Sylvie was bone tired, and not just because of her children. The new baby was due any day now, and was making itself quite known. As it was, she could hardly leave the house, relying on her friends to take the boys to school and bring them home. Fortunately, when she had sent a message to the Dalian offices that she would be unable to come down and collect the food Mrs. Dalian had sent, they had sent a truck to bring it to her and men to unload it.

She would have to send Mrs. Dalian a letter thanking her for her kindness, for she was unsure how she would have gotten through the war without her help.

Too many women in town were going without so that their children could have full bellies, but even then, there was only so much to go around. She supposed the children in the country might be better off, it was easy to hide a bit away, but she had no family there to call upon and send her boys to them. Besides, it would have meant sending Mavis with them and Sylvie could not stand to be separated from her children.

It was bad enough being separated from her husband for so long, although she had hope that would soon be over. Bertie's latest letters had indicated how much his current position was weighing on him, but his most recent one seemed somewhat happier.

Sylvie,

Well, I'm done with Scotland for now my pretty girl. I have no idea how Will managed to grow up there, cold and wet and miserable. Thank God our children have England to grow in, at least we don't have to worry about them gaining an appetite for haggis due to their surroundings. Perhaps I'll have some made up for Will the next time we're home together, I'm sure Anastasia would have an interesting reaction.

And I will be home sooner than you think, or at least closer to you. The Campania is coming down for a refit, and I am going to do my damndest to get off her. What use am I to them here? I hate flying, half the time I have to swim through the cold water of Scapa Flow back to the ship or I'm damn near heaving my guts over the side while hurtling through the air. I can hardly spot U-boats when I can't open my eyes, now can I?

I'm going to request a transfer based on that, my lack of usefulness. I'm thinking the Dover Patrol, back on the water and close enough to you that we could see each other more often.

I miss you all, and your letters are a great comfort. Tell the boys that their father wants them to pay attention in school and keep away from the cinemas for I do not want them watching the newsreels. Their only concern should be school and fun, not war. Also, please repeat the word "Daddy" to Mavis at least a dozen times a day, I expect her to be able to say it clearly when I return.

Forgive your husband for not being around during your delicate time, you know that I would be there in an instant if I could. Although given your fractiousness during the ending stages, perhaps it is best that I am not nearby. I still have a shard of that pitcher you threw at me just before Trevor was born, but of course I deserved it dear. I should have realized that you wanted water from the other pitcher.

Hopefully I can get this transfer and a few days to come home to see you, the children, and our newest little bundle of joy.

All of my love,

-Bertie

Sylvie was trying to not get her hopes up. Bertie was only a reservist; it was unlikely he could convince some officer to move him to a new posting. But at least he would be in England for a while, and if she wasn't pregnant, she would have found a room in whatever town he was in, packed up the children, and gone to him.

As it was, she had a hard time moving around the house. Her belly was swollen to an absurd degree, her ankles were the size of hams and her foot was bothering her like nothing else. It was difficult to keep her balance even with her cane, the last thing she needed was to fall, so she was staying in.

Her days just seemed to bleed together, the only stir being when Roger came running in to say that Aunt Anna was back from Scotland and was here to visit. His hands were full of candy, and he shoved a good deal of it onto the plate of biscuits she had before rushing off to find his brother and sister.

Anastasia, accompanied as always by Rigel, looked picture perfect as always as she took a seat by her. "You look well."

Sylvie laughed, "I look like hell, and you know it."

"You look like an expectant mother." Anna rolled her eyes, smirking. "But really, how are you?"

"Tired," She sighed, "I want this to be done. It's always that way at the end." She watched as Anna shifted uncomfortably, "You'll know soon enough."

"You always say that," She muttered, "But really Sylvie, what can I do to help? I can come stay over."

Sylvie shook her head, "Not needed, I have a midwife coming to stay with me next week." Sylvie smirked, chuckling. "Besides, I wouldn't want to traumatize you by making you watch what happens. It would put you off having children for years, it's bad enough you're seeing me like this!"

"Oh, I doubt that," Anna smiled, reaching out a hand but hesitating over her belly. "May I?" Sylvie nodded, and Anna gently placed her hand on her stomach. The baby seemed to like it, kicking at the touch. "Oh!"

"They've been very active." Sylvie guided Anna's hand around to encourage the baby to kick more. "Which makes me think it will be soon."

"There must be something I can do."

"There is," Sylvie gently gripped her hand. "Take the children and the dog when the midwife comes, they don't need to be here for it. They'll love spending a few days with their Aunt Anna, and when they come home, they'll have a new sibling."

Anna squeezed her hand, "Are you sure? I've gotten better at dealing with the children, but I'm not sure if you should trust me with all of them."

"You'll be fine." Sylvie winced as she sat up a bit straighter. "Play games, take them to the docks, they'll have such a grand time they won't even remember the baby's coming."

"If you're sure-"

"I am," Sylvie sighed, "Please, Anastasia, I need them away during this."

"Alright." Anna nodded, "Are you in need of some distraction?"

"Definitely."

"Well, then I shall tell you all about my trip to Scotland. You would not believe how awful Admiral Beatty's wife is, I'm buying a house up there just so I can keep tweaking her nose. Of course, all of you are invited up any time you wish, you're family after all."

Liz was fretting before her mirror, for something was very, very wrong with her. Her skin was still pale, her chestnut curls shown in the light, and her eyes sparkled. But there was a very definitive increase in her waistline. She was praying it was simply some kind of bloating that would vanish soon, for she knew James liked her skinny, at least he joked about it.

She racked her brain, trying to think about what could have made her bloat. She didn't think she had eaten anything unusual, either at home or during her visits to her parents. They'd been begging her to visit more often, for Oscar was acting strangely. He was still wonderfully charming, he still joked and laughed and went to parties, but something was odd. He wrote letters all the time, collected newspapers as if they were going out of print and went out for walks through different areas of the city than he had before.

Her parents may have kept a fine table, better than her own, but still, she had never bloated like this when she had eaten with them every day.

When her lady's maid came in, she waved her over. Liz hardly cared that she was standing naked before a mirror, instead pressing a finger to the bloat. "Look! I'm going to be the size of a house soon."

"In a few months, more than likely." The maid sniggered, although she quickly backed up when Liz whirled on her. "Mrs. Moody?"

"I am not going to be the size of a house!" Liz almost shouted. "I am going to start going without lunch, and maybe breakfast. And I'll be walking every day! I cannot get big!"

The maid furrowed her brows, "Mrs. Moody, you do know you're in a family way, right?"

Lis stumbled back a step, almost stunned. "What?"

"Your monthly, I haven't had to clean your cloths for almost two months." The maid gently took her hand, guiding her to sit. "You do know that's what happens when you're married."

Liz blinked, doing her best to breathe. Pregnant, she was pregnant with James's baby. Part of her wanted to leap up and run to go find him. To throw herself into his arms and tell him, even naked as she currently was. But James was down at the ship, he wouldn't be back until later. She shook her head, "Are you sure?"

"Fairly, and don't be putting yourself on a diet, you'll need your strength." The maid stood, "Now, pick out something comfortable. Would you like me to call your mother?"

"No," Liz moved to her wardrobes, pulling out a soft purple gown of silk chiffon. "I want James to know first."

The rest of the day seem to pass in a blur, and Liz found herself constantly touching her belly. There was a baby there, or at least the beginning of one. Her and James, married for eight months and already having a baby. She couldn't stop smiling, even as she went to the kitchens and requested James's favorite dishes for dinner. He had simple tastes, a beef stew, fresh bread, roast chicken and ice cream, but she enjoyed them all the same.

But the kitchens held another sign of her pregnancy, for when one of the cooks was slicing onions, she found herself looking for the door. The acrid smell seemed to burn her nostrils and turn her stomach, and she threw herself into the yard to get some fresh air. It was while she was gulping down the air, clearing herself of the disgusting onion smell, that a pair of arms slipped around her. "What are you doing out here without a hat? You're usually so careful about burning."

Liz glanced down, seeing the pair of navy clad arms hugging her. "Oh, I," She turned, bringing her hands up to clasp his cheeks. "I have something wonderful to tell you."

James smiled, bringing a hand up to cover hers. "The war is over?"

"No," She leaned forward, kissing him softly. "I'm pregnant."

The hand around her waist went tight, "You're pregnant?"

"Yes," Liz took in the shock on his face, the paleness of his skin, and the smile that was slowly growing. "Or at least my maid seems to think so, two months she said."

"Any signs, beyond, well, the obvious one?" James gently guided her over to a stone bench, then pulled his hat off and set it on her head. It slipped down, and he corrected it. "Can't have you getting too hot."

Liz leaned onto his shoulder, "I don't know what to look for."

"I'm sure there are others we can ask about." He kissed her forehead, "You have no idea how happy I am."

She giggled, bringing his hand to her belly. "I was worried I was getting fat."

"Oh, you will," He chuckled, rubbing it lightly. "You'll get nice and fat, and have a nice fat baby. Then you can worry about getting skinny again, although you know I only tease you about that. I'd love you no matter what you weigh."

Liz snorted, and James helped her back inside. The news seemed to have spread through the servants, for they were even more attentive than usual. A footman brought her a glass of iced lemonade, and the cook came to apologize for the onions. "Smells turn a new mother's stomach; I'll have everyone be more careful."

"Is that true?" Liz looked to James, who shrugged.

The cook nodded quickly, "Oh yes, and you will likely start to feel sick in the mornings. I'll arrange for light breakfasts and keep a list of things you find yourself wanting or not wanting. You just say the word and it won't be around until you're ready."

Dinner, fortunately, did not see a reoccurrence of the smell issue. Apparently while raw onions made her want to vomit, the cooked ones in the stew were fine. And she could not get enough of the ice cream, eating two bowls herself and splitting a third with James. He was laughing as he scooped up the last of it, "It appears our child has a sweet tooth."

"Hopefully they'll be a sweet, well-behaved baby." Liz grumbled, settling back in her chair. One thing that had not been brought for dinner was wine and now, instead of port and sherry, a pot of coffee had been brought. "James, I want sherry."

"You're not getting it." He said, getting up to pour her a mug of coffee. "I may not know many signs of pregnancy, but I do know that drinking is not helpful to it."

Liz pouted, sniffing at the mug. "But what if the baby wants it?"

"They won't."

Sophie was pregnant, she knew it was early, but she knew. Marta was very clear on what she had to be aware of, and all of those signs had shown up when she had first discovered she was pregnant with Adam. Now they were showing up again, and she pressed her fingers to her temple as a headache began to throb.

It was nothing like it had been with Adam, when it felt like she had spent days in bed because of her migraines, but it still wasn't pleasant. She sighed, drawing Rebecca's attention. "Ma'am?"

"Do we have any aspirin in here?" Sophie settled down into a chair, opening her arms for Adam who toddled over. Over a year old, he was still her precious little boy. Rebecca left briefly, but came back with aspirin and a glass of water. Sophie nodded to the other chair in the nursery, "Sit, did you see anyone else?"

Rebecca looked to the door, then locked it before sitting. "No, but we should still speak quietly." She leaned forward, her voice a whisper. "I don't have any new letters."

Sophie waved off her comment, "It's not that, I'm pregnant."

"Ah," Rebecca glanced again to the door. "Will you be wanting the tea?'

Sophie knew what tea she was talking about. Every morning after being with Zachary, Rebecca had brought her a tea. She didn't know what was in it, or how Rebecca got her hands on the ingredients, but it had worked. Her monthly had come on regularly, until now. But she hadn't slept with Zachary since her last monthly, which meant that this child wasn't his. She sighed, "No, I don't."

"But I thought you didn't want any more of his children."

"I don't." Sophie admitted, "But this isn't his child."

Rebecca sat back at that, pinching her nose. "This is a dangerous course, ma'am."

"I know."

"If the child comes out not looking like it should-"

Sophie snorted, "There are plenty of men in my family who have brown hair, and I'm sure a few of Zachary's as well."

Rebecca's fingers tapped out a rhythm on the arm of her chair. "He's not stupid, well, not so stupid he can't count. If you don't do something." She trailed off, and Sophie nodded.

"I'm going to have to sleep with him, I know." Sophie rubbed her hand across her eyes, glad that Adam had no idea what they were discussing. All he cared about at the moment was tugging on her hair until she leaned over. "You're going to have a brother or sister soon."

He tugged her hair again, "Mama."

"Yes, Liebchen." She muttered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "More children for your mama." Her brothers would have to know at some point, if she could ever speak to them again.

Rebecca sighed, "I have to admit, it would be nice for the nursery to be a bit more crowded." Looking at the nursery, currently strewn about with Adam's toys, she stood and began to tidy things up. "You're going to need to sleep with him several times, and he can't be rough with you."

Sophie cuddled Adam closer, "Perhaps if I got him drunk and made him think he'd slept with me?"

"That could work." Rebecca put a teddy bear back in its place. "I would begin tonight, and hopefully by the end of the month you can tell him. It won't matter if the baby comes early, you carried late last time."

Sophie took Adam with her when she left, it meant her walk back to her rooms was much slower, but Adam seemed to enjoy it. After all, his mother was there to pick him up every time he fell, to encourage him and to cover him in kisses when they finally reached her sitting room. Sophie could have sat and played with him for days, but it was only a few hours before the door to her sitting room opened. "Darling?"

She kept the smile for Adam on her face as she turned to her husband. "Zachary, would you care to join us?"

He appeared a little uneasy in her rooms, although he was glad enough to lift Adam onto his lap. "I don't suppose you'd care to go out tonight?"

Sophie wanted nothing of the sort, but she knew what was required of her. "Oh, it would be such fun. Although, I've been having headaches all day and so I think I'll abstain from the wine tonight."

She knew what a good husband would have done, for Anastasia had told her how when she had said something similar, William had canceled their plans, turned down the lights, and read to her until the headache had abated. But Zachary would never think to do something like that, so Sophie watched as he paid more attention to their son than her. "We may be out late."

"I'll wear something pretty." She stood, coming to brush her hand over Adam's soft black hair, and trail her fingers along the side of Zachary's neck. She felt him shiver, and she knew his eyes were on her as she moved to her dressing room. Her husband may have known how to count to nine, but sometimes he was so easy to manipulate it was easy to believe he couldn't.