by M. S. Parker
I knew I had to finally ask the question I'd been avoiding from the moment we'd decided to return to America. I sat up, unable to have this conversation lying down. “Are we going back to the estate then?”
He sat next to me and took my hand. “I need to know if my father has come to his senses. We will stay only long enough to make arrangements to find a place for ourselves and find someone to help you as the baby's arrival grows closer.”
My mind immediately went to the young servant girl who befriended me when I first arrived at the Lightwood estate. Dye had also been the one to warn me against getting involved with Gracen, but I knew her heart had been in the right place. I couldn't think of anyone else I would trust to help me with the baby.
“I don't want to have the baby there,” I said, running my hand over my stomach. Despite Gracen's assurances that Roston would be thrilled about the pregnancy, I still didn't like the idea of going into labor there. I couldn't explain it as anything other than a gut feeling, but I trusted it.
“I will do my best to make sure that does not happen,” Gracen promised. “The captain wished to speak with me. Do you want to come with me?”
I shook my head. “I think I’ll finish the mending and then take a nap.”
“Sweet dreams.” Gracen kissed my cheek and left.
Twenty-five. I was twenty-five today...and it would be two hundred, ten years before I was born. My head hurt just thinking about it.
I tried not to think too much about my family in the future, tried not to wonder what was happening to them, what they thought had happened to me, but as I was left alone with just sewing to keep my mind busy, the thoughts refused to disappear.
Between my birthday and expecting a baby of my own, I couldn't help wondering what my mom must be feeling right now. If time had continued on for them, then my parents and Ennis were spending my birthday thinking I was dead or missing. I hadn't even met my baby yet, and I knew that I'd do anything to protect him or her. Knowing that there would be things beyond my control that could hurt this little one was already devastating.
By the time I finished the last stitch, I felt like I was holding onto my emotions by a thread. I stretched out on the bed and closed my eyes. I didn't like taking naps very often, but I needed the rest right now if I had a chance to make it through the day without crying. There was just too much about today for me to process.
Even as I slipped under, I felt a dream beginning, the sort of dream that scared me before. The kind that made me wonder exactly what was going on in my head. Before I could follow that train of thought or force myself to wake up, the dream took over.
“Honor, please wake up, sweetheart.” Mom's cheeks were wet with tears, her eyes red-rimmed. “You've been missing for so long. We just want you to come back to us.”
“Do you really think she can hear us?” Ennis looked more than two years my senior, his face drawn and pale. His dark hair was shaggy, as if he hadn't cut in a while.
“The doctors say that talking to her could help.” Dad wore his usual stoic expression, but even I could see the pain in his eyes. “It can't hurt.”
“We miss you.” Mom kissed my hand.
“It's so senseless!” Ennis said, his voice breaking. “All those years overseas, fighting, and she makes it back safe, only to have this happen when she's driving home. A fucking car wreck!”
“Ennis.” Dad put his hand on my brother's shoulder. “Thinking like that doesn't do any good.”
“None of this does any good!” he snapped. “Is this really any better than not knowing?”
“She'll wake up.” Mom looked up at the guys. “Your sister is stronger than anyone I know. She survived all that time when no one knew where she was, and she'll survive this.” Her voice dropped to a whisper even as she turned back to me. “You hear me, young lady? You survive this and come back to me.”
Chapter 11
Thirteen days. That was how many days passed after my birthday before we finally arrived back in Boston. The trip had taken about six weeks, but they'd been uneventful weeks. No bad weather. No issues with British ships. Nothing more than the usual unappetizing food and the monotony of being stuck in such a small space.
May was almost over when we docked, which I remembered was a good time to be in the city. Washington had driven the British out just a bit earlier this spring, but things wouldn't kick back up again until summer, so we'd be safe enough in the city for a bit.
The first task on our agenda when we stepped off the boat was to find our way to the Lightwood estate. Or rather, that was Gracen's first task. I really wasn't in any hurry. I managed to put things off for at least two days, telling Gracen that we needed to get the girls acclimated to their new surroundings, making sure that we had everything women of good standing needed.
He went to find us rooms and get our luggage brought in while Alize, Celina, and I went to find a dress shop. It was while we were there that I began to hear bits and pieces about all that happened while we had been gone.
“Have you just come into the city?” The woman who greeted us had one of those tight smiles that told me she wasn't looking too favorably on our travel-stained clothes.
“Yes.” I gave her an equally chilled smile. “On a merchant ship from France. We were only able to bring a portion of our wardrobes with us and must replenish them before we move on to his family estate.”
It might not have been natural for me to talk like that, but I'd recently spent enough time around people speaking formally to mimic it.
The woman's smile warmed. “What can I get for you and your...?”
“Charges,” I supplied the word. “May I present Alize St. James and Celina Rosier. They will be staying with my husband and myself for a while.”
“Well, with all this dreadful business going on, I do not have quite as much in stock as I would wish, but I am sure we can find something for all of you.”
“Dreadful business? I heard the English have left the city.” I tried to sound casual.
The woman shook her head. “They have, and earlier this month, Massachusetts joined other colonies in declaring its independence.”
“And you aren't in favor of independence?”
The woman stopped suddenly, her entire body going stiff. “My husband and I have decided to remain neutral.”
Translation: we want to remain on good terms with everyone and not have to actually take a stand about anything.
“Is Washington's army still nearby?” The letter Gracen and I received about our replacement hadn't said anything about us checking in when we returned, but I figured it'd be common courtesy at least.
The woman sniffed, her mouth twisting into a scowl. “I refuse to be out in the streets. Who knows what sort of things those soldiers would do to a genteel lady?”
The looks Alize and Celina sent me told me that they'd understood enough to know that our dress-maker didn't need to know what we'd been doing in France. That was good because a slip-up in the wrong place might not get us arrested as rebels, but it could get us lynched.
“Now, why don't you tell me what it is you are looking for?” The woman's gaze moved down over me, and then back up again.
I put my hand on my stomach. Over the last few days, I'd really popped, making my condition noticeable, especially without a corset. People would probably be talking about how improper I was, but I wasn't going to risk my baby's health for some outdated sense of propriety. As long as Gracen understood that, I didn't care what anyone else thought.
“I'm thinking at least two dresses with a little more give in the front.” I kept my eyes on her even as she managed to look everywhere but directly at me. “I can take them in after the baby's born.”
I waited for her to ask about stays or a corset, but she simply nodded. Apparently, her need for money outweighed her sensibilities. That was fine with me. I didn't need a friend. I needed clothes.
By the time Gracen appeared at the shop, the girls and I had made our purchases,
and the woman had taken our measurements, promising to have our things done in two days. I smiled and thanked her, waiting until we were well outside her hearing before speaking to my husband about the experience. “Not everyone left in the city is on our side.”
He nodded in agreement. “I believe it was not all they expected it to be.”
“Maybe they’ve been naïve about what to expect.”
“I agree.” He glanced over his shoulder at the girls who were walking behind us. “Maybe we were the ones who were naive.”
I didn't say anything on the off chance Celina and Alize were listening. We didn't need them to know that, no matter how much Gracen and I had promised to keep them safe, America wasn't without its own dangers at the moment. They weren't stupid, but that didn't mean I had to spell things out to them when we'd barely been off the ship for half a day.
“You found rooms for us?” I asked.
“I did. And a carriage that will take us to the estate in three days. Will that give you the time you need to get whatever womanly things you require?”
I managed not to laugh at him saying “womanly things” and nodded. “I want to get some material that we can use for the baby too. Things start getting dicey again this summer, and I want to make sure I have everything I need.”
“Of course.” He kissed my temple. “How are the girls doing?”
I looked behind us. Celina was far too involved in taking in her surroundings to acknowledge anything Gracen and I were saying. Alize, on the other hand, had a good enough grasp of the English language to not only understand what the two of us were talking about, but also what the people around us were saying. Some of it was complimentary to the Continental Army, but some of it wasn't. And based on the look on Alize's face, she'd taken in enough to know that not everyone in the city was on our side.
“We will clean up for dinner,” I said to the girls. “Then get a good night's sleep in beds that don't move.”
Celina smiled at that. While she hadn't been seasick the entire time we'd been at sea, she hadn't ever really liked it.
“When shall we go to your estate?” Alize asked Gracen.
There was none of the flirtatiousness she'd had when she'd spoken to him before, but it was still clear that she didn't understand the true dynamic between Gracen and myself. She thought of him as being the one in charge. At some point, I knew I might need to clear up that notion, but for the time being, it wasn't that important.
“Three days,” he said. “Enough time for us to have everything we need from Boston. The estate is far enough away that we do not want to forget anything.”
Alize's smile was tight, but she didn't complain. When Celina linked their arms, Alize's expression warmed. She might not have chosen to be here, or even liked it very much, but once she remembered why she accepted this decision, it made it easier.
I could understand that. Whenever I started missing my parents or modern conveniences, it was being near Gracen that reminded me why I'd given up trying to get back to my own time. He was what made the sacrifice worthwhile.
I was wrong to have any hope of a welcoming reception at the estate. It became immediately apparent that we arrived before the word of warning we’d sent ahead, despite the fact that it'd been three days. The steward, Titus, looked flabbergasted to see us at the door. Well, shocked to see Gracen. Pissed to see that I was still at his side. He despised me when I was a servant. Marrying Gracen had turned that into loathing.
“Master Lightwood. Your father did not mention that you were coming.”
Gracen didn’t bother mentioning the letter he'd written, or the fact that Titus knew everything that went on in the Lightwood house, whether Roston mentioned it or not. He also didn't wait for Titus to step aside, but rather walked forward as if he expected the older man to move out of the way. My husband may have had more of a lean build than the steward's stocky one, but Gracen would have exuded power, even if he hadn't towered over Titus.
I went in right behind him and heard the girls following me. As we moved around to clear the doorway, Gracen gestured outside.
“Have our things taken upstairs. My wife will direct which things are ours and which belong to Miss St. James and Miss Rosier.”
I wasn't sure if it was a good idea to get settled in before we spoke to Roston, but I needn't have worried, because even as Gracen was speaking, I heard footsteps on the stairs. I looked up to see Roston descending. With each slow step, his glare shifted from person to person, his expression of displeasure staying firm on his face. A small part of me had hoped that he would at least welcome Gracen, even if it hadn't been with completely open arms, but that didn't look to be the case.
Even my expanded waistline didn’t appear to evoke any emotion at all, and I knew I couldn't put my faith in Gracen's assurances of safety once Roston learned of his grandchild.
Gracen needed to talk to his father, find out if staying was even a possibility. I doubted, however, that Roston would kick us out this evening. Not because he cared, but because if anyone found out that he'd turned away his son and pregnant daughter-in-law to spend the night traveling, it would harm his reputation.
“Alize, Celina, come on, I’ll show you to the guest rooms.”
I could feel Roston’s eyes bore into me as I passed by him, but I didn’t so much as glance in his direction. I knew I was overstepping the boundaries, but I didn’t care. I was exhausted from the trip, as well as the emotional toll the anticipation had brought with it. I hadn't wanted to bring up the accusations against Roston again, but that hadn't stopped them from being right there at the edge of my consciousness.
Dye wasn't among the servants who brought up our things, but I knew word would get to her that we were back. I wanted to see her, but my responsibility to Celina and Alize was more important. By the time I got them settled and returned to our room, Gracen was already inside.
“How did things go?” I asked as I closed the door behind me.
“He is upset that we vanished without a word,” Gracen admitted. “Understandably so.”
“He tried to have me killed,” I reminded him, forcing my voice to stay calm.
Gracen shook his head as he sat down to take off his boots. “I asked him if he was involved in the attacks on you, and he said he was not.”
I raised an eyebrow as I pressed a hand to the small of my back. I was in great shape, but that didn't mean my muscles weren't aching after a day in a carriage with what felt like a bowling ball in my stomach.
“You asked him if he hired a man to kidnap, torture, and kill me?”
“I asked him if he had accepted that you were my wife,” Gracen said. “I told him that two attempts had been made on your life, and made it clear that I would not stand for another. I told him that we had the authorities in France looking for the people who were behind the attacks, and assurances that we would have justice.”
I waited for more, but when he said nothing else, I sighed. “And he said he didn't have anything to do with either one?”
“I watched his face,” Gracen explained as he draped his pants over the back of a nearby chair. “I know my father is not perfect, but I believe him.”
I wanted to argue, and if I'd seen only stubbornness on his face, I might have. But what I saw when I looked at him was even worse. It was hope. He desperately wanted to believe that Roston had changed his mind about me. That we could all be the family Gracen had always wanted.
Despite my doubts, I couldn't bring myself to take that hope away. So I didn't say anything else. I'd just keep my eyes open and hope that Roston would accept that his prior plans had failed. I could live with an uneasy truce between us until we got our own place.
As long as Gracen didn't take this to mean that I wanted to stay here. I needed my own space, or I was going to be a very unpleasant pregnant woman. For the moment, however, I would hold my tongue and wait for Gracen to do the right thing.
Chapter 12
Being at the Lightwood estate was
turning out to be more uncomfortable than being on a ship for six weeks, and that was saying something. Roston pretty much pretended that none of us existed, including his own son. While that didn't bother me, it did hurt Gracen, no matter how much he tried to pretend that it didn't. And because it hurt him, it hurt me. What made it even worse was that I knew it was my fault. If I hadn't been there, nothing would've been between father and son.
I didn't say any of that to Gracen because it would just make things worse.
The household staff varied from outright hostility to being non-responsive when we spoke to them. A few, including Dye, were warm and open, treating all of us like we'd always been there. I hadn't yet had the chance to speak to Dye alone, but I watched her interact with Celina a couple times, and I liked the idea of a friendship between the two of them.
After everything she'd been through, it wasn't surprising that Celina was still adjusting to the idea of not only being free, but to being part of the upper class. Celina might have known Alize’s rank when they fell in love, but there was a difference between knowing it and seeing it. And there was a big difference between being together in France and on the ship where people could guess the differences in their classes and being here where they were being presented as one of us.
Us.
I wondered what Celina would say if I told her that I'd grown up in the lower part of the middle class – a concept that didn't have quite the same meaning in this time as it did in my own – and that I didn't really feel any more a part of the world Gracen and Alize belonged to than she did. Of course, Gracen and I had already decided that the less I shared about my past, the easier it would be to not get caught in a lie, so that meant telling Celina anything that would lead to her asking questions about where I came from was out.
