Eliza whimpered softly when the water touched her forehead, then settled again. Brave little thing. So small, and yet somehow the center of everything.
As the blessing concluded, the vicar placed her into Beatrice’s arms. Her heart swelled.
Eliza’s weight was light but grounding. Her tiny fingers curled into the hem of Beatrice’s sleeve.
“You’re all right,” Beatrice whispered, rocking her gently. “You’re safe.”
When the congregation murmured the finalAmen, the chapel seemed to brighten. Eliza’s breath tickled her wrist.
Edward stood beside her, closer now, watching the child’s face with an expression Beatrice couldn’t quite decipher. Something soft, something steady. She didn’t look at him for long.
With the ceremony over, Cecily and Margaret hurried forward, cooing over Eliza. Nearby, Sebastian congratulated Simon and Amelia. Lady Moreland brushed a hand over Eliza’s gown as if blessing her, and Amelia’s parents, Lord and Lady Kensley hugged Amelia tightly.
Mrs. Hart whispered, “A blessed day. A truly blessed day.”
Guests stepped outside the church, milling about quietly, exchanging murmured congratulations but Beatrice moved with purpose toward Amelia in the vestry. The vestry smelled faintly of candle wax and polished wood, the air still carrying the warmth of the chapel and the scent of lilies. She held Eliza close a moment longer before gently passing her back to Amelia.
Amelia’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled with an emotion Beatrice had come to recognize as pure happiness. She held Eliza carefully in her arms, rocking her gently.
Beatrice’s heart swelled with something steadier than joy—a sense of responsibility and privilege.
“I thought this might help,” she said, extending a neat piece of paper. The edges were slightly worn from being folded and tucked into her gloves.
Amelia took it, glancing down. “What is it?”
Beatrice smiled faintly. “A little… guide. Feeding hours, favorite lullabies, how she likes to be held, and other things I’ve noticed. Little details that might make her days smoother.” She hesitated, then added softly, “I know it’s nothing serious, but it might help.”
Amelia’s fingers brushed over the paper, and she looked up at Beatrice with a mix of gratitude and wonder. “Beatrice, this is… thoughtful. So thoughtful.”
Beatrice’s hands flexed at her sides, faint warmth rising in her cheeks. “I’ve been watching,” she said lightly, though her tone carried more pride than she intended. “It helps to notice small things—what she responds to, what calms her. It’s easier to be consistent, to make her feel secure.”
Amelia smiled, her eyes glimmering. “I can already see how careful you are. How attentive. She’s so lucky.”
Beatrice gave a small nod, caught in a quiet moment of satisfaction.
Lucky, indeed,she thought, though not for the reasons Amelia imagined.
She was lucky to be here, to be entrusted with Eliza’s care, to have a role far beyond ceremony or obligation.
She pointed to a line on the paper. “She likes to be held upright for a few minutes after feeding. It helps with her digestion. And she hums slightly when you sing‘Hush-a-Bye Baby’—I’ve noticed that melody calms her down more quickly.”
Amelia blinked rapidly. “Oh—oh, Beatrice,” she whispered, her voice wobbling.
Beatrice stilled. “Amelia?”
Amelia let out a tremulous laugh and pressed the heel of her palm beneath her eye. “I did not plan to cry today. Not after the ceremony, not after the vows—not now.” She gave a watery smile. “But you… you’ve been so steadfast. And this list, this care—” Her breath hitched, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I promise I will write. Every week. Even if nothing is happening, I shall send a letter.”
Beatrice’s throat thickened. “You needn’t?—”
“I want to,” Amelia insisted softly. “You’ve been a sister to me in all but name. I mean it.”
Warmth spread beneath Beatrice’s ribs—startling, tender, edged with something almost fragile. She lowered her gaze to Eliza, who let out a yawn.
“Come here,” she murmured, leaning forward.
Carefully, reverently, she pressed her lips to Eliza’s forehead. The baby’s skin was warm and impossibly soft. The faint scent of milk and violets clung to her.
Beatrice breathed her in, steadying herself.
