“I want us to apply for guardianship,” she continued. “I’ve been thinking about it for days. I know it isn’t simple, and I know there are legal considerations, but she has no one, and we have a house and the means to–” She stopped. Took a breath to steady herself. “I want her to have someone.”
William looked at the baby for a long time.
“Guardianship is not a small matter,” he cautioned.
“I know.”
“It isn’t visiting. It isn’t sponsoring the orphanage or ensuring the coal arrives on time.” His voice was even, but there was something careful underneath the evenness. “A child needs consistency. Stability. The same faces, the same house, the same people reliably present.” He paused. “A child demands steadiness from a household.”
Cecily looked at him. She knew what was coming. She had known it was coming when she rehearsed the words, which was perhaps why it had taken her three days.
“Our arrangement is temporary,” William said quietly. “We agreed on that from the beginning.” He did not look away from her. “When the scandal has died down, when the ton has moved on, you will have your own life, and I will have mine. That was what we agreed on.”
“I know what we agreed on.”
“Then you understand why I can’t…” Something flashed across his face—it looked like pain—and then it was gone. “It would be unfair to her. To begin something and then–” He looked at the baby. “She has had enough of things that don’t hold.”
The room was very quiet.
Cecily looked at the small face in the crib. The baby had found something on the ceiling to examine and was gurgling, entirely unaware that her future was being decided two feet above her head.
He is right.
And he was. William was entirely, maddeningly right. This was not a real marriage. It had never been a real marriage. She had agreed to that, clearly and in her own words, in what felt like a lifetime ago.
“You’ll continue to sponsor the orphanage.” It was not a question.
“Of course.”
“And we will visit.” She met his eyes. “Both of us. Regularly.”
“Yes.”
“And if her circumstances change—if anything changes—we are the first to be contacted.”
“I’ll have it formalized,” he offered. “Through the solicitor. Whatever protection can be arranged without guardianship, I’ll arrange.”
Cecily nodded and looked back at the baby with watery eyes.
“She’ll have everything she needs,” William added. Not to convince her, but simply because it was true and he needed to say it.
“I know,” Cecily breathed. “I know she will.”
The baby made a small sound and turned her head toward Cecily’s voice.
Cecily reached into the crib without thinking and gave her her finger, and the baby’s fist closed around it with the absolute, unthinking certainty she brought to everything.
Cecily felt the grief move through her cleanly, like weather.
“She knows your voice,” William said from beside her.
“You think so? It’s just proximity.”
“I don’t think it’s just proximity.”
She looked at him. He was looking at the baby.
This is what it would have looked like.
