July, 1932

Gatsby House

Rebecca smiled as she sat down on the edge of Alexander's bed. At the age of eight, the little boy resembled Gatsby so much that it sometime frightened her. His dark blond head rested on the feathery pillow and the blankets were pulled up to his chin. In his sleep, he looked exactly like the sweet, innocent little boy he was. While many people had lost everything they'd had from the stock market crash, Gatsby had weathered the storm very well. Tucked away in East Egg, many of their neighbors and friends had also weathered the storm. Many of the newly rich, however, hadn't survived. At eight, Rebecca wanted nothing more than to shield Alexander and his siblings away from the outside world. She knew that there was time coming and soon, where she wouldn't be able to stop the outside world from leaking in and threatening the small, perfect sphere she'd tried to keep around him. Alexander was already learning little details from his tutors.

Pressing a kiss to the little boy's head, Rebecca was grateful that he didn't feel warm anymore. Her little prince had felt feverish earlier in the day and both she and Gatsby had been quick to make sure Alexander's nursemaid had put him to bed. As a baby, they'd nearly lost him to fever when he'd been a year old. It had made her and Jay far more protective about who came into contact with their son when he'd been younger. Now, as a healthy eight year old, Alexander was far too curious to be smothered by their overprotective ways. More often than not, Alexander could always be found with nine year old Henry Carraway. Had Elizabeth lived, Rebecca was sure Henry would have given her younger sister a stroke. Both boys lived for thrills and often returned with bruises or were caught attempting to repair something they'd inadvertently broken.

Gatsby's study had become a courtroom on more than one occasion as her husband played the role of judge and jury in delivering up punishments. Smiling to herself and wondering what trouble Alexander would find tomorrow, Rebecca stood up.

At thirty-two, time had been more than generous to her. Her figure had changed since the day she'd married Gatsby, but she was hard pressed to find any sign of aging on her skin. Moving to the door that separated Alexander's nursery room from the girls, she left the door cracked between the rooms as moonlight illuminated the little boy's nursery room. A lone figure opened the other door to the room and Rebecca felt her heart flutter in her chest as she watched Gatsby enter the room. He walked to the little boy's bed and leaned down. Jay pressed a kiss to the little boy's head before he pulled the blanket that was at the end of the bed up a little higher. His lips linger on Alexander's head for only a moment before he moved over to her.

From the candle she held, Rebecca could see Gatsby's features illuminated. At forty-two, Gatsby was almost as unchanged as she was. He was still as fit as the day she'd married him. The only thing that had changed was the small amount of silver that had begun to appear at Gatsby's temples. They blended well with his dark blond hair and despite the small laugh lines beginning to appear at the corner of his eyes, Gatsby looked as handsome as ever.

"Did you check on the girls?" he asked softly. "Are they asleep?"

They both peered into the second nursery room and looked the two beds. The closest bed to them contained the smaller little girl. At four, Rosalie was a firecracker with a temper that rivaled others. Quick and sharp, Gatsby joked often that Rosie would keep his hands full for many years to come. He didn't know how right he was. The little blue eyed, blonde haired girl had Gatsby wrapped around her finger just as tightly as her six year old sister, Elizabeth. Both girls would someday easily look like twins, Rebecca was sure of it. Slipping into the room, Rebecca pressed a kiss to each girl's cheek as Gatsby did the same. Assured that both girls were warm enough and tucked in, Rebecca slipped out into the hallway and blew out the candle. Gatsby slipped out behind her and closed the door quietly.

"They get bigger with everyday," he murmured to her quietly before he offered her his arm. Dressed for a party, Rebecca looked down at the silk gown she wore and shook her head. Only earlier in the evening had the girls come running into her dressing room begging to watch her maid, Sally, do her hair. Rebecca had let them sit for only a few minutes before their nursemaid had come to collect them for their baths. Promising to play dress up later, Rebecca had watched them go wondering how much longer before it would be Elizabeth and Rosalie getting ready to go parties.

She didn't dare share the thought with Gatsby. He wasn't ready for his little girls to grow up. He was still under the impression that they would be little girls forever. He still believed that they'd come and bother him late in the afternoon to read with them or chase them around the house and play hide-and-go-seek. She didn't want to shatter the safety net that Gatsby had woven for himself and quite honestly, she didn't want him going to go scouting places to hide the future dead bodies of young men who tried to woo his little girls.

Instead, she simply nodded as they walked down the hallway. They both descended the grand staircase as the new butler waited for them at the front door. Crawley had retired and had died only a year prior. Rebecca's heart had been broken at the news, but Mr. Gibson from Fairview Park had been easily promoted to the position. It was strange not seeing Crawley there, but Rebecca was slowly growing used to it. Gatsby helped her with her shawl and gloves before he took his own hat and over coat. While fashions had rapidly changed, Rebecca was still a clinger to the old fashions like Gatsby was. Like many of the older women in society, she dressed with the same class and elegance that she had when she'd first come out to society in 1918.

"Do you ever think about what they'll be like as adults?" Gatsby asked her later as they sat in the back of the silver Rolls Royce. They'd agreed to go out with Nick for a night and Rebecca couldn't help, but smile at the thought of dancing with Gatsby after dinner as Wolfsheim teased them both unmercifully for acting like a pair of newlyweds.

"I imagine one of our daughters becoming a duchess."

Gatsby burst out laughing and Rebecca couldn't help but to laugh at the absurdity of her comment.

Neither one of them knew just how close they were to the truth in that moment. While never becoming a duchess, Elizabeth would become the Countess of Kettlemore in 1948. At the age of eighteen, she'd marry twenty four year old Edmund "Eddie" Spring, Earl of Kettlemore after becoming a pen-pal to the young man during World War II. It would be by pure chance that her letter to a friend serving as a nurse in London would become mixed up in his mail. That single letter would spark the love affair that would last a lifetime between the two and the love story that was never meant to between their parents, would live on.

Matthew had been right.

The love they'd shared would find them in the next lifetime. He just hadn't known it would be indirectly through his son and her daughter.