could cause such misery.” Felicity shook her head sympathetically.
“I should have foreseen this when you came for help. It is always a danger with women.” Violet bit at her lower lip. “You are sure you love him? For the inexperienced it is very easy to confuse love and sex.”
Marguerite could feel the blush rising. “Yes, I am sure.”
At that moment a door slammed below. Marguerite jumped, startled. She collapsed back against the pillows, her ears ringing with the pain.
Violet and Felicity turned towards her with hushed words of comfort, ignoring the noise below. Then another door slammed. This time it was the chamber door, slamming against the wall from the force of its opening push.
Tristan strode into the room, his face knotted with worry. He took three steps forward. He stopped, surveyed the situation. His glance paused upon his mother, skipped over Violet, and settled on Marguerite. She watched as he moved towards her, his focus complete.
He paused so close to the bed that he had swept his mother’s skirt. He did not seem to notice. “How are you? I heard –” his words faded. He just kept staring at her, his eyes examining every bit of her being.
“I am as well as can be expected.”
Tristan looked so tired, so worn. “I never want to hear those words again. How are you really? Do you hurt?”
Violet shifted on the bed and Marguerite turned to look at her companions. They looked uncomfortable, but avidly interested. Felicity was focused on Tristan with an almost savage intensity. How long had it been since they had been together in one room?
“I am one big ache.” Marguerite wished there were a way to describe just how deep the pain went. It still wrapped about her soul, and its cuts were not all physical. The emotional ones were by far the worst. “I understand I shall be fine, however.”
“And the –“
“Baby?” Marguerite forced herself to say the word. It felt good to finally have it out there. “The baby has pointedly not been mentioned. And why should you care? It would suit your desires very nicely if I had lost it.”
Cacophony broke out.
“What baby?” said Violet.
“I didn’t know about a child?” said Felicity. “I would not expect him,” she gestured at Tristan, “to tell me, but surely Peter should have said something. I am going to be a grandmother.”
Marguerite heard the words, but only listened for Tristan. He spoke slowly and with care. “I would never wish such a thing. I saw how you mourned for the one who never was. I would never wish such for you.”
“But what about you?” Marguerite answered, her words all a jumble. “What do you want? You said earlier that you would not have children. You made the statement rather forcefully.”
“I may have spoken in haste.” Tristan looked down at his boots. “You have not answered, have you lost the child?”
Marguerite glanced at Violet, and then turned to Felicity. “Well, have I? You have avoided all mention.”
Felicity’s gaze shot back and forth between Tristan and Marguerite. She gasped as if seeking words. “I really don’t know.”
“How can you not know?” Tristan addressed his mother for the first time.
“I did not know about the pregnancy. It never occurred to me.” She stared straight at her son. “It would have been inappropriate for the physician to examine her in such a manner. He checked only her bumps and bruises. The only thing of concern was the knot on her head, and even that he did not find of much import. He left some syrup for the pain. That is all.”
“There is no bleeding.” Marguerite was torn between embarrassment and concern. A small bundle of joy formed in her chest. She was frightened to let it loose.
The lines around Tristan’s mouth had softened, but not disappeared. “We will have to have you examined by Dr. Howe. I will take you home now. Did the physician give any indication that she should not be moved?”
“No.” Felicity shook her head.
“Wait.” Marguerite tried to sound firm. “I have conditions before I go.”
Tristan started to protest, then simply asked, “What?”
“Felicity and Violet have been wonderful. I wish them to feel free to call on me tomorrow.”
Tristan paused. Marguerite could see denial on his face, but all he said was, “Certainly.”
“And I wish you to be there with me. A woman needs her husband at such a moment.” Marguerite lay back against the pillows. She did not wish to see his expression.