Chapter 7

Breakfast passed comfortably, and conversation mostly consisted of James telling her about the house and estate, and promising to show her around later today. Of course, he wanted to start with the library again, and she wanted to see it in more detail. Something told her she'd be spending a lot of time in that room in the coming months, acquainting herself with books she hadn't had the opportunity to read before as she grew increasingly indisposed and unable to do much other than reading. It was fortunate she already liked books or she might have resented the idea of not being able to do anything else for weeks, or perhaps months.

She ate her fill, not as nauseous as usual, and encouraged by James since she was 'eating for two' now, then washed it down with mint tea, made with a few different varieties of mint and recommended by Mrs. Baines to prevent her from getting ill later. The food was nowhere near as fancy as the house, plain but plentiful, and there was nothing that she didn't indulge in at least a little of. She could hardly remember the last time she'd enjoyed breakfast so much. Food had started to taste horrible in recent weeks but, today, it actually tasted quite good. Perhaps it was because she had less to worry about now, more to look forward to.

James, always a generous eater, was just finishing his own hearty breakfast as she drained her second cup of mint tea.

"Would you like to see the library now, or did you need a few minutes to digest?" he asked her with a smile.

"Me?" she laughed. "You ate half the table! If anyone needs time to stop and digest..."

"I'm used to it," he answered, winking at her. "You've never before had to contend with one of the spreads Mrs. Baines lays out. It can take getting used to."

"I suspect I'll manage. If you can."

He chuckled and climbed to his feet, moving to help her up. She normally would have resented that a bit, but she was so stuffed that she gratefully accepted his help. Smiling at him, she climbed slowly to her feet.

"You have an excellent cook. It was a wonderful breakfast."

"I'll be sure to pass that along. You're not wearing your corset today," he added, giving her simple dress a thoughtful looking-over.

"It's getting to a point where a corset could be bad for the baby. I won't be wearing one again during the pregnancy," she told him, blushing a little. She hadn't gone without a corset since before puberty and it made her feel almost naked, even if it was a relief to be out of the blasted thing. "I'm sure the servants will talk, but I won't endanger my child."

"Nor should you," he agreed. "And why should you wear a corset? It's not as if we'll be entertaining company or going out much," he pointed out. "And you did say you would be wearing more simple garments for a good while."

"Well, that's true. Most of my dresses shan't really require one," she answered, grabbing a last scone off the table as they exited the breakfast room. "Going to show me the fabled library properly now?"

"Somehow, I knew that would be the first place you asked to see this morning," he chuckled, smiling and shaking his head. Offering his arm, he added cheekily, "This way, milady."

Grinning at that, she accepted his arm and let him lead her through the halls and into a massive library. It looked so different with sunlight streaming in through the high windows, not just a shadowy room full of shelves, but a large, airy library, stuffed with volumes. She couldn't recall having ever seen such a large private collection of books, and she smiled eagerly, squeezing James's arm. A merry fire crackled in a large fireplace set into one wall, and a clustered of tables and chairs around it looked like a perfect, cosy place to go over all those books at will.

"Oh, James, it's wonderful."

"I thought you might like it," he agreed quietly, dropping his arm. "Have a look around."

She smiled at him, she walked to one of the shelf-covered walls and took down a book at random. "Who's Jane Austen?"

"A woman you'll quite like. She's got a gift for sarcasm," he teased.

"I'll have to read her books, then," she answered, carrying the one in her hand over to one of the tables and setting it down next to two leather-bound albums. "Oh, are these the family pictures Mrs. Baines mentioned?"

"Lord, she didn't!" he groaned, shaking his head. "Why on earth would she do that?"

"She said something about my wondering what our eventual children would look like," she answered quietly, biting her lip.

"Lord, preserve us!" he groaned, shaking his head again. "Helen, I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't be. She meant well enough. And I'll have to get used to her before much longer anyway. Besides, why shouldn't you show me pictures of you and my new in-laws?"

He gave another groan, looking pained. "Honestly, Helen, is this really necessary?"

"Not necessary, per se, but I am curious," she admitted. "Come now, James, it can't be as bad as all that."

He hesitated for a long moment, biting his lip. "You'll laugh when you see what I used to look like."

"Oh, don't be silly. I'm sure you were a very dignified young man."

He snorted indelicately at that, but didn't comment. Picking up one of the albums, he laid it on the table before her and flipped through it. "These were my parents, the day they got married."

"Oh, your mother was lovely, James!" she breathed, studying the image of the shyly smiling woman. His father looked as grim as could be, not at all the picture of a happy new groom, and she tried not to imagine the miserable marriage James had previously implied the two had shared. "I can see where you got your good looks from," she said instead. "She was beautiful."

"Yes, yes she was," he agreed, smiling fondly down at the photograph. "I sometimes felt like she was the only person who truly understood me."

"Well, you have me, and Nikola, and Nigel for that now," she pointed out. "We'll never replace her and we wouldn't dream of trying, but you do have us."

"And I'm grateful for you all," he answered with a smile. "I'm looking forward to having the others visiting us. I miss them already."

"It'll be good to have them," she agreed, absently leafing through the album and stopping on a picture of a little boy. "Oh, James, is this you? How darling!"

He blushed in answer, glancing down at the picture of a gangly little boy, all knees and elbows, wearing a grave expression but with undeniable mischief in his young eyes.

"I was such an awkward child..."

"Oh, most of us were. There's no need to feel self-conscious," she assured him, smiling. "After all, you've grown into a fine man."

His pink cheeks darkened further at her words and he stared down at the photograph again. "I remember, I had trouble standing still for long enough to get a good photo. Dressed in those itchy, fancy clothes and having to stand there looking serious."

"You can be serious."

"Yes, but it's hardly my natural state," he answered with a grin.

She laughed at that. "And what mischief were you planning that day?"

"I was building a hut in the woods when that picture was taken. I was full of plans to improve it."

"Is it still standing? I'd like to see it some time."

"It must be a wreck by this time. I haven't set foot there in... oh, ten years now."

"Maybe it's time to go back? It sounds like an important part of your childhood."

"It was my escape. I went there when things were unbearable." He stared down at the photograph, gently touching the page. "It kept the smile in my eyes."

"Then you should revisit it today. Places like that are important and shouldn't be forgotten."

"Maybe, when your child is old enough, I can help it build a little hut of its own?" he offered, expression shy. "I've had the experience, after all."

"I'm sure it would like that very much," she answered, smiling as it occurred to him that he would probably make a truly loving father. She hadn't really thought about it before and, while it was hardly surprising, the realization came as a relief. She'd known he would take care of the child, but the idea that he would truly love it, too...

"I wish we knew whether it was a boy of a girl," he murmured, interrupting her reverie.

"So do I," she agreed, resting a hand on her stomach.

"Some day, there will be a way, I'm sure of it. Wait and see."

"I believe you. You always make such fantastical predictions about the future but somehow I believe them all. You're like our very own Jules Verne."

"An elderly, disillusioned Frenchman?"

"James!" she laughed, swatting him. "Jules is brilliant and you know it."

"Of course he is, and I adore him. But he's rather lost his hope for humanity and it's sad, Helen. Have you read that transcript of his? Paris In the Twentieth Century, it's called. I hope I'm never that disillusioned. Hetzel won't even touch it, it's so grim."

"Well, Hetzel takes his job very seriously. He wouldn't want Jules to compromise his literary reputation. No one wants dark prophecy from a man like Jules. That's not why they read his works."

"No, of course not. It's just sad to see a once-optimistic man lapse into such a mindset. And it's only gotten worse since he was shot."

"Understandably so, I'd say, after being shot by his own nephew," she protested quietly.

"His nephew is ill. He shouldn't let that impact his view of the rest of the human race any more than John should impact ours."

She winced a bit at John's name, the first time he'd brought it up, but did her best to ignore it and plough on with the conversation. "No, I suppose not, although he may have a point about society at large being as ill as some of its members. Look at the world, James..."

"It'll be a better world by the time your child is our age. Our generation knows too much, and cares too much for it to be anything else. The world is changing, Helen. Every day. Good changes as well as bad. And many more good changes than bad. One day, it'll be a world truly worth living in."

She smiled at his reassurances, bending and leafing through the album. His family all looked so serious, and his poor mother just started looking more and more tired and defeated as the pictures went on. Helen couldn't tell if it was her illness or her unhappy marriage, but she had to feel sorry for a woman who, by all accounts, had been one of the few adults to be truly kind to the young James.

"Oh, it's Mrs. Baines, isn't it?" she asked, pointing to a girl in an old photograph of what must have been all the servants in the household at that time.

"That was a few years before she took over her mother's job as head housekeeper. She worked in the kitchen, then, used to sneak me sweeties."

"No wonder you like her now," she chuckled. "You and your sweet-tooth."

"That is my weakest point..."

"I'll remember that if I ever need to bribe or entice you."

"Please do."

She laughed at that answer, smiling up at him for a moment before growing serious. "James, I really can't thank you enough for what you've done for us both."

"Hush, Helen," he answered, blushing. "You're my best friend. I wasn't going to let you go through this alone."

"Well, I'm still grateful," she answered, leaning up and kissing his cheek. "Thank you, James. I don't know where I'd be right now without you."

"Best not to think about it," he answered, smiling warmly down at her. "The past and the possibilities of the present don't matter. All we have to focus on now is the future."

"If I had a drink, I'd propose a toast."

"Well, I propose one anyway. Here's to the future, Helen."

"To the future, James. To the future."