Chapter 6

They finished the tea in comfortable silence, and James returned the cups to their tray, fussing about with them like a man looking for an excuse not to leave just yet. Or, just perhaps, like a man who did not intend to leave and who was terrified by the implications of that promise.

"Stay the night, James," she requested again.

He nearly dropped the tea tray at those words, but mastered his trepidation quickly, shaking himself and setting the tray down again. "Of course, as I said. If you'd like."

After all, he must always have intended to stay. Certainly he never would have changed into his nightshirt before making them their tea otherwise. Smiling shyly at her, he turned down the bed and waited for her to slide under the covers before drawing the curtains, extinguishing the lamps, and crawling in after her.

"I've always hated sleeping alone," he murmured, adjusting the blankets around them, but keeping what he must have considered a safe distance.

She bit her lip and edged a little closer. "It's all right, James. Of course nothing will happen, but it doesn't mean we can't simply spend the night close to each other. It would be immensely comforting, I should think."

"You could have something there," he admitted, and she could feel him moving closer in the darkness. "You must miss him dreadfully," he added after a moment, voice low and full of more compassion than she probably deserved under the circumstances.

"Just... just to be in his arms one more time..." She drew a shaky breath, shaking her head. This could not be something any man wanted to hear from his new wife. "I shouldn't. I'm so sorry, James."

"No. No, don't be," he answered firmly, his arms closing around her waist and drawing her against his chest.

She closed her eyes and tucked her head under his chin. He was smaller than John, and not so well-muscled, but it was still comforting to be held in his arms like this, snuggled up against his body and cradled close by gentle arms. Sighing softly, she wrapped an arm around his waist, squirming until she was entirely comfortable.

"Is it wrong to miss him?" she asked quietly, half-knowing what his answer would be. If anyone would understand, it would be the man who had loved John as deeply as she had.

"Of course not. You loved each other dearly: deeply and honestly. Whatever he may have become later, that doesn't change who he used to be. We both loved that other man, with good reason. It's not wrong to remember and mourn. We should honour his memory, Helen."

"Thank you, James," she whispered, pressing her nose into the hollow of his throat and inhaling his scent.

He murmured in agreement, lifting a hand to lightly stroke her hair, and she found herself drifting off in mere minutes, after far too many sleepless nights, comforted by the friendly embrace.

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She awoke to light in her face. They'd moved in their sleep, her back now pressed against James's chest, and his arms still tightly around her as he slept with his face buried against her shoulder. It was a cosy pose, and she could have remained there forever, but for the fact that they were not alone in the room. Gasping, she stared up at the elderly lady opening the curtains, struggling to free herself from a grip that only became tighter as she tried to extricate herself from it.

"Now, don't you fuss," the woman told her with a kindly smile. "There's no shame in being caught abed with your own husband, dear heart."

"I... no, of course not," she agreed sheepishly, trying to relax.

"It's early yet, but Master James said that you're often up just after dawn. Rest if you like. There's no hurry after the long couple of days I'm sure you've had. There's tea just here, and breakfast waiting downstairs."

"Oh, thank you," she answered, slowly smiling at the sweet old woman. "You must be the housekeeper. Mrs. Baines?"

"That would be me," she agreed placidly. "And aren't you a lovely thing? No wonder Master James is smitten. I always did say it would take a special kind of lady to capture his heart..."

She felt herself colour at that, clearing her throat and looking away for a moment. "He didn't warn me you were a flatterer."

"I only say what I think, lass. Now, will you have your tea in bed?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose," she answered, squirming free of James's gentle grip and sitting up. "Thank you."

"How do you take it, dearie?"

"Just a tiny bit of sugar, please," she whispered, glancing at James to make sure he was still sleeping soundly.

Mrs. Baines seemed to read her thoughts. "Oh, don't worry about him. He's a hard one to wake up, our James. You could fire off a starter pistol next to his bed and he'd just roll over and sleep on."

She laughed softly at that. "I'll remember that."

Handing her the tea, the smiling old lady told her, "I put out the old family albums in the library. I thought you might be interested to see your new relations."

She smiled curiously at that, sipping her tea. "Are there many photographs, then? James never mentioned any photos of when he was younger and we've been friends for years now."

"Oh, friends first, were you?" she asked, beaming. "Well, those make the best marriages now, don't they?"

Next to her, the object of their discussion slumbered on. He was, she realized with a smile, as hard to wake as Mrs. Baines had suggested. Feeling impossibly fond of him, she rested a hand lightly on his tousled hair, smiling up the housekeeper.

"He wasn't the best-looking young boy, but you mustn't hold that against him," Mrs. Baines added. "I'm sure the children will be just lovely."

She flushed at that, reminding herself firmly that the other woman was speaking in generalities, not specifics. They were married now, so eventually babies would be expected. Clearing her throat, she told her, "It doesn't matter what any babies look like. They'll be loved. That's all that counts."

"Of course it is, dearie," she agreed, smiling benignly. "How many are you planning on having? Or is it too early to say?"

She coloured more deeply at that, swallowing hard and clearing her throat against the lump forming there. "I... I don't... We'll work that out later, I'm sure."

"Well, not everyone plans for these things. My husband and I always said we'd have a round dozen," she laughed.

She smiled at the good-natured statement, biting her lip. "And how many do you have?"

"None. But don't worry, you'll be luckier. It'll be nice to have little ones running around the house again, making trouble. We haven't had that since Master James was tiny."

"I did not make trouble," he mumbled sleepily, opening an eye and 'glaring' up at Mrs. Baines with a look that showed great affection and no ire.

"Remember that summer you ran away for three weeks?" she countered cheerfully.

He fell silent at that, looking away and clearing his throat uncomfortably. "You've put enough ideas into my wife's head for one morning," he announced abruptly, sitting up. "Is breakfast ready?"

"Of course. Waiting downstairs whenever you two are ready," she answered unperturbed, mixing up a cup of tea with cream and enough sugar to make Helen grimace. "Here you are, dear," she said, handing it to James before withdrawing.

"You were a bit harsh with her," Helen protested quietly, staring at James. She'd never imagined him to be the sort to be short with his own domestics.

"She had no cause to bring up the past like that," he answered with a shrug, sipping his tea. "It's dead and buried, and should remain that way."

She frowned at that, watching him thoughtfully over the top of her cup. "Did you really once run away for almost a month?"

He sighed at that, silent and unanswering for several long moments before he nodded slowly. "I did. I was tired of getting thrashed for every minor infraction, so I left. I was twelve."

"Where did you go?" she whispered, staring at him with wide eyes. Gregory had never beat her, not for anything. She knew it was common enough to physically discipline one's children, but she couldn't imagine what James could have done at that age to merit such a harsh punishment, and on a regular basis from the sound of it.

"I built a small hut in the woods. I fished and stole fruit from the orchards." He shrugged. "But the nights started getting colder so I eventually crawled back with my tail between my legs."

"Oh James," she whispered, resting her hand on his arm. "That sounds terrible."

"Father didn't want to take me back. Mother forced him to. This was a few months after she started getting sick."

"She died when you were thirteen," she remembered, biting her lip and squeezing his arm. "Oh, James..."

"I was away at school by then. Father didn't speak to me much after that. Maybe he blamed me for worrying her while she was ill."

Her heart hurt more than a bit at that, and she found herself hating her new father-in-law. "You must have missed her so much."

He smiled weakly at that, swallowing and shaking his head. "At least I got to know my mother. I'm luckier than you in that regard."

She looked down at his words, biting her lip. "Father tells me she was an amazing woman. I would have liked to know her."

"I can imagine," he answered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her a bit closer. "I'm sorry you never got to."

"I probably would have missed her more if I had known her. I just... sometimes I envy the girls who had their mothers. Father was wonderful, but I feel like I missed a lot. I... I wish she was here now with some motherly advice."

"It would probably make the pregnancy easier to bear. There's medical advice, then there's family advice. I know which I'd rather have."

She smiled weakly at that, leaning against his shoulder with a sigh. "Oh, James... What will I do?"

"We'll manage this, Helen, together. And that child will be the happiest, most spoiled one imaginable, I promise you."

"And you'll take care of it? Even if something happens to me?"

"Helen! Of course I would, but nothing will happen. I won't allow it."

"You may be Lord and Master in this house, but I don't think you have quite that much control," she chuckled, shaking her head.

"No, perhaps not," he agreed with a faint smile. "But I still won't let anything happen to you, or to the child. You're both safe with me. I need you to know that."

"I do, James. I trust you," she assured him, smiling up at him and resting a hand on her stomach. "You love it, don't you?" she whispered.

"You know I do. How could I not?" he answered, covering her hand with his own. "I love this child already and I'll never stop loving it. You have my word."