Content warning for a mention of baby loss

The clock struck six as Margaret finally returned from the schoolhouse. She had not been teaching for some weeks, but liked to call in at the end of each day to help set things straight and see if anything needed to be done. John said she was fussing, that she ought to be putting her feet up before the baby came, but really, she enjoyed the chance to be useful. She opened the front door and was immediately greeted by Arthur. She had not taken him with her today, leaving him instead with Dixon and his grandmother. Judging by the weary look on Dixon's face as she carried Penny up the stairs, he must have been rather challenging. He bounced in place as he waited for Margaret to remove her coat, staring up at her expectantly.

"Good evening, Arthur. Have you been good?" Margaret asked, unbuttoning her coat and hanging it up.

From upstairs, the sound of Dixon scoffing could be heard as clearly as though she were standing beside them. Margaret bit her lip, knowing exactly what was coming.

"Grandmother says I am impossible." Arthur announced cheerily.

Margaret sighed, walking into the drawing room with Arthur trailing behind. She would surely hear a detailed list of all of her eldest child's escapades this evening at dinner. Though Hannah loved him, she found him rather a challenge. Though he so closely resembled John in appearance, his temperament was a little closer to his mother's - though Margaret was sure she was never quite so naughty as all this.

"Oh, Arthur. That really won't do!What did you do this time?"

There was a sheepish silence, and she knew she would get no answers from her boy tonight. She eased herself onto the settee, the large swell of her belly making her rather more cumbersome than usual. Her feet were weary, her eyes heavy with tiredness. Arthur sat down beside her, closing the gap between them and curling up against her like a little cat. She smiled, closing her eyes and wrapping an arm around him.

"Mama?" Arthur asked after a time, his voice stirring Margaret as she neared sleep.

"Yes, darling?" Margaret mumbled, eyes still closed.

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

Margaret prised her eyes open, looking down at his sweet face. His smile had vanished, his eyebrows knitted together as he looked very serious indeed.

"Of course. Anything."

He chewed his lip, picking at his fingers as he stared down at his hands. Margaret gently separated one hand from another, placing them back in his lap. Arthur could rarely sit still. Even when he slept; Margaret would often go into the nursery in the morning and find his feet on the pillow.

"Don't fidget, my love. You know how it irritates Papa."

"Sorry, Mama."

"Now, what is it you wanted to ask me?"

"I have a question."

"Yes, I know. I am waiting to hear it."

"It's about the baby."

"Yes?"

"I was - I was talking to Louise and-" Arthur began, his voice fading into an indistinct muttering.

"Arthur, dear, please don't mumble like that. I can barely hear a word you're saying." Margaret said. "Did Aunt Fanny pay a visit here today while I was gone?"

Arthur nodded, chewing his lip. Margaret waited for the question he was apparently so anxious to ask. Nothing came.

"Well? Your question?"

"How did the baby get in there?" He asked in a jumbled rush.

Margaret blinked in surprise. It was not a rude question, merely a natural curiosity. Arthur was almost six now, and his younger sister had been born so long ago that she was not surprised he could not recall any of the conversations they had had at the time. Although the question was perfectly reasonable, Margaret had not expected it.

"How do you think it happened?" she asked cautiously.

Arthur looked down at his feet once more. He looked like he was about to cry.

"Louise said you ate it." He said, horror lacing the softness of his voice. His blue eyes filled with tears. "Mama, you didn't did you? You wouldn't do something as dreadful as that?"

Margaret frowned, staring down at the roundness of her belly. She was seven months into her time and far larger than she had been in any of her previous pregnancies. Arthur had never had such curiosity before; he had merely accepted that there would be a new baby soon with a shrug of his shoulders. Now he was older, it was not so unexpected that he had a natural curiosity about such things.

What was truly surprising is that Arthur had been discussing it with his cousin. Louise did not know much of the world, sheltered rather obsessively by her mother. Fanny did not like her knowing too much, believing it would upset her to know the cruelty and hardship that existed. Margaret wondered if it was Fanny's own upbringing, the loss of her father before she was even out of the cradle and the ensuing financial difficulties, that made her so desperate to protect her own daughter from any manner ofsadness.

Fanny had made the choice - and Margaret knew that it was a choice, for she had said as much on many occasions - to not have any more children. So Louise had grown up with only the company of her cousins and a select few playmates that Fanny deemed acceptable. The girl had developed quite an imagination.

"No, darling. I did not eat the baby." Margaret ran a hand over the dark mop of his hair, so very like his father's. "Louise is quite mistaken. You cannot eat a baby!"

"She said it was like a seed that you swallow." Arthur continued, folding his arms defiantly, certain this time that he had caught her out.

He was a stubborn little thing. He was curious about everything these days, demanding explanations for all that he saw. They indulged him, answering any number of questions about all manner of things at all hours of the day. "Why do cats have whiskers?" "Why is the sky blue?" "Where does the sun go at night?"

"No." Margaret shook her head, trying not to laugh. "No, that isn't quite how it happens."

"Then how?!" Arthur asked.

Margaret frowned; she was not sure what to tell him. She had never truly been told how a baby was made until her wedding night, though she had guessed a little for herself as she grew, as well as a few scant details from Edith. She certainly did not know how to explain it in a manner fit for a child's ears.

Perhaps John would be better talking to him; Arthur was young, too young to know anything of love or the truth of how a baby was conceived. It was not an appropriate subject to be spoken of to anyone save a doctor, really, least of all a boy as young as this. Margaret chewed her lip as Arthur leant forward expectantly. She held a hand over her stomach, feeling the little life within her squirm and roll beneath her palm.

"I - well -" She swallowed, trying to find the right words. She did not wish to lie to him, nor did she wish to tell him the truth. Oh, what a quandary!

"Babies are created by love."

"Love?" Arthur asked suspiciously..

"Yes. When a man and a woman - a husband and a wife.." Margaret began, desperately scrambling to think of the rest of the story. "When they love one another and wish to have a child, the love between them...creates the baby in the mama's belly."

Yes, Margaret thought, that would do. Not too much, yet not too ridiculous that a child might start asking more demanding questions.

"So you definitely didn't eat the baby?" Arthur asked after a moment, his little face screwed up as he thought about her explanation. "But how does the love create the baby?"

Margaret closed her eyes, exhaustion in her bones.

"Magic, darling." Margaret said wearily. "Magic."

"Magic?!" Arthur scoffed, shaking her arm until she was forced to open her eyes. "Mama, none of this makes any sense!"

Margaret sighed; perhaps another child would have been placated by the vague explanation of magic, but Arthur was not. She smiled, her hands running through the tangled dark strands on his head, matted by dirt. What had he been doing today?! He seemed to attract dirt without any effort on his part. His bath water was quite black by the time he had finished with it each night.

"Not magic, as such. It is a miracle, provided by God." Margaret corrected herself. "God gives the baby to the mama and papa, so that they might love the baby and raise them well."

"Hmm." He thought very hard for a minute, and shrugged. "Alright. 'Bye Mama!"

And with that, leaving his stunned mother behind, Arthur Thornton ran off to play.

Some hours later, John crossed the icy yard to the main house. He had taken to packing up his work early and taking whatever he needed to do home with him. He enjoyed seeing the children before they went to bed, and he did not like to be too far from Margaret as she neared her time.

She greeted him as he opened the front door. She was standing on the stairs, hand on the bannister as she turned, one foot on the steps.

"Oh! You are early this evening. I was not expecting you until later." She said, smiling broadly.

Even after all these years, it was an extraordinary thing to him to always be greeted with such affection. It warmed his heart to know his presence was welcomed, that he was needed.

"I've work I can do in the study. It's cold tonight."

"I'll have one of the servants set the fire." She stepped down and walked, slowly and carefully, towards him. She leant up, kissing him softly. "Darling, now that you're home, would you mind terribly putting the children to bed? My ankles are quite horribly swollen. I would do it, but if you're here, I think I could do with the rest."

"Are you well?" He asked, a jolt of panic shooting through him. "Do you need the doctor?"

Margaret shook her head, sweeping her fingers along the stubbled line of his jaw soothingly.

"No. I am fine, just tired. The children have been most demanding today." She chuckled to herself, some joke he did not share in. "Arthur has been asking endless questions. So, can I leave you to see them into bed?"

"Of course."

They walked up the stairs together, John's arm wrapped around his wife's back as he helped her. She was, in all honesty, enormous. She was carrying far larger than she had before, and joked that perhaps she was giving birth to a litter rather than a baby. He wished he could take the burden from her, yet there was nothing he could do to ease the physical strain of this time. All he could do was give her his time, help where he could and do whatever she asked of him.

She paused at their bedroom door, catching her breath after the exertion of the stairs. He rubbed at her back, and she smiled up at him gratefully.

"I am fine. Just a little out of breath, that is all. Go, see to the children before Dixon pulls her hair out."

John walked to the nursery, waiting outside the door as he heard small voices saying their prayers. At the sound of "amen", he went inside. Dixon was carrying Penny, though in truth she was getting far too old for such babying. John held his own arms out to take her, nodding at Dixon that she might be excused for the evening.

Any thoughts that his daughter might be too old vanished as she nuzzled into him, pudgy fingers clinging to his neck as her face rested against his own. He kissed her cheek, inhaling the warm clean scent of a child freshly bathed and ready for bed. Oh, he was a devoted servant to his children and they both knew it!

"Papa, can you read us a story?" Arthur called, and John turned just in time to see him leap from one bed to the other. He gritted his teeth, willing himself to have patience. A quick narrowing of his eyes was normally enough to tell Arthur when he was going too far, and the boy dutifully muttered his apologies for jumping.

"Oh no, none of that. You have a story before your prayers, I know you do."

Arthur crossed his arms and pouted, knowing full well he had been caught in his trick.

"Fine."

John lowered Penny into her bed, kissing her on both cheeks before tucking the blankets up to her chin. John walked towards Arthur's bed, dropping to his knees beside him and pulling up the blankets. He enjoyed these moments, the quiet of the nursery just before bed, the sleepy faces of the children he adored. He treasured them, savoured each moment that he could of being a father.

"Papa?" Arthur asked. "Mama said the baby got inside her because of love."

John almost choked.

"Did she?" He asked in a slightly strangled voice. "Were you asking her about it?"

"Yes." Arthur nodded, lowering his head onto the pillow. "Louise said she ate the baby but I didn't think Mama would eat a baby. She doesn't even like mutton! Why would she eat a baby?!"

John tried not to laugh at his son's strange rambling logic, trying to maintain at least a semblance of control of this odd conversation.

"No, son. Your mother didn't eat a baby. She's right enough. Love, that's what made you."

Arthur seemed satisfied that his parents were in agreement, though he still eyed John with caution.

"Mama said that God gives you the baby. Does that mean he gave you me?"

"Aye, and your sisters." John felt his throat tighten at the thought of the baby girl they had lost the year before. "Gifts from God, all of you."

"So that's how the baby got inside Mama?" Arthur asked. "And then it'll grow until it's ready to come out?"

"Yes."

Arthur, who so closely mirrored his own image, fixed him with a hard stare. John frowned, unsure as to why his son was looking at him like that. He felt like the boy could see into his very soul.

"Well, how will the baby get out?"

John opened his mouth to speak and promptly closed it again. He was not sure he was up to explaining the mechanics of childbirth this evening. Instead, he kissed his son's forehead and rose to his feet.

"Goodnight, Arthur."

He left the nursery, clicking the door closed behind him and shaking his head, a smile on his face. He walked back to the master bedroom, tapping softly on the door.

"Come in."

She was lying on the bed, still fully dressed with her shoes on. He frowned.

"I can't reach my feet, and they're too tight to kick off." Margaret admitted, catching his pointed look at her shoes. "Will you help me?"

He sat beside her, taking her ankles in his hand and easing each shoe from her swollen feet. He frowned with concern, not liking the look of it one bit.

"You rest tomorrow." He said, to a little noise of protest. He shook his head, and she hesitated. Finally, she nodded her head in reluctant agreement. "Thank you."

"You do fuss over me so."

"I want you to be well, that is all." He paused, absently rubbing at the pad of her foot. "You might have mentioned our son demanding to know how babies are made."

"Oh no, did he ask you too?" Margaret asked, poorly suppressing a chuckle.

"Love, is it?"

Margaret shook her head, laughing as she rolled her eyes heavenward.

"Oh John, I didn't know what to say! I'm sure my face was quite red. Did he seem content with the answer?"

"Mmm. You might have something else to explain tomorrow though."

"Oh, what now?!" Margaret sighed, rolling her eyes. "I have never known a child to ask so many questions! What now, does he wish to know how dragons have babies?"

John chuckled, his hand resting on her stomach. As he placed his palm on the rise of her belly, he was rewarded with a sharp kick to the heel of his hand. Perhaps this baby would be just as demanding as their brother.

"No, not about dragons. He wants to know how the baby will get out."

Margaret clapped a hand to her forehead, groaning. After a moment, eyes closed and head resting on the pillow, she uttered one word.

"Magic?"

A/N: Thank you for reading! As ever, if there's anything you'd like to see me write about in this collection please let me know. I hope you're all safe and well.