"It is about time you finally came to visit," Catherine greeted her sister who had just entered her dimly lit lying-in room.
"I waited until George agreed to release Fitzwilliam from the nurse. I wanted him to meet his new cousin. How are you, sister?" Anne gave her sister a weak smile, trying to hide her exhaustion. Her eighteen-month-old son possessed a seemingly infinite source of stamina. His steps may be tiny, but he was surprisingly fast. As a young mother, she found it a struggle to keep up with the very active boy.
Anne had been begging her husband for months to secure full caring duties of their child, but George did not trust that she had enough strength. Nearly running out of patience, she had endured all the doctors' visits and attended to their advice religiously in order to persuade her husband that she was of sound mind and healthy constitution to take care of their growing babe. Despite being constantly weary, she felt nothing but absolute happiness in her heart. Spending most of her time and energy on the beloved Pemberley's heir gave her no cause to repine.
"I am well, but it is quite tiresome to be confined here. It feels like I have been here for an eternity," Catherine complained. With Anne's assistance, she shifted her position so that she was sitting higher in bed.
"You ought to take the time to rest. You should regain your health in no time," Anne counselled.
"Where is Fitzwilliam then?"
"He is in the nursery, cooing at his cousin," Anne was pleased to report.
"She cries all day and all night. I wonder she does not lose her voice. I thought naming her after you would make her a quiet babe," Catherine sighed.
"She is calm now," Anne remarked reassuringly. "Fitzwilliam adores her."
"He must. He is the older one and must look after his younger cousin. He would be her protector," Catherine replied in a matter-of-fact tone, to which Anne merely shook her head. What would babes know at such a young age?
"Is there anything you would like me to do for you while I am here?" Anne asked.
"Could you call for the servant to bring Caroline in?"
"Caroline?" Anne sounded confused.
"Yes. Caroline, my pug. Lewis gave her to me two weeks ago to keep me entertained."
"Oh. I see. But… is Caroline allowed in here?"
"Of course. This is my room, and she is my dog. Do not worry, she is only a tiny pup. I find that I sleep better when I am able to stroke her," Catherine then reached her hand out to ring the bell.
A servant soon arrived with the pug as instructed. Anne looked on in bewilderment but did not dare question her iron-willed sister.
"How old is your pug now, Anne?"
"Willoughby is eighteen months old, the same age as Fitzwilliam. They will grow up together. George thinks that dogs make the most loyal friends."
"Hmm… I could not say he is wrong in that regard," Catherine yawned as she ran her hands up and down the pug's torso. "Willoughby is male, right?"
"Yes, he is."
"And is he a thoroughbred? Lewis made sure Caroline came from a line of pure ancestry."
"He is indeed. Your precious girl will also have a dependable companion in Caroline," Anne remarked.
"She is still so young… so little…" Catherine's words trailed off and her eyes shut. Anne stayed silent for she assumed her sister had dosed off.
"Anne, I have been thinking… when the time comes, I reckon yours and mine would form a perfect match," Catherine mumbled in a sleepy voice, unable to open her eyelids.
"I suppose…" Anne delivered a short response, wishing her sister would fall asleep.
"I am glad that you and I are in agreement. They would make a beautiful family…"
"They would... but do you not think it is too early to plan such things? Have you also come up with names for their litter?"
For a few moments, Anne observed her sister who had a content expression on her face, half-expecting her to speak again. When Catherine did not respond further, Anne crept out of the room and joined her son and niece in the nursery.
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
Sorry, I don't know know why I thought about this. This is what happens when I write at 3am. LOL. Peace!