffled through the music she kept there. “Beethoven,” she said decisively.

She had chosen the “Moonlight” Sonata, which was, unbeknownst to her, one of Archibald’s favorites. His mother had often played it for them when they were children, to get them ready for bed. It was one of the few pieces Archibald had learned during his brief attempt at music lessons as a boy. Lily played the piece exactly as it should be played, with a haunting, romantic overtone that demonstrated familiarity with the instrument and maturity in practice. Her brother was right; she was talented.

As Lily played, Archibald noticed Rose standing at the threshold. Rose made it a point not to spend much time with Archie when he visited, although she usually appeared at least once for the sake of politeness. But Archibald could see Rose had almost forgotten he was there; she was entranced by her sister’s music.

Lily stopped at the end of the first movement, the bass chords echoing in the room as she held the moment. Her hands fell softly to the keys and Richard applauded.

“Excellent, as always,” he said, going to kiss his sister. Lily blushed.

“It was a bit rusty.”

“Nonsense. It was perfect,” Emma said, with motherly affection.

“Rose!” Richard noticed his sister. “Didn’t see you come in. Have some tea, will you?”

“Is Albert doing well?” Lily asked. Rose had spent the afternoon with the Lennox family; Albert was temporarily in town.

“Yes.” Rose entered hesitantly and untied her hat, the satin ties dangling beneath her chin. “His family is very well.”

“I asked about him,” Lily said as Richard helped her back to Archie’s side.

Emma poured Rose a cup of tea, and she sipped it gingerly. “Albert is fine. A bit tired from the passage, which is to be expected.”

“Do they still go the oversea route, around Africa?” Archibald asked.

Rose looked surprised at the inquiry. “There is a train for some of it. But not yet all. It is quite arduous.”

“I am glad he will be here for the ball,” Lily said. “I look forward to dancing with him again.”

“As long as you are not otherwise engaged,” Rose said coldly.

“I can dance a set with my future brother-in-law.”

“As long as I get to dance with both you, I don’t much care,” Richard said brightly. “I am so fortunate to be have two talented sisters.”

“You will have quite an evening ahead of you, Mr. Craven,” Emma said. “Lily is quite accomplished on the dance floor.”

“She once danced with the Duke of Sussex,” Richard boasted, “and he said he’d never had a better partner—not even the Princess of Wales.”

“That is a high compliment.” Archibald’s face was solemn and Lily hoped the talk of dancing hadn’t upset him too much. She thought fleetingly of London, Almack’s and Amy Moore.

“Will you stay for dinner, Mr. Craven?” Emma asked.

He shook his head. “Unfortunately, I can’t. I must meet with Seward and go over the Manor’s books. The quarterly reports are due soon.”

“Until tomorrow then.” Emma rose and Archibald bowed as she left the room. Rose and Richard followed their mother’s cue.

“You’re not upset, are you?” Lily asked once they were alone.

“Why?”

“All the talk of dancing. Really, we don’t have to dance. I’ll be fine. I won’t have the stamina to be at it all evening like those two.”

“It…will take some getting used to. I haven’t danced in—“

She took his hand. “I know. But I’m not her.”

“Not just that. The entire idea of society; I’m not used to it.”

She squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry about that. This is Rose and Albert’s night. We will be secondary figures. And I’ll be with you.”

“That is my only comfort,” he said.

“And Neville will be there.”

“He’ll want a dance from you.”

“I think I can oblige your brother,” she said lightly. “Hasn’t he set his cap for someone yet?”

“I think he’s considering moving back to London. We’ve only discussed it briefly, but he does crave good society.”

“Then the ball will be what he needs. We’ve been deprived of a good party for quite some time. Maybe he can find a lady there.”

“You don’t want him to go to London?”

She shrugged. “He’s your brother. It would be nice if he remained here. I like it when families are close together.”

“You will miss Rose, when she goes.”

She nodded. “We have never been apart. We have always done everything together. It will be strange to have her gone, to miss seeing her every day, to miss the birth of her children.”

“Are you sure she’ll have them? I’m sure she bemoans what they’ll do to her figure.” Archibald laughed.

“Mother says she’ll ‘do her duty,’” Lily intoned. “But Rose doesn’t really like children. Albert does, though. How they’ll work that out is somewhat beyond me.”

“I’m sure Rose will be a better mother than you think.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

The small table clock chimed five, and Archie stood. “I should get back. Neville will probably be waiting for me for dinner.”

“You will come tomorrow?” Archie loved her childlike impatience.

“I will. As always. Neville will be here to remove the cast, you know. You’ll be free of it.”

“Perhaps we can really walk to the garden then. It’s looking so wonderful. I want to pick Rose some flowers for her hair for the ball.”

“That’s a lovely idea. If Neville gives his imprimatur, we’ll go,” he promised. He gently kissed her hand. “Tomorrow then.”

She nodded and he took his leave. Sighing, she leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes, savoring his touch.

L&A: 14

2007-10-29T19:58:00.001-04:00

Richard had the reins of the carriage skillfully in hand as Archie and Lily sat in the back, Lily wrapped tightly in her cloak against any errant wind gusts. She loved the warm feeling of her hand in Archie’s, but she was glad Richard couldn’t see the wide smile of contentment on her face. She would feel foolish.

“I do hope it isn’t a total loss,” Lily said as they approached. “It would be horrid to have to start again.”

“I don’t think it will be that bad,” Archie said. “In fact I am confident it won’t be.”

“Are you a gardener, now?” she teased.

“I have access to some good ones,” he said. “The Manor’s gardens survived the weather in-tact.”

“They are sturdier than my small plot,” Lily noted. “You’ve seen my garden.”

“I must admit I wasn’t paying attention to the flowers.”

The carriage slowed and Richard set the brake and hopped out to secure the reins to the fence post. “Ready, Lily?”

She nodded and the two men helped her down. She braced herself on her crutches and looked about.

“Oh, it’s—“

The garden was neat and in bloom, the roses beginning to bud, and the flowers glorious. Some of the vegetables were sprouting and everything was tidy—there was no sign of the huge storms that had blown through days ago.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. Slowly she entered and sat down on the bench, her eyes full of tears. “It’s like I never left.”

Richard whistled. “Someone must love gardening as much as you, Lil, to take care of it this way. Ben says it wasn’t him.”

“It wasn’t Ben,” Archibald said.

Lily’s gaze swerved to him. “How do you know?”

“I know.”

“Then who was it? No one else around here would come in without me, and if it wasn’t Ben—“

“It was me.”

Lily gaped at him. “You? But you were always with me.”

“I came out in the mornings, before you were awake. I brought my gardeners with me. About the only thing I knew to do was prune the roses.” He sat next to her on the bench. “I knew that it was important to you. I didn’t want you to see it in ruins. And it was a bit of a mess, immediately after the storm.”

Tears flooded her eyes. “You did this? For…”

“You. Yes.”

Lily gasped slightly and gave a beautiful smile. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

His hand cupped her cheek and he smiled. “You don’t have to.”

Impulsively she embraced him, throwing her arms around him. Archie stiffened at first, knowing she would feel for the first time the reality of his body, but she didn’t recoil. He allowed himself to relax into her embrace.

“You are wonderful, Archibald Craven,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

L&A: 13

2007-10-27T14:46:00.001-04:00

Lily was relieved when Archibald re-appeared in the room, his face calm but confident. She smiled as he approached her.

“Miss Lily, would you allow me to take you out to your garden? I gather you’re anxious to see it.” The formality of his language was odd to her, but she knew it was the tone he must adopt, in the presence of her brother and family.

“That would be lovely. You are right—I am anxious about it.”

“I’ll send for the carriage,” Richard said, smoothly dismissing himself and giving the pair some time alone.

“I take it the news was good?” Lily said as Archie sat beside her. He grasped her hands and nodded.

“Yes. Your father was agreeable. He seemed a bit surprised, but he is not opposed.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “I did not think he would be.”

“I didn’t have your certainty,” he said. His face was solemn. “I was afraid I was too old.”

“You are not,” she said, her eyes alight. “Stop it.”

He smiled. “Your father is a good man. I am glad we have his approval.”

“Richard will have to chaperone us. I hope you don’t mind.”

“He makes a rather unique chaperone, doesn’t he? A boy of fifteen, shadowing his older sister and her lover.”

“Someone has to do it. Better Richard than Rose!”

They laughed, the sound echoing in the large room. “I love hearing you laugh,” Archibald said. “It’s wonderful.”

“I enjoy doing it. I enjoy anything that makes you happy.”

He squeezed her hands tighter and brought them slowly to his lips. His kiss made her shiver. “You make me happy. Just you.”

He stared at her with an unglazed intensity, and she met his look, holding the moment.

“Lily, mother says you’re—“ Archibald dropped Lily’s hands and rapidly stood, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. Rose was standing at the doorway, her face pale and her mouth open. “Mr. Craven. I didn’t know you were with my sister.” Her voice cut the room.

“I—We are waiting for your brother,” Archibald said stiffly. “He is bringing the carriage for us.”

“You are going out?”

Lily nodded. “Archibald has offered to take me to the garden.”

Rose stood erect and glanced at him. “I am sure Mr. Craven has more pressing matters to handle this afternoon.”

“He has asked me, Rose. And I am going.” Lily met her sister’s eyes calmly. “Richard will be with us.”

Rose nodded stiffly, turned sharply and went out, the door shutting firmly behind her. Lily sighed and turned her face to Archie. “Will you help me up?”

L&A: 12

2007-10-25T21:10:00.000-04:00

The carriage ride home was smooth, and Lily was grateful. Even though her ankle was healing well, it was still sore, and her body was still weak. She hadn’t regained the stamina she’d had before her illness, and she was looking forward to some walks in her garden to restore her.

“I can’t wait to get to the garden,” Lily murmured. “I miss it.”

“Ben went out yesterday. He said it looks like someone’s been taking care of it for you—magic-like, he said,” Richard volunteered.

“Well it wasn’t me,” Rose said in response to Lily’s arch look. “You know I’d never dig around in dirt, not even for you. And it wouldn’t please Father to have two of us ill.”

“I wonder who…that’s odd,” Lily mused. “I can’t think of anyone other than Ben who would care enough to do it.”

“I’ll take you out, if you’d like, later,” Richard said. “I can use the old open-top carriage, you’d be comfortable.”

“Don’t push her, Richard,” Rose said. “I’m sure she’ll want to rest.”

Lily held up her hand to stop the argument. “I do want to the see the garden. I’m sure it will do me good. I won’t stay out too long and there’s no chance of rain today. Look how glorious it is!”

“It’s May, Lil. It’s supposed to be this way,” Richard said wryly. Lily shot him a sharp glance and he laughed. “I’m kidding, Lil, kidding.”

The House soon came into view, and Lily sighed happily. “I’ve missed the house so. How are mother and father?”

“Mother is huge,” Richard said. “This is going to be a big baby.”

“Dr. Craven says she’s going to be fine,” Rose said calmly. “But we did move up the ball, so mother can attend and not have to worry about he baby.”

“She’ll go?” Lily was surprised. Her mother was one for following etiquette precisely, and a woman nine months pregnant did not go out in public, especially to balls.

“It’s my engagement party,” Rose said. “It’s at home. Of course mother will be there.”

Lily acquiesced as the carriage entered the drive. Mother and Father were waiting on the porch, and, after Rose and Richard had alighted, her Father reached in and lifted Lily off the seat, holding her in his arms as he carried her into the house.

“Father, really, I can walk with the crutches,” she pleaded.

“Not worth taking any chances,” he said as he settled her down on the parlor’s settee. “Just relax there.”

Neville and Archibald stood behind the Spencers’, Archie looking nervous at the prospect of talking to Lily’s father.

“How are you feeling, Lady Spencer?” Neville asked.

Emma patted her broad stomach. She had grown much stouter since Lily had left. “Oh, I’m fine. Still have an active one here. She can’t wait to get out.”

“Would you permit a quick examination?” Emma acquiesced and she and Rose followed Neville into the morning room adjacent to the formal parlor.

“Lord Spencer, there are some matters of business I would like to discuss with you,” Archie said rather formally. “Is this a convenient time?”

Lily’s father nodded. “Certainly, Mr. Craven. Richard can stay with Lily. Come to my study, we can talk there.” He winked at his children and took Archie to his private rooms.

Richard looked at his sister, who was pale and fidgeting with the fringe of her cloak. “Is he going to ask for you?”

“What?”

“Is Mr. Craven going to ask for you,” Richard repeated.

Lily looked at her younger brother, wide-eyed. “What gave you that idea?”

“He’s obviously attracted to you. And you are to him. It seems natural. Rose is engaged. You are eligible.”

“How did you learn all this?”

“I may be younger than you, but I am aware of how the marriage market works,” Richard said wryly. “I am not so stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were, but—“ she broke off, flustered. “No. He is not going to ask for my hand. He is going to ask Father is he can court me.”

Richard nodded. “So I shall play chaperone when I am home, and you will be engaged by Michaelmas.”

Lily blushed. “I hope so, Richard.”

“He seems to be a good man, Lily. Not overly social, but a good man. You’re not worried about his back?”

“What is it with you and Rose and his back? It is of no concern to me. I hardly notice.”

“Lily. I know you are a compassionate sort, but don’t say you ‘hardly notice.’ That’s impossible.”

“I don’t, Richard. I know that he is good to me. That’s all I see. And he is handsome.”

“Except for the back,” he muttered. “Peace, Lily. I’m just saying. It doesn’t diminish my liking of him. Just curious. You could marry anyone—and yet you choose one of the most reclusive, solitary men in the country.”

“If you knew him—“ she stopped, not wanting to betray his confidence. She was silent for a moment. “We spent much time together at the Manor while I recovered. He is a good man. I like him very much. I want to marry him.”

“Rose will have a fit.”

“Rose will be all right once she knows how much I love him,” Lily said blithely. “Besides, she will be in India. She can completely ignore my wedding if she chooses.”

“Rose will never ignore something as ostentatious as a wedding,” Richard said. The siblings laughed.

“But you like him, Richard?”

“Father and Mother do. I like what I’ve seen of him. You know him better than I do, and I’ve always trusted you. Not like Rose who falls for anyone with a large income and a nice waistcoat. I am looking forward to being your chaperone.” He executed a small bow with mock formality and Lily laughed.

“I hope Father gives his permission. Without that…” But Lily could not imagine her father denying her this. He had never denied her anything she really wanted. And she wanted to be Mrs. Archibald Craven more than anything.

L&A: 11

2007-10-25T20:54:00.001-04:00

The next day, a carriage from the Spencers’, carrying Rose and Richard, arrived to convey Lily home—she had finally recovered enough for Neville to set her free from the confines of the manor.

Archie met them at the door. “Good morning, Miss Spencer, Sir Richard.” Calling a barely fifteen year-old boy “Sir” seemed pretentious, but he knew that it was well-within the boy’s rights as his father’s heir.

Richard puffed up a bit at being called “sir”—something that didn’t happen often— and shook Archie’s hand exuberantly. “Thank you for taking care of our sister, Mr. Craven.”

“No trouble at all. Come in, please. The maids have laid tea in the parlor for us.” Richard smiled broadly, but Rose’s expression was tight as she closed her lace parasol and stepped over the threshold.

“What a lovely home, Mr. Craven,” Rose said.

“Thank you. Our father takes a great store in its upkeep,” Archie said as he led them into the parlor. Mrs. Medlock had laid the tea things out on the mahogany table, and Archie stepped forward to pull back Rose’s chair.
The party sat and Rose began to pour, as was her place. “I am glad that Lily will be coming home,” Richard said. “It hasn’t been the same without her.”

“We will be sorry to lose her,” Archie added. “She is quite a lovely young woman.”

Richard beamed. “I know. She is really quite fun, isn’t she? Always up to something.”

“I’m sure Lily hasn’t been up to anything while she’s been here, Richard,” Rose said sharply. “She’s been ill.” She began to nibble on a piece of shortbread.

“How is Eton?” Archie asked Richard. “I attended there myself.”

“Really?” Richard’s eyes lit up. “It’s smashing. I love it. Although I do miss everyone when I’m away. Especially my hunter. You must come round and hunt with me sometime, when the season is here.”

“I will, if you’ll have me.”

“ ‘Course I will. And Mother and Father are planning a ball in two weeks—you and your brother must come,” Richard said exuberantly. He reached into his coat and removed a thick cream envelope. “Here’s the proper invitation; mother insisted you have one. She wants to announce Rose’s engagement before she has the baby.”

“You are engaged, Miss Spencer?”

Rose blushed slightly. “Yes, Mr. Craven. To Captain Alfred Lennox. He’s a member of the Army.”

“He’s stationed in India,” Richard said, awe in his voice. “I can’t wait to go and visit you there, Rose.”

“When do you set out?”

“Not for a few months after the wedding. We are planning to wed in December.”

“Congratulations.” Rose nodded and smiled. When she’s in an agreeable mood, she’s actually quite pleasant to be around, Archie thought. I wonder how often that happens.

There was a rap at the door and the party stood. Neville was escorting Lily, who had mastered the crutches, into the parlor. A huge smile took over her face as she saw her family and Richard ran to her.

“Don’t knock her down!” Rose scolded as she went to her siblings. “Lily.” She kissed her sister’s cheeks demurely, but Archie could see how attached she was to her. “I’ve missed you.”

“And I you—both of you,” Lily said. “It will be nice to be home.”

“You cannot allow your sister to do too much,” Neville cautioned as he guided her to the table, where she gingerly sat upon a chair. Archie fetched a small stool for her ankle and Lily smiled shyly as he adjusted it. No one knew of their intended courtship, not even Neville.

“I will watch her very closely,” Rose said, giving Lily a stern glance. Lily rolled her eeys playfully. “We don’t need you injured again, not so close to Mother’s time.”

“And you must dance at Rose’s ball, Lily,” Richard said. “No one dances like you do—sorry, Rose, but it’s true—and I must lead you out.”

Lily smiled at her brother’s impetuousness. “I am sure Miss Lily will be ready to dance with you by the ball,” Neville said. “As long as she is careful in the meantime.”

“Oh, I will be.”

“Shall we escort you home?” Neville asked. “I have sent for our horses, Archie. I thought you would wish to accompany us.”

He nodded. “I would. I must speak to Lord Spencer about some business matters.” The Craven brothers stood. “Seward will see you to the coach,” Archie said, gesturing for the butler to come forward as the brothers departed for the porch.

“It is a shame to lose her,” Neville said as they mounted their horses. Lily was carefully handed in to the carriage by Rose, and Richard grasped her arms firmly as he lifted her in. Her blue cape flapped about her in the breeze and made her look small.

“She’s a neighbor. We will see each other often. We have been invited to Rose’s engagement ball,” Archie said.

“Are you going?”

“You are surprised?”

“As I should be. You haven’t been to a ball since London.”

“Times change, Neville. Didn’t you say I should be more social?”

He nodded. “But I didn’t think it would happen so quickly.”

“It has. I find the Spencers to be a very agreeable family. And as we must have good business relations, it wouldn’t hurt to have good personal relations as well.”

Neville nodded slowly, thinking of Lily and the personal relations he had in mind for her. “Absolutely, Archie. Absolutely.”

L&A: 10

2007-09-10T18:27:00.000-04:00

The medications prescribed by Neville’s teachers proved effacious, and soon Lily was doing much better, even with eating, which greatly pleased Neville. “I’ll be able to send you home soon,” he said as he took her pulse one morning.

She smiled. “I’ll be glad of that. I’m sure Rose is going crazy without me there.”

Neville laughed. “She is. She wants you home as soon as possible.”

“How’s mother?”

“Doing well. She’s due any day now; your presence at home will be a help. Rose is a bit squeamish.”

“She always has been,” Rose said as Neville began to pack up his medical paraphernalia. “Wasn’t there when Richard was born, although I was fascinated. Father wouldn’t let me watch.”

“This time you can be right there,” Neville promised. “I’ll need a hand.”

“Doesn’t Archibald help?”

Neville guffawed. “Archie? Help? No. He says he’s had enough medical experience. He doesn’t need to see more. Can’t say I blame him,” he added as an afterthought.

“Oh.” Lily seemed disappointed. Surely, Neville thought, she doesn’t want him there? She can’t be attracted to him.

“I would say, provided you don’t have any further problems, I can let you go home in two days. Is that all right with you?”

Lily nodded, smiling broadly. “That would be wonderful.”

“Excellent. Do you need anything?”

She shook her head, and Neville stood. “I will have lunch sent in soon.”

“I’m becoming spoiled. Lucy’s fare is something I’ll miss.”

“Archie says your cook is no slouch.”

“No. But she’s not Lucy.”

Neville grinned. “Try to sleep a bit, before lunch.” She nodded and Neville left her. But she had no intention of sleeping—she’d been doing far too much of that lately. It was a lovely day, and the large grounds of the Manor beckoned to her. She was sure she could get dressed and head out for awhile before anyone noticed she was gone. This was a cavernous house—she wouldn’t be missed.

She timidly got out of bed, aware of her still wrapped ankle, and knew she’d have to use the crutches Neville had given her; the cast wouldn’t come off for another few weeks. But she was determined to get dressed.

Her legs were weak from the time she’d spent in bed, and getting into a fresh dress required an enormous amount of energy. She found a stocking and one of her shoes, and attempted to maneuver herself to the door without drawing unwarranted attention to herself and her movements.

She propped the door open and swung through it, glad that her room was on the first floor and that she knew where the scullery entrance was, so she could go out there and hopefully not run into Seward or someone else in the main hallway.

“Sneaking out?”

She turned, stumbled on the crutches and her body tipped toward the floor; Archibald sprang forward and caught her. “I don’t think you’re quite ready for this, yet.”

She turned crimson. “I want to go out…being stuck in here all day is not the most appealing thing.”

“I know,” he said. “But I don’t think you’re quite steady enough. Maybe I could take you out later? I know we’ve got a chair hereabouts…I just have to find it…”

“I don’t want to put you out,” she said, as she tried to right herself. “I’m sure you’re busy—“

“This place can run itself. And I know what it’s like to be stuck in here.”

“All right,” she said, trying not to sound too eager. “After lunch?”

He nodded. “Which should be soon, I imagine. Do you want to go back to your room? I don’t think we want Neville to find out about your escapade.”

“Probably not. He’d tie me down until he wanted to release me, I think.”

“A tyrant, that one,” Archibald said as he helped Lily with the crutches and the maneuvering back to her room. Gingerly she sat in a chair, her ankle propped up on an overstuffed ottoman.

“How have you been?” Archibald asked.

“Well. I think Neville will let me go home soon.”

The news sent a strange sensation through him. It would be odd not to see her everyday.

“I will miss not seeing you everyday,” he confessed.

“Is there a reason you can’t see me everyday?”

He paused. “Wouldn’t that be rather…forward?”

“We’re neighbors. I don’t think it would be too forward. And I’m not engaged. It wouldn’t be improper.”

“Your father…”

“What about him?”

“I don’t know if he’d approve. I’m older than you are. You’re barely out.”

“My father likes anyone his girls like. Well, who I like. I have better judgment than Rose.” She smiled impishly.

Archibald’s head whirled. It sounded as if she was suggesting he court her. Openly. He hadn’t done that for years. But she was encouraging him.

“Do you wish to be courted by me, Lily?”

She dropped her head and stared into her lap. She was not supposed to be this forward. She knew that. Archie was supposed to ask her and she was supposed to wait. But she didn’t know if he ever would. And she didn’t want to go home without some sort of understanding.

She looked up, eyes wide. “You are a good man. Kind, considerate. I feel…attached to you. Attracted to you.” She met his gaze. “Yes. I do wish to be courted by you.”

He leaned forward and picked up her hands, gently holding them in his own. Their gazes held. “I would like to court you, Miss Spencer. If you will have me.”

“I will, Mr. Craven.” The formality felt stiff on her tongue.

“I will speak with your father, once you have returned home,” he said. Her hands were soft and small in his and he could feel her pulse.

The moment was broken by the arrival of a maid with lunch. She set the tray down between them and left the room silently, although Archie was sure she had noted the feel in the air.

He began to serve Lily some of the soup and small sandwiches, and she sat there quietly, demurring to his actions. “Thank you,” she said, once he had begun to eat himself. “Not just for this…for everything.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

L&A: 9

2007-08-28T20:07:00.000-04:00

Neville road across the fields to the Spencers’ house, eschewing the well-kept roads for the longer route. He needed to think.

He was attracted to Lily, that was undeniable. Who wouldn’t be? She had freshness, youth, and a vitality that he didn’t see in too many girls. He had wanted to marry for years, but had put it off as he established his medical practice. Lily was just the kind of girl he wanted to marry. She was, perhaps, a bit headstrong, but he was fairly sure she would calm down after they were married. Running a household as big as the Manor would take up enough of her time. As the youngest son, he should be looking for a place of his own, since Archie would inherit the Manor once their father died. But he was certain his brusque, solitary older brother would never marry, and he would need someone to run the household for him. Perhaps he could talk Archie into allowing some more social events at the house—in fact, any social events would be more than they had now. He missed the activity of their life in London. Perhaps Lily would like to live in town, after a few years. He could certainly afford a house there if his practice kept expanding, or if he took up his old professor’s offer to join him at the Royal Hospital. With a wife like Lily, they would certainly be among the crème of any society. Her name and our money would make a formidable alliance. And she is quite beautiful.

His arrival at the Spencers’ house these days brought a great deal of excitement, since he was their only contact with Lily. He was still not allowing them to visit her, on the grounds of her being contagious and potentially dangerous to Lady Spencer and her unborn child.

“How is she?” Rose asked as Neville began examining her mother. “I wish I could see her.”

“In due time, Rose,” Lady Spencer said from the couch.

“She’s doing better,” Neville said, his hands moving slowly across her Ladyship’s taut abdomen. “You are doing quite well, Lady Spencer. Although this baby seems to be breech...positioned bottom-first,” he explained to Rose.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“Hopefully the baby will turn about before he—sorry, she—decides to appear,” he said, remembering Lady Spencer’s certainty that the baby was a girl.

“And if not?”

Neville shook his head. “We’re going to think good thoughts,” he said, standing and smiling. “Don’t worry, Lady Spencer. I’m sure we’ll be fine. Not too much longer now.”

“Any day, I imagine,” she said as Rose helped her to a sitting position.

“I believe you’re right. And remember to call for me as soon as you feel anything,” he said.

“Of course.”

“Mother’s got the servants on constant alert,” Rose said. “She’s even posted Charles outside her room at night, so he can come straight away.”

Neville chuckled. “Anything to report? Complaints? Anything?”

Emma shook her head. “No. But I am quite anxious for her to be born.”

Neville nodded. “That’s understandable. Not too much longer.”

“When can Lily come home?” she asked.

Neville picked up his bag and adjusted his glasses. “Soon, I hope. A week at least. She’s weak and needs to be eating a bit more before I’ll let her come back.” Emma nodded, but Rose paled. “Don’t worry. We’re taking very good care of her. She’ll be fine. Archibald has madder her recovery his top priority.”

Emma smiled and Rose tried to hide a grimace. “I’m sure he’s doing an excellent job. He does a very good job keeping the Manor running while your father recovers,” Lady Spencer said.

Neville’s face went blank and he nodded curtly. “Yes. Well we don’t know how much hope there is of that.”

“I’m so sorry,” Emma said. “He is a wonderful man. I miss him. He would come to visit often when the girls were small.”

“I remember,” Rose said. “He brought us those china dolls, once. From Paris.”

“Yes,” Emma said, smiling. “And he brought Richard the pony!”

“He loved that pony,” Rose added, laughing. “He rode it every day, rain or shine…until he got too big for it.”

Neville laughed. “Yes, I remember seeing him on it. An excellent rider.” He headed for the door of the parlor. “Well, good day, ladies. I will tell Lily you are doing well.”

“Please, let us know when we can see her,” Rose pleaded. “I miss her.”

“You miss having her to torment,” Emma chided. Rose glowered.

“I will let you know the moment she is recovered sufficiently,” Neville said. He tipped his hat to them and let himself out, then headed to the village.

* * *

Lily paged through the copy of King Lear that was left on the bedside table. It was one of her favorite plays, and she found comfort in the familiar words, their constant rhythm. “ ‘I cannot heave my heart into my mouth…’” she said, feeling the taste of the words on her tongue, remembering the time she and Rose and Richard had acted out various Shakespeare scenes for their parents in the morning room.

“ ‘ I love thee—‘”

“ ‘According to my bond, no more, no less.’” She looked up, startled, as Archibald entered the room, finishing the lines. “ ‘Why have my sisters husbands if they say they love you all?’”

She smiled broadly and he was glad to see the color and animation in her face. “You have quite a memory,” she said.

“I love Shakespeare. Especially Lear.”

“My siblings and I used to act out scenes for our parents when we were children. Our governess made us memorize several passages, but Lear was always a favorite.”

“And you were Cordelia?” He asked, sitting down near her.

She nodded. “Of course. I am the youngest daughter, after all.”

“I do not think that Rose is as fiendish as Regan and Goneril,” he said.

“No,” she agreed, “but she is not exactly all sweetness and light. I am too much of a tomboy for her.”

Archibald laughed. “Yes, I can see that.”

“She fears for my matrimonial prospects.”

“As Neville fears—or feared—for mine. I imagine he’s given up by now.” He stood and removed a package from his coat pocket. “I thought you might like this.”

Intrigued, she unwrapped the brown paper parcel and removed a small book. “The Horticultural History of England,” she read. She turned the pages carefully; it was an older book, and some of the edges were a bit yellowed. “Mr. Craven, this is—“

“I saw it in a shop, thought you might like it,” he said. “I believe books and gardens to be your great passions.”

She nodded, a smile spreading slowly across her face. “You are right. This is wonderful.” She ran her fingers lightly over the cognac-colored cover, and smiled. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Gently he laid his hand atop hers, and their eyes locked. Neither of them moved. Suddenly Lily grimaced.

“Is it time for more—“ she began to ask, then coughed.

Archie poured some of the bottled medicine, conveniently located on the night table, into a glass. “Here,” he said, pressing it to her lips. “You should’ve told us it was time for more. I don’t want you to be in pain.”

She swallowed quickly, the coughing dying away. “I don’t want to be a nuisance, and I didn’t feel that bad.”

“I don’t care. You should have it as soon as—“

She raised her hand. “Archibald, really. I’m fine. I’m not as fragile as you take me for.”

“You should rest,” he said, standing and reaching for a fresh washcloth. He dipped it in the basin, wrung it out, and placed it gently on her forehead.

“Thank you,” she said as she closed her eyes.

“Once you’re rested, I’ll bring you some paper and a pen, so you can write your mother.” She nodded and he stroked her hand for a few minutes, until she was truly asleep.

Once she is strong enough, I will take her to the garden. That will help her, maybe more than any of these tonics Neville can turn out, he thought. He vowed to go again tomorrow morning, to continue the progress he had made the other day.

L&A: 8

2007-08-28T20:06:00.002-04:00

The next morning, before Lily was awake, Neville met his older brother in the main hall as he was putting on his heavy cloak, preparing to go out.

“Where are you off to?” Neville was shocked to see him anywhere but the East Room, keeping watch over Lily.

“That’s my business,” he said evasively. “If Lily asks, tell her I’ll be sure to be back by luncheon.”

“That’s hours from now. Archie, what are you doing?”

“It’s private,” he said, more sharply now. “Don’t worry about me.” He swung open the main door and Neville saw one of the stable hands holding Orpheus’s reins. Neville shook his head and went down the hallway to check on Lily.

* * *

Lily was right to fear for her garden; the storm had made a fearful mess, and even with the help of a few of the Manor’s best gardeners it was likely to take some work to revive it. It was obvious no one had been there since Lily had left it a few days ago.

Archie was not much familiar with the workings of gardens, but he had always found them beautiful and had often watched his mother tend to the massive grounds at Misselthwaite when he was a boy. He opened the small tackle box full of tools and began to work on the roses in the far corner while the others took the more fragile plants.

Mrs. Craven had often asked Archie to prune her roses, since his hands were smaller and therefore could get in the prickly bushes better than hers. He had since grown, and it was harder to prune the bushes than he remembered, especially since he had no gloves and the stems seems exceptionally resistant to any cutting. Still, he made the best attempts he could, knowing that he was no gardener, as Lily seemed to be instinctively. Her father had been right to give her this little plot.

The roses took longer to prune than he’d imagined, and by the time he was done with the modest group the sun was high. Straightening, he turned to evaluate their progress. The few men he had brought with him had cleared the debris left by the storm and replaced some of the loose soil around the flower beds. Tree branches that had fallen had been removed, and even the benches had been cleaned of leaves and petals.

He drew his pocket watch and realized that Neville should’ve returned from town by now. His brother’s religious tendencies didn’t both Archie as much as they amused him; he had given up on all of that long ago, when their mother died. Neville, however, still clung to their Anglican upbringing, even though Archie was fairly sure it was out of habit and not inner devotion. And it couldn’t hurt business, he thought sardonically.

After rounding up the crew he’d taken out, he rode back to the Manor, hoping that lunch was ready and that Lily was doing better. He didn’t relish the idea of Mrs. Medlock watching her while both he and Neville were gone, but he supposed that wasn’t to be helped. He certainly wouldn’t have been able to talk Neville out of church-going. And at least one of them should be on familiar terms with the Almighty.

* * *

Lunch was served by Lucy in Lily’s room, with Archibald and Neville finishing their lamb joints before pressing Lily to take some of the chicken broth Lucy had prepared by the kettleful. Neville sat near the bed as Lily slowly took the soup from the shallow bowl, which was precariously balanced on a wooden tray.

“It’s good,” she said tentatively as she sipped the broth. “But I’m not very hungry.”

“That’s to be expected, but you have to eat,” Neville said, somewhat sharply. Archie caught Lily’s eye and shrugged. Neville was in full-fledged doctor character, and would not hear a word of contradiction against his plan of treatment.

She swallowed another spoonful. “How’s my mother? And Rose?”

“They’re both fine, or at least they were yesterday. I’ll be going over tomorrow to examine your mother,” Neville said as he fidgeted with the silver buttons of his waistcoat.

“Is Rose helping? I know she can be reluctant.”

“She’s been fine. Very anxious about you.”

“I wish they could visit,” she said quietly.

Neville shook his head adamantly. “No. You may still be contagious, I don’t even want Archie—“

“Perhaps you could write a letter?” Archie broke in. He didn’t need Neville blabbering on about his health. Lily looked sharply at Archie as if she’d detected the sudden interjection was meant to cover something more. “Then Rose and your mother could know how you get on. I could take dictation if you don’t feel capable of writing.”

“Perhaps I could manage a pencil,” she said, smiling at him. “I make a mess with my pens even in a normal state.” She laughed. “That’s a lovely idea. Thank you, Mr. Craven.”

Neville stood. “I’ll bring in some supplies. I will take the letter with me tomorrow.” He headed for the door. “I’m going to get your next draught. Finish that,” he said sternly, indicating the half-full bowl.

She nodded. Archie took the chair that Neville had vacated. “You may call me Archibald, you know. We do not need to stand on formality.”

“Are you sure?” She didn’t want to be presumptive.

He waved her concerns away with his hand. “Positive. Mr. Craven is my father.”

“It does seem to suit you, as well,” she said. “You can be quite formal.”

Archie was quiet for awhile, and she was afraid she had offended him. “I’m sorry—“

“I have always had much responsibility in the manor,” he said. “My father has never been in good health and I was brought up, from a very young age, to know and execute the responsibilities and duties that fall to the Manor’s owner.

“I don’t socialize much with others, partially because I was so busy when I was young. I don’t enjoy parties or balls. I never have. Your sex does not look very favorably upon me, Lily. I’ve known that since I was young. In many ways, having so much work to do is a blessing. Formality is the only way I can deal with people, and since I do so much work for my father, the only interactions I have are often ones of business.”

“What happened?” He knew that she was obliquely referring to his health.

He shrugged. “We don’t know. The hunchback began to manifest itself as I grew. There’s no treatment. I’ve often thought it’s the reason Neville entered medical school. Mother worried constantly, and Neville took up that mantle once she died. It causes some tension between us,” he admitted. “I won’t pretend pride and vanity haven’t had something to do with my love of solitude.”

“Is that why you went to London?”

He laughed derisively. “No. That was father’s plan, to get me married off. He thought I’d have a better chance in London, more women, maybe some desperate girl who was in her last season and wanted the wealth and prominence that a marriage to me would supply. We aren’t titled, but we have more land than many of the gentry, and my inheritance, as I’m sure you know, is not insubstantial. He wanted me to have an heir to the place. He knows Neville doesn’t understand it the way I do, and that he has never really loved the Manor.

“Neville wanted to go to London for school, so he supported the move. Father needed to settle some business. We stayed two years. The first year was essentially a loss—father was very ill, and I had to run the accounts.”

“And no desperate debutantes in the second?” she asked, aiming for levity.

He hesitated. “One. Amy Moore. Although she wasn’t desperate. It was her first season, and I was amazed that, as pretty as she was, she seemed to have chosen me. Her family owned land in Hertforshire, her father was a naval captain, there was talk of an elevation to the peerage. I was happy. I thought she was, too. I was planning a proposal.

“One night she happened to see me as I was taking off my coat. You know the season in London is during the fall and winter,” he said, “ and I often wore several layers of clothing when dancing, to attempt to mask the hump. It was fairly successful. Of course I never waltzed,” he said, “but the set dances often worked to my advantage. As did the low light of the ballrooms, and the sheer number of people one sees at Almack’s.

“She had accompanied me home. I was going to introduce her to my father. Seward was helping me off with my overcoat, and then my jacket, and she seemed to realize exactly what it….what I…looked like.” His voice broke and he settled it before continuing. “She pulled me into a side parlor and asked me what had happened. If it would affect our children. I didn’t know. Who did? There was no family history of it before me. No one knew.

“She said I had tricked her. She had wondered why I was as old as I was and never married. Now she knew. And she said that all the money in the treasury wouldn’t convince her to marry me.” He closed his eyes, sighed, and continued, his voice heavy. “She left immediately. I never saw her again. Of course, she told all the other ladies of her acquaintance, and London was ruined for me.”

Lily’s heart cried out for him, for the intense pain the rejection of the pretty Miss Moore had brought him. Fortunately she didn’t know the girl, so she couldn’t incur Lily’s wrath. The hump was noticeable, certainly, but it wasn’t overwhelming. He had a handsome face and warm eyes. He was a consummate gentleman. She thought Amy and Rose must be of the same mold.

“I’m sorry,” she said, hating the inadequacy of the words. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

He was quiet for a few moments. “It was a long time ago. I’ve too much to do to think about the past.”

“I think you’ve thought about it quite a bit.”

He looked at her, as if she had unmasked him. “Why do you say so?”

“It’s clearly had an effect on you,” she said. “Everyone around here has always heard that you do not like company, or the society of others. I think it’s because of her.”

“She certainly didn’t help,” he said. “I’ll give you that. But I was always quiet.”

“Not all women are like her, Archibald.”

“That’s what Neville tells me. But then I imagine them to be the fortune hunters. As unpractical as it sounds, I would like to know I had other qualities besides money.”

“That’s not unpractical. We all want that,” Lily said.

“You will have many options, I assume, now that you are on the marriage market.” His voice was tinged with bitterness.

“And, like you, some will only see the material gain to be found in marrying me. Even though my father does not have as much money as before, there is still the name. The desire to be a member of the peerage.”

“Then we are in similar positions,” Archie said. “Although I think Neville is the only chance we have for any sort of matrimony. I’m getting too old for it.”

“You are not,” she said, as she took another sip of the broth. “Men have a much longer time for marriage than the women do. Rose was practically frantic when she wasn’t engaged by the time she was nineteen.”

“But she is soon to be married, isn’t she?”

Lily nodded. “To Albert Lennox—he’s a captain in the army. Stationed in India, wants to move up in the ranks and then come back here and settle down.”

“Rose is going to India?” Archie didn’t know much about Lily’s older sister, but he knew she liked her comforts. “She will be in for a surprise.”

Lily shrugged. “Rose wants to be married, and Albert is a nice man. I don’t think she’s really thought about India yet. There are to stay here a few months while Albert gets a new assignment.”

“And you?”

“I don’t know,” she said, toying with the spoon. “Marriage, I suppose. Helping mother with the new baby. Trying to stay out of trouble. I’m not nearly as ‘marriagable’ as my sister, or at least my family says.”

“I think you have many fine qualities,” Archie said, trying to keep his voice even. If she showed any interest in him, he would…

She smiled shyly. “Thank you. Although you don’t know me very well.”

“I can tell a lot about people quickly,” he said.

“You must be able to, given that for most of our acquaintance I’ve been unconscious, delirious, or otherwise out of my senses,” she said. Her wit was endearing.

The door opened and Neville returned, carrying another draught. “Here you are,” he said, handing her the glass. He eyes the soup bowl suspiciously. “Not much eating going on there.”

“I’m sorry, we’ve been talking,” Archie said, standing. “I should leave you,” he said to her as she drank Neville’s concotion. Neville picked up the bedtray and set it by the door.

“Will you stay, until I fall asleep? It is still very odd being here alone,” she said to Archibald. Relieved to have been asked, he nodded.

Neville stood awkwardly at the threshold. “Well I’ll head over to the House, then,” he said. “Go check on your mother.”

“I will try to have a letter for them tomorrow,” Lily said as she closed her eyes. “Thank you, Dr. Craven.”

L&A: 7

2007-08-28T20:06:00.001-04:00

“We usually pay her about a pound a sennight, a bit more, perhaps, if there’s fresh meat included,” Seward said as he sat across from Archie in the large study. “Lucy keeps the records of what she brings to the kitchen.” Archie was examining the kitchen ledger, which noted the Manor’s fees paid to Mrs. Sowerby.

“Let’s make that two pounds, shall we? We can afford it, and Lucy does a good job running the kitchen. I notice our spending has dropped since she’s been acquired.” Seward nodded.

“She is a very thrifty cook. Quite a good addition. I will make the change immediately. Do you need anything else?” Archie shook his head and Seward stood.

“How is Miss Lily?” he asked before he left.

Archie put down his pen. “I hope she’s better. When I left her Dr. Craven had just given her the first dose of the new drugs.”

“I am sure she will improve.” Seward nodded to Archie and left him to the books.

But Archie couldn’t concentrate. He kept thinking of Lily in contrasting images—her hair blown about in the storm; the way she looked the first time he met her, dirt on her blue gown and her eyes bright; the way she lay so still upon the bed, and how she had cried out for him not to leave her.

She’s just a girl, he said, trying to train his thoughts on the Manor’s massive account books. He owed it to his father to keep the Manor running as smoothly as he had, all these years. “A wonderful landlord,” Mrs. Sowerby had called him.

She pushed the ever-present thoughts of Lily from his mind and focused on the next ledger, examining income in and expenses out for the next month. But the numbers blurred in front of him and he slammed the book shut.

* * *

“How is she?” Archie asked, stumbling into the room. Neville was taking Lily’s pulse and intently watching the sweeping hands of his pocket watch.

He turned toward his brother, his expression relieved. “Much better. The fever is down, and her pain has subsided.”

Archie let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

“That’s a name I haven’t heard you mention in awhile,” Neville said, standing. “Did you eat?”

He nodded. “And did some of the books. Lucy’s got a wonderful soup in the kitchen, if you’re hungry.”

“Excellent,” Neville said, indicating the table as he rolled his shirtsleeves and stood. “I’m going to eat. Now that you’ve been out of here for a bit, I suppose you can stay with her. If she wakes, call me.”

“Surely,” he said.

“Speaking of God,” Neville said, a bit cautiously, “I was planning on attending services tomorrow.”

Archie nodded absently.

“Do you wish to join me?”

Archie looked at his brother. “Have I ever wanted to join you at church, Neville?”

“No. But I thought it might be good for you.”

“I can decide what’s good for me. I am engaged tomorrow morning,” he said, his voice heavy with finality.

After Neville left, Archie resumed his seat on the bed and took up Lily’s hand, which was blessedly cool and soft. Her face was relaxed and she looked like she was sleeping peacefully for the first time. At least she wasn’t tossing about and crying out.

Her eyes opened suddenly and focused on him—clearly focused, not through a haze of fever as they had earlier. “Mr. Craven…” she said, licking her lips slowly. Her mouth felt parched. Archie stood to pour her a glass of water from a nearby basin.

“Thank you,” she said after he had helped her take a sip. “I’m so thirsty.”

“You’ve been running a high fever,” Archie said. “I’m not surprised. But I would imagine it’s best to go slowly while you drink that.” Lily was taking big gulps of water. “Dr. Craven has been giving you some medication that should help you get better.”

“I feel so small,” she said softly, closing her eyes briefly. “Like I’ve shrunk.”

“You haven’t eaten in days,” he said. “But you’ll be all right now.”

She coughed weakly and he braced himself for another paroxysm, but it didn’t come. “That hurt,” she said weakly.

“It will. Neville says you have pneumonia.”

She sighed. “Mother will be so worried…”

“Don’t think about that. We’ve seen messages to the house,” he said soothingly. “You will stay here until you are able to go home. We can take care of you very well.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble….” she murmured.

Archie waved his hand. “Trouble! No. You are a neighbor, it is our duty to help each other. We couldn’t have left you there, to freeze or worse, in that storm.”

Lily wanted to think it was more than duty that made Archibald so insistent that she stay. “Father will make me give up the garden, I know it.”

“No,” he said. “You’ll be back in no time. I’m sure Ben is taking care of it.”

“I hope so. I don’t want it to die…all of the work.” She coughed again, harder this time.

“Don’t talk anymore; you need to rest. Are you hungry?”

She shook her head. “Not really.” Archie didn’t force the subject, although he knew Neville would.

“Have you stayed with me all this time?” She asked, looking at him with a quiet intensity.

He nodded, almost shyly. “You asked me to. So I did.”

“Thank you, Archie,” she said, lapsing into familiarity. “I knew someone was here…”

“I wasn’t going to leave you alone,” he said quietly. “I know what that’s like.”

Her look pierced him, and their gazes held for a few moments. “Yes,” she said softly. “I think you do.”

He smiled slightly and kissed her hand. “You had better rest. You’re tired.”

She nodded. “I am.” Another cough, but fainter, and she leaned back against the pillows. She closed her eyes, gathering strength, and looked at him again. “You are quite an unusual man, Archibald Craven,” she said as she closed her eyes.

L&A: 6

2007-08-28T20:05:00.000-04:00

“How bad is it, Dr. Craven?” Emma’s eyes were huge and pleading, and her hands rested on her large stomach. Her husband rubbed her shoulders reassuringly as they sat on the sofa, facing Dr. Craven.

He knit his hands together. “She has pneumonia. That is quiet serious, Lady Spencer. But she is of good disposition, and she is strong. She should pull through just fine. I am not sure how long it will take…and hopefully there will be no complications. I am wiring to London straightaway for some additional supplies and to consult my old professors.”

“May I see her?” Rose asked, perching anxiously on the edge of her chair.

“You heard Dr. Craven,” her father said sharply. “She’s contagious. And I need you here to help with your mother.”

“Your time is close, Lady Spencer,” Dr. Craven said. “Rose will most certainly be needed her, when the time comes. Of course I shall come to assist you as soon as I hear word.”

Emma nodded. “Oh, poor Lily…”

“Try not to worry. Her ankle will knit quite well, I think, and, like I said, she is young and healthy. My brother is keeping watch with her and he is to send word for me if anything should happen whilst I am out today.”

“You are not going to London, then?” Lord Spencer asked.

Neville shook his head. “I will wire, and see what the response is. I am hopeful that one of my colleagues can come up to assist me.”

Lord Spencer nodded and Neville stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I must be off to the apothecary, to see what he has in stock, before I wire.”

Emma nodded and Lord Spencer shook Neville’s hand. “I will escort you out,” he said, leaving Rose with her mother.

“Please, do everything you can,” he said quietly as Neville’s horse was brought around. “Lily is her mother’s favorite…”

“Of course I will,” Neville said, not adding that she was a favorite of his, too. “All possible methods will be tried.”

“Is she comfortable? Is she in pain?” Her father asked haltingly.

“No. I’m giving her draughts to help her sleep and relieve the pain,” Neville said. “That is quite foremost in my mind right now. And Archibald—my brother—insists on it.”

“Good man.” Neville took the reins of his horse and tipped his hat. “I will send a messenger tonight, to keep you abreast of developments,” he assured Lord Spencer before he rode off.

* * *

By evening, Neville had still not returned and Archie was growing frantic. He had sent several servants off with messages, but to no avail. Lily’s fever had shot up, and she was in intense pain, moaning and crying out. Archie could barely stand it.

Mrs. Medlock bustled in, carrying a Chinese bowl of ice water and a linen cloth. Archie set them on the table next to him and began bathing Lily’s brow with the rose-scented water.

“Anything else, sir?” She asked. Archie shook his head and she left the room quietly.
Archie squeezed Lily’s hand and continued to wipe her forehead, wringing out the cloth and adding cool water. If only Neville was here! If only he knew what to do. His Oxford education had not included medicinal courses.

“Neville’s coming,” he said to her. “Just try to hold on…”

If only her fever would break! If only Neville would come with the right medications…

Minutes passed; Archie didn’t know how many. His movements became a ballet of dampening her forehead, wringing out the cloth, rewetting it, and replacing it on her feverish face. But the pain was more disturbing to him; he felt like he could do something, however rudimentary, against the fever. But he was powerless against her pain, and he hated to see her tortured by its relentlessness.

Is it possible I love her? He thought. I hardly know her. And yet I would do anything to make her open her eyes and smile at me. I would do anything to relieve her of this pain.

He hadn’t had feelings for a woman since Amy Moore in London, so many years ago. But her betrayal and callousness of heart had hardened him toward women. Yet somehow this girl had slipped through the barriers he’d erected. Was it her youth? The fact that she was clearly free of any sort of malice, and seemed incapable of deception? He didn’t know, and didn’t know if he wanted to know, right then. All he knew was that she could not die. He would do everything he could to prevent it.

Neville burst in, carrying several packages and a bottled container. “Move,” he said, pushing Archie aside as he poured the draught into Lily’s mouth. “Damn the post.”

“Is that what kept you?”

“I received a wire saying I’d receive the packages immediately,” Neville said, opening the boxes as he spoke. “‘Immediately’ is apparently not immediate in London.”’

“What happened?”

“The others agree--pneumonia. They sent me the best things they had.” He examined the bottles and laid out several syringes. “These will help.”

“She’s been in terrific pain…”

Neville wiped off the top of the one of the glass bottles with alcohol and prepared a syringe. “This will help. It’s a relatively new drug…” He injected the solution into Lily’s upper arm. Archie cringed but Lily didn’t move. “I’ll give her some more in a few hours. I’ll have to re-read the letters to make sure I do this right.” Neville placed the articles on the bedside table and studied his brother’s face. “Have you eaten all day?”

“A little,” he said absently.

Neville grabbed his brother’s arm and hauled him out of the room. “Listen,” he said firmly once they were in the hall, “you must get some rest. You have to eat something. Go for a ride, read, do the books, I don’t care. But you have to get out of that room. It’s not doing her any good.”

“I promised her, Neville,” he said pleadingly.

“And I will stay with her until you get back. I am sure she will understand.” Neville didn’t add that Lily would be too groggy from the medications to even notice Archie’s absence. “Pneumonia is highly contagious.”

Archie sided and rubbed his temples. He was tired. And he knew the estate’s books needed calculated. “All right, Neville. But I won’t be long.”

Neville smiled. “Good. Go to the kitchen and have Lucy prepare you some food, straightaway.”

Archie nodded and headed for the kitchen area, bypassing the enormous dining room where he and Neville usually ate.

“Good evening, Lucy,” he said as he entered the dark kitchen, illuminated by the roaring kitchen fire and a few gas lamps. The small cook jumped and gave a hasty curtsy.

“Master Craven,” she said. “I had no idea—will you be wanting—can I get you anything?”

He waved his hand and took a stool near the high countertop. “Just whatever’s about, Lucy. Neville insists I eat.”

“A good thing he does, too,” a voice said from the corner. “I’ve heard about Miss Lily, poor thing! And you must be sure to take care of yourself.”

“Susan was just dropping off this week’s vegetables,” Lucy explained. “I’ve got a nice soup going, and some bread.”

“That’s fine, Lucy,” Archie said. “So you’re Mrs. Sowerby?” he asked the stout, red-haired woman.

She nodded proudly. “That I am. Mrs. Medlock said you needed a new woman to help supply produce. I don’t have much, but my garden does produce some wonderful vegetables, it does, and I’m always happy to contribute to the Manor. Your father’s always been a wonderful landlord. How is he?”

Archie was taken aback by the woman’s gregariousness. “He’s…he’s in London. Staying with relatives.” It was the story they had agreed upon before he’d left.

Susan nodded. “Good for him to get away. Although I’d wager Ramsgate or Bath would prove more restorative?”

“It’s not the season yet…perhaps in the autumn.”

Susan nodded. “I went to Bath as a girl, a maid to a wealthy family, and I’ve never forgotten it. Very lovely.” She turned to Lucy. “Well, if you need more, be sure to send word, and I’ll see what my children can gather.”

“Thank you, Susan,” Lucy said. “Would you like some soup?”

Mrs. Sowerby shook her head. “No, thank you kindly. We had a lovely rabbit stew this ev’ning, my husband brought home some great meat. I’ll bring you one of them once it’s been smoked, if you’d like.”

“That would be excellent. Miss Lily will need something substantial, once she’s up to eating again. So thin she is,” Lucy said.

“Poor girl. I’ll say a prayer for her at church tomorrow.” She stood, gathered her now empty baskets and curtsied to Archie. “Good e’ven, sir,” she said, going out the back door and into the foggy night.

“She’s quite chatty,” Archie said as Lucy placed a steaming bowl in front of him, along with a plate of bread and a mug of ale.

Lucy smiled. “She is, sir. But she grows some of the best vegetables in the country, and the meat she brings us is wonderful.”

“Do we pay her well enough?”

Lucy looked startled. “Well enough?”

Archie swallowed his mouthful of soup, which was hot and filling. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. “She has a husband, children. I want to make sure she is well-compensated.”

She nodded. “Seward would be the one to talk about that with, sir,” she said. “He pays her every sennight, I know that. How much though, I don’t know.”

“I will talk with him when I am though here. The books are in a dreadful state.”

“Miss Lily must take up a great deal of time, her being so ill. It’s only right that you are concerned.” Lucy turned to the produce on the countertop and began to wash it in the deep sink. “Will Mr. Neville’s medications be effective?”

“He hopes so. The London doctors suggested this course of treatment.”

“My brother had the pneumonia last year, but he’s all right now. A bit slower of step…his heart was affected, they said. But he is alive.” Lucy meant this to be consoling, but dread settled into Archie’s stomach like a stone. He hadn’t considered the thought of Lily impaired, unable to work in her garden, or ride her horse about the House’s grounds.

He finished his bowl of soup and stood. “Thank you for obliging me, Lucy. You may want to check with Neville, and see if he needs anything. He’s only just come home and probably didn’t eat a bite all day either.”

She nodded. “Anytime, sir.”

L&A: 5

2007-08-28T20:04:00.002-04:00

The fire Seward had built was certainly large, and Archie hoped they wouldn’t become uncomfortably warm. He didn’t want Lily to burn up, not after almost freezing.

She was tucked tightly under the sheets, and her face was still contorted with pain. Archie wanted to relieve it, but he didn’t know how. She looked so small and fragile in the big bed. Her breathing appeared labored, and her head tossed against the pillows, lips moving soundlessly.

Her hands were folded on top of the heavy quilt, and Archie ran his fingers along them, feeling her tiny bones and the softness of her skin. So pale and cold, still.

Don’t, he scolded himself. He settled into a parlor-chair nearest the bed and began to read one of the books haphazardly placed on the night table. King Lear. He found it a fitting choice. Reading always gave him pleasure, and he hoped it would take his mind of Lily.

It didn’t. He read disjointedly, a few pages at a time, but inevitably found his head drawn to her, watching her breathe, counting the seconds between her breaths. He began pacing the room like a great caged cat, going to and fro in front of the hearth, watching her.

The small mantle clock chimed the hour and Archie was surprised to notice it was two a.m. Time seemed both compressed and elongated. He had never felt this way before.

He managed to stop his pacing and sat on the bed, taking her hand. It seemed warmer now, but she was still distressed, her lips still moving, soundlessly pleading for something Archie couldn’t guess. He could tell she was not well.

“What could I do for you?” He asked softly. He felt her forehead; instead of the iciness that had worried him earlier, now it was becoming uncomfortably warm. If she developed a fever…

A fit of coughing shook her again, deep and violent. He moved to support her head; she was having trouble breathing as the spasm seized her and he gently lifted her torso, to ease her breathing. The coughing continued unabated, sending her body into spasms, and he held her tightly.

“It’s all right,” he said, trying to comfort her, but not knowing if she even heard him. He felt her body give way and he knew that the episode was over. He laid her back against the pillows, and her eyes opened.

For a moment their gazes locked. Archie couldn’t tear his eyes away. Her eyes were huge and glassy in her pale face. “Mr. Craven?” Her voice was a thin thread.

“You’re at the Manor,” he said. “You took quite a fall. You’re ill. Neville and I are taking care of you.”

“I—I feel so strange,” she said, closing her eyes briefly. “Like I’m not quite here…”

“Neville will be in to check on you shortly,” he said. “Don’t worry. You need to rest.”

“I’m so hot,” she said, fidgeting with the blankets. “Take these away—“

“No.” He said firmly, grabbing her hands. “You need to stay warm. You almost froze in the rain.”

“I’m too hot, take them off,” she said, her voice rising in agitation.

“Lily. No.” He knew that if she did have a fever she needed to stay covered to break it.

She acquiesced to his grip and licked her lips carefully. “I’m so tired…”

“Try to sleep. You need rest.”

She closed her eyes. “Stay with me…” she murmured. “Don’t leave…”

He nodded, swallowing hard, and continued holding her hands. He knew he’d have to summon Neville soon. But he was so enjoying this moment, the moment where a woman had asked him to stay with her, to comfort her, that he didn’t want it broken by the machinations of his younger brother. He wanted to bottle it and keep it safe somewhere. It was surely an illusion.

As he pondered her face, and her request, Neville entered the room and came behind him. “Sleeping?”

“She had a violent cough a few minutes ago,” Archie said, his eyes still on Lily’s face. “It was awful, Neville. Really horrible. I thought she’d shatter with the force of it.”

Carefully Neville listened to her lungs. “We’ll have to be cautious,” he said. “And she has a fever.”

Archie nodded. “I know. She wanted to throw off the blankets. I had to hold her hands so she wouldn’t.”

“Good. That will just make the situation worse.” Neville rubbed his eyes. “I’ll have to wire London tomorrow. This case may be more complicated than I thought.”

“She’ll be all right though, won’t she?” Archie turned his eyes on his brother.

Neville hesitated. “I hope so. I think so. She’s young.”

Archie’s focus went back to Lily. “She asked me to stay with her, Neville.” His voice was so low that Neville wasn’t sure he’d heard him right.

“She did?”

He nodded. “She…she’s just…”

Neville nodded and placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I know. I will do my best, Archie. She’ll be fine. I’m going to prepare something for her fever, and give her something to help her sleep. I’ll be right back.” He slipped out of the room, but Archie didn’t notice.

* * *

Neville re-entered the East Room at dawn to find Archibald folded over on the bed, his hands still holding Lily’s, and his patient still tossing restlessly. He went and gently prodded his brother awake.

“Wh—Oh, Neville.” Archie sat up, wincing, and looked about him. “What time is it?”

“Dawn. Anything happen after we last spoke?” Neville asked as he began to examine Lily.

Archie stood and adjusted his clothing. “More coughing. It’s awful, Neville.” Neville listened to her chest again.

“I can hear it,” Neville said, straightening. “It’s probably pneumonia.”

Archie closed his eyes. Last winter pneumonia had killed many in London. “Are you sure?”

Neville nodded. “With all probability. She’s going to need more medications than what I have on hand. And perhaps another doctor.”

“London?”

Neville thought. “I’m not sure. I’ll wire this morning. Maybe I can get what I need from the village. If I do have to go to London, of course I will.” He looked at Lily, thinking. “Oh, Mrs. Medlock is having breakfast brought in here for us,” he added.

“Good,” Archie said absently.

“Lily should eat something,” Neville said. “If we can get her awake…”

“Perhaps after we eat.” Archie stood stiffly and fell into the chair near the bed.

“We never did have the lamb,” Neville said absently.

“No.” Neither of them had noticed hunger. And Archibald wasn’t very hungry now.

“On my way to the village I’ll stop by the Spencers’. They should know what’s happening. Of course none of them will be able to stay here…she’ll be contagious. And Archie, I’ll take the watch tonight.”

“I don’t mind Neville, really.”

“I don’t want you to get sick,” Neville said, somewhat insistently.

“For God’s sake, Neville, I’m not your child. I can decide what I am and am not capable of around here.”
“I know you can, Archie. But I don’t need two patients.”

“I was healthier than you as a child.”

“Archie—“ Neville was interrupted by the arrival of the breakfast trays, which a maid set on the Queen Anne table by the large bay window that overlooked part of Misslethwaite’s massive park. “Thank you,” he said to the girl, who bobbed a curtsy, took a cursory and curious glance at the motionless Lily, and scurried out.

“That’s enough, Neville. You will be far too busy and need rest more than I do. Without you, it’s hopeless. I know nothing of medicine.”

Neville sighed, exasperated, and sat at the table. “Let’s eat.”

The brothers ate in silence, although both only picked at the large platter of eggs, bacon and ham that had been placed before them. Archie nibbled mindlessly on one of cook’s biscuits and Neville drank three cups of coffee in quick succession. “What should we give her?”

Neville surveyed the tray. “Perhaps some of a biscuit. It’s dry and there’s not much to it. It shouldn’t hurt her.”

Archie took one of the china plates and placed half of a biscuit on it. He moved over to the bed and gently sat beside Lily. “Lily…” he said softly, not wanting to frighten her. He didn’t know if she remembered anything from the previous night.

After a few agonizing seconds her eyes fluttered open. Her face was flushed and her eyes bright with the fever Neville said she had. Even Archie could tell that pneumonia was a correct diagnosis. Her breathing was shallow and labored.

“Mr. Craven…”

“Do you think you could eat something?” He extended the plate and Lily eyed it warily. Her stomach was feeling queasy and she didn’t need to be sick in front of him.

“I don’t know…”

“You should try,” Neville added from the table. “It will do you good.”

“I feel rather nauseous,” she said, her eyes pleading with Archie.

He retracted the plate and took her hand. It filled her with a strange sensation. “How do you feel?”

“My chest hurts,” she said, as she coughed slightly.

“We think you have pneumonia,” Neville said, coming over to them. “You’ll need to be watched carefully. And you have a fever.”

“You’ll stay here and rest. We’ll take care of you,” Archie added, trying to reassure her. “Your family has been informed, so you have nothing to worry about.”

She closed her eyes and leaned her head weakly against the pillows. “What happened to my leg? It feels so heavy.”

“You broke your ankle,” Neville said. “I had to place it in a cast last evening.”

“Stupid boots,” she said, shutting her eyes briefly. Another coughing fit began and she writhed in pain, crying out. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Neville went to the door. “I’m going to make her another draught,” he said. Archie held her hand and tried to soothe her as the coughing continued.

“It’s over now,” he said softly as he saw her body relax. “You’ll be all right. Neville knows what he’s about.”

She was panting with the effort of the coughing and the conversation. “It hurts so,” she said. “I was a fool to stay out…”

“Don’t,” Archie said. “Nothing good comes from thinking about past actions.”

She nodded slowly. “May I ask a favor?”

“Certainly.”

“Will you stay with me? I…this may sound foolish, but I don’t want to be alone…” her eyes betrayed her fear and Archie knew he’d never be able to refuse her anything. He was sure she didn’t remember asking him the same thing before, but he trusted the request more now, since she was awake and somewhat lucid.

“Of course. Anything you need, anything you want, you will have,” he said. “I promise.”

She smiled, the first smile he’d seen from her since the ordeal began. “I’m so tired…and…”

Neville entered, carrying another draught. “Drink this; it will help with the pain,” he said. Lily took the glass and drank the contents down quickly. “Is anything else the matter?”

She shook her head slowly. “No.”

“That will make you sleepy. But you need your rest,” he said. “I’m going to the village to send a wire. I will stop by your house on the way to talk to your parents,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll be with her, Neville,” Archie said. His brother nodded and left the room to head for the village.

“Do you like plays?” Archie asked Lily. “I could read aloud to you.”

She nodded. “That would be lovely.”

“I’m afraid we only have King Lear, to start,” he said.

“That’s fine. I am partial to that one.”

“So am I.” He pulled the chair closer to the bed and opened the old text, changing his voice with the different characters; he had a gift for mimickry, although it was not often displayed. As the draught took effect, her eyelids grew heavy and finally closed, but Archie read on until he was sure she was asleep.

She looked more peaceful than she had last evening; the draught’s calming effects were evident. At least she wasn’t tossing and crying out. He took her hand and held it, running his thumb over the top, wanting to reassure he that he would fulfill her wishes and stay with her.

L&A: 4

2007-08-28T20:04:00.001-04:00

After the music lesson, in which Lily’s playing was roundly praised while Rose tortured Chopin, Lily found Ben, and a wide-brimmed hat, and headed for her garden. (The hat was her concession to Rose’s fears about what the outdoor activity would do to her complexion.)

“Miss Lily, it looks like rain,” Ben said as they left the outbuilding that housed the gardening staff and their tools. “Shouldn’t we ask your father for a carriage?”

Lily scoffed at that comment, lifting her skirt to clear a way for her boots. “No. It’s not that far and it’ll take too long.”

“All right, miss,” Ben said, toting a bag of tools while Lily held her basket of seeds and stakes.

“Besides, a little rain won’t hurt me,” she said. “Rose made me bring the hat.”

Ben chuckled. He knew of Rose’s obsession with appearances.

They reached the plot quickly, and the sky, although pewter and heavy-laden with clouds, held. Lily unlocked the gate and took up in the south corner, where the roses were ready for attention.

“Oh, Ben, thank you for these bushes,” Lily said. “They will look wonderful.”

“They just came up this morning, while you were at breakfast,” Ben said. “I thought you’d want them in as soon as possible.”

“I did. What now?”

“I can begin pruning them.” Ben hunched down and began to dig through his toolbox for pruning shears.

“Thank you. I’ll be over with the lilies,” she said teasingly.

“Suitable,” he muttered.

She set to work, humming quietly as she worked, and initially failed to notice the rain falling around her.

“Miss Lily, we’d better head back,” Ben said. She turned and saw that he had packed up his box and that the wind had picked up.

“You can head back, I’ll be there soon,” Lily sid. “It’s not the bad yet and I’m almost done here.”

“Your father—“

“It’s hours until dinner,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

“All right, miss,” he said reluctantly. He knew better than to argue with Lily, even when it may mean incurring the wrath of Lord Spencer.

Lily kept working, even as the rain increased, and she felt the drops soaking her hair under the straw strands of Rose’s hat. “Darn,” she sighed as she looked up, the rain pelting her face. “There’s no way I’ll get home in one piece now.”

She stood, noticing the pools of mud everywhere, and the wind whipped her skirts fiercely. The rain fell faster and she heard a thunderclap in the direction of the Hall. Wishing desperately that she had brought an umbrella, she struggled against the wind toward the gate.

Keeping one hand on her hat to steady it, she began to make her way down the path. The going was slow, since the downpour cut her vision and the wind made it hard for her to walk in her rain-sodden skirts.

The rain pelted her in every direction and she stumbled over the rough terrain. She vainly searched for a place to stop, but she knew that there wouldn’t be one until she reached Manor grounds. Why had she been so foolish?

A strong gust of wind blew her off balance, sending her basket tumbling down the moor. Swearing, she went after it, and felt her foot catch on a rock, sending her tumbling down the incline and into a small ditch.

She tried to stand, but shooting pain in her leg prevented her from doing so. She must’ve broken her ankle, or worse. And now she’d be stuck here until someone noticed she was gone…at least until dinner…which was, as she’d reminded Ben, ‘hours away.’

Shivering in her thin dress, and wishing she had a pelisse or a wrap, and a bonnet better than her inadequate hat, she tried to curl into a ball to stay warm. The rain was fiercely cold by now and she was almost totally soaked through.

The sound of hoof beats on the path above her gave her hope that maybe Ben had returned. Ignoring the pain in her leg she stood and waved frantically. “Ben!” She shouted against the storm.

The two men weren’t of her father’s livery, but they were men just the same, and they’d help; they turned toward her. Thankfully she sank against the ground as the pain became overwhelming and she began to cry.

“Twice in one day?” Archie Craven was above her, on the same horse he’d ridden that morning. When he saw she was crying, he dismounted, his face becoming grave. “Miss Spencer?”

“I---I think I’ve…broken something,” she said. She was freezing by now and it was hard to talk.

“Neville!” Archie shouted as he picked up Lily and placed her carefully on his horse. “We’ve got to get Miss Spencer back to the house. She’s hurt. Go on ahead.”

“Right.” He nodded and began to ride towards the manor.

“We’ll get you warm soon, Miss Spencer,” Archibald said, mounting behind her. Gratefully she leaned against him, closing her eyes and trying to ignore her painful leg and the rain that continued to assault them.

The ride to the Manor was swift; Archibald was a skilled rider and his horse was well-bred. At the massive entrance, he dismounted and carried her inside, to the cavernous front hall.

“Seward, where is Dr. Craven?” His voice echoed off the marble.

“The parlor, sir.”

“Thank you.” He carried Lily down the well-lit hall and into a sumptuously designed room, with a frescoed ceiling and sky-blue walls trimmed with elaborate gilt work. Gently he placed her on a blue velvet couch and began to remove her hat.

“Forgive me for my forwardness,” he said. “But you are soaked through. We must get you warm and dry.”

She nodded languidly; her head felt so heavy and she had a massive headache. She was aware of his hands unlacing her boots and carefully slipping off her stockings.

“Neville, can we get a change of clothes?”

“I’ll ring Mrs. Medlock.”

Archie noticed that Lily was shaking and her lips were a dangerous shade of violet. “Lily?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“I’m so cold….and my head…” she murmured, her eyelids fluttering.

Archie went to his brother, who was giving orders to Mrs. Medlock. “Hot water, some linens—“

“Neville, there’s something wrong with her,” Archie said, his voice low. “She’s all blue and shivering.”

“Blankets,” he said to Mrs. Medlock. The brothers went to the couch.

Lily was shaking as Archie draped a thick cashmere blanket over her.

“Archie, hold her, until Mrs. Medlock gets back with the water and other items. I’ll prepare a draught for her head, and I’ve got to set that leg. She’s got a broken ankle,” Neville said. “Damn storm…”

“I have to hold her?”

“Yes, Archie,” Neville said impatiently. “Unless you’d rather watch her freeze.” He turned sharply, like a soldier on maneuver, and went to prepare his draughts.

Self-consciously, Archie picked up the freezing girl and held her against himself, wrapping them both within the blanket. She moaned softly and huddled close to him, semi-conscious and vaguely aware of his presence. He began to rub her arms, trying to warm them, and not think about how lovely her body felt against his.

She’s so cold. …but so beautiful, he thought, looking at the still, pale face. Pain carved lines between her eyes; he could tell it wasn’t just her ankle that was hurting her.

“For God’s sake, Neville, can we give her something for pain?”

His brother looked at him over his glasses. “Archie, she’s barely conscious. Let’s get her warm first. She probably doesn’t feel anything.”

“She’s in pain,” Archie insisted. “I can tell.”

He sighed and began to mix some powders in a glass, adding water to constitute it. “She can drink this. It should help.” He brought the draught to Archie.

Archie tried to rouse her. “Miss Spencer? Lily? Drink this.”

She stirred slightly; her eyes were hazel slits in her face. “Wh—“

“Drink.” He pressed the glass to her lips and she obeyed, swallowing with difficulty, and leaned her head against his chest. He lay back against the couch, trying to find a good position; he was in some pain himself, but he wasn’t going to show it. Not to Neville, and not to her.

“Mrs. Medlock,” Archie called. The housekeeper scurried over, her eyes deferentially focused on the ornate wooden floor. “Send a servant to Spencer House and tell them that we’ve Miss Spencer. I’m sure they are quite anxious.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, dipping her odd curtsy as she left the room.

Neville approached the couch, stethoscope in hand. “Pull the blanket back,” he said, adopting the imperious “doctor” tone that Archie had only heard a few times before. He complied and Neville listened intently to hear heart, then her chest, then felt her skin. “She’s doing a bit better. Once she’s warmer I’ll set that ankle. And I will give her something for it,” he said, looking at Archie. “I don’t want her to suffer any more than you do. And she will feel it, when I set it.”

A violent fit of coughing erupted from Lily, and Archie held her tighter to make sure she didn’t hurt herself. “That’s to be expected,” Neville sighed. “It’ll be a wonder if she doesn’t get pneumonia from this. She’ll be with us a week, at least. I can’t let her go home.”

“Home’s not that far,” Archie noted.

“Still. I want her here. She couldn’t be moved, anyway. Stability is the best thing for her.” He went back to his table and shut his eyes, wincing. A broken ankle would be enough. The fact that she was probably going to have a fever, pneumonia, or something else on top of it was adding to his worries. He would have to consult his teachers in London if anything more serious developed.

Lily continued coughing in spurts, and the deep rattle worried Archie. Just this morning she’d been a fine, vivacious girl. Now she was barely conscious, her head drooping against his chest, lips still pale and her face cold.

An hour passed, Archie still holding the girl against him, when Neville came over to check on them. “She’s warm enough now,” he said. “I’m going to set that leg.”

He wheeled over the mahogany teacart, which was serving as a makeshift medical table. The water Mrs. Medlock had prepared was steaming in the kettles and bandages lay cut and ready. As Neville rolled his shirtsleeves, Archie pulled up Lily’s gown and exposed the twisted left ankle. He winced; no ankle should look like that.

“I’ll have to reset the bone. This will hurt her,” Neville said. Archie could see the pain in his eyes. With a swift motion he reset the bone, and Lily cried out feebly, fresh tears coursing down her face. Her eyes, instead of opening, shut even tighter.

“It’s all right,” Archie said to her softly as Neville began to work. “He had to set the bone. You’ll be all right.” A soft moan was the only response he received, and he began to wonder how conscious she was of anything happening to her.

Soon Neville had fashioned a thick cast for the ankle and began to wash the paste of his arms. “That went better than I hoped. First time I’ve done that since medical school.”

“Always comforting to hear,” Archie said. “She looks so cold.” Lily had stopped shivering, but she looked frozen.

“She’s doing better now. Really. But let’s put her in a room. One, preferably, with a big fireplace.”

“Have Mrs. Medlock and Seward prepare the East Room,” Archie said. “I’ll bring her.”

“Excellent.” Neville hurried to deliver the orders as Archie stood, took Lily in his arms again, and headed down the corridor where the sprawling East Room lay. He and his brother had been born in this room; it held his mother’s Queen-size bed and had a large hearth, perfect for birthing children—or recovering from it.

Mrs. Medlock was pulling back the heavily starched linen when Archie arrived. “Oh, sir, your back--” she said, then clapped her hand over her mouth. No one was supposed to mention anything concerning Archie’s deformity.

“It’s all right, Medlock,” he said. “I’m fine.” He placed Lily gently on the bed. “Do we have fresh clothes for her?”

“I managed to find a shift from one of the maids,” Mrs. Medlock replied, pulling a cotton nightdress from atop the bed. “It’s surely not as fine as she’s used to, but—“

“It will serve. Can you dress her in it?” She nodded. “Very well. I will be outside; let me know when you’ve finished.”

She bobbed her head, and Archie noticed Seward building a large fire in the grate. “We need that warm, Seward,” he noted. “Make sure it will last.”

Outside he found Neville polishing his glasses on his waistcoat. “She’ll need watched tonight. I’ll talk to Seward—“

“I’ll do it.”

“Archie, it’s hardly something you need to worry about. And you need rest yourself. How do you feel? All that carrying around…”

Archie waved his hand impatiently. “I’m fine, Neville. What else was there to do?”

“You don’t want to hurt yourself, you know. If anything else should happen to you—“

“I am fine. And I will stay with her.” Archie was adamant.

Neville sighed. “It is not what I would suggest.”

“I am your brother, not your patient.”

“Not today, anyway.” Neville pulled out his watch. “I will be in to check on her every few hours. Try to sleep.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to, Neville,” Archie said. “It’s been a long day.”

Mrs. Medlock emerged, carrying Lily’s crumpled gown. “ I’ll take this to the launder, sir, and have the maids do it up proper.”

“Thank you. I will be staying and keeping watch. Can you see that I am supplied with some coffee?” Archie said.

“Certainly. And I’ll have Seward bring in a more comfortable chair.”

Archie shook his head. “My comfort is of little importance. Did the messenger go to the Spencers’?”

Seward nodded as he emerged from the room. “Yes, sir. They have sent a batch of clothing and thanked us for the trouble we are taking. Lord and Lady Spencer were quite concerned.”

“I will ride over in the morning with a report,” Neville said. “I do not need to have Lady Spencer agitated, not this close to her time.”

“Excellent, sir. Anything else?”

Archie dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Well, I’m to bed, for a bit,” Neville said. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“You will be sure to find me here.” He placed his hand on the knob.

“She is quite lovely, isn’t she?” Neville said.

Archie swallowed. “Yes. Quite.”

L &A: 3

2007-08-28T20:03:00.000-04:00

“I’m back, Archie,” Neville said, entering the cavernous library, and immediately felt foolish for saying it. His brother instilled in his a type of awe that was not easily overcome, and he always felt stupid and slow-witted in his presence.

Archibald looked up from the heavy leather ledger. “Tea? Coffee?” He waved his hand and indicated the sterling tea service resting on the mahogany cart near his desk.

“Thank you.” He poured himself a cup of Earl Gray tea from the elaborate tea pot and took a seat in front of the Queen Anne desk. His brother sighed and shut the ledger.

“I think our father has completely abdicated control of the estate,” he said. “These are all in disarray.”

“I can help,” Neville offered. “It has been a bad time, since his illness.” He sipped the tea, grateful for the distraction.

“Fortunately London was successful. We’ve straightened out the accounts there and everything is in order. Have you thought of practicing there?” Archibald poured himself a scalding cup of coffee, the steam pouring from the kettle’s neck.

Neville shrugged. “I have. Perhaps after I see some of the local patients through. I was at the Spencer house this morning.”

“How are they?” He asked absently.

“Lady Spencer is expecting another child. I’m a little anxious about it.”

“She’s a little old, isn’t she?” Archibald asked.

“She is. That’s why I’m worried. She already has three children, including an heir for the estate.”

“I met her youngest daughter this morning,” Archibald added, rather blandly. “She was quite lively.”

“Yes, I met her this morning as well. She was assisting her mother.” Neville felt a small thrill thinking of Lily and her deep hazel eyes, her lovely figure. “She’s quite lovely. I much prefer her to Rose.”

“She likes to garden,” Archibald added. “Has a lovely plot along the road.”

“She said she met you there. I’m surprised you talked to her,” Neville added, in a teasing tone.

“Why?”

“Well you’re not exactly social, Archie. Never have been.”

“She seemed decent enough. Besides, Orpheus was tired.”

“You’ve never taken the horse’s welfare into consideration before.”

“First time for everything, Neville.”

“I hear she gardens several times a day. Has quite a passion for it.”

“Well I’ll support that as opposed to a girl who sits mindlessly over embroidery all day.”

“She doesn’t seem to be that type,” Neville said. “Although we didn’t speak much. Perhaps we should pay a visit…sort of a neighborly thing to do, you know. And it would be good for you to get out into society.”

Archibald nodded. “I suppose. If I’m going to be running the manor I might as well get to know the neighbors.”

“Although you take no pleasure in it?” Neville teased.

Archibald drained his saucer and sighed. “Neville, I’ve had too much social experience.”

“You’ve hardly had—“

“What I had when we lived in London was enough for me.” Archibald re-opened the ledger and slipped on his glasses.

“Archie,” Neville said gently. “Not all women are like that.”

“I’m going to take a ride out later; do you want to join me?”

Neville sighed. “I may. See you at luncheon?”

“Yes. I’ve asked Mrs. Medlock to ask for some lamb for dinner. Does that suit?”

Neville loathed lamb. “Perfectly.”

* * *

“Miss Lily, you must try to enjoy these pursuits,” Mrs. Lord said. “Embroidery is an art.”

“I know, Mrs. Lord,” Lily said as she studied the lace in front of her. “But other people can do it so much better than I. That’s why there are London shops.”

Mrs. Lord waved her hand. “Don’t you want to have your table set with your own linens? Husbands enjoy seeing their wives’ art grace their table.”

“Oh Lily will never get a husband at this rate,” Rose said, looking up from her large tambour frame, where she was working on an exquisite linen table cloth, festooned with cascades of roses.

“What if you had a garden theme? Instead of the regular patterns,” Mrs. Lord suggested. “You can take drawings from your own garden, if you’d like.”

“You’d let me sketch something?” Lily had to admit that would be more interesting.

“If you turned it into an acceptable embroidery scheme, like your sister has done. I think that might be something innovative for you, while still retaining a certain…traditional aspect.”

“I will try it. And I promise to make something of it.”

“Anything that gives you time in your garden,” Rose said, but this time she was affectionate.

“Rose, why don’t you join her? Perhaps you can add something else to the center of the table cloth. The roses you’ve done on the corners are beautiful but you have no plans for the interior.”

Rose wrinkled her nose. She didn’t crave being outdoors as Lily did. “I think it would broaden your horizons, dear. Besides, you should know something about gardening. All well-bred women keep a garden.”

“I believe it is impossible in India, Mrs. Lord.”

“You will come back to England some day, dear,” the tutor said consolingly. “And then you shall have acres and acres.”

“Only if Albert makes his fortune in the foreign service,” Rose said gloomily. “He’s a younger son.”

“Amazing you even fell in love with him, Rose,” Lily teased.

“Well he does have other qualities,” her sister said, tying off a thread.

“All right, you are both dismissed to your music lessons,” Mrs. Lord said. “I believe Mr. Mahler is coming for you soon.”

“And Rose hasn’t practiced, as usual,” Lily taunted as she victoriously put down her frame.

“Not all of us are musical prodigies!” Rose shouted as Lily went to her room to retrieve her music books. Besides her mother’s love of flowers, she had inherited her musical ability, which made her love the bi-weekly lessons she had with their tutor. Rose, on the other hand, was a dogged music student; she was more devoted to it out of duty to her mother than love of the practice.

L &A: 2

2007-08-28T20:02:00.000-04:00

Continued:

The trip back was not nearly as pleasant as the journey out had been, with her potential trouble hanging over her. Running along the uneven terrain she burst into the kitchen, hair flying madly about and her face flushed bright pink. Running was not something the Spencer girls typically did.

“Lord have mercy!” Lucy exclaimed, seeing the sigh of her mistress. “You better hurry and change. Your father will be down any minute… Martha’s just about done with the table.”

“Is Rose--?”

“No, your sister’s still doing her toilette. You are certainly lucky. But hurry.” Lucy turned to the griddle cakes as Lily scampered up the back stairs.

Entering her bedroom she flung off the soiled dress, hoping Carrie wouldn’t notice it until later, and chose a new one, more befitting of a young lady than a runaway gardener. She powdered her face in a vain attempt to bring down the color and ran her hands through her hair, arranging it as best she could. She didn’t have time to do a more proper job of it.

Smoothing her skirt and adjusting her petticoats, she made her way down the front staircase this time, trying to appear as if she’d just woken up and hadn’t been gallivanting about the countryside for hours.

“Out this morning?” Lily froze at the bottom of the stairs as her mother emerged from the music room, her voice mildly reproaching her daughter.

Lily ran her hands over her skirt nervously. “What makes you think—“

Her mother came over and plucked a small leaf from Lily’s hair. “This?”

She blushed, hard. “It was such a beautiful morning—“

Her mother held up her hand in what Lily thought was her most imperious gesture. But she was smiling. “I understand. Just as long as your father doesn’t know you were unaccompanied.”

Lily exhaled, grateful for her mother’s understanding. “Thank you.”

She smiled and took her daughter’s hand. “Come, I think breakfast is ready. At least I think I hear Rose coming out…”

“She takes longer than anyone I know to get ready,” Lily grumbled.

“She’s just particular about her looks,” her mother said mildly as they entered the large dining room. It could seat 50 at a formal dinner, and the table was too big for their morning breakfasts, with just the four of them; well, five, once Richard returned this afternoon.

Her father was, as usual, seated at the head of the table and reading the London paper, his half glasses perched on his long nose. His graying hair was brushed back and his waistcoat was, as usual, perfectly pressed and tailored.

He looked up as the women entered. “Good morning, Emma,” he said, kissing his wife’s hand as she took her seat next to him. “Productive practicing?”

“Adequate,” she said. Her mother has never given up her love of music and still practiced her piano every morning before breakfast. She often performed at church and at local functions.

Lily took her seat across from her mother, her napkin draped across her lap, as she waited for Martha to bring in the breakfast platters. Large breakfasts were a staple of the Spencer household.

“Sorry, sorry.” Lily turned to see Rose bustling in, her hands tidying her strawberry blonde hair as she took her seat next to her mother. “Carrie was so slow this morning. And she didn’t even have to dress you,” she said pointedly to Lily.

Lily shrugged. “Maybe the storm kept her up last night.”

Rose tsked. “Well maybe she should go to bed earlier.”

“Oh, Carrie’s always been afraid of storms,” Emma said mildly. “You should take it in stride, Rose. Be glad you have a lady’s maid to help you.”

“I don’t know if Albert will be able to afford one,” Lily teased. Rose glared at her and twisted her engagement ring. Albert Lennox, a young Army Captain, was Rose’s intended, and they were to be married in December, when he returned from his station in India.

“Albert says that I will have plenty of help,” Rose said primly. “He wouldn’t leave me to my own devices.”

“Good thing,” Lord Spencer muttered. Rose shot him a confused glance, but her thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of the breakfast trays. Lily smiled at Martha, who winked at her, but Rose gave a heavy sigh.

“What is it?” Edward asked, in a tone that suggested her didn’t really want to know what was burdening his eldest daughter.

“Must the food always be so heavy? I’ll never fit into my gown at this rate,” Rose said as she picked at a platter of bacon and ham steaks.

“Then just have eggs, or something,” Lily said as she served herself. “You’re thin as a twig, Rose, always have been. Don’t worry so much.”

“You are not the one getting married,” Rose shot back as she gave herself a miniscule helping of eggs. “Is that dirt in your hair?”

Lily quickly brushed her head before her father had time to look at her. Rose sighed. “You’ll never get married with behavior like this.”

“Rose, stop it,” their mother said mildly. “Lily’s younger than you are, she’s only just out. Give her time.”

“Well this is interesting,” Edward commented, shaking out the paper. “Seems like one of our neighbors has returned.”

“Is it Ralph Ellison?” Rose asked, excited. “He’s such a catch. Too bad he had to take up the church…”

“You’re engaged, Rose,” Lily admonished her. “Stop setting your cap at every bachelor in the county. Indeed I never will get married if you keep this up.”

“No, not the Ellison boy. Archie Craven.” Lily colored at his name and hoped no one noticed.

Emma gave a gasp of surprise. “Archibald? I haven’t seen him since before Margaret died. That’s a surprise.”

Rose wrinkled her nose. “He’s awfully solitary. And so rude. And his back!”

“Rose!” Emma said. “I raised you better than that.”

“What’s wrong with his back?” Lily asked.

Rose laughed. “Obviously you’ve never met him. It’s evident right off.”

“I have met him. This morning, as a matter of fact.” Oh, dear… Lily squeezed her eyes shut. Now she was in for it.

“You have?” Her father asked. “Where?”

“Oh, he was passing by on the road. I was out walking.”

“Out working, you mean,” Rose said. She rolled her eyes and took a tiny bite of egg. “You just can’t leave that dirt patch alone since Father gave it to you.”

“It’s not a dirt patch,” Lily said. “At least it won’t be once Ben and I are done with it.”

“Girls,” their father said, sighing. “Lily, you know I don’t like you to be out unaccompanied.”

“I’m sorry, Father, but it was such a perfect morning—“

“Your dress is probably all dirty,” Rose said.

“--and I just had to see how things were getting on.”

Edward sighed and nodded. “All right. Just don’t make a habit of it? I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Lily nodded, grateful to be spared a lecture. “Anyway, I thought he was quite nice.”

“Nice?!”

“Yes. We talked.”

“He spoke to you?” Emma said.

Lily nodded. “You seem surprised.”

“Well, your sister didn’t put it in the best way, but she was right; he is a bit, um, reclusive. Hardly speaks to anyone. I’m amazed you got some conversation out of him.”

“He was quite pleasant, really. And I thought he was rather good-looking.”

Rose gave an outright laugh. “Lily, you must have been dreaming. No woman in her right mind would call Archibald Craven good-looking, no matter how much money he has.”

“And that he has,” their father noted. “The paper says he’s to inherit 50,000 a year.”

“Fifty thousand?” Emma said. “I didn’t think Misselthwaite was worth that much!”

“Oh, Henry has done numerous improvements. And his investments in mining have done well. Used to be worth just half that.”

“Money or no, he’ll never marry,” Rose said. “No woman will have him.”

“Why?” Lily asked. “He did seem a bit aloof, but---“

Rose sighed impatiently. “Obviously you missed the lump on his back. He’s a hunchback, Lily, has been since he was born. Deformed. How could it have escaped you?”

Lily thought a moment. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t notice. I thought he had a nice face. His eyes are lovely. Dark brown.”

“You were gazing into them too much to notice the glaring deformity, apparently.”

“It’s not that bad, Rose,” Emma said. “Honestly. You make him sound like Hugo’s protagonist.”

“If he’s a nice man, why should it matter?” Lily said hotly.

Rose arched her eyebrow and studied her younger sister. “Are you in love with him?”

“No! We only had one conversation, for heaven’s sake.” Lily crammed some of the ham into her mouth to avoid speaking further.

Rose nodded archly. “A ha. You’re taken by him, aren’t you?”

“If he was kind to Lily then she should find him a nice man,” Edward interjected. “I like any man who treats my daughters well.”

“Perhaps we should invite them for dinner, now that Archibald is back,” Emma suggested. “Maybe after my confinement.”

“Mother, do you really need to be confined?” Rose asked.

Edward looked at Rose sharply. “Yes. Doctor Craven suggested it.”

“Dr. Craven?” Lily asked. “Is the owner a doctor?”

“No, his youngest son, Archie’s brother, Neville. He’s just taken the oath and begun to practice,” Emma said. “Haven’t you met him?” Lily shook her head. “Well when he comes today, you shall meet him. He’s a nice temperament.”

“Unlike his brother,” Rose muttered. “Too bad he isn’t the heir.”

“Then he most certainly wouldn’t be in medicine,” Edward noted. “Men with 50,000 a year don’t need a profession.”

“Wish someone would leave us fifty thousand a year. Or even a fifth of that,” Rose moaned.

“Rose Spencer, don’t you dare be ungrateful for all your father has done for you. You’ve been brought up quite well and you know it,” Emma said sharply.

Rose looked down, chastised into silence at last. Their father’s fortune was set on their brother, and there wasn’t much left of it now, since the costs of running the hall and keeping up the family had meant there would be little for the girls’ dowries. But their family name and lineage kept them admitted into the best circles.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Mrs. Wentworth, the housekeeper, stood in the doorway. “Dr. Craven is here to see you…”

Emma swallowed her water quickly. “Already? I have never met a more punctual man.” She rose, removing her linen napkin from her lap and smoothing her gown. “All right. I will see him in my morning room.” She looked at Lily. “Lily, you will accompany me this morning.”

Obediently Lily rose and followed her mother into the bright parlor she used to receive guests. It had a long, deep velvet couch that her mother claimed was “perfect” for Dr. Craven’s examinations, and several tapestry chairs near a Queen Anne table that were excellent for the tea she provided afterwards.

When they entered, a tall, thin man stood quickly and gave a little bow before kissing Lady Spencer’s hand. “You look well this morning, ma’am,” he said, his eyes on her abdomen. “Not too much longer.”

“I hope not. This one has been a burden to carry, I don’t mind saying.” She settled herself on the couch as Lily moved to one of the side chairs, catching the doctor’s eye.

“Who is this?” he asked, approaching her. She offered her hand, as always. “Another daughter?”

“That’s my Lily,” Emma said, pride in her voice. “She just turned seventeen in January.”

“How do you do,” Lily murmured, eyes cast down. Certainly he was not so handsome as his brother. But he had a certain charm.

“Neville Craven.”

“I had the opportunity of meeting your brother this morning,” Lily noted as Neville opened his bag and prepared for the examination.

“Archie?” Neville’s head bobbed up in surprise. “That’s odd. He didn’t mention it.”

Lily felt a strange pang at the thought of not being mentioned. She had hoped the visit had made some impression. Neville continued, “But I hardly had a chance to speak with him. He arrived shortly before I left. He’s been in London for months, you know, handling the business affairs of our father.”

“How is he, poor man,” Emma asked as Neville began to examine her.

His face changed and became grave. “It is not a good case. The paralysis from the fever has left him much diminished. He hates to go out and sends Archie in his stead.”

Odd, since he avoids people, Lily thought.

“Any pain?” he asked. Emma nodded.

“At night, a little. I’m guessing she’s just active.”

“She?”

“I think it’s a girl. I’ve carried two others, Dr. Craven, I think I’d know.”

“Far be it for me to question mothers,” he said in easy surrender.

“Lily, I think, would like another sister,” Emma said.

Lily blushed. “I don’t care what you have, mother. I’m fine with either. I know Richard is quite longing for a brother.”

“He’s never here, I don’t think he’d even notice the new baby if he wasn’t home right now,” Emma said blithely. She looked at Dr. Craven and added, “my son, Richard, comes home from his Eton term today.”

Neville nodded, concentrating on the baby’s size. “Now this might hurt…” he gently prodded her abdomen, feeling the outline of the baby within. “She seems to be positioned just right, and about the right size. The pain is unusual. I will consult with another colleague and see what I can find out.”

“Oh I’m sure it’s nothing,” Emma said, waving her hand to dismiss the comment. “Really, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“You’re older than I’d like—no offense, Lady Spencer, but it’s true—and I want to be cautious.” He rose, adjusting his glasses and waistcoat. Lily noticed that he always seemed to be fidgeting with something, like he wasn’t quite secure in himself.

“Whatever you think best,” Lady Spence said. “I won’t argue with you.”

“Good. I’d say you’re due in about another month.” He rose from the couch. “I will be back in about two days with an answer for you. I want to know if you have any more pain. We could end up having an early delivery.”

“Rose was early, Lily was late and Richard was right on time,” Emma said. “Nothing my children do surprises me anymore.”

Neville laughed. “Well, good. I like that.”

“Will you stay for coffee?” Emma asked.

Neville shook his head. “As much as I’d like to,” he said, stealing a quick glance at Lily, “I must go home. Archie will want to talk to me, I’m sure.” He packed his bag and nodded to the ladies. “Until later week,” he said.

“Mrs. Wentworth will see you out,” Emma said. The doctor nodded, smiled at Lily, and left.

“Well?” Emma asked once she heard the front door close. She sat herself at the tea table and rang the bell. “Coffee, Mrs. Wentworth?” The maid nodded.

Lily sat across from her. “Well what? He is not as well-spoken as his brother.”

“Hmm. I had thought the reverse would be true.”

Lily blushed. “He’s quite a nice man. I don’t know what Rose was talking about.”

Emma shook her head. “Rose is quite taken with surface things, you know that. If a man isn’t handsome, he isn’t worth her time.”

“But he is fantastically wealthy, apparently.”

Emma shrugged. “That apparently does not make up for his appearance.”

Mrs. Wentworth brought in the coffee tray and Lady Spencer began to pour. “You’ve always been my happy child, Lily. So friendly and open. I’m not surprised you and your sister have different tastes in suitors.”

“Oh, I like Albert all right,” Lily said, thinking of her sister’s distinguished military fiancé. “He dances well and likes to laugh. He’s more human, somehow, than Rose. Kinder.”

“I agree.”

“I also heard he wants a lot of children,” Lily said as she took the steaming cup from her mother.

Emma sighed. “I have heard that as well. And Rose isn’t as well-dispositioned towards children as you are. Hopefully she’ll be more so after the baby is born.”

“Assuming they have children.”

Emma looked at Lily sternly. “Rose knows her duty. She’ll do it.”

“Besides, she can always pass it off to a nanny,” Lily said cheerfully as she nibbled on a biscuit.

“Lil!” Rose’s voice echoed through the house. “It’s time for lessons!”

Lily sighed and finished her coffee. “Isn’t Rose too old for lessons, now?”

Her mother smiled. “I believe she’s working on her trousseau.”

“Her embroidery is beautiful. It doesn’t need more work.”

“Well she has a lot to do. Albert apparently has quite a house in India.”

“Will they be going back?” Lily asked.

Emma nodded. “Unfortunately. Albert has quite a station there, he’s hoping to rise faster in the foreign service. Younger son, you know. Has to make his way somewhere.” Lily could see the disappointment etched on her mother’s face. “But he has said they won’t go right away…they’ll be a few months here before he’s due back.”

“That’s comforting,” Lily said. “Well I’m off for more French and Latin. And probably embroidery…which I do not do as well as my sister.”

“Then you can improve,” Emma said wryly as her daughter kissed her on the cheek. “And if you go out again today—take Ben, will you?”

Lily rolled her eyes behind her mother’s back. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I know you’re exasperated, young lady. We’re just thinking of you,” she admonished.

Lily smiled. “I know.”

Lily and Archibald: 1

2007-08-28T20:00:00.000-04:00

Here is the first part of a novel I'm writing based on the novel and the musical The Secret Garden. I haven't made any edits yet, but I am very open to comments!

A perfect day for gardening, Lily thought as she awoke, the sunlight taking on the colors of stained-glass window in her bedroom. Adorned with crocus and pansies, she had begged her father for the window the minute she saw it in the London shop. Her sister, Rose, had thought it gauche, but her father was accustomed to giving his youngest daughter what she asked for, as long as it was in reason.

That included the garden. Their Yorkshire estate was, of course, filled with them, all carefully tended by a slate of gardeners, undergardeners, and groundkeepers. In fact, the gardens of Spencer Hall were some of the finest in the country. So from a very young age, Lily had been exposed to a love of flowers that her mother espoused in almost everything, including the names of her two children. As long as she kept “reasonable” (her father’s word) hours in the garden, it was fine with him. Early morning rising, however, was not reasonable.

Quietly getting out of bed so as not to disturb Carrie next door –she would have a fit if she knew where Lily was going at this hour of the morning—she began to dress in her gardening clothes, adding her large straw-brimmed hat in a vain attempt to shield her complexion, at her mother’s insistence. It was going to be hot again, so she chose a simple muslin gown, without many flounces and that didn’t require being laced into one of the corsets she dreaded. Rose would kill her if she knew she was going out in this “indecent” manner. Oh well. Rose wouldn’t know. She never got up until Carrie woke them right before breakfast and lessons.

The small French clock on her vanity told her she had at least two hours before breakfast, which was served promptly at nine, at her father’s wish. Lord Spencer was a very schedule-driven man, and expected his household to be the same.

The halls were dark and silent as Lily slipped down the large back staircase that ended in the kitchen. Lucy, the cook, and Martha, her assistant, already had a fire going, but their backs were to their sneaky mistress, so they didn’t observe her; at least, not until Lily dropped her shoe.

The boot clattered on the stone floor and Lucy whirled around, flour flying off her hands. “What in the name of ‘eaven, Miss Lily? ‘Tis not time for you to be up.”

Lily hushed them impatiently. “I know. But I wanted to go to the garden before everyone woke up. It’s going to be busy today, you know.”

Lucy sighed deeply. “I know. What with doctor coming for your mother…”

“And Richard coming home from Eton—“ Martha interjected.

“And she’s depending on Rose and I to run the house during her confinement.”

“You’d think this was the Regency, woman bein’ all confined. She’s not the Queen. Even Victoria ‘ated being confined,” Martha grumbled.

Lucy eyed Lily. “I guess I’ll give you somethin’ to eat.” She went into the larder and pulled out a few biscuits and a jar of plums and filled a small bottle with the sun-brewed tea she’d made yesterday for her mother. “This’ll hold ya. And don’t spill the honey all over the basket as you’re gallopin’ around.”

Lily nodded, her brown hair escaping its careless updo, and she seized the basket. “Thank you, Lucy.”

“You better be back before breakfast or your father’ll have words for you!” Lucy called as the girl scurried out the door, heading for the moors.

Don’t need to tell me that twice, Lily thought as she headed outwards. Her garden wasn’t too far from the main grounds of the Hall, but it was far enough to make her father anxious when she went out alone. Usually Ben, one of the groundskeepers, went with her, to make sure she was “properly supervised,” as her father said. Lily sighed. She didn’t like being “properly supervised,” although she did admit that Ben’s knowledge of the Yorkshire countryside and its ways with plant life were invaluable to her efforts.

The sun was still rising, sending away some of the early morning mist, and Lily was beginning to feel a bit hungry. She broke off some of the biscuit and was grateful that Lucy had given her something to eat.

Her garden was placed in between two small hills, near the main road that cut through the countryside. Ben had been instructed by her father to build a small fence with a gate around it, so that it was properly marked, and Lily fished around in her dress pocked for the small iron key she kept that unlocked the gate.

“Good morning,” she said to the small rabbit and blackbird that had gathered in her absence. The bunny looked at her with its wide eyes and hopped away, disappointing Lily. She loved animals and wished they would stay more often when she was there. Oh well. It was a new garden and it would likely take some time for them to get used to her.

She had left her spade and a few packets of seed here yesterday and was determined to finish planting her vegetables. Ben had promised her a rose bush for one of the corners and the thought was heaven to Lily. She loved roses (she often wished she was the older sister, so she could’ve had the name), more than any other flower, for their extravagant beauty. But roses were tough, too; they had to be, in order to survive in this landscape.

She began to work in earnest, with a regular, even pace that she brought to everything, from her music to her cooking (her mother insisted that she and Rose know how to cook), and soon was making progress, a growing line of tiny, dark mounds trailing behind her skirt (which, she was sure, was covered in dirt, since she was kneeling and not bothering to bustle her dress).

At the end of a row, she stood and attempted to brush the dirt from the dark blue fabric, with minimal success. The sun was hot now, reminding her that she should be getting back. But it was so peaceful in her garden, and some of the crocuses and daffodils were in perfect bloom…

“Lass?”

She turned, startled, and her hat dropped off her head and onto her back. Hastily she covered her head with her hand and shielded her eyes with the other. The sun blinded her view of the speaker, but she knew it was a man.

“Yes?” She was wary, but still polite. She was, after all, the daughter of an Earl. She wasn’t the daughter of some London fish-monger who could be easily taken.

“Would you mind if I rested here a moment?” He indicated the small bench her father had placed in the garden under one of the yew trees. “I’ve ridden quite far this morning and my horse is tired.”

She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes. He sounds decent enough. She looked around, hesitantly, then nodded. “Of course.”

“Thank you.” He dismounted and began to tether his horse to the gate. Lily went and lifted the latch, allowing him entrance.

On closer approximation, she could see he was tall, thin, and relatively well-built. His hair was ebony-colored and he had a good complexion, his cheeks red from the wind and the effort of riding. His dark eyes studied her.

“Are you Lord Spencer’s daughter?”

She nodded. “The younger. Lily.” She dropped a small curtsy as he gave the cursory bow. Some things in British society would never change, she thought. Men and women have probably been doing this since time immemorial.

He sat on the bench and she noticed there was something odd about his posture. It wasn’t quite right and that was disconcerting for a young man of his obvious wealth. Most of them had mastered the ability to look as commanding and formidable as possible by the time they were fifteen, and this man was certainly older than that.

“Would you care for some tea?” She asked, remembering the basket. If he was tired he must be hungry.

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, please. That would be wonderful.” She poured a small glass and handed it to him, which he drank quickly. “It’s been quite a ride.”

“Where are you going?”

“Misslethwaipe Manor,” he said. “I’m coming up from London.”

“And there was no train? No car or carriage?”

“There was. But I wanted to ride. I enjoy the freedom it gives me. I did take the train halfway, though.”

“Are you a relative of the Cravens?” Lily knew them slightly; they were neighbors, and though not gentry, it was rumored that the heir had over thirty thousand pounds a year.

“I’m Archibald. I’m the oldest son.”

Lily’s eyes widened. She had heard of him but they had never met, not even at one of her parents’ annual balls, which the entire county seemed to attend.

“You probably think it’s strange we’ve never met,” he continued, taking another sip. “I am not one for balls and dancing.”

“Oh.” Lily took this into consideration. Most young men, as a matter of course, weren’t. But it was one way to get a wife.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“I have yet to meet a man who enjoys a ball,” she said. “And men with a great income must know that women will seek them out, no matter how reclusive they may be inclined to be.”

He laughed. “That is so. My absence from the London season has hardly failed to produce some eligible women. Are you out?”

She nodded. “Last year.” She didn’t add that her mother was in a hurry to get her married, now that Rose was seemingly closing in on an engagement with an army officer from a good family.

“So you’re what? Seventeen?”

“I was in January.”

He laughed again. “You are quiet young to speak with so much authority.”

She blushed. “I can be too forthright, at times. My mother despairs of it.”

“I would imagine so. A witty debutante can create a problem with many men.”

“I still have a few more seasons, though. Mother will see that the rough edges are polished off, believe me.”

He appraised her shrewdly and she felt like a horse under her father’s scrutiny at market. Her eyes dropped to the bench.

“Are you feeling uncomfortable?” He asked, teasingly.

She shook her head, not meeting his gaze. “No. Just…scrutizined.”

“Sorry. Bad habit.”

She looked up. “It’s all right. I should be used to it by now. Men look at women the way they look at horses. Looking for the flaws.”

“I assure you, I was not looking for the flaws.” He drained his glass and handed it back to her. “Thank you for that. It was good.”

“Our cook’s a wonder,” she said, getting up and replacing the glass in her basket. Suddenly she looked up and realized she was very late for breakfast. “Oh, father will be so angry…”

“Are you late for an appointment? A suitor, perhaps?” His tone was playful.

“No, just breakfast. But father can be so stern on it…”

“Well, I won’t keep you.” The two walked to the gate and he re-mounted his horse, a strong Bay. “Perhaps we will meet again.”

“I’m here almost every morning…perhaps.”

“I hope you don’t get into too much trouble.” He winked at her and then moved away, the horse breaking into a smooth cantor as they headed up the hills towards where the Craven manor lay.

Lily felt a strange shudder go through her as she watched him. Then she turned, hiked up her skirt, and ran back towards the Hall, hoping that Rose and her father had overslept and she wasn’t going to be given a verbal lashing.