“Not yet,” her mother answered. “Let us be certain before we give him hope.”
Hope. Thiswasa thing of hope, was it not? A little joyful bundle to love with all their hearts.
A possible heir.
Jilly’s mood darkened.
A son or daughter to be trained in the ways of the Bradford family. A girl who must not run barefoot. A boy who must be baron one day.
The nausea rolled through her once again. Her mother ran and fetched a bowl. Jillian waved it away.
“I’m all right,” she said. “But I think I might want to lie down a bit until this queasiness passes.”
“Of course.”
Jillian’s mother helped her to the bigger of the humble beds, pulled off her boots, and brought a cool, damp cloth to lay across Jilly’s forehead.
“I don’t like feeling out of sorts,” Jillian complained.
Her mother took her hand and wrapped it inside her own. “If there is a little one on the way, you may have to get used to it for a while.”
“Little tyrant.” Jilly smiled wanly and lay her hand across her belly. “I guess there’ll be no more leaping about for a while. That should make everyone happy. Especially Ellena. She didn’t think I should attend the barn roof-wetting tonight. It seems she will be getting her wish.”
“Now, now,” her mother scolded gently, “no one wishes you ill, you goose, or desires you to give up your happiness. But mothering is a solemn commitment. You will be thinking of the little one first now. Putting their needs before your own. There is a very special kind of happiness set aside for those willing to do that.”
Jillian tried to lie quite still, but her thoughts tumbled through her brain. Yes, she would protect this baby… if she were indeed with child. It must never feel neglected as Lewis had been. Or be expected to live up to silly rules that had nothing to do with decency and kindness. She would fight for this little soul as no one had fought for Lewis. Jillian felt the mother tigress rise within her, a powerful instinct, enough to swipe fiercely out of the way all who would hurt this tiny, fragile life. The urge to bare her teeth and snarl at those who would wound the innocence of her little babe grew hot within her.
And then the nausea followed.
Jillian rolled over and released what was left of her breakfast into the bowl her mother had held out hurriedly. Mrs. Kinsey gently removed a stray strand of hair from her daughter’s cheek and used the damp cloth to wipe her mouth.
“Can I stay here with you?” Jillian asked plaintively.
“For the day?”
“Until my return to Munro.”
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in that lovely guest room at Trenton Grange with maids to see to your every need?”
Jillian closed her eyes and fought the giddiness that now joined the nausea in torturing her. Her voice was small. “They will fuss over me.” She took a shallow breath. “But not with love. I have had enough of that sort of attention.” She opened her eyes again, focusing them on her mother’s kind face. “Please, I can sleep on a straw mattress on the floor. “I just want my mum.”
A tear formed and slipped down the side of her nose.
“There now,” said her mother. “I think we could manage that. You just rest. I will go speak to Lady Howell and explain things to her quietly. Only as much as she needs to know. No need for us to make a big fuss. Now, close your eyes awhile. I will pull the shade. And when I come back, I will make you a new cup of ginger tea.”
Jillian sighed out her relief. Her body, which had been a tight fist of fear and physical distress, released itself more fully into the soft embrace of the mattress. She would be all right now. She was safe.
In a few more days, if her bleeding had not resumed and the nausea did not abate, she would be able to tell Lewis the life-changing news that he was to become a father. There would be a letter at last. She smiled—a slow, weak version of her usual display, but a smile nevertheless.
She imagined Lewis reading the words, his eyes growing large, his heart, like hers, filling to capacity for the new life they would bring into the world. He would abandon his stiff ways, so recently acquired, and run down the hallway, waving the letter at anyone he passed and shouting, “I’m going to be a father!”
Much later, when he had calmed from the initial excitement, he would sit and write and share with Jillian all the plans he had for their new little family to be happy. She would receive it andhold the words to her heart. This would be the push he needed to make things right, once and for all.
Jilly’s eyes grew heavy as her thoughts grew peaceful. Just a few more days…
