Widow in White

Chapter Sixteen: Plain Cold Fact

While the women were gone, Richard and Neil eddied around in the cool shallows of polite conversation. After their argument, some of the old awkwardness between them had returned. Richard suspected that it was partially his fault but, even if he had known how, he wasn't going to apologise for it. Part of him was still angry about the things Neil had said about Laura. It was a relief when Verity returned.

"Is she really alright?" Richard asked.

"She's probably asleep by now," Verity said calmly, sitting down. "Best leave her to it."

"She looks very well," Neil said. "She looks much better than when I last saw her. And she never was the delicate type."

"She seemed no more than tired to me, which is only natural in her condition," Verity said. "You don't need to worry about her, Rich."

"But of course I worry." Richard rubbed his bad knee, grimacing. "Can you expect me not to?"

Neil shrugged. "Worrying won't do any good."

Verity raised her eyebrows. "As I told you two years ago," she said pointedly.

"And I'm wiser for the experience." A smile twitched on Neil's lips and he reached out and rubbed Verity's hand. Once, Richard might have felt a faint sting at witnessing such a gesture, but now it only made him wish he'd gone upstairs with Laura. He rubbed his bad knee again, stiff after the long days in the coach.

"Did you know she had a stillbirth before?" he said quietly. "When she was married to Maidstone. I'm scared — she won't recover easily if it happens again."

A brief silence fell over the room. Verity gave a sad frown. Neil looked worried.

"I'm not asking for sympathy," Richard said. "I'm just... explaining."

Or not even that. It was a relief just to speak of it. There was no support that could be offered, nor help that could be found, but naming his fear made him feel less powerless in the face of it.

"We'll look after her," Verity said. "Really, Richard."

"I know." Richard forced his jaw to relax. "Of course you will."

There was another brief silence. Verity said timidly, "Is she always so quiet?"

"Not normally," Richard said.

"She's always quiet with me," Neil pointed out. "It might be my—"

But he broke off, because the door opened and Annie came sidling into the room.

"She can reach doorknobs now," Neil said with a groan, getting up. "Come on, Annie, it's past seven o'clock. You should be in bed."

"But I want to talk to Uncle Wichard," she said beguilingly.

"Tomorrow," Richard said, holding out his arms so he could give her a hug. "I'll take you — what do you want to do?"

"Pond," Annie said instantly. "Pirates."

"You'd better wear old clothes," Neil said, slinging her into his arms. "Hup. Come on, Anne. To bed. No arguments, now."

He paused by Verity, so she could kiss Annie goodnight, and then left. Alone, Verity gave Richard a small smile that tugged on his heart in a way he was beginning to wish it didn't.

"You'll have that soon," she said. "You're so... lucky."

He smiled back and then stretched out with his arm over the couch back. "Do you like her?"

"I don't know. She's not what I expected."

"What did you expect then?"

"From what Neil said I thought she'd be... more charming. He called her a flirt, you know, and I thought that might be what that meant, but she seems almost shy."