AN: Here is another piece to this one.
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111
"I didn't say nothing in my letters," Paul offered. "I kept the confidence, Mummy, just like you asked."
His defense had a touch of worry and concern to it. Eglantine hugged him closer to her as she rested on the bed with him on one side, properly tucked in under the covers, and Carrie on her other side, lounging just until Eglantine took her down to her room to put her to bed for the night.
The children were going to stay for good, now, and Eglantine had decided that they needed space. There was room for them to spread out. The home she'd inherited from her parents had been built with the idea that it would house a great many Price children. It had been one of her parents' greatest sorrows, then, that she'd been the only child successfully born to them. Of course, that hadn't meant that she hadn't been the proverbial apple of both her parents' eyes, but the house, mostly empty for the lack of the children, had always been something of a reminder that they had hoped for more.
It seemed that it might be Eglantine and Emelius that finally saw the house living up to its true potential, as their growing family filled its walls.
Charles could have his own room, but he'd chosen to continue to share a room with Paul for the time being. Eglantine assumed that, maybe, they found some comfort in the proximity of each other. Carrie had her own room, now, and she was already hinting that she hoped the baby might have a bed in her room—at least for a while. Eglantine imagined they would discuss it a few times before settling a crib somewhere. Carrie, after all, might not know how noisy babies could really be, and she certainly may not understand how often the baby may need Eglantine's attention during the night.
"Of course, you did," Eglantine said. "Nobody's angry with you, Paul."
"If he'da kept the confidence, then there wouldn'ta been no drawing to bring Dad home, now would there?" Charles offered from his bed.
"Do be quiet, Charlie," Carrie said with some annoyance. "It doesn't matter." She turned back to Eglantine and snuggled down against her. She rested her hand on Eglantine's stomach, rubbing her gently. Eglantine closed her eyes and savored the comfort, for a moment, of being sandwiched tightly and warmly between the two youngest of her children. She was growing accustomed to being petted and, honestly, she was starting to find it a great deal more comforting than she ever would have imagined she might. "Dad's home now, and everything's going to be wonderful. Mum ate more tonight, for supper, than she's eaten since you left."
It was clear that her final words were directed toward Emelius who sat in the chair he'd brought beside the bed, pulled from the children's writing desk.
"He come home expecting to find a baby," Charlie said. "And then there ain't one. Suppose he just off and leaves again?"
"In your absence," Eglantine offered, "it seems that Charles has come into a great deal of opinions, which he shares with us at every turn."
"Growing pains, my dear," Emelius responded with a hint of a smile and quick wink of his eye. "At that age, I was insufferable. Many may even suggest that I never quite grew out of it."
"Are you going to talk about me like I'm not here?" Charles asked.
"While I cannot assure you that I won't ever be leaving again," Emelius said, "I can assure you that it won't be because of my displeasure with anyone in this house. I am thrilled with my wife and all of my beautiful children. In addition, Charlie, I am not disappointed in the baby, as it is."
"What if there ain't one?" Charles asked.
"There's no baby?" Paul asked, sitting up a little. Eglantine patted him and soothed him to get him to rest back into his position. The last thing she wanted was Paul getting stirred up so that bedtime was delayed even more.
"Of course, there's a baby," Carrie said. "It's right here in Mum's tummy. You know that, and so does Charlie."
"Oh, right," Paul said, furrowing his brow, but always willing to go along with his sister when she answered his questions for him.
"We don't have any proof, do we?" Charles asked. "Nothing that's an absolute, wouldn't you say? Suppose there isn't really a baby."
"That's a fascinating theory, Charles," Emelius offered quickly. "I'll remind you to tell me more about it, privately, tomorrow, while we're going on a walk around the village and having a discussion on how not to upset your mother her well-being and the general comfort of us all. For now, however, I think that's enough discussion. It's getting late, and you children need to be going to bed. Furthermore, I do believe that the baby in question has tired your mother out, and she could do with some rest, which I will see to it that she gets."
Eglantine swallowed back her amusement as best she could.
It was so wonderful to have Emelius home, and it would be even more wonderful to have some time with him that wasn't pressured by the need to tend to the children and make sure that their needs were met. More than anything, Eglantine was simply looking forward to the quiet moments that she would be able to enjoy with him now that he'd returned.
"Come along, Carrie," Eglantine said, making moves to get up and stir Carrie. "Let's get you tucked into bed while your father puts the boys to bed."
"You're not angry, are you?" Paul asked when Eglantine, on her feet and having circled around the bed, leaned down to kiss him.
"Not at all, Paul," she assured him. "You sleep well, and don't you think about it again. No harm has been done." He smiled at her and she straightened up. Emelius kissed Carrie on the forehead and wished her goodnight. Charles had been refusing Eglantine's goodnight kisses since she'd started to offer them to Paul and Carrie, but she did wish him a goodnight before dropping her arm over Carrie's shoulder to lead her out of the room and toward her own bedroom.
Emelius stopped her, and she turned toward him.
"I'll just make sure the boys are settled," Emelius offered. Eglantine smiled at him. She could see in his face, and even hear in his voice, everything that he didn't say.
"I'll just put Carrie to bed," she said, silently echoing to him the same sentiment.
He leaned and just barely brushed his lips across hers as though he couldn't bear the thought of letting her leave the room without a kiss to take with her. She treasured it more than she could have expressed. She felt like she missed, profoundly, each of those simple kisses that she hadn't had during all of the time that he'd been gone.
Now, she hoped, they could begin to make up for lost time.
111
Eglantine wasn't sure if Emelius had chosen to have a bit of a heart-to-heart with Charles before leaving the room or not, but she had time to ready herself for bed before he reached the room. She waited, patiently, in bed, in her nightgown, until he'd finished readying himself for bed.
He smiled at her as he turned back the cover. He wore a dressing gown with nothing underneath. There was, Eglantine supposed, no need to be coy. He rid himself of the dressing gown, entirely, before slipping into the bed beside her.
"Why do you look at me like that?" He asked.
"How was I looking at you?" She challenged. She couldn't help but smile.
"Like you can hardly believe I'm here," he said.
"I can hardly believe it," she agreed. "I've missed you, Emelius. I haven't wanted to burden the children. I haven't wanted to burden you, but…I've missed you."
"Is that why you haven't been eating?" He asked.
"I've been eating. You can look at me and tell."
"That's not what Carrie says."
"Carrie would feed me six times a day," Eglantine said. "It's all part of her effort to feed the baby. Still—I haven't always felt up to eating."
"Because you've missed me?"
"Because you left me with a little something to remember you by," she teased. She kissed him, and she enjoyed the playfulness of the kiss. "And, perhaps, at least a little, because I've missed you terribly," she said, when the kiss broke.
"You don't have to miss me any longer," he assured her.
Their married life, before he'd left, had been so short that it almost felt like a dream. They'd hardly had any time at all to learn one another before they'd been separated. In many ways, Eglantine still felt innocent and nervous as they shared kisses and tentative touches in bed.
Her heart beat fast and hard in her chest, and her breathing felt rapid and shallow. Every part of her wanted to be with Emelius, and every part of her felt giddy and nervous at the prospect.
She wanted to ask him if he felt the same, but she felt silly even thinking it. He was much more experienced than she was—he had been the one to help her over the proverbial hump of their wedding night—and he likely had no reason to feel like she did.
"Do you want to take this off, my love?" He asked, tugging at her nightgown.
She hummed and took off the garment, allowing him to sweep it away and over the side of the bed. She wouldn't see it again until morning, or until something drove her to go looking for it.
He looked at her reverently, the lamplight revealing her to him, and brushed his fingers over her shoulder and collarbone before making any efforts to move lower. He hesitated, a bit like he expected her to refuse. Perhaps, she decided, he sensed some of her tension, and he was giving her the opportunity to address it.
Eglantine found that his hesitation relieved a little of her tension, and she laughed at herself. She shook her head.
"I feel a bit foolish," she admitted.
"Anything that I can do to make you feel better?" Emelius asked, smiling. He held her eyes. "A bit of juggling? A recitation of a few lines of Shakespeare? A few examples of birdlike mating calls in which I happen to be very well-versed?"
Eglantine rolled her eyes and shook her head, laughing at him. His teasing had done the trick, though, and maybe he had simply known it would. She felt the last of her tension melting away, leaving nothing behind but the profound love that she felt for this man—ridiculous as he may be sometimes.
"It was only that—it's been some time," Eglantine said. "And, it isn't as if we had a lot of time to be together before you left."
Emelius kissed her. The hand that had started a tour of her body cupped the back of her neck and squeezed, gently massaging her as he kissed her.
"One of my greatest regrets, really," he admitted. "I have had more time than you might imagine to be alone with my thoughts. I am not ashamed to say that I have spent an inordinate amount of that time remembering the times we were together—always fondly—and tracing every inch of your perfect body in my mind's eye."
Eglantine felt her body respond to him, and she felt her face grow warm.
"You're trying to flatter me, Emelius," she teased.
"Am I?" He asked, pretending to be surprised. "Only if it's working," he added with a sly grin.
She would refuse him nothing. She knew that, and she felt like he might suspect as much.
Luckily, for her, she had already learned, in the admittedly limited times that they'd been together, that Emelius was a gentle, careful, and generous lover.
"Relax, Eglantine," Emelius said. "Let me enjoy retracing those steps I made in my mind so many nights. Allow me to do my duty as man of this house—husband and father—and let me take care of you."
Emelius slipped his hand down and rested it on Eglantine's belly. She smiled and covered his hand with her own. She laughed quietly at her thoughts.
"There is a baby there," she said. "I promise. Despite what Charles might say."
"I never doubted it for a moment," Emelius said, laughing quietly in response.
"He seems determined to disagree with everything," Eglantine said. "There's some daily discussion."
"I'll talk to him," Emelius said. "He's at that age, really, though. Don't take it personally."
"It's difficult enough without all the other challenges he's faced," Eglantine agreed. She sighed. "And now, a new home, a new family, and a new baby on the way."
"A loving family, a safe and warm home, and a baby brother or sister that he'll come to adore," Emelius said.
"You always know what to say to make me feel better about everything," Eglantine said.
"I do my best," Emelius responded. "Now—how about you come here, and let me help you feel better in every way possible."
"I thought you'd never ask," Eglantine offered with a wink. Emelius laughed, and moved in for a kiss that Eglantine very gladly let him have. She sank appreciatively into his arms, determined to enjoy every bit of love and comfort they had to offer her and not to leave them for a long while.