AN: Sorry for the horrid delay, I was away! Thank you all for the reviews, adding me to your story alert subscriptions and putting me on your favorite stories list! But now I'm back and here's a chapter!
Samuel Watson was born in the wee hours of the morning, July 7th to as good a welcoming committee as ever there was. His aunt, uncle, grandmother and father all stood around Fanny's bedroom door in anxious anticipation all through that night, listening to the muffled noise within—their hearts skipping every time they thought they heard the babe or the nurse came to update them on the status of their new family addition.
Margaret looked sick, and John held her hand, a funny look in his eyes. He had asked several times if she wished to rest or go home, but she had insisted on staying. After all, was there not money bet on this birth?
Watson himself looked impatient and a little pale. He kept checking his watch and whenever he heard Fanny's anguished cries, he would mutter "for God's sake." If this was for her suffering or his own, it was never asked and never answered however.
When the time did come, and the shrill cries of a newborn echoed through the house, it was as if there was a collective sigh of relief and the family piled in to the see what had come of their long night.
Fanny, red faced but smiling, lay back against her pillows, a big healthy looking boy in her arms. Margaret thought he was the most perfect looking she had ever seen. He had sweet ruddy cheeks, a little halo of blond duck fluff atop his head, and soft, squishy fingers that ended in smooth, beautiful crescent nails.
"Oh Fanny," she cooed, "what a lovely little thing! Is this Stanley?"
"Yes," Fanny used her free hand to take that of Watson's. "Stanley John."
John the elder, clearly shocked by this announcement, leaned closer to get a look at the child.
"Thanks Fanny." He gave his sister a kiss on her head and, using the most absurd voice Margaret had ever heard, said,
"Why hello there, little sir."
They all stopped adoring the infant and glanced up. John shrugged and said, as if it was common knowledge, "what? I like babies."
Mrs. Thornton, always one to add her two cents, turned to Fanny and said, in her most characteristic drawl, "tis a clever thing you named him for John, Fanny. It looks as if you have a brain in your head after all."
"Mother!" Fanny shot back, "why ever would you say that?"
"Perhaps your son will be like him, and you know he'll always have a place in the world." Fanny, seeing that she could not argue with her obstinate mother, stopped and kissed Stanley on the cheek. The baby began to wail and the nurse escorted the well-wishers back out into the hall.
When out, John and Margaret wished Watson and Mrs. Thornton goodnight and ordered a cab. John had lost the wager, but Margaret wondered if he still secretly desired a boy. She asked him as they settled in for bed, Luis stretched out across their feet.
"Now why would I suddenly change my mind?" John asked as he held her, her head resting gently on his chest. "I believe it will be a boy, but if it is a girl I will not be worried."
"Do you think it will be like Fanny's?" Margaret glanced up at her sleepy husband, his eyes closed and his full, soft lips relaxed.
"The way it looks?" he asked, no more than an exhausted whisper.
"Yes," Margaret clarified, "how small it is; how it looks and cries."
"It's a baby," John chuckled, "it will look as it pleases, dear. I do hope it looks naught like Fanny, though. I wish it to look like you and I."
"Well of course!" Margaret slapped his arm lightly, none too amused by his jest, "you understood my meaning."
"Mm," John nodded, "but you should sleep. You'll be exhausted in the morning. Isn't tomorrow that you see your cousin?"
"Edith!" Margaret remembered, "oh yes. But at any rate, if it was you having our child you may just be a little more concerned."
"It isn't due for another month, darling," John pulled her tight to his side, "when it gets closer believe me, I'll be the one they must sedate."
"Perhaps," Margaret said, "but I wish you to stay with me as long as you can. I don't want to do this alone."
"You won't be alone, love," John gave her a squeeze, "I promise. And you'll have Fanny, what little help she may be."
"She has been a friend to me," Margaret was surprised to hear herself defending her sister in law, "and I want our children to be fast friend. Darling, before you sleep—," she caught John drifting off, "what do you think our baby will look like?"
"Black or dark hair," John whispered, "with its mothers eyes and her spirit."
"And it's fathers nose," Margaret pressed her face into John's nightshirt and smiled.
"Oh I certainly hope not," John shuddered under her, "it would have a beak."
"You do not have a beak!" Margaret giggled, "you have a proper nose, what they call a 'roman nose.'"
"A roman nose?" John was playing along, "why I should hope not. Why, I am as local as the rocks. We fought the Romans with Boudicca!"
"You did?" Margaret grinned, "Oh how brave!"
They ended the conversation in silent laughter and, with one last goodnight kiss they were both asleep.
In the morning Margaret took breakfast in bed, and John slouched off to work, dark circles under his blue eyes.
Everyone knew Fanny had just given birth, so no one would question him. Nicholas, on the other hand, would no doubt arrive in his typical methodical way, and, upon seeing the Master, come and enquire as to how Mrs. Margaret was. He always had a soft spot for the southern lass, and the more John knew the more he suspected that Nicholas harboured a particular fatherly instinct for her, something that made him worry more for her than for the woman who had just brought a baby into the world.
John met Nicholas in the main foyer, and, like he suspected, enquired after Margaret. Assured that she was well, he handed a paper folder, stamped with the symbol of Marlborough Mills, over to the Master and squinted hard at John.
"I've spoken to the prospector from London," he began, "he thinks the property to be worth at least three thousand pounds."
"What did Lennox think?" John replied, "does he see it to be worth that?"
"Oh more," Nicholas waved a dismissive hand, "if you sold now, with all your interest, you and Margaret should be able to buy any house in Helston."
"Good," John began to walk towards his office and Nicholas followed, "my wife's been asking to see the books of late, and I didn't want her to know what I'm doing. I wish it to be a surprise. Not like the speculation fiasco, mind, but a pleasant one."
"Aye," Nicholas nodded sympathetically, "Aye."
Nothing was said for a moment until they were safely within the confines of his office. There, John turned to Nicholas and stared at him levelly across the table.
"Do you really think this American business will profit?"
"Oh aye," the latter nodded solemnly, "Perhaps when you get an office there I will find someone to mind it. Always wanted to go to America, me."
"That would suit you?" John couldn't say he was shocked.
"Oh yes," Nicholas replied, "Maybe I could take Mary with me. She might like the air."
"Right," John felt a twinge of regret for the systems that had made their lung burn and their bellies fill with cotton. He himself had worked in a mill as a lad, trying to support his family, and it was there where he had seen his chance. "No trouble today?"
"None," Nicholas said. "We've hired a few more workers, and they seem to be getting along. There's one from Ireland, but he's not scrappy like the others, and then there are two from someplace in Somerset." John nodded, but could not help himself from yawning. Nicholas gave him a critical look, and said with the utmost diplomacy, "Sir, you look dead beat. We can handle today if you want to go home."
"And do what?" John argued, his old sternness returning in the steel edge of his voice, "No. Margaret is in London with her cousin today and the house will be just me and Luis. Here, come show me what's new. That should keep me awake." And with that the two quit the office and went outside into the cottony wilderness.
AN: I know this was short, and probably full of errors (Sorry, really jet lagged) but I couldn't go another day without posting. So here! Another chapter! Remember, more reviews ect = more story (most likely) Ok, too tired... R&R as always, cheers!