The silence lasted one second. Lady Brimsey’s shriek of joy sent three birds out of the oak tree. She launched herself from the bench and seized Lily in an embrace that threatened to crack ribs.
“A grandchild! Henry! A grandchild!”
Lord Brimsey rose from the bench. His eyes glistened. His chin trembled. He walked to his daughter and wrapped his arms around both her and his wife and held them.
Sophia set Jane on the blanket and pulled Lily into a hug.
“Sister.” Sophia’s voice cracked. “Oh, sister.”
“Do not cry, or I will cry, and Mama is already crying enough for all of us.”
“Oh, stop it, you. My baby sister is having a baby!” Sophia pressed her face against Lily’s shoulder and laughed and cried at the same time.
Edward shook Hugo’s hand. The grip lasted longer than usual.
“Well done, Hugo.”
“I had some help.”
“I should hope so.”
Oliver appeared at Hugo’s elbow. “Does this mean I am getting a cousin?”
“It does.”
“Can I teach him or her to fence?”
“When he or she is old enough, yes.”
“Can I teach it now?”
“The child has not been born yet, Oliver.”
“I could practice on Jane.”
“You will not practice on Jane,” Sophia called from across the lawn.
Aunt Margaret remained in her chair. She had not moved. She had not spoken. She held her opera glasses in one hand and her wine in the other, and when Lily crossed the garden to her, she looked up with blue eyes that were bright, fierce, and full.
“Aunt Margaret?”
“I am not crying.”
“I did not say you were.”
“Good. Because I am not. I have not cried since 1804, and a grandniece or grandnephew will not change that.” She set down her glasses and took Lily’s hands. “Your mother is going to knit. Do you understand that? She is going to knit for months. We will all drown in wool.”
Lily laughed. Aunt Margaret squeezed her hands and pulled her down and pressed a kiss on her forehead, dry, firm, and carrying sixty years of love compressed into a single gesture.
“You have done well,” Aunt Margaret whispered. “Both of you.”
The afternoon softened. The congratulations settled into the comfortable rhythm of a family that had absorbed its news and was now returning to the serious business of cake and conversation and children. Lady Brimsey commandeeredThomas for a tour of the rose arbor, narrating the names of every bloom to a toddler who responded by attempting to eat a peony. Lord Brimsey followed, pruning shears in hand, radiating quiet joy. Sophia gathered Jane from wherever she had most recently climbed and settled on the blanket with her proofs. Margaret refilled her wine and resumed her surveillance of the grounds through her new opera glasses.
Hugo drifted toward the lake path, and a moment later, Edward rose from the bench and followed him.
By the water, Oliver demonstrates Wellington the Second’s alleged ability to jump on command. The frog sat motionless on a rock. Oliver stood three feet away, pointing at the ground and issuing instructions. Leo observed from behind his stick.
“Jump, Wellington! Jump!”
