Widow in White

Chapter Seven: Might

As soon as Richard stepped through Lady Roynor's front door, the butler told him that her grace had been looking for him.

"Your wife has been taken ill," the butler said, "and is in her grace's bedroom above."

That was enough for Richard to abandon the people he'd come with and limp as fast as he could up the stairs. There was only one lit room above, and as he drew closer, he heard Neil say, 'Does Richard know?' and Laura mumble something in reply. Then Neil asked, 'Is it his?' and Richard had opened the door in time to see his wife slap his brother on the face.

Neil straightened himself, wincing, then met Richard's eyes and jumped. Laura turned her head, her eyes going wide and dark when she saw Richard.

"What's going on?" Richard asked. "Laura, is what mine?"

And then he knew what, by the expression in her eyes. The shock of it ran through him from head to foot. First, the bewildering comprehension of it, and secondly, the anger that Neil could even ask such a thing. He staggered and sat down suddenly upon the chest at the end of the bed.

"Is it... Laura, are you... But you can't be. Neil, she can't be. She's not. Unless—"

But he broke off, because Laura had burst into tears, the kind of sobbing, terrified tears a sick child cries. Neil's face was subsumed in guilt. He touched her arm but she shook him off.

"You've ruined everything," she sobbed. "Why do you have to ruin everything?"

He jumped back as though he was burned. Shakily, Richard forced himself to his feet, limped over, and pulled his wife into his arms.

"Don't cry," he said. "Don't cry, darling."

"She's unwell," Neil said helpfully. "She was sick before. I offered to take her home."

"I'll take her home," Richard said. "Go and make our excuses and send for the carriage, Neil."

"But—"

"Go!"

And Neil left. Richard thought if he had stayed, he might have slapped him too. He stroked Laura's back while she sobbed into his waist. She's not pregnant, he told himself. I can't have children. There's been some kind of mistake.

But she was talking tearfully into the buttons of his coat:

"I wanted to tell you. I was just getting sure and I wanted to tell you myself. Properly. He ruined it."

Richard hugged her tighter. "It's fine," he said numbly. "Let's go home. You're not well."

Laura wasn't listening. "You told me you couldn't, so I didn't know what to think, but I'm quite sure now."

Sure? Richard felt faint. She couldn't be sure. Not of that. He clutched at her, the warmth of her body in his arms giving him strength.

"It's not possible, Laura," he said. "I mean, what are you saying?"

"That we're going to have a baby." She spoke clearly for the first time. "Richard, I'm pregnant."

Richard stared at the coverlet of Lady Roynor's bed. It was a deep yellow, diamond print, with glinting silver thread to pick out the details. Far more tasteful than Richard had expected from Lady Roynor, who was always so heavily bedecked with jewels. His esteem of her rose.

"Did you hear me, Richard? Do you understand?" Laura touched his cheek.

"I heard you. I understand."

He didn't understand. Not in the slightest. But she was still crying, so he shook himself and found a handkerchief to dry her tears.

"Are you sure you can travel?" he asked, wiping her cheeks.