Pluto's Lake

Chapter 2: ...foretells the nature of a tragic volume

Richard
When my party arrives at Windsor everyone is gathered waiting to see us, including Isabela in a deep green gown. She curtsies properly but no sooner has she than she rushes to my arms as ever. I trap her in a fierce hug, she's barely up to my chest little treasure. I've not laid eyes on her since spring and she's now in the mid stages of the pregnancy, surprisingly soft against me, and belly visible past the gown. I'm surprised at how the very obvious signs of childbearing turn my stomach.
"You all right baby girl?" I whisper, kissing her cheek and hugging her tightly. She presses against me, tears leaking out of her dark eyes.
"I"m okay, I'm glad you're home." she whispers.
"Me too," I say, kissing the top of her head.
It is displays like this, incidentally, that have convinced the world I am the father her child and have been lying with her for some time. That is technically what they are meant to think but it also really annoys me that people assume that I want to bed a sixteen year old girl I've raised for the last ten years. I realize she's my wife but even so.
I keep my arm around Isabela's shoulders as we progress inside. There's as ever fifty odd people surrounding us, Roger just vanished a while ago and I spot of a few our usual household. Philippa smiles at me and I wink at her. Bernard will be someplace lurking he'll find me later.
"I missed you," Isabela says, quietly.
"I missed you too," I say, squeezing her one more time around the shoulders, "Let's have supper together eh? Then we'll talk."
"Yeah," she says. We need to talk about the pregnancy, namely the baby's father. That has to be done in absolute private however, that's later tonight once most of the house is in bed. We'll have a private supper ostensibly to talk about that but likely she'll just update me on whatever politics she's been managing.
I get changed, Roger surfaces and says he's busy and then leaves I don't know what that means or what he thinks I think it means. A bath and change of clothes later, and shaved, I have nearly mentally prepared myself for supper. This is fine. I will eat. I will eat. I will eat. Isabela is fine I wanted her to grow up and be confident and have her own life and look she has. This is good it's natural at her age to want a family. I'm going to take care of her and the child. This is how it's supposed to go. I am calm.
"You should be aware we are receiving threats."
"Wh—what?" That's how this child chooses to open. It's myself Isabela, Philippa, and a couple of her ladies to wait on us. That's all, a nice private supper I was going to be fine.
"It's not that big of a deal, I have, like 80% of a theory on who's behind it?" Isabela says, completely calm. She's changed too into a red evening dress no girdle, looking chubby and precious she looks like she's twelve still with those baby cheeks which are even thicker now.
"Come again?" I attempt, finishing a glass of wine.
"There was a dead deer, a hart, left on the lawn," Isabela says.
"Then last night a dead fawn," Philippa says.
"Presumably a threat against you and the baby," Isabela says, "But we aren't sure. No message, both killed with an arrow—poached obviously but. I'm assuming it's not France if they got this close but it's not completely out of the realm of possibility I'm working all angles at the moment."
"It's threatening yes but's weird no demands nothing," Philippa says.
"It's meant to upset us. Ironically the lack of clues is helping me narrow down my suspects. I'm handing a lot of my correspondence over to you now that you're back," Isabela says, tearing off a piece of bread to eat.
"Aren't you meant to be —-resting?" I ask, discovering in the process I can't say the word 'confinement'. My little girl is going into confinement. Panic grips me. She could die. They wouldn't even let me in. She could die.
"I'm fine I don't go into confinement until end of November, about," she says, eating another piece of bread she's picking as badly as I do.
"You feel well?" I ask, "You're not eating much."
"Comes and goes, I'm fine," she says, strongly.
"Even so. If there someone, killing deer, symbolic of me, then we need to double the guard I assume everyone is aware?" I ask.
"Oh yes," Philippa says.
"Everyone is on high alert," Isabela says, still tearing at the bread, "Best we can do now. I know it sounds awful but I don't think it's a direct threat as it were. I think it's a message."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"Well it's not asking for anything is it? It's just—mortality. The hart can be killed, so can the fawn," she gestures to herself, "It's solely to upset us. It's not accomplishing anything else. And why warn you if they're going to try to kill you?"
"Fair point, even so, watch yourselves, keep inside while we, deal with this," I sigh.
Always another problem. After supper I seek out Roger who already knew is 'working on it' I don't know what he thinks that means. The crime is over.
While I'm handling that I get a note from Isabela, telling me to come to her chamber after midnight. Not atypical it's a polite enough way to summon a spouse but this is a social call. Of sorts.
Bernard finally finds me in my room, as I'm getting changed. He sits on the bed with three dogs while I finish.
"You look good," he says.
"Like I've been eating?" I ask, dryly.
"Wow really?" He asks, petting a dog.
"That was uncharitable I apologize. I'm coping," I say. I'm not eating a lot. At all. I know that. But I haven't quit eating. That's a lot.
"I didn't mean that, by the way. But I'm glad you are. Also Roger is a good spy I don't have to bother you at all," he says, smiling a little.
"Oh you two talk about me now?" I ask.
"I need you to know we have always talked about you. Yeah," he says.
"Oh lovely," I say, kissing him quickly, "I don't know how long I'll be with Isabela but you gonna be about when I get back?"
"Possibly, I'm actually going to a meeting with some of the others. Gilles and Roger have a theory about how someone might've gotten those deer on the lawn, for some reason they hold these things in the middle of the night," Bernard sighs.
"Roger's naturally sinister our father tried with him, that's why," I say, "Thank you for looking into it but in all seriousness it's probably just some random malcontent noble. I've always had my detractors I've just finished a slight war in France there's going to be backlash. Nobody actually got in."
"Yeah well, our option to be a bit paranoid yeah? Especially with only the little queen here," Bernard says.
"Thank you for being here for her," I say.
"She doesn't let us protect her."
"I figured."
"She also talks a mile a minute and has fifteen different schemes at any given time I don't pretend to understand what she's doing but it's exhausting. Have I thanked you recently enough for leaving Harry in a ditch someplace in the middle of France?" Bernard asks.
"No but I'll take it. He's happy. Poor boy I wrote to ask for clarification on how he was injured. I feel responsible leaving him there when he has no sense of self control except Devon," I say, "Speaking of remind me to call upon Philip or send something I know he's ailing—,"
"Philip's robbed from you."
"I know.
"A lot!"
"I know but he's not bad I genuinely believe the man can't help himself and I know how fond Harry is of his son," I say, going back to put on my rings.
"Harry talk to you about that?" Bernard asks.
"No. And he doesn't have to if he doesn't want to. But he makes it no secret he's fond of the boy. Anyway. Remind me to write to Philip I'm sure Isabela already has she likes him unironically," I mutter.
"Yeah all right I suppose," Bernard says, petting the dogs.
"Whenever your meeting's over just come back up yeah? I doubt I'll be asleep whenever Isabela and I get done I'll probably be engaging in one of my hobbies," I say, stroking a hand through his hair.
"One more time, crying and pacing and drinking wine is not a hobby."
"Fucking is," I kissing him again.
"Yeah I"ll be here. We'll talk," he says, rubbing my arm, "She's been good. I promise. She's fine." He knows damn well it's not my child. "Like, whatever, she's clearly okay."
"Of course," I'm not clearly okay. That's the trouble.
I finish getting ready and have two more cups of wine before going over to visit Isabela. I've been dreading it but best to get it over with. Not dreading seeing her. Dreading the chat because it's not going to end in identifying the father of the child and letting me kill him. I don't know why but that would make me feel better. All right, I do know why. I don't want anyone to hurt her and since I don't know who it is she doesn't like the person and this is a secret. A very dangerous secret.
When I get Isabela's wing she's mostly cleared it out. Well it is quiet late at night. But most of the staff are gone, it's all right that it's known I was here. We just can't be overheard.
Isabela is waiting in her parlor, with food laid out because apparently she and Bernard and Roger also talk. She's dressed more comfortably than dinner and her hair is down. She was clearly going over correspondence while she waited.
"If you're tired from the journey we can do this another night, I don't have anything urgent," Isabela says, frowning a little.
"No, I mean it's fine I want to see you. How have you been feeling?" I ask.
"Makes me ill, all the time but, not forever," she says, ever practical.
"Head all right? Seriously, I'm home now, we'll do whatever you want. I have to give orders to set up the nursery usually the husband does that I did assume you had opinions being you, but I will do as much or as little of that and your duties as you like," I say, gently. She looks as tired as I feel.
"No I'm good really," she says, "I mean, obviously I'll be laid up for a bit."
"Yeah. But," I shrug, "How are you feeling about having it? We both know it's politically expedient I'm not about to debate that it does me good. However, thoughts on all that?"
"I'm better than I thought I'd be. I actually like it, it's weird," she shakes her head, "No, whenever we set up the nursery I want it close to me. I really do like it. I'm excited, not just because I feel rotten now but—I didn't think I would be to be honest."
"Good," I feel myself smile then, "Odd feeling isn't it? Realizing how much you care about this precious thing."
"You're happy?" She frowns.
"Yes, I mean of course, but I got my little girl nearly ten years ago," I say.
She comes over and hugs me, curling up under my arm.
"You were a good idea politically as well but when I saw you I knew I would start and finish ten thousand wars to keep you safe," I say, giving her a good squeeze.
"I'm glad you did get me," she says.
"So am I," I say, hugging her one more time before she sits up. "You do look tired."
"Wearing me out already," she says, biting her lip.
"We can do this another night, I want you okay that's all," I say.
"I'm fine, I know you want to know," she says, going back to her plate which she was picking at. We're equally bad someone like Bernard and Philippa are going to start monitoring us both.
"I truly don't need to know beyond protecting you and this child," I say, calmly, "We knew this would come with a couple of complications." I genuinely assumed for a bit that she either would never have children, or it would be years from now and unintentional. However she's never shown a real interest in anyone. To that end I assume the father doesn't know who she is or that she's pregnant. Which means he could eventually show up someday and I don't usually let Exeter just kill people but I can let him have this one thing.
"Yeah, I have done my best to mitigate that. However, do we agree the child never knows you're not it's father?" She asks.
"Yes," I say, "It's—irrelevant. And could only put you and the child in danger, specifically once I die—,"
"Many years from now," she says.
"Hopefully many years from now—there can be nothing to challenge the child's claim. If it is a girl I will with your blessing put her into succession as well," I say.
"Yes, definitely, that would come with problems as well but," Isabela shrugs a little, "Either way. We agreed that this child secures the throne for you, no more naming heirs especially as you get slightly older—,"
"You're very funny," I laugh.
"I know, I'm building," she says.
"I'm not going to take this badly," I say, quickly, "I'm aware of the political implications and the practicality of it."
"Yeah, hear me out. So, politically speaking, it makes most sense to have an heir. After you pass, presumably well before me but we don't know, as dowager queen I'm more than a bit at the mercy of who we ever claims the crown," Isabela explains.
"Right," I nod, "I know all that, my own mother had it badly enough as Dowager Princess of Wales and I was the bloody king and people didn't take her seriously. Didn't take me seriously either but sorry go on."
"No that's true I know. My point is that said an heir who is unprotected didn't do me any good either. The child not only has to at least hopefully look Plantagenet but also needs support in court since by all reason it'll be younger when it gets the crown," she says.
"Hopefully I have another fifteen or so years but my father was seven years my senior when he died. He warred more than I, but yes, agreed, if we're lucky we'll have a king barley of age," I say. I'd like to live another twenty years. I'm not even good at living yet. My mother lived fairly long and my father's father, but my own father was falling ill by the time he was my age. Any ailment I do have my physicians tell me that I need a better body weight. Which isn't helpful, I know that I need to eat.
"Or twenty years," Isabela says, glaring at me playfully.
"Or twenty," I concede.
"Moving on, I need as few complications in court and strong enough backing from the nobles. At the moment the Mortimers are still your heirs, well they were, but there are no sons in their family. That next leaves obviously Lancaster, followed by York, as they're both direct male cousins, they're the people who, independent of a child or delegating an heir, would or could threaten the crown," she says.
"From anyone I attempted to delegate correct, I toyed with the idea of putting one of Exeter's in line his oldest boy by the mother is in line if we're counting the female line, but anyone namely Harry, could eat him alive and claim the throne by right of primogeniture," I say, waving a hand to indicate this is all common knowledge, "Hence our, your, actual heir whose claim is undisputed. Whatever the gossip about me, I'm your husband legally it's my child. This is all understood."
"Right, gonna stop building but then you're going to have hear me out," she says.
I finish a cup of wine wondering how bad this is going to be. "All right. Actually wait."
I pour another cup of wine and finish, then completely calmly and as if I did not just do that, say, "Go on?"
"Harry's the father," she says.
I process multiple emotions but mostly anger that I'm this surprised. The only boy her age I've EVER seen her speak to (argue with), is the father of her child.
"It puts us both in check which is where we want each other," she says.
I fill up another cup of wine, "Go on."
"If I fell pregnant, by anyone else, he'd know fully well or at least suspect the child was illegitimate, a child that stands between him and the crown. He's head of your military or the like, and he's the next male heir after the child anyway. Not only could he raise claims of illegitimacy and claim the crown he wouldn't bloody have to he can simply arrange an accident he's next in line to the throne then. I'd be treading on his good grace the entire time not a situation I want to be. If it's his child it's doubly, triply protected. One, he can't reveal the illegitimacy without me revealing his adultery with the Queen of England he cares too much for his reputation to do that. Two, as it's his child he likely won't want to harm it—,"
"Likely?" I choke.
"—which protects it further. Three, he's your first cousin in all theory the child will look Plantagenet mixed with me which is ideal not going to be red haired probably but tall like you with some other features could help," Isabela says.
I finish another cup of wine. I'm so angry I'm surprised. I really should have seen this one coming. They argue all the bloody time.
"Why did he agree to this?" I ask, "Sounds like it benefits us more than him."
"Because it benefits him just as much. He'd like the throne of England sure, but he also likes administrating the country and starting wars more than he likes helping people and public appearances. He gets to be lord protector and in the end it's his bloody child on the throne. He knew I'd have a child out of wedlock, might as well be his. And he's lord protector and helps run the kingdom as he already tries to do for recreation, gets money for his wars, and the like. He'd like the throne obviously, but since Somerset killed Edmund Mortimer, and his father overthrew you, he knows fully well the rumors that would circulate if he took the throne, even legally. This is a next best he gets all the power, none of the suspicion, and we get Lancaster permanently on our side. My reputation might be tarnished if it came out but nothing like his. I'd throw him to the wolves and say he raped me he knows I'd do that because I've told him I'd do that. So it's easy enough to simply support his own child and dispel any rumors, something he's good at by the way, because he can't let the rumors get back to him. We both benefit equally and we're equally in a corner over it," Isabela says, calmly, putting a hand to her swollen belly.
I finish another cup of wine.
"Are you okay?" She asks.
"I'm wonderful—this is me wondering why I didn't think of that it's fine—no you're right," I say, pouring more wine.
"I didn't want it to be someone—common who I didn't know that's disgusting. Preferably a relative of yours. And I needed massive insurance the father would never ever talk," she says, "This is all of that, besides neatly eliminating Lancaster as a threat."
"You're right it is perfect," I say, nodding. I need to ask this: "Do you—like him?"
"Oh, no, it's not that. We've argued about the practicalities for a couple of years now. Harry knows he can't simply wait and claim the throne he'd get massive backlash over Mortimer's death and his father's actions. It's not unsalvageable, but in the end he wants the power and paperwork of the throne, not the ceremony he doesn't even care to come back to England. This gives him that neatly, eternal support from the young king or queen who's known him for years and trusts him," Isabela says.
"Right," they've argued about it for years. Of course they have.
"And on a more, emotional note, on my side anyway. This way the child actually gets to meet it's father for what that's worth and Harry can at least be paternal towards it he's really a miserable person but he's nice enough to the dogs so maybe he can expand we don't know. But some guilt is allayed at least the child has known its father in a reasonable capacity and alternately the child's father knows it exists and gets to see it if he cares I don't know if he does, which is fine. And for me at least I know him. I didn't want to lie with some random stranger that's disgusting," she says, then looks at me drinking the cup of wine, "Do you want more or less information?"
"More is fine," I lie.
"He tried to get out of it to be honest, he claimed he forgot possibly that's true he does rather focus on his war, anyway, I had to lure him with the promise of money right after my birthday but I didn't get pregnant, so then I informed him he was meeting me after Lent was over because otherwise he'd be in a ditch in France for the forseeable future. That was easy enough when we were in Paris," Isabela says.
"Not that information okay," I say, taking another long drink of wine. I need bigger wine cups. I have so many damn wine cups I should just get bigger ones.
"I told Harry that I was going to tell you, nobody else knows. I think Devon and Philippa suspect, but," Isabela shrugs.
"Keep it that way. As you said it doesn't matter. I only know out of courtesy," I say.
"And safety, if rumors get back to you or the like you can know what ones aren't true. Harry and I have little to do with each other in public, beyond Parliament or the like," Isabela says, "After tonight none of us have need to speak of it again."
"Agreed," I nod.
"Are you okay?" She asks.
"Not usually no, never— you mean about this? Yes, of course," I say.
"You're not just saying that?" She asks.
"Why would I be?"
"I don't know. Betrayal or something of that kind? I mean Harry did grow up in your house," Isabela says.
"That's why I'm more than all right. Seriously, I'm glad that it was —with—someone you know not, pretending to be a maid or something among the knights," I say, that was what had haunted my mind.
"I considered that, but in the end discarded, not only was there the chance the father would eventually realize, but also higher chance the child looks nothing like you," Isabela says, "Besides the general benefit of someone within the family I can keep tabs on, know what other children he fathers, and the child an at least meet it's sire so that if on some strange chance the truth came out at least the child isn't left wondering about a total stranger. Among your family Holland's more pleasant and he likely could be equally trusted to keep the secret but. Not only does this stop Harry from getting to the throne, but also, if for any reason it actually came out which it shouldn't, but, if it did, someone guesses, whatever, then in all technicality the child is next in line to the throne anyway. Assumed Harry's illegitimate child, he and his head injuries, and then it, are next in line to the throne, illegitimately but then there's not a more legitimate contender and it can't actually be proven. And if it were for some reason public knowledge, the child is still by blood next in line. It's a double trap."
"Of course you have a grand plan for security," I say.
"What was your plan?"
"Ah, Exeter will make people disappear without question?" I shrug.
Isabela laughs, "I know it's great."
"You're not supposed to know that right. All right, You seem to have thought of everything but, you're going to be laid up soon. Is there anyone who might know? Anything I need to be aware of going forward as we said we're not at all going to speak of this again," I say.
"No, no one should know. I met him in the afternoon we both left our various parties with excuses. I mean, my ladies know obviously I was with someone presumably that's you. I asked Bernard to get you lost that day so it was conceivable I'd been with you—are you okay still?"
"Wonderful. Go go on," I say, face in my hands. So my daughter is asking my paramour to push me into closets and kiss me senseless so she can disappear to have sex. Well. she just asked him to make sure I was seen for two hours or something he picked the method. This is all right. My life is fine.
"Anyway like I said, the only people who might guess are just Devon, because he's perpetually with Harry and he's clever. I'm sure Harry hasn't confirmed or not if only to vex him. Philippa probably has guessed by now, I mean, she's got a good idea it's not yours but she may guess Harry or one of your cousins for the obvious reasons. Needless to say neither of them are going to tell anyone anyway. If something odd like someone puts together us going missing a random afternoon and figures it out and spreads a rumor then we act like it's bizarre which is easy Harry doesn't like girls or really people, and you're claiming the child as yours with no doubt which mostly covers it," she says, "Obviously we'll play it by ear if something does come up but till then."
"Till then we're pretty solid, no you've thought of everything. And as you said Harry's preoccupied with war, soon he'll get married," I say.
"Oh do we think he's actually going to go through with that?" She asks.
"He's got like six negotiations going last time he thought he needed to explain it to me. It took a lot of wine but I know Burgundy was one of them," I say, proud.
"It's Burgundy Luxembourg, Holy Roman Empire—you know what it does not matter I think he likes negotiating he's not actually going to get around to doing it like, ever, based off his personality, and the number of time he fucking forgot we were supposed to have sex and said things like 'well bank accounts from two years ago are important right now too'," Isabela says, imitating Harry, "So if he does get married we're going to have to—someone has to help her. Like maybe we help her fake her death I don't know, but that's cruel. But he's probably gonna die first."
"You got the 'axe—head' letter too?" I ask.
"Yeah," she nods, "Someone needs to tell Devon that's a first page announcement."
"I'm going to," I say. I already had to tell that kid someone trying to murder him is not an afterthought three quarters of the way through a conversation about murders sent after someone named Richard. He's a fellow Richard named after me and I put his father in prison for a lot of his childhood so I feel bad.
"Good," she says, "You're—aware that that's one of the reasons he might not get married?"
"Yeah. People don't tell me things but yeah," I nod, "Guessed that one. He's never confirmed it. Yeah, possibly he's just having fun arguing with people about dowry's."
"He's doing that with his sisters! Oh speaking of—-I'm having Harry's sister's brought here. I know they do enjoy their time with their grandmother but I don't honestly care I'm doing this," Isabela says, completely nicely.
"Why?" I ask, "I mean for company? Of course summon who you like." While she's in confinement having the baby it'll be mostly her women with her. I hadn't thought she might want to send for someone.
"Oh no of course not. Harry's just captured two of my brothers now so I think I should have two of his sisters. We wouldn't anybody to die now would we?" Isabela asks, pleasantly.
"Harry wouldn't do that."
"I intercepted his message to his grandmother not to let the girls leave, because he knows I'd do that because he's planning on something," Isabela says, calmly, "Are you sure you're well?"
"I'm fine." I take everything back someone likely me but I'll think of someone else to blame, should not have let those two people, breed. That was bad. I should have seen that coming. He's on the bloody continent and this is the level of shenanigans I'm dealing with their taking each other's siblings as hostages.
"It's all in hand I just have to keep him on decently short leash, without him knowing it, well, obviously," she says, hand to her belly.
"Do you want me to recall him home when it's born?" I realize they are them and not other people. But it's the boy's first born child. He's not getting to claim it I realize by his own design but there's sentiment there. "I can think of a reasonable excuse namely to quit warring in winter or he's required for my birthday or that holiday associated with my birthday—,"
Isabela laughs. My birthday is Epiphany's Day, it's Christmas but obviously me being born is more important.
"—but I can think of something natural so he can be about if you want him to, whatever, at least meet the child," I say. I'm youngest in my family so I didn't see siblings born, but I know Exeter will always go to his wife when the child is due. My mother did raise me right and so did Roger's mother. As I understand there's some sentiment there independent of marriage or station, resulting in wanting the father of the child, generally about. As, aside from my brothers, my next closest male relative he'd be at the baptism and the like anyway. He might want a look at the child at the very least I know he's not an emotional person but he might want to verify child and mother are well. He's a soldier that's about all I'd expect even if he married but still.
"No. I do not want Harry ANYWHERE, near me because he's the least sympathetic person alive specifically when it comes to pain like he'd be incredibly useless," she says.
"That's fair apparently yes he's not very sympathetic to pain," I smile.
"No. Seriously. I told him when I told you before I left France, that I might be with child. I asked him if he'd want to come home to see it, with the purpose of saying I may not let it talk to him if he keeps getting worse, but when I asked he said 'why? When it can hold a sword I will chat to it but till then it'll be very boring'," she says, again impersonating Harry.
"All right then that answers that question, feel a bit bad him finding out through the regular birth announcement," I say. Now that I know I feel a little protective of him even if we'll never speak of it. He'll know I know. But again it's still his first born and he isn't talking about it to anyone or getting to talk about it the very least we can do is let him know it is well.
"I don't. He has the option he's fine," she says, "He knows I'm all right or he'd not have agreed. That's what he said. And anyway I don't care about him being here. He isn't anything. I want you here."
"Try dragging me away," I smile.
She does too.
"No, I will not go anywhere. I am taking care of you, both. And I know you are very strong and very very good at taking care of yourself but you're going to let me take care of you for a bit here okay?" I ask.
"Okay," she smiles.
"Is there anything else we need to cover in secrecy? The father's—identity was the main one for me," I say. I'm admittedly relieved. She's right the reasoning is rather water tight. Harry, not that he would, can't reveal it without damaging himself. And the child is secure with english royal blood in it's veins. "Nursery and hiring staff can be done by the light of day I'll manage most of that you said you want it in your wing?"
"Yeah, yeah go ahead and decorate it or whatever you're good at that," she says, smiling,
"Yes, yes I am," I smile, "I'm sure my sisters in law can recommend staff we'll get on that now that it's well on the way. Anything else particular?"
"What did you want to name it?" She asks, "Usually boy is named after the father, girl after your mother?"
"No, my mother made me swear not to name a little princess Joan she thought it was plain. Name it what you like if it's a girl in case you hadn't noticed I don't much care about traditions. And I've not had much luck being Richard, honestly. I'd rather call it Edward for my father and brother, if it's boy. Unless you hate that," I shrug.
"No, I like Edward," she smiles now, "I think it is a boy. They said because I'm carrying it low, that means it is."
"Hm, apparently everyone thought I was a girl because I was small and something I don't know," I say, amused, "My father was glad of another son but my mother used to tease him about not giving her another girl."
She smiles, "That's sweet."
"She was all right with me. I wasn't anyone's favorite child so that was odd, my father loved me most but he had Roger who was his shadow, and then my mother had her daughters and my Holland brothers. Eddie was sweet so he was everyone's pet but," I shrug, "Perhaps that's just being the youngest I was nobody's first."
"I'm oldest, but I've hardly met my siblings so," Isabella shrugs, "I was always going to be married off early. I don't remember it too much but I was just learning to be queen. Then I came here and you know, I was the only child."
"Did you tell your parents?" I ask.
"No. I mean when we released officially that I'm with child, like. My mother—she asked if I was trying. I don't know. My father didn't know me," she says, shaking her head, "You were the first person I told."
"Do you want me to send for your mother or—anyone from France?" I ask, gently, "I will."
"No. The only family I want is you, and everyone here," she shakes her head.
"Okay. If you change your mind I will, we'll get you what you need all right?" I ask. She does look pallid. And tired. I've not had much exposure to pregnant woman. Harry's mother was never at court, Exeter's wife usually was at home as well and it wasn't as though I was paying that much attention.
"I have what I need," Isabela says, coming over to hug me again. I stand and wrap her in my arms. Short little thing she never did grow much her head is squarely at the center of my chest.
"So do I," I say, kissing the top of her head, "You promise you will tell me if you feel scared? Or don't want the child or anything? Anything I'm going to help you."
"I promise," she says, "But I am good. I promise. I'm happy."
"That's all I want," I say, rubbing her back, "I suppose it's a bit late for this, but are sure you want me to be it's dad?"
"Of course I do. I want you to be my dad," she says, hugging me tightly.