Bullets…smoke…He was running through the trenches, looking for Taylor, or was it Jenkins, or William. They were all gone and he was lying on the hard ground, looking up at the clouds of dust that signaled an enemy advance. He had to get away…lead the men to safety…but he couldn't get up…his heart was racing, but he couldn't move! He closed his eyes waiting for the end.
"Matthew. Mathew, darling."
Mary was calling him, how could Mary be here? 'No, no darling get away, they're coming, run!'
"Matthew, wake up."
He felt her hand on his face. Opening his eyes, he could see her smiling down at him. Was this the hospital? "Mary, I…I can't move…"
"Of course you can't, silly." Why was she smiling? And was she trying to hold back a chuckle? "Just look at you."
Still breathing hard, he looked down at his unresponsive limbs. The sight nearly took his breath away.
His arms were pinned to his sides by the blond heads of the two year old twins Robbie and Reggie. Six-month old Artemis, the 'nursery pup' had somehow wriggled between them on his chest, on top of the storybook they'd been reading from the feel of it. (Well, maybe this time the pages would just be crumpled instead of chewed…)
Raising his head to peer around the dog, he could see William resting on one leg. At three ("and a haf'!"), the young heir still loved tales as much as his younger brothers. It was a bit more of a surprise to see seven year old Violet sleeping on the other side. The very image of her mother, she pretended to be much too mature for bedtime stories, although Matthew had glimpsed her listening at the door more than once. Unable to find a better position, the loyal Osiris was draped across his master's feet.
Openly laughing now, Mary held up his camera. "I am sorry, the flash must have disturbed your sleep. I just couldn't resist. No more nursery tea for you!" Of course, there were many more nursery teas, and picnics and outings to the seashore over the years. For the sake of his back, however, Matthew did try to avoid falling asleep on the floor again.
Years passed and the countess acquired quite a collection of family photographs, including a number of excellent professional portraits. But her favorite would always be the candid shot of the young earl, sleeping at the bottom of the dogpile.