A/N: This story is set roughly three years after the previous one
"One, two, three-"
A deafeningly loud clap of thunder interrupted Margaret's counting. She had been expecting it ever since the flash of lightning, of course, but it still made her jump. The rain had been falling heavily for hours, wind rattling the windows. It was late, past midnight, yet Margaret felt too restless to settle.
"Come to bed." John called to her. "It's late."
She stayed where she was, listening to the rain splash down into the puddles in the yard below. It was soothing to hear such sounds, such natural sounds. She had grown so used to the constant roar of the machines that she relished the peace that only came at night.
"I love watching storms." Margaret said with a sigh. "I find them fascinating. Don't you?"
John huffed a disbelieving breath from behind her. She tried not to laugh, but he really was so grumpy when he was tired. He and Arthur shared that particular quality.
"Not when I'll have a soaking wet yard and probably some flooding to deal with in the morning, no. Come to bed, you'll catch a chill."
Margaret reluctantly turned away from the window just as more lightning illuminated the room. She smiled at John, lit up in his place just for a moment, scowling at her from their bed.
"I'm quite well. It is rather difficult to sleep when our daughter currently has her foot lodged in my rib." Margaret ran a hand over the rounded swell of her belly.
"You're sure it's a girl this time?"
"Utterly convinced, yes. I feel different. I am carrying differently too."
"My little psychic wife. I don't doubt you." He held out a hand to her. "Come, bed."
Margaret climbed into the large bed, steadying herself on her hands. Balance was rather difficult, given the huge weight she was carrying around her middle, and John sat up to support her.
"I feel even less graceful than I did the last time. I am enormous."
"You are beautiful."
"You have to say that." Margaret laughed, pulling the covers up to her shoulders and turning (with some difficulty) to wrap her arms around her husband.
"No I don't." He tried to return her embrace, but something rather got in the way. "Turn the other way love, I can't get close to you."
"See!" Margaret said triumphantly as she turned onto her other side. "Enormous!"
"Maybe a little." John murmured as he pressed himself tightly against her back, his hands lacing with hers and resting on her belly. "But so very beautiful. As ever."
"She'll be here soon." Margaret said softly. "Promise me you'll stay with me this time?"
"Aye, I promise. Just like I promised this morning, and last night, and yesterday lunchtime.."
"I'm sorry. I just feel a little anxious. There's Arthur to think about now, if something were to happen-"
That familiar pit of fear was lodged in her chest. Her heart hammered and her chest tightened as it did every time she thought of the impending labour she would go through. Arthur's had been early, and even though the doctor had told her it was no fault of hers, she had been rather more static in this pregnancy and had entered confinement willingly.
"Shh, shh love. You've been resting plenty, the doctor says you are well. I'm not leaving the mill until this baby is here and safely in your arms. Try and sleep."
"I wonder if I should check on Arthur." Margaret tried to sit up. "I did not even think! What if he is scared, John? It's a terrible racket, and there's not been a storm like this since he was tiny."
John eased her back down into the bed, kissing her cheek and stroking the long braid she wore her hair in at night. Margaret almost laughed, for it felt like he was trying to soothe an anxious horse when he stroked her hair like that.
"I think we'd hear him. Besides, Dixon is with him. Sleep, Maggie. If we're needed, she'll come and-"
Just like that, their bedroom door burst open and the sound of rapid footsteps filled the room. Before either of them even had time to sit up, their son had thrown himself onto the bed. John rolled away from her, sitting up.
"Son, you shouldn't just burst in like that." John said - for this was not the first time their son had seen fit to come into their room at night.
After a rather unfortunate occasion where Arthur had barged in at a rather private moment, Margaret had learned it was important to lock one's door with a small child around. Arthur had the most peculiar skill of being able to creep past anyone without them noticing. Dixon tore her hair out, muttering that neither Margaret nor Master Frederick had ever eluded her so often.
"I don't like it Papa!" Arthur wailed.
She could hear John making soft shushing sounds, and when she turned over she could see in the dim light of the dying fire that Arthur had buried his face in his father's shoulder while John rubbed circles on his back. For all his sternness, John was a most loving and surprisingly gentle father.
"It's alright son, nothing to be afraid of. Where is Dixon?"
"Snorin'." Arthur said.
"Do you want to sleep in here with us?"
"Maggie!" John said in protest. "He's not slept in here since he was tiny. We'll spoil him."
"Please Papa?" Arthur made his voice even tinier than usual. "I'll be good, I promise."
Margaret heard John shifting over a little. Sure enough, Arthur carefully wriggled down into the space he had created. Another flash of lighting, and Margaret could see the look of triumph on her son's face.
"Fine. Sleep in the middle, and keep those cold toes of yours away from me, lad."
The following crash of thunder made Arthur yelp.
"Come to Mama." Margaret wrapped her arms around him, inhaling the scent of his hair. "It's alright, Artie. Nothing to be afraid of."
For around ten minutes, there was silence. Only the soft sounds of Arthur's snuffly breathing filled the room, and Margaret felt herself drifting into a much needed sleep.
"Ow!" Arthur yelped.
"What?" Margaret asked. "What's wrong?"
"Something kicked me!"
"It weren't me." John grumbled. "Can we all just get some bloody sleep?"
"John!" Margaret tried to stifle her laughter, but she could not. "Oh Arthur I am sorry, I think it was the baby. She is very wriggly at night. Here, give me your hand."
Arthur warily held out his hand, and Margaret pressed it to her stomach. She could feel the baby moving, the most wonderful feeling in the world, and Arthur yelped just as Margaret felt a strong kick.
"What are you going to call the baby, Mama?"
"We aren't sure yet. Penelope is a name your father and I both like."
Arthur thought about that for a moment.
"Not Arthur?"
Margaret frowned; what a strange question!
"Why would we call the new baby Arthur? That's your name."
"You still want me?" Arthur said in a tiny little voice that very nearly broke Margaret's heart clean in two. "You won't get rid of me?"
"Get rid of you? Where on Earth did you get that idea?"
"I was playin' with LouLou and she said there was only room for one child in every house."
"Bloody Fanny." John muttered. "I bet she's told her that to explain why she's not got any brothers or sisters."
Margaret bit her tongue; Fanny had had such an awful time carrying Louise she did not blame her one bit for not wishing to have any more children. However, it became rather problematic when one told tall tales to a six year old.
"No darling, that isn't true. This new baby is going to be part of our family, just as you are. Won't it be nice to have a little sister?"
"I want a brother."
"Well, we shall see. But no Arthur, we aren't getting rid of you. We love you so very much."
"Love you." Arthur yawned, his little arms wrapping tightly around her neck. "Night Mama. Night baby. Night Papa."
"Goodnight son." John's deep voice was thick with tiredness. "Night Maggie."
"Goodnight everybody. Arthur, darling, not so tight." Margaret coughed, reaching up to untangle his arms from her neck. "Go to sleep."
Outside, the storm continued. Inside, in a jumble of limbs, the Thorntons slept peacefully.
A/N: Thank you so much for every review. I know we're all pretty much in the same boat of social distancing or total self isolation at the moment. Writing these silly little oneshots honestly does me the world of good - I wrote this one in half an hour this morning. I just hope it gives you a bit of a smile - I think we could all do with one! If there's anything you'd like to see, please let me know. I'm pretty much going to be writing until the world stops being such a dumpster fire..