My apologies for the slow update. This school term has not been kind to me, and free time has been hard to come by.

Dialogue edited on November 17, 2012 at Flaming Trails', and others', recommendations.

2

The in-laws would be arriving in minutes, and Victoria, distressingly, still had yet to finish dressing. While the housekeeper, Mrs. Hall, helped the young woman into a maternity corset and wrapper in preparation for the meal, the gentle buzz of their conversation through the powder room door was regularly interrupted by bouts of rough coughing. Every time they sounded, Victor would leap nearly out of his chair in the hallway outside and stand for several minutes at a time, usually picking at his cravat without remembering that it was supposed to stay as flat as possible before their parents' arrival. The autumn resurgence of Victoria's summer illness could not have been more poorly timed; the cough had returned in her seventh month, followed by chills in the nighttime and a drawn look about her face. She insisted that she'd battled a periodic roughness of the throat since she was young, and still kept up in many of her daily activities, but had Victor been a more overbearing man he would have forbidden her from those undertakings in favor of bed rest and throat syrup.

When finally she emerged from the powder room with minutes to spare, in a light burgundy button-down dress with a fine cut which nearly concealed her burgeoning form, Victor tried to stop to compliment her, but was instead rushed from the upstairs landing by an irate housekeeper who, with dinner guests nearly upon them, had just spent twenty minutes away from the stove. Victor gently helped his wife down the stairs before the two of them arranged themselves neatly in the entrance hall, side-by-side at the foot of the stairs as they waited. He glanced down at her; she met his gaze and smiled. Victor took a deep breath.

"Are you ready?" he asked in a low voice.

"I suppose I am," she said. "The day I learn to stand up to your mother when she has plans is the day I never suffer again."

The evening's get-together had been arranged almost entirely at Nell Van Dort's behest, despite the utter lack of enthusiasm exhibited by all other concerned parties. Victor did not consider himself a skilled host, but the meal apparently must take place at the younger Van Dorts' home so that they might have the honor of making their beloved families feel welcome. Why the Everglots had agreed to attend as well was beyond Victor's understanding, but their presence was sure to not make dinner any more pleasant.

"At eight o' clock you could decide to feel tired and we'll cut the evening short," he suggested.

"Manipulative, but non-confrontational," Victoria murmured. "I have wed an absolute rogue." She lifted the back of a hand to her lips and coughed; her demeanor was delicate, but she visibly struggled to prevent the rough hem from developing into a fit. She pressed three fingers against her lips, swallowed, and then laid her hands gently against her skirts once more while Victor looked on with concern. He reached out to squeeze her hand while glancing to the door.

"Are you quite certain you're strong enough for this?" he asked, not for the first time.

"For goodness' sake, Victor," said his wife, "I've told you I'm predisposed to coughing. I'm quite fine, really."

"It's not getting worse because – b-because of -" 'The baby?' he was about to ask before he was interrupted by a pompous BANG! BANG! at the door. His parents had arrived at 6:30 so precisely that, had he not known that his mother wasn't patient enough for the exercise, he would have suspected that they'd spent full minutes standing on the stoop with a pocket watch.

Nell's first words upon entering the house were, "Oh, Victor, what on earth are you doing answering your own door?" while William limped blithely across the threshold and deposited his hat on the rack without making eye contact.

"The housekeeper is making our meal, Mother," Victor said as, in the corner of his eye, he could see Victoria already struggling to maintain her composure. "Haven't we spoken about this before?"

"Seems you ought to hire a second housekeeper, then, doesn't it?" Nell asked cheerfully as she bustled toward the parlor. "Have the Everglots arrived?"

"Not – not yet," Victor said, stumbling as his mother shoved her handbag into his arms. As she left for the warmth of the drawing room fire, he made to place the bag on the floor, but realized that this was like to give her a fit, and was pondering over where to set it in the sparse entrance hall when Victoria slipped quietly next to him and took it from his hands.

"I'll find a place for this," she said primly, inclining her head toward the parlor door. "You ought to see to your family."

"They're our family now," he said despondently as Victoria disappeared into the far hall, but she didn't turn back and he suspected that he might not see her again for as long as she could reasonably keep away. He stood tall, straightened his jacket, and entered the parlor with a modest smile fixed on his face.

Victor's mother was looking an amusing shade of tan; two months spent in a baroness's castle on the coast would do such things. "So unfortunate you couldn't come," she said of it as the young man seated himself on the lounge before the smoldering fireplace. "Grand view of the ocean, and the most wonderful tea I've ever drunk, wasn't it now, William?"

"Grand indeed," William droned from his comfortable sitting place by the dark window. "Came from India, now, dinnit, Dear? Yes, wonderful." Nell tittered and Victor reflected that most all tea was from India, while William continued on, affixing his son with an uncharacteristically steely gaze: "Now tell me, Victor, do you think much of Indian fish?"

"I -" BANG! BANG! "Ah!" Victor was spared having to answer by way of the Everglots' arrival. "Excuse me, Father, there are – ah – the other guests…" He hurried from the room.

Victoria, to his surprise, arrived in the entrance hall at the same moment that he did, descending the stairs with a more drawn look about her face than usual. He offered her a smile before sweeping the door open with a small bow. "Lord and Lady," he bade them. "Welcome."

The Everglots, standing unmoving on the doorstep, did not seem impressed by this display. They glanced at one another, rolled their eyes simultaneously, and Finis waddled across the threshold with his hands upon his lapels, chin held so high that it almost reached Victor's waist. Maudeline took slightly longer to accept her invitation into the house. Her eyes locked on her daughter's from the doorstep before she deigned to take an imperious step inward, her hair catching slightly on the doorframe.

"Victoria," she said stiffly as she pulled free with a small bobble. She glanced quickly downward before turning away. "You're looking quite bloated."

Victoria's mouth thinned. "Thank you mother," she managed. "And you seem rather – lean." Maudeline didn't respond. Victor could see his wife briefly close her eyes before taking a deep breath and pasting a pleasant smile across her face. "I'm sure we're going to have a lovely evening together," she said brightly.

"Of course we're not," Finis said, already impatiently checking his pocket watch as Nell's voice blasted suddenly from the drawing room doorway.

"Lady Everglot!" Victor's mother stood silhouetted by the firelight, positively jiggling with excitement. "Oh, you look ravishing this evening!"

"I wish I could say the same," Maudeline said without even the pretense of a smile.

"Mother," said Victoria in a low voice.

"Mother," Victor said in kind, laying a calming hand on Nell, who looked prepared to sweep forward and envelop the Lady Everglot in a bosomy hug, which he suspected might be the last thing she'd ever do.

"Maudeline," Finis sniffed, glancing upward at his wife.

"Finis," she said in a warning tone.

"Finis!" called William as he hobbled up next to Nell.

"William!" said she.

And just as Victoria looked as though she might flee the entrance hall altogether, the housekeeper stepped calmly from the dining room and called above the cacophony: "Dinner is served." Victor could not have been happier to have a reason to usher his guests out of that hall. What to do with them once they were seated at dinner, however, he hadn't the foggiest idea about.

As it turned out, he needn't have worried; his mother was present, after all, and there was no need for a charismatic host at the head of the table when Nell possessed the unique ability to hold a four-way conversation with herself on any subject that crossed her mind, stopping only occasionally to nudge her husband wherever she required affirmation. While the Everglots and the younger Van Dorts picked quietly at their roast duck and potatoes, Nell happily informed her captive audience of their stay with the baroness, who apparently possessed a fascinating collection of exotic gallstones. Victoria's wrapping was presently criticized for its lack of emphasis on her waistline, and Victor was called out twice for slumping in his chair while he found himself growing more mentally withdrawn from the visit with every passing minute. The dinner conversation was not really so much a conversation as a monologue, and as always, Nell stood at center stage.

They supped for nearly an hour, and between the second course and dessert he managed to catch Victoria's eye. She turned to him and he knew instantly what she would have said had they been alone: "I am about to go mad."

As am I, he thought to himself as the clock chimed seven-thirty. Half an hour more.

As dessert was served, a moist white cake which earned the Van Dorts' housekeeper her first compliment from Nell for its excellent taste ("Thank you," Mrs. Hall had said, "I bought it in town,"), the inevitable subject was broached – by Lord Everglot, of all people. He completed the last bite of his dessert cake and pushed the plate away, adjusting his wide mouth and hanging his hands comfortably again from his lapel. "So, Vincent," he called out over Nell's talk on the fascinating properties of antique bookends, "what will you be naming your progeny?"

The table quieted immediately. For the first time all evening, Nell seemed interested in hearing someone else speak. Victor had not expected such a sudden shift in focus and choked slightly on his cake, but Victoria patted him on the arm and spoke in his stead.

"We… haven't decided," she began carefully. Lord Everglot snorted and his wife raised a critical eyebrow.

"You'll be doing him a favor by giving him a strong man's name," Finis said. "'Ajax.'"

"Gesundheit," said Victor.

"Mm, quite right. What about 'William'?" suggested William.

Victoria spoke up again. "Well, actually," she said laying a protective hand above her midsection, "I have, um, that is… Of course, there is always the likelihood that I am mistaken. But I…" she shot Victor a shy glance, "…I think the baby will be a girl." Finis snorted again.

"Females," he said, flipping his pocket watch open. "Always confusing emotion for insight." Nell, though, seemed delighted.

"Oh, that's wonderful," she gushed, leaning across the table to pat Victoria's arm, her bodice jiggling dangerously close to the cake. "I've always wanted to name a girl, haven't I, William?"

"Mm, oh, yes dear," William said, nodding. "Why, you were almost called Winnifred anyway, Victor."

"Any daughter of an Everglot deserves a good moral name to guide her in life," sniffed Maudeline. "'Prudence.' Or 'Chastity,' perhaps."

Lord Everglot scoffed, standing upon his chair. "Pah! The daughter of an Everglot deserves the name of an Everglot. Victoria," he said, checking his clock once again, "you have fifteen recent female ancestors to choose from, though you might dig deeper if you so choose. I personally recommend your great-aunts Henrietta or Vertiline, their Grandmother Theodosa, my cousin Philomena, or Aunt Jessamine's second-cousin's first wife, Elvira. Fine Everglot women, all."

"What about 'Helene'?" Nell mused from behind a second slice of cake.

Amidst the discord, Victor stood and finally found his voice. "We, ah -" he said over the noise, twisting his cravat and swallowing nervously, "that is to say, we haven't decided as of yet, but -" He glanced desperately at Victoria, who gave him a wan smile and then frowned, turning to cough raggedly into her napkin. He thought he saw her pause as she pulled it from her mouth, but his attention had already returned to the guests. "W-we haven't decided on a name, but we'd thought that our personal favorite for a girl was – was 'Emily.'" He smiled at his wife and she straightened her back with a smile of her own, though she suddenly seemed somewhat paler than normal.

For a moment, no one spoke. The Everglots shared a glance; however much they apparently disliked one another, they did share an awful lot of glances. It was William who finally broke the silence.

"Rather – rather common name, don't you think, Victor?" he asked, scratching his head mildly.

"Indeed," Maudeline said. "I was aware of a cobbler's wife named Amelia once. That's quite close enough."

Victor was put out. "Well, we liked it."

"Well, you're a new father and prone to make mistakes, Victor," Nell assured him.

And for a moment again, there was silence.

"What is your preferred name if it's a boy, Victor?" William asked finally. "'William,' perhaps?"

"'Leonidas,'" said Finis imperiously, and from the entrance hall the clock struck eight. Victoria immediately stood up. She smoothed her skirts, adjusted her sleeves, and offered both sets of parents a beaming smile.

"I," she began, "am very tired." She turned her head to her husband, inclined it slightly, and turned back. "Please, I think I – I must retire for the evening. I hope you had a wonderful time and that we might have another dinner at some date after the baby is born." She froze for a second with her eyes unfocused on the far wall, and then she swept abruptly from the room.

Victor was taken aback. It was not like Victoria to be so short, but there was nothing he could have done for her ending the evening even if he'd wanted to; upon realizing that they were being released, the Everglots left the dining room nearly on their daughter's heels. Victoria was nowhere to be seen in the entrance hall, so her parents offered their cold thanks to Victor for having had them for dinner. Nell was loath to leave her captive audience, but was eventually ushered to the door with many unprecedentedly tearful hugs imparted upon her son, several attempted on Maudeline Everglot, and one successfully landed on Finis, who was lifted from the ground entirely for its duration.

"Your housekeeper simply must tell us where she bought those cakes," William said cheerfully as he fetched his hat from the rack and winked at his son. Victor was about to thank him for coming when he added, "And you still might want to reconsider that choice of name, Victor. Lacks distinction, donchaknow. Find yourself a decent son's name as well. You never know how these things might go."

"'Musket,'" Finis suggested as he straightened his dinner jacket for a final time. Maudeline waited for Victor to open the door for them, and then the couple left with only the slight shfft of Maudeline's hair wisping against the doorframe to see them out.

"Now, you be good to yourself, Victor," Nell said, licking a finger and smoothing back his hair as the Everglots disappeared into the night. "We're leaving for the lakeside in two days' time, so have a strong grandchild waiting for us when we return, you hear?"

"Yes, Mother," he said obediently. She would have started talking about her experience with infant care then as well, but William was bold enough to take her by the elbow and lead her from the house himself. "And no honey!" was the last thing Victor heard from her before he managed to finally slip the door closed and quickly fix the deadbolt in place. The clang of the heavy iron lock echoed in the suddenly-empty hall, and Victor had rarely heard so sweet a sound. He pressed his back against the door and sighed.

Mrs. Hall was exiting the dining room with dishes in her hands when he looked up. She was a rather severe older woman who had been a widow for more than a decade, and Victor was certain that she did not enjoy dinner parties any more than he or Victoria did. "I rather hope that this doesn't become a regular event," he said, smiling thinly as he stood, but Mrs. Hall did not return the grin.

"Was this yours, sir?" she asked, holding out before her a large piece of cloth. It took Victor a moment to realize that it was a folded dinner napkin.

"I don't believe…" he said, reaching for the cloth, but the moment he took it in his hands, the words died on his lips. It had not been obvious when the housekeeper held it, but the open fold of the crisp white napkin was spattered with drops of deep red. He blinked.

"Whose…?" he asked aloud, but his gaze was already drifting toward Victoria's powder room on the upstairs floor. He remembered her scared look at the table, and a sudden shock ran through him. He didn't remember dropping the napkin, but he was halfway up the stairs before his mind had even caught up with him.

He almost skidded on the upstairs rug, such was his hurry. "Victoria," he called, stumbling forward and knocking rapidly on the powder room door, "V-Victoria, are you in there?"

There was no response. Oh Lord, maybe she's dead, he thought wildly as he rattled the door handle. To his surprise, it was not locked. "Victoria?" he said again, not wishing to intrude if she was underdressed. He was somewhat aware of Mrs. Hall coming up the stairs behind; she might have said something to him, but he wasn't entirely listening. Then, from inside the room, there sounded a muffled, jagged cough, and that was quite enough for him.

He pushed the door open and slipped inside as quickly as possible, to protect any privacy his wife might want. The powder room was almost dark, with only two candles burning on the walls, but it was enough for him to see that Victoria was still decent. She sat on a small chair along the far wall near the window, her head bowed, her arms resting upon her belly. It was difficult to tell in the flickering candlelight, but she seemed to be shaking.

"Victoria?" he asked, dread surfacing in his stomach like ice. "Victoria, are you alright?"

She glanced up with a trembling lip, her face lit with the candles' dull yellow glow. "Oh, Victor," she gasped finally, her voice full of tears. He crossed the room in three strides and knelt at her side, taking her hands in his own. "Victor, I'm s-so sorry. I didn't know."

"What?" he asked, truly confused. "You've done nothing wrong." Victoria only shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Victor," she repeated. He gently rubbed his thumbs along her palms and was suddenly aware of a thick slickness along them. She pulled her hands from his and laid them facing upward in her lap, where the dim flickering light lit them with an impersonal warmth. He looked away. Along the wall of the powder room sat Victoria's vanity, a white-wood antique which was likely their most valuable belonging. The mirror glinted with candlelight and the bright polished wood was yellow in the dark room.

Victoria seemed ready to cry. "I-I think it might be time to call the doctor." He nodded dumbly. The vanity seemed to glow in the darkness. Candlelight might turn everything gold, but Victor felt a gray sickness eating at his heart, and the heavy drops of blood sprinkled across Victoria's fingers were still as black as pitch.