“Melancholy?”
“A time of deep sadness and listlessness that occurs with some new mothers.I even experienced a short bout of it myself, following the birth of Matthew.”
“But how does it come about?”
Mother took a long sip of her tea, a serious, pensive look knitting her brow together.
“From fatigue, I’m sure, and perhaps the pressures of motherhood.From what you have told me, it appears that her lying-in period was most difficult.Surely all these things combine to create quite a blow to a woman’s peace.”
In truth, it didn’t sound so different from the terrifying emptiness that gripped soldiers after too many weeks in the thick of battle.And carrying and being delivered of a child was certainly a battle of sorts.He had seen soldiers who no longer looked at the miniatures tacked into their pockets and no longer wrote home.They were listless creatures.Such sadness could kill a man.
Peter had not carried or borne Esperanza.And his knowledge of the health of the feminine physique was somewhat limited.But being by his wife’s side during those first days taught him that she had been through a war of her own, both in body and in mind.It was not so outrageous to conclude that such an event could leave Ana so altered.
Is this what she had meant when she said she was lost?And drowning?
“Please, how do I help her?I cannot allow her to take on this burden alone.”
“In many ways, it is her burden to bear,” Mother said.“You cannot see into the inner workings of her mind, cannot heal the great pain in her heart, nor erase the memories of the difficulty of Esperanza’s birth.But you can aid her in other ways.”
“Believe me when I say I would change as many of Esperanza’s linens as she would allow me.”
“Yes, do care for the child, as she permits you, but if you see that it makes Ana distressed, do not take the babe from her mother more than necessary.In these early days, a new mother needs her child just as desperately as she needs to breathe or to eat.”
“But surely she needs to rest just as desperately.”
“Yes, dear,” Mother replied, gently patting Peter’s cheek.“But imagine you just fought a hard battle to protect your foot soldiers.Then, without much preparation, they were taken away from you.After dedicating great portions of your energy and health to the well-being of those soldiers for many months, wouldn’t you feel panicked at not knowing how they were faring?”
“Well, of course.But I wouldn’t feel like I needed to embrace them constantly, if that’s what you mean.”He quirked a half-hearted smile at her.
“Silly boy, you know what I refer to.You have always felt a strong urge to protect those around you, me included.It is even stronger for Ana María, as that urge is now innate and buried deep inside her.That, my dear Peter, is motherhood.”
The tightness that had captured his chest loosened at long last.Finally, Ana didn’t feel lost to him.Instead, he understood her in a way that he never had before.Her instinct to protect their daughter mirrored his own protective instincts.Perhaps they were more similar than he realized.
“Helping her in this way will enable her to feel calm and safe,” Mother said.“With time, she will heal, and not just her body but her mind as well.”
“I promise that everything I do is to protect her.I don’t even take a breath without thinking of her.”He ran a hand through his hair.“It is exhausting to worry so much about someone.”
Mother’s eyes softened as a gentle smile curved her lips.“Oh, my dear.You have come to love her.”
“I...”Peter stammered.Why had Mother just come to this conclusion now, so many months after their marriage?It seemed rather late for such a statement, although for Peter, it felt rather soon.Didhe truly love Ana?He cared for her more than anyone, that much was true.He would sacrifice anything for her.But did he love her?And how would it appear to Mother to admit he wasn’t sure of his feelings for Ana when they had just welcomed their first child into the world?He rubbed a hand across his forehead.
“Now, Peter, you may have removed yourself from London for a number of years, but you are still my son, and I still pride myself on knowing you better than anyone.I would be ashamed if I couldn’t tell when my son was in love.And on the day of your wedding, you were not yourself.You were distant, lost.It was clear to me, even more then, that yours was a wedding of necessity, although I had guessed as much when you wrote me after so long a silence and asked me to seek out a special license.What a surprise that was.”
Peter’s mouth dropped open.The nervous bouncing of his knee was stilled by Mother’s comforting hand.
“I didn’t need to know the particulars of your original arrangement, dear.I had seen enough to know that you were—and are—a great protector of your Ana María.It was merely an observation that it appears you have found love at last.And one that I am glad to know.I have always wished you would find a wife to love.”
Peter stood, his shoulders back and rigid.His arms snapped to his sides as he began to pace.In a moment such as this one, when his mind was so utterly occupied, his body reverted to years of discipline and muscle memory.“I care a great deal for Ana.She has given me great purpose, has helped me to adjust to a manner of living that I never thought possible.I never could have married another.But I am not quite certain if it is love that I feel for her.”He stopped his pacing in front of Mother, shaking his head.“I have not decided to love her, you see.”
“If only it were so simple,” Mother chuckled, her tone hoarse with amusement and a hint of...could it be pain?Peter’s gaze darted to her face.Yes, pain was written there, evident in the small crease in her brow and the tight twist of her lips.“Peter, dear, you cannot decide when or whom you love.You may be able to decide whom to court, or even whom to marry, but whom to love?No, that is not something you can decide of your own volition.Love is like a summer rainstorm.It cannot be hindered, cannot be stopped.One can only shelter from the rain or choose to relish it, rejoice in it.For after a summer rainstorm, there is the possibility of growth.But a tiny seedling of attraction can either grow or drown.”Mother’s voice broke, and she put a hand to her throat.“And that is the choice that you do have, Peter.”
Peter laced an arm around his mother’s shoulders, pulling her into his side, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.He did not miss the tear that raced down her face at the contact.It had been years since Peter had seen this type of emotion from her.Did she have love in her past that he had never detected?Surely the love she had felt was not for his father.The mere flicker of memory of the man brought a heat of anger to Peter’s head.And yet she had remained by his side for all those years, even through numerous scandals.She had borne him two children.Was there more to his parents’ story than Peter had ever seen before?
“Now that the truth of your feelings for your wife is free between us,” Mother continued, “how can we ensure that she knows she is well loved by you?Because I suspect that knowledge will do a great deal to calm, comfort, and heal her during this fragile time.”
* * *
“Lady Ashmore.”Ana slowly bent, curtsying on trembling, exhausted legs.“Forgive me for being so slow to attend you.”
