Author's Note: Thanks to Lady Charity and Twisted Ingenue for reviewing! Yes, I will write about Anthony saving Sweeney. That's a few chapters away.
Chapter Two: Julius Caesar
When he opened his eyes again, the sky was dark. Shivering, he wondered why he was outside so late, so alone. Then he remembered. It felt as if someone had hit him in the stomach with a billy club. He put his head into his hands and wept.
"What are you still doing out here?"
He looked up and saw Maggie. Hastily, he dried his face on his sleeve.
"I don't know," he admitted. She joined him on the bench and leaned her head against his shoulder. They stayed like that for a few minutes.
"You needn't think it was your fault," she finally said. He turned his head to look at her, and she smiled at his astonishment. "I know what you're like, Anthony. It wasn't your fault. Nobody could have helped her, not the way she was."
"I should have gone straight for Mr. Hicks," he muttered. She shook her head.
"It wouldn't have made a bit of difference. Anyway," she added, "you did save someone by going to Mr. Hicks."
He stared at her again, and saw a hint of triumph in her red eyes.
"The baby?" he asked.
"Yes, Anthony, the baby. It was breathing and crying just a few hours ago, before it went to sleep. I helped Mr. Hicks with the delivery. Oh, Anthony, you should see the baby." She hugged him tightly, and then looked at him from an arm's length. "Do you want to see the baby?"
He nodded. His throat hurt too much for talking.
"Come on," she told him. With that, she led him into the house. He averted his eyes from the sheet-covered figure on his parents' bed. Kate, Lizzy, and Rose were sleeping on their mattress, huddled together like a litter of kittens. Mr. Hicks knelt by the cradle that all the Hope children had occupied at one time or another.
"There it is," Maggie whispered. Quietly, they approached the cradle. Anthony saw a small white bundle inside. He lifted one of the folds to reveal a tiny, bright red face.
"Is it a boy or a girl?" he asked shakily.
"It's a boy," she answered, tracing a finger across the baby's cheek.
"What will we name it?" Anthony persisted. Maggie turned to Mr. Hicks.
"What's your first name, sir?" she inquired.
"James," he replied.
"That's what we'll name him," she decided. "That is, if you don't mind."
"Of course not," said Mr. Hicks. He cleared his throat. "I never had any children of my own. I don't mind at all."
The door flew open, letting in a cold draft and Mr. Hope. He was drunker than Anthony had left him. He cast a bloodshot eye over the room. Of all things, he settled on Mr. Hicks.
"What's he doing here?" he bellowed.
"Be quiet and shut the door," Maggie hissed. "You'll wake the baby."
"The baby?" Mr. Hope echoed. "Is it a boy?"
"Yes," Maggie snapped. "His name is James."
"Where'd you get that bloody name? Well, no matter." Mr. Hope bent over the cradle and stroked the baby's face. "He's a runt, isn't he?" He turned to Anthony. "Well, boy, wasn't I right? Didn't it all work out?"
"Not quite," Anthony said. The block of ice in his stomach, which had started to dissolve in the past few minutes, seemed to double in size. "Mum's dead."
"What do you mean, boy?"
Anthony gestured to his parents' bed. He watched as his father staggered towards the body, lifted the sheet, and gasped.
"My girl," mumbled Mr. Hope. "My poor Mary. I didn't think…"
"You never did," muttered Anthony.