No Less

"Herein lives wisdom, beauty and increase."

July 28th

As Fitzwilliam's eyes flickered open, he wondered what time it was. It used to be that the windows would give him a fair clue. He had always liked the abundance of morning sunlight his room received. However, the moment Juliette confessed she didn't care for it, another set of drapes went up to block out the sunrise. Sunlight was unimportant. He could make do without sunlight.

His improving vision told him there was no sunlight to block. Glancing to the space beside him, he realized it was dark inside as well. He touched the pillow. It felt cool - rather, what passed for cool on a humid July night - which meant she had been gone a while. The loneliness of the room was unsettling. It was the full treatment of the twinges he felt when he thought of his mother and now his sister being out of reach. Without Juliette to chase the emptiness away, the feeling was overwhelming.

He rolled out of bed and went immediately to the door. If Juliette had woken up indisposed, she might have gone to the bedroom she had claimed for herself. She only ever slept there if she felt unwell, for which he was grateful. Juliette had a taste for mythical artwork and angels, and this had translated into a room that Fitzwilliam thought looked more like a mausoleum than anything else. He didn't know how she could sleep with so many eyes around her. He just barely managed to ignore the stony six that lurked beyond his own bed now.

To his surprise, she wasn't in the room at all. It was only by chance that he noticed a sheet of paper left on the table nearest the door. He inched into the dimly lit hallway to read it:

"I'm in the garden and entirely well, so there is no shame in clothing yourself before--"

"Oh, goddamn it."

In the garden, Juliette was regretting her clever note. She would be disappointed if he didn't come to her, and there would be no-one to blame but herself. How could she reasonably expect him to wake up, go looking for her in just the right place, and notice a piece of paper in the dark? It would be dreadfully romantic, but it was a cruel expectation. He was no more naturally inclined to the dreadfully romantic than she was to solemnity.

"Juliette?

"Juliette, what in the world are you doing out here?"

"Thinking." When he gave her a look that asked why she couldn't think inside, Juliette continued, "I couldn't sleep at all. I couldn't stop thinking of what the midwife said to Hermia today. It barely seems that any of us are old enough to think of children, but my little sister has two. And now, there's to be another one of us by March."

Fitzwilliam had to concede that was a heavy thought. "Puck must be thrilled." Puck was more eager for children than anyone else Fitzwilliam knew, man or woman. If Puck could be the one to bear the children, he would surely have a dozen.

"Oh, he doesn't know yet." When Fitzwilliam gave her a puzzled look, Juliette shrugged. "Hermia thought it for the best to wait a little longer, until the matter is more certain."

"A logical decision," he said. His mind briefly wandered away from the conversation. Fitzwilliam wondered if this was something all wives did, sparing their husbands early knowledge. When the time came, he didn't want to be spared. Whether his wife was pregnant for nine months or nine minutes, he didn't want her to endure it alone. Puck would agree - but it wasn't Fitzwilliam's place to tell him. Remembering the conversation, he continued, "But you don't think she would mind me knowing?"

"Maybe, but it can be our secret." Juliette touched her finger to his lips. It strayed from there down to his jaw. She smiled to feel the bit of stubble there. "I have a favor to ask."

Tenderly, he caught her fingers and kissed them. "Anything."

"It seems, from his last letter, that my brother will be coming home just about the same time we are heading out to see your mother and Georgiana. I'd like to ask him to meet us on the road. He and I will go back home directly, together."

"And the favor?"

Coyly, she grasped his hands. "You have to make my excuses to your mother, lest she think I now dislike her. I would be glad to see her, but I will be happier to see Tybalt." As she thought of the long days between letters about her brother's injuries, her smile faded a bit. "And we can discuss what's happened in Lammast in some privacy in the carriage."

"You could do that here," he reminded her.

"I know, but Hermia made me promise today that I would stay with her when I came home for Miranda's wedding, until you and Georgiana come home. The Manor is big, but I can't help but think it has ears."

There was something else in Juliette's tone, a hesitation or a concealment. He paused to give her an opportunity to admit it. "We can shift our plans if you prefer." As his mother had reminded him on their last weekend visit, she wouldn't be going anywhere for a while yet. "I can be here for the wedding, and you can have your brother stay with us. You can have all the secret meetings you like."

"An easy offer," she teased, "while Georgiana is with your mother."

"The first easy thing about any of this." Fitzwilliam hated the entire situation. He hated that the best he could do for his mother was keep her tucked away in a corner, that all he could protect her with was a litany of lies. Sending his sister had meant another lie, placing another person on a pedestal of falsehoods and wishful thinking. "Regardless, your brother is always welcome."

Juliette kissed his rough cheek. "Oh, you are trying, you dear man. No, best to let me have my fill while you are away. Miranda's wedding will be positively dreadful, not worth spoiling your explanation for your going away. I would have had to come home early anyway, and, as it is, perhaps it is for the best to miss entirely. One expectant mother is enough for any household. It hardly needs another."

"I suppose that's..." Wait. His mind was jammed with a battle of warm feelings and confounded logic. Another? Another would mean... but it can't. It can't be. She's bled - at least, she's not said she didn't... but I would know if she was. How could I not know? God almighty, is that how men remain ignorant, too obtuse to see the results of our own actions? How can anyone so stupid be... 

Delighted, Juliette fairly squealed with excitement. Some part of her had worried that he wouldn't be as excited as she, that either his private opinion or his mother's situation would rob him of the joy she felt. If he was confounded, he knew this was special. Juliette threw herself into his arms; they nearly toppled over. "We're going to have a baby, dearest! Isn't it just wonderful?"

"Many things, wonderful among them," he uttered. Fitzwilliam was still lost in his daze. The once-vivid world had been covered by drab cloth, rendered dull and imprecise, and all for his benefit. This reality was too much, too good to be comprehended. "Why... why didn't you see the midwife here? She was there for you, wasn't she?"

She laughed. "Yes, she was. And I didn't see her here because I wanted to do this to you. I'll only ever get one chance to make such a stuttering fool of you, you know. The next one won't surprise you."

"Next one? Show mercy, Juliette, I beg you. I'm still confounded by the idea of the first." Wonderfully confounded. He himself was surprised at just how light he felt. There was a lifetime of responsibilities and concerns attached to this gift, but for at least one night, he was too delighted by what he hadn't known he wanted to care. "And are you well? How do you feel?"

She stepped back, running her hands down his arms until her fingers were caught in his. "I feel perfect. How do you feel?"

"As you said - perfect." Perfect was as good a word as any - he didn't know the word for what he felt, though it reminded him quite strongly of a day not so long ago. After wandering the path between Juliette's bright face and her as-yet unchanged belly, his eyes settled on the latter. His hand suddenly itched to touch it, but he pulled it back before his fingertips could land. "May I?"

Juliette adored that flicker of hesitation. "You put it there, didn't you? Come here." She pulled him around until he was behind her. "I am afraid there isn't much worth feeling yet, but you are welcome to try. Here, like this." She took his hand and pressed it to her stomach, under her own.

The touch burned off the fog. Her body felt just as it ever had, with no change in shape and no sense of quickening. But there was a promise there. One day, he would be able to feel it - one day soon. This little speck of nothing was promising to alter them both so significantly. And yet, happily, there were certain immutable truths that no change could touch. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she sighed. "Which is why I trust you won't object to my naming our son after you."

"You trust wrongly, my lady." He paused thoughtfully. "Unless I can name our daughter after you."

"Absolutely not. I've hardly had time to enjoy it for my..." Juliette's words faded as the sky cracked and poured down onto them. It was a heavy, soaking rain. "I think the heavens are telling us to take our celebratory quibble inside."

"Agreed." Stupid as he knew it was, Fitzwilliam had a new sense of concern for his wife. She was no less hardy than she was an hour ago. It was entirely his perception - and yet, perception was winning.

Just as she felt her husband's body shift forward, Juliette leaned back into him with all her weight. "Oh," she sighed dramatically, "but I think all of this standing for two has made my feet tired. How will I ever make my way inside?"

"Will you be making a habit of this?"

"Absolutely. And, if you can carry me all the way up to bed, I might just form two habits."

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