“Precisely,” Martin says, his voice worn with his badly concealed disgust. It doesn’t escape my notice that he avoided the first question I asked, but I know better than to try to get any information from Martin that he’s not willing to give freely.
“What would you advise me to do?” I ask.
He’s silent for a moment. “I legally can’t advise you, but I would suggest you find an heir. By any means possible.”
It’s only a few minutes after we hang up that Jeoffry’s alarms echo throughout the house again, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I know the decision I need to make, but it’s going to complicate so many things.
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts, and I look up at Sarah, who is holding a pregnancy test in her hands. “I called a concierge service, they’re sending out an OBGYN and their sonographer.”
I nod, taking the test and setting it on the counter. Tears well in my eyes. She doesn’t move to comfort me, and it’s fine because I don’t expect her to, but emotions are heavy in the air. I wipe away the tears and move to the toilet to take the test.
She doesn’t move from the doorframe, keeping her gaze on the floor as I go through the motions. I set it on the counter and wash my hands before moving to the closet to change out of my nightgown into a flowy summer dress.
“Did you want to try to eat breakfast again? Or even a small smoothie?” she asks when I come back into the bathroom. I flipthe test, taking a deep breath at the positive result I had already expected. It’s happening, and I can no longer ignore it.
“I’ll try a smoothie. Thank you, Sarah. Is Jeoffry’s physician in or just the nurses?”
She nods. “I believe just the nurses. I’ll check. Do you wish me to call him if he’s not here?”
“Please. I’ll meet you down in the kitchen in a few minutes.”
I rub my hand down my flat stomach after she leaves. This isn’t the turn I expected for my life, but it’s an opportunity practically dropped in my lap. The only person who could ruin it has more to gain by keeping the secret. Henry has always seemed like the intelligent kind; he should catch on before letting it slip.
I shove the test into a drawer and head downstairs, finding the smoothie Sarah promised me on the counter. I can hear her messing around in the pantry, either organizing it or knowing her, planning meals out to cater to my pregnancy going forward. The gentle woman is everything one could want for a house manager.
I’m still trying to stomach some of the smoothie when the doorbell rings. Sarah leaves me to go get it, and I follow behind her silently as two women step into the foyer.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” I say warmly.
The older one nods. “Of course. I’m Jenn, this is Kelly. Where did you want us to set up?”
I wave my hand forward. “We can use the large family room. It rarely gets used anyway.”
Sarah moves ahead to lead us through the house toward the back. I can see the women observing the obscene wealth on display as we walk, and any other time I’d tell them the history of the paintings on the walls, or the pieces perfectly placed on the tables and inlets. Today I prefer the silence, too deep in my own thoughts about the next steps that need to be taken.
“Will the couch work?” I ask as soon as we walk into the darkened room. Sarah moves to one of the tall windows, pulling the curtain back to allow the morning light in.
Jenn nods. “That’ll work.”
I sit on the couch, waiting for their guidance.
“You already took an at-home test?” she asks.
I nod. “Yes, earlier. It was positive.”
“Okay, great. We’ll just take some blood to see where your levels are at, and then Kelly will take an ultrasound to get an estimate of the gestation age.”
With a forced smile, I follow her instructions with the blood withdrawal, answering her routine questions about my diet and exercise, and listen while she explains that she’ll be prescribing me prenatal vitamins.
The second woman steps up, sets up her machine, and asks me to lie back and lift up my dress to my hips. I barely flinch at the cold gel as she moves it around inside me.
She pauses with a smile, showing the small screen. “There’s the baby. I’d say about six weeks or so.”
“Eight weeks,” I say.
Her eyebrows furrow, only breaking my unwavering stare to glance at her colleague. The other doctor swallows, and her eyes shift between us.
“Eight weeks.”
