Chapter 10 – What's in a name?

Peace and rest at length have come,
All the day's long toil is past;
And each heart is whispering, "Home,
Home at last!"
 - Thomas Hood (1799 – 1845), Home At Last

Wednesday, May 15th, 1982

"She reminds me of an illustration of Snow-White," a woman with graying auburn hair recalled with a sad smile. The hand-painted watercolor of the dying queen holding her daughter for the first and last time had been preserved in an early eighteenth century Italian copy of the Grimm fairytales she had come across at the Biblioteca Lancisiana.

"A child, as white as snow, with lips as red as blood and hair as black as ebony," she recited. The image of a young queen sewing at a window as snowflakes fell like white feathers wishing for a child, filled Loretta with a familiar and unfulfilled longing.

Her husband, Willard Delamere, drew nearer to examine the infant girl cradled in her arms. He assessed the child with a critical eye. She had fair skin, raven hair like her mother's and her eyes were black… no, an inky blue. That was a bit unusual. Most of the Keatings had light blue or hazel eyes.

"Snow-White, you say. She is a bit on the pale side, isn't she?" He ran a finger gently over the babe's porcelain cheek. She made a small cooing sound. "Does she feel cold to you?" he asked Loretta in concern.

"Now that you mention it, she does feel cool," she said frowning. Loretta held the infant closer to her own body. "There must be a draft nearby. We should move the bassinet farther away from the window."

"The Grimm brothers didn't say Snow-White was supposed to be as cold as snow," commented Will. There was no draft in the room that he could feel.

"Ow!" he shouted suddenly. A black leather handbag repeatedly rammed itself into Will's before returning to the manicured clutches of its owner.

"Oh, Evie, I didn't see you there," Willard greeted his older sister.

"You're lucky…" WHACK! "That Rick…" WHACK! "And Bev…" WHACK! "Didn't overhear you!" WHACK! Evelyn berated him in her shrill commanding voice. She huffed from the effort of assaulting him with the handbag.

The baby cried distressingly at the commotion.

"Now look what you've done! You've gotten my granddaughter all upset," she said giving her bag to her brother to hold.

"I made her upset?"

"Make yourself useful, Willy," she said knowing that he hated the nickname. She took her granddaughter from the arms of her sister-in-law. She patted the infant's back to soothe its cries. "There, there precious, you're mean old great uncle didn't mean anything by it or he better not have," she glared at him over the baby's head shooting daggers at him from her steely blue eyes.

"What did you hit me for?" Willard asked rubbing his sore arm and shoulder.

"You know better than to say such macabre things about the baby being as cold as the freezing snow. She was born almost three months premature," she chided him harshly. She felt the infant's forehead as though checking for a fever. "She is a bit cool," she admitted. "I'll have Bev bring her in for a check-up. Merlin, knows who the British give Healer licenses to these days. And those Yankee doctors of theirs are probably no better. Maybe they'll finally come to their senses and leave that city of sin."

Willard rolled his eyes at Evelyn's antiquated notions. The South was a paradise of gentility, while the North was a den of debauchery.

"Maybe it's to do with her blood circulation," she frowned bouncing the girl in her arms. The little angel smiled and drool trickled from the corner of her ruby lips. She wasn't as small as Evie had expected a premature infant to be. When Rick and Bev had returned with the child in tow, Evie had almost died of shock. If it hadn't been for the fact that she was ecstatic to have a granddaughter to spoil with frilly dresses and dollies, she would have given the young couple the tongue lashing of a lifetime for not flooing her sooner about Beverly's condition.

"You just mind your mouth, Willard Mayer Delamere, especially when Beverly is around. She's been through an ordeal. Imagine going into labor so soon in some alien country. This is why women in my day convalesced."

"They do speak English in Britain," quipped Loretta, who enjoyed nettling her sister-in-law. "And I believe convalescence is a euphemism for imprisoning pregnant women," she added for good measure.

There was a tense silence as they recalled that awful Beltane Eve's night, when Rick had flooed the Delameres from St. Mungo's. They had never seen their nephew so terrified. Even in the green flames they could see the naked fear in his eyes as he told them that Beverly had gone into labor. And though it was left unsaid, Loretta and Willard knew it was far too soon into the pregnancy for Bev to deliver. Rick asked his aunt and uncle to help his mother watch the boys at their New York townhouse.

Willard had considered Apparating to London instead, but Rick wanted to make sure the boys were taken care of. No doubt he was also needed at the Keating's home to calm his sister. Rick would ask for his help if it was needed. Sometimes a man just needed to be alone.

Sunlight poured into the parlor, where the three senior adults were gathered. The large curved bay window overlooked the sprawling lawn and gardens of Keating Hall. Rick and Beverly were outside with the boys showing them how to ride broomsticks that only flew 2 feet above ground. Will and Danny squealed with delight. They had missed their parents terribly during their short three-day absence. Fortune had smiled on the family. They narrowly escaped the jaws of tragedy.

"Ahem," Willard cleared his throat to break the quiet. "You're right, Evelyn," he said apologetically. "That was tactless of me."

She nodded. Her brother had always been something of a peacemaker, which was probably why he had married such a firebrand. Loretta was perpetually getting under her skin.

"Any ideas for a middle name to go with Seraphina?" asked Will trying to switch to a more pleasant subject.

"Seraphina is such an odd first name though," remarked Evie. "What could follow that?"

His sister was a hard woman to please, but Willard silently agreed with her sentiments. Rick and Bev had explained to them that it was a combination of Bev's late mother and sister's names. He had wondered to himself why they hadn't just named her Sara Phoebe. It had been at the top of Bev's list for possible names for a girl. He suspected that Rick had perhaps opposed such a direct memorial to the deceased. So, Willard had not probed the matter furthered. This was a time of celebration.

He and Loretta had been tapped to be the little girl's godparents in addition to being her great uncle and aunt. They had accepted without hesitation. The position came with the added bonus of giving her a middle name.

Evie placed the girl gently back into the antique bassinet that had held so many Keatings before.

"How about Bianca?" Loretta recommended. "It's Italian for white or fair. It's their translation of Snow-White. I want her life is a fairytale after such a difficult start," she explained.

"Well, I think our princess is off to a good start with such a beautiful and intelligent godmother watching over her," said Willard giving his wife a wolfish grin.

"Always the flatterer." Loretta rolled her r's with an Irish lilt. "There's really no need. You've already tricked me into marryin' you," she leaned over into the hooded bassinet to talk to her goddaughter directly, "Lesson number one, little one," she instructed the babe in her lectern voice. "Beware of men with words sweeter than honey."

"I tricked you," Willard said in mock defense. "Woman, you bewitched me."

"Oh, stop it you," Loretta said smiling.

"Yes, please," Evie muttered.

The newly appointed godmother ignored her sister-in-law and picked up her charge again and rocked her in her arms. "Seraphina," she said as she marveled at the tiny hand that grasped her finger. "From the Hebrew – the name of God's highest choir of angels."

"Very good professor," Willard complimented his learned wife, who was indeed a professor of mythology and literature. He held Loretta by the waist and kissed her.

"Get a room. You two," Rick jested. "You'll corrupt the children." He covered the eyes of his three-year old, Danny. The little boy tried to move his father's hands away to see what he was trying to hide.

"So, have you three managed to come up with a middle name?" asked Beverly following behind her energetic five-year-old into the elegant parlor room.

"Well, I've always been partial to the name Wilhelmina," suggested Willard.

"That's a terrible name, Uncle Will," Rick grimaced. "Besides, we've already named our firstborn after you," he said referring to his eldest, christened Willard Robert Keating. Robert had been Roderick's father's name. Of course, Evelyn had protested that she much preferred her first grandson to be named after her late husband.

Rick had stuck his ground. His father had died when he was young boy. Willard had filled that void, becoming much more father than uncle to him. The man had been his hero since childhood and naming his firstborn after the man was his way of paying homage to his role model. He hoped that his own son would embody the qualities he so admired in his uncle.

Willard harrumphed in mock indignation at the rejection of naming the girl Wilhelmina after himself.

"What do you think about Bianca?" suggested Loretta again explaining the significance of the name.

"Sounds beautiful. She is my little princess, that's for sure," said Rick picking his daughter up from the bassinet.

Beverly had been unsure of Rick's feelings for the girl they had adopted and were now passing off as their own. It was deceitful, she knew, but somehow her maternal instincts overrode her moral principles. They usually discussed major decisions ad nauseum. She feared that he had only agreed out of his love for her. Would he be able to love a baby that was not of his own flesh and blood?

She thought of her own father, Anselm von Rothschild, an international financier. It had been painful growing up feeling unloved by her father and she had been without a doubt his biological offspring. They say girls grow up to marry their fathers. Bev prayed to the Goddess Freud had been wrong.

Rick was the complete opposite of her father. She was beyond relieved that he had taken to Seraphina right away. It helped that the baby didn't wake them up at all hours with incessant crying like the boys had. In fact, it worried Bev at times. The infant cried to be fed or held, but she was quickly consoled and quieted.

Today has enough troubles without borrowing more, Bev quoted the proverb to herself. What was important was that Rick adored and doted on their daughter. After the first few days, he had fallen in love with her and was apt to spoil the child.

"Seraphina Bianca Keating. That's a lot of syllables for such a little girl," said Willard.

"And Wilhelmina is so much shorter?" Evelyn said with pursed lips. She had hoped that the girl might have been her namesake. She guessed she'd have to live with the fact that Danny had been given the middle name Evan in an attempt to appease her, when he too was not christened Robert.

"My present!" cried out the five-year-old, Willard. He reached up in a vain attempt to take his sister away from Rick. The little boy realized that his father was a tall man and tugged persistently on his father's pant leg. "My baby!" he protested.

"He thinks she's a souvenir from London," Rick explained. "This is your sister, Will. Not a present," he tried to dissuade the toddler. But he knelt down, so the boy could see her. "Sera is our baby," Rick stressed.

"No, mine," the boy asserted.

"I blame myself," said Beverly shaking her head. "Its how I introduced her to the boys. When we brought her home, I said, 'Look what mommy brought you.' So naturally, Will thought she was a gift of some sort. He just won't let go of the idea. He thinks we're sharing a toy with him."

Author's Notes:

1) Chapter title, "What's in a name?" is a line from Romeo and Juliet, you know that movie Claire Danes and Leonardo DiCaprio were in.

2) I never knew writing could be so enjoyable and difficult at the same time. It's so much better than writing insipid essays or memos. The Lestranges will be appearing in the next chapter and yes Lady Alexandra they're not too happy with things right now.

Thank you, Jessica, Alexandra and reveur idioteque, so much for your reviews!