Long after she'd forgotten the effort and the unseemliness of giving birth, Hyacinth recalled fondly over their delight for their baby. They'd gone over names until they nearly burst but in the end she'd chosen a name that would remind her of the day that their fates had collided. Their eyes had met across a crowded room of curious students. He seemed a man of quiet quality, she wasn't one to be snobby about things like that of course but Richard was a fine character and they sat next to each other for the duration of the course. She extolled the life changing properties of culture forevermore, for hadn't she gone to better herself and found her life's purpose?
The literature of Richard Brinsley Sheridan had been paramount, ushering them to their vista with witty elegance. Sometimes she cherished an idea that she should like a part in a production of The Rivals. It had been the gateway to her life. So of course their child should be named after the spark that had lit their horizon.
Their little Sheridan.