(William's POV)
Hours passed late into the night, and Mary still had not regained consciousness. Edward, who had left with Cristabel to go home because she wasn't feeling well, had taken it upon himself to stop at Peter's to tell him not to bring Alastor or my children home. So, it was just Thomas and I with Mary and the twins, as Cornwallis had left shortly after four in the evening to visit Bordon for a couple of days.
It was half past eleven and both Aric and Alexavier had been put to bed; Thomas was downstairs making tea while I stayed upstairs with Mary, not daring to leave the room lest something should happen while I was gone. But she just lay there, unmoving, her breathing undetectable unless her pulse was checked at her throat.
"Will?"
I turned to see Thomas standing in the doorway holding two cups of tea.
"She's still unconscious?"
I nodded.
"Nothing."
Thomas sat down next to me, handing me a cup of tea.
"You look tired." He said softly.
"That may be, but I'm not sleeping until she comes to and I know that she'll be all right."
"I figured as much." Thomas replied.
"How are the twins?"
"They're asleep." I replied. "And of course, they're healthy."
"They are. Just as Tavington boys should be."
"Speaking of which, when are you and Charlotte planning on having children?" I asked in an attempt to distract myself from the current situation.
"We're not quite sure. Soon, I hope."
"Yes, you're not getting any younger."
Thomas smiled.
"I'm nearly forty; Edward is already forty and he's going to be a father; you're thirty-eight, you've got four; and, well, Peter is Peter; he'll be lucky if he even marries. As for me, I guess I'm a bit behind."
I shook my head, smiling to myself. Then suddenly, Alexavier awoke and began to cry.
"He's probably hungry." I said picking him up.
"Here, let me take care of him."
I handed my crying son to his uncle who walked out of the room with him.
Two more hours passed. Alexavier was back in his cradle sleeping and Thomas had gone to sleep in Braden's room. Meanwhile, I had climbed on top of the bloodsoaked sheets on the four-poster and laid next to Mary's still unmoving form, taking her left hand in mine. There was no grip, but her hand was still warm. I looked down at the golden ring on her left ring finger; I had given it to her the night after our wedding and as I stared at it, I was reminded of the vows we had each taken on our wedding day. But one particular verse stood out from the rest: in sickness and in health..
I leaned over Mary, kissing her forehead.
"I'm here. And I am never going to leave you. For you are mine and I love you."
