Thanks to purple-roses-words-and-love for betaing.
They were married a week after the pregnancy results came in.
It was a quiet ceremony, with only the witnesses and Timothy. Patrick had tried to persuade Shelagh to invite some of her friends from Nonnatus, but she'd refused, looking pale and drawn and close to crying. "They hate me, Patrick," she'd whispered. "They hate me for breaking my vows. They think I've spat on their way of living, and how can I deny that with your child already growing inside of me?"
He'd taken her in his arms as she cried. "It'll all blow over. I promise, my darling. If you'd go to Sister Julienne and explain to her…"
Not yet, maybe, Patrick had thought.
She'd shaken her head and stepped away, wiping her tears with her fingertips. "No. I can't do that, Patrick. I can't sit across from her at her desk and have her staring at me, can't sit there as she judges me and finds me wanting."
He'd remembered Sister Julienne's eyes, so cold and distant, as she'd hold up the sheet of paper with the results of the pregnancy tests. Yet her frostiness had melted away when Shelagh had fainted.
"She hasn't eaten anything today," Patrick had said. He hadn't known what else to say.
"She should know better," Sister Julienne had muttered under her breath, opening a packet of biscuits and brewing a new cup of tea. She had helped Shelagh eat three biscuits as soon as she'd regained consciousness.
They'd not spoken of her being with child.
They hadn't spoken at all.
"But surely…" Patrick had started, unsure of whether Shelagh would allow him to embrace her again.
She'd clasped his hand. "I can't sit there and apologise for loving you and Timothy with all my heart. I regret that it'll cost me my friendship with her and the others, but I have made my bed and now I must lie in it." She'd hooked the fingers of her free hand behind his ear, sending shivers crawling along his vertebrae. "I can't act penitent when I'm not sorry." Her eyes had shifted to a different kind of blue, and she'd kissed him, hard and passionate and desperate.
Now, they were in bed, safely ensconced in their bedroom.
It was late. Winter had kissed the windows and left frosty smears like lipstick on the panes. Outside, the wind howled and muttered.
"We've been married a little over three days now," Patrick murmured against Shelagh's neck. He lay behind her, one arm slung around her waist, his hand resting on her belly. He stroked the stretching skin with his thumb.
She was warm from their lovemaking. He nudged his knee between her legs. The hollows of her knees were slightly damp.
"It should've been over four months," Shelagh murmured. She flipped on her other side so she could see him.
"Three days married in the eyes of church and state then," Patrick corrected himself.
She gave him a small smile.
"Does it meet your expectations, Mrs. Turner?"
"Mostly, yes." She curled against his chest and kissed the skin over his heart. "Though I sometimes feel I've done a selfish thing in letting you marry me," she whispered.
A stab tore through his heart. "What do you mean?"
She titled her head back till her blue eyes met his hazel ones. "I'm about to ruin your reputation as surely as I've wrecked your professional relationship with the nuns."
It was true that Sister Julienne had been extremely formal with him, and that he was somewhat unable to meet her eye at times, but there was no doubt in his mind that this would rectify itself eventually.
"Oh, darling," Patrick breathed, cupping her face, "why would you think such a thing?"
"Because it is true. I can't hide this," – she touched her belly – "much longer, and then what will people say about us? They're already gossiping so viciously…"
"And I am still the happiest man alive, Shelagh. I've always wanted more children. I wanted you to have my child long before it was appropriate for me to wish for that. The timing is hardly ideal, but…"
She placed a finger against his lips. "Oh, you darling man. This is all very sweet, but you won't think like that forever. When people sneer at you, and request another doctor, you won't think that all of this is a dream come true."
"I've been thinking about that." He propped himself up on his elbows. "What if we leave Poplar for a while? What if we go somewhere else for, say, a year? No one has to know that our marriage didn't happen during the summer, during the night you came to me. You could have the baby in peace, without having to worry about what other people will say and think. We could go to Liverpool." She opened her mouth, but he wasn't done talking yet. "We could return to Poplar if you want, or we could stay there and build a new life together."
"But for you to leave everything behind just for me, and for Timothy to have to give up his life because of something we did…"
"You gave up your life for us, Shelagh."
She pushed his hair away from his face. "Yes, but that was my own choice. How can I demand that Timothy does the same for me?"
"He's a young boy. He'll adjust. If we stay here, and the gossip becomes worse…"
"He has his friends here. No, I don't want to uproot him." She shook her head. Her hair slid over her shoulders, gleaming like honey.
"Then maybe you can go to Scotland for a while? You could visit some family, and have the baby there. I could say you went away because you still had to recuperate…"
"There's nothing there for me. You and Timothy are my family now," she said quietly.
Patrick ducked down to kiss her. "I'm sorry," he murmured against her cheek.
"You and this little one," Shelagh said, taking his hand and placing it on her belly again. It curved gently, fitting against the palm of his hand as if he'd moulded it himself.
"I hate deceit, Patrick. I don't want to lie. I'm afraid of what others will say, but I am not sorry for what we've done." She smiled. "No matter what others think, I could never feel that what we did that night was sin. And if we go away, we'd be acting as if we think that this is something to be ashamed of, and that would be lying, wouldn't it?"
He nodded.
"I don't want to leave you now that I've found you," she added.
Desire coiled inside of him. He pulled her against him as he kissed her. She sighed in his mouth and slung her legs around him, crossing her ankles.
"I won't let you go now that I have you, and I won't let anyone hurt you," he whispered. He touched her breast.
She whimpered – her breasts had become extremely sensitive due to her pregnancy – and curved her spine. He grinned and ducked down to kiss her again.
She tilted her hips and rocked against him till he groaned. "This isn't sin. This is love," she whispered, and kissed the shell of his ear.
He shucked his pyjama trousers and pants. "It was always love," he agreed, and pressed into her.
When they were done, Patrick kissed her forehead, anointing her.
"Hm," she smiled, limbs already going slack with sleep.
"Shelagh?"
She opened her eyes to slits. "What?"
"Can you promise me something, darling?"
"What is it?"
He swallowed, then forced himself to be courageous. "Promise me you'll go and speak to Sister Julienne. I'm all right with staying here, but if we remain in Poplar, you need friends."
"She won't forgive me for this, Patrick."
"But she loves you." And you need all the love you can get against the gossipers of the East End.
"But if love was enough…"
"It was enough for us, wasn't it?"
She was quiet for a little while, lines appearing between her brows as she thought. "I'll try, all right?" she whispered.
He tucked her under his arm, placing her head on his chest. "Of course you will, my brave, brave girl."
She smiled at that, and fell asleep still wearing that sweet smile.
Patrick held her tight, unable to sleep himself. "I'll do whatever I can to make sure you're happy and loved and safe," he whispered. He sealed his promise with a kiss, just like before.