Summerset Abbey: Spring Awakening (Summerset Abbey Trilogy) (9 page)

When she’d first discovered she was pregnant, she had been by turns fearful and excited. Fearful because her husband was going off to war, and excited because maybe a baby would give her lonely days some sort of purpose.

A muffled knock on the door sounded and Prudence frowned, wondering if Victoria had bought something else. She had a feeling Victoria might be a problem; her enthusiasm often overtook her common sense.

Smiling, she opened the door, shocked to find her husband standing on the other side, holding a large duffel bag in one arm and a bag of groceries in the other.

She wanted to hurl herself at him, but refrained, fearing to upset his precarious load. “What? How?”

She stepped away from the door and he deposited his burden on their table and then turned to her, his arms outstretched. She ran to him and he swept her up and whirled her about.

After setting her back on her feet, he bent and kissed her mouth before drawing back and taking a deep breath. “Lord, I missed you. I was lucky enough to get a two-day leave. My commanding officer told me I was a blessed son of a bitch and to get out before he changed his mind. I didn’t stick around to find out if he was kidding me or not.”

She clung to him, her heart so overjoyed and full she could hardly speak.

Now, in light of Victoria’s news, she could finally tell him about the baby. It had been the most difficult thing she’d ever done to keep it from him.

But that thought went out of her head the moment his
mouth crushed against hers again and he picked her up in his arms.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, a blush staining his cheeks as he walked her into the bedroom.

She laughed. Only her shy husband would still turn red over the thought of their lovemaking.

“Are you laughing at me?” He tossed her onto the bed and removed his shirt.

“What about the groceries?” she said, still laughing.

“They can wait.” He joined her on the bed, and soon she was incapable of thinking of anything except the love that flowed between them.

Sometime later they lay in one another’s arms and she pulled the quilt over the top of them. The October afternoon wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm either, and she grew chilled as the heat from their passion cooled. She briefly wondered if he had even noticed that she was growing plumper.

She turned over and looked at him. His eyes were closed and she stared at his face as if to memorize it. The bump in his nose, the stubble shadowing his chin. She reached up and ran her fingers down the line of his jaw.

His arm tightened around her at his touch. His eyes flickered open. “My commander is right.”

“What’s that?” She nestled her head back in the crook of his arm.

“I am one lucky son of a bitch. I had originally been slated to head to France with the rest of the foot soldiers, but I was switched to the remount depot in the 1st King’s Dragoon at the last moment.”

She cleared her throat. “That’s good, though, right?”

“Granted, I would much rather work with horses than fight. I may still get sent to France or Africa, but I won’t be fighting. I just wonder how many of the young men I trained with will be sent to the front.” He paused. “And I wonder why I was selected for remount when no one else was.”

Prudence shifted in his arms, thinking of the note from Victoria still in the pocket of her cardigan. She knew Andrew struggled with living off her money; how would he feel if he knew that she had pulled strings to get him out of fighting for his country, especially considering that he felt strongly enough for the cause to enlist? “Perhaps someone heard that you were enrolled in veterinary school? I’m sure it is on your record somewhere that you grew up on a farm. It’s not so surprising.”

“Maybe, but half of the men in my squad were brought up on a farm, so that can’t be it.” He suddenly frowned. “What’s that?”

Her stomach tightened. For a moment she thought he had seen the note, but that was silly. “What’s what?”

He pointed across the room. “That.” He raised himself up on his elbows, frowned, and then sat up.

She followed his finger and realized what he was pointing at.

The bassinet.

“What do you think it is?” she asked carefully.

“Well, it looks like . . .” Understanding crossed his face and he turned to her, incredulous. “Are you? Are we?”

She blushed and lowered her eyes. “Yes, as a matter of fact . . .”

He jumped off the bed. “Why didn’t you tell me? What if we hurt it?” He stared at her stomach, horrified.

She began to laugh uncontrollably, her joy immeasurable. Everything that had come before, her sorrow over losing
Sir Philip, her pain over Rowena’s betrayal, her confusion and heartache over Sebastian, all of that was worth it if it led to this moment of near-perfect happiness.

But she was brought down to earth when she remembered that she was still hiding something from him.

The corners of his mouth began to twitch upward until finally he broke into a sheepish grin. “I suppose you think me pretty amusing, but how would I know? I’ve never been pregnant before.” His hazel eyes grew serious. “Oh, my love, what a time for us to start a new life, eh?”

She sat up and held out her arms. “I think it’s the best time. How should we meet the death and destruction of war except with the hope and faith of new life?” She smiled. “And, no, we won’t hurt the baby. Now come back to me. I’m getting chilly!”

They nuzzled under the covers until Prudence felt drowsiness overcoming her. She struggled to make herself get up and put the groceries away, but the lure of sleeping in her husband’s arms was too tempting, and she fell asleep hoping nothing was in the bag that might spoil.

As she slept, images of blinding gunfire and the echoes of guttural screams flitted through her mind. She awoke with a start, her heart pulsing rapidly. Frozen with tension, she listened intently, but of course the flat was dark and silent. The only sound she heard was her husband’s light breathing next to her.

Quietly, Prudence slipped out of bed and put on her robe. She shut the bedroom door softly behind her and turned on the small lamp above the kitchen table. Putting the groceries away, she found a small package of coffee beans in the bag. Holding her grinder between her knees, she ground the beans, a grim satisfaction filling her as the scent of coffee permeated the air. She had come a long way, she thought. Starting as a woman who
didn’t know how to cook, clean, or do laundry, she had learned to do all three—with varying degrees of success. Unfortunately, familiarity with such chores hadn’t increased her fondness for them, but she
had
learned to appreciate them. She’d come to realize that knowing how to grind coffee and make supper was far preferable to doing without.

Andrew had also picked up a loaf of fresh bread, a round of Stilton, several perfectly ripened apples, and a bottle of ale. Apparently, he thought she wouldn’t have much food in the house with his absence. She did prefer grabbing something from a street vendor or eating with her friend Katie rather than cooking. It seemed like an awful lot of trouble to go through just for herself. She looked at her stomach with a mixture of joy and trepidation. She guessed it wasn’t really for one any longer, was it?

She sliced up some bread and apples. The cheese was soft and warm and would be good spread on the bread. She hoped Andrew wouldn’t expect anything more.

“I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to be standing here, with you in our own little home.”

She turned with a smile to where Andrew leaned against the door. He had put his trousers back on, but his torso was bare, giving her a good view of the chest etched from years of labor. Most footmen were not so well built, but his early years on the farm had given him a strength most of them lacked and she gloried in it.

“We may not have had the most regular start to our marriage, but we have made something pretty wonderful out of it, haven’t we?”

“We have. Come and sit. The coffee is almost done. Are you hungry?”

His eyes glowed. “Starved.”

Prudence blushed, knowing he wasn’t just talking about his stomach. “When do you have to go back?”

He sighed and sat, slipping an arm about her backside as she put a plate in front of him. “I have to leave in the morning.”

“So soon?” she cried. “That wasn’t nearly enough time. I thought you had two days!”

“I do, but it will take most of the day to get back to Plymouth. But let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about only good things. Let’s talk about the baby.”

Prudence poured them both a cup of fragrant coffee. “What about the baby? I haven’t met him yet so I don’t know him.”

Andrew’s eyes widened. “A boy? Are you sure?”

“You’re so easy to tease. As if I would know!”

He rose from his chair. “It gets chilly fast once the sun sets. Do you want me to put some coal in the stove?”

“If you’re cold. I don’t have that much left, though. This is the first cold snap of the year.”

“I’ll just put on a shirt.”

She smiled. “That would probably help.”

He went into their room. “It looks like a hurricane blew your clothes off in here.” He laughed.

She snorted. “I think one did.” She refilled their coffee cups and put the pot back on the stove. “Would you like me to get the Sunday paper? It’s a few days old and the news isn’t much fun, but we could read something besides war news.”

The hair on the back of her neck prickled at the sudden silence from the bedroom.
No. Oh, please, no
. She whirled toward the bedroom, only to find Andrew already standing in the doorway, holding a piece of paper.

Victoria’s note.

“What is this?”

She stood frozen, her heart beating in her ears. She searched his face, desperately looking for any signs of how he was feeling, but his features were inscrutable.

She couldn’t deny what she had done, so she took the offensive. “I asked Victoria to see if she could have Colin move you to a safer job. Remount duty is more suited to your abilities, anyway.”

“Actually, I discovered in training that I’m a crack shot. And that is hardly the point. When were you going to tell me about this?”

She swallowed against the lump swelling in her throat.

“You weren’t going to, were you?”

Prudence stared at the worn red-and-beige mat on the floor. She shook her head ever so slightly. She felt as if she were a naughty schoolgirl who had been caught out.

“So you used your abovestairs, posh friends to keep your poor farmer-turned-coachman husband out of harm’s way?”

“What would you have me do?” she cried. “Watch you march away to battle while I’m left to care for a baby all by myself?”

His jaw clenched several times before he took a deep breath and answered, “Yes, as a matter of fact that is exactly what I expect of you. That is what women all over England, nay, all over the world, have to do. Why should you be any different? Why should I be exempt from fighting while my countrymen have to do battle in the muck and the mire? Did you expect me to hide behind your skirts?”

She moved toward him, her hands clenched. “No. I expect you to live. I expect you to come back to me alive and in one
piece! Someone has to care for the horses, why shouldn’t it be you?”

“And why should it be? Because you decided to play God?”

She had never seen him so angry and disappointed. Her heart sank and the babe within chose that moment to make its presence felt for the first time. It shivered inside her like a butterfly testing its wings. She wanted to cry out and tell Andrew, but the disgust on his face stopped her. Her anger, confusion, and fear rose to the surface, and she lashed out in frustration, sweeping the cup nearest her onto the floor. It shattered, shooting shards of glass everywhere.

She stared at the pieces, shocked at her own temper. Andrew turned and went back into the bedroom without a word.

Carefully, she picked up the pieces of pottery and mopped up the mess. Tears streamed down her face. She was just finishing up when Andrew came back out, fully clothed.

“Where are you going?” she cried, fear and regret hollowing out her chest.

“Out,” he said shortly. “We’re too upset right now to discuss this further. I’ll be back later for my things.”

Part of her wanted to cry out and stop him from going, but the other part wanted to insist that everything was his fault in the first place.
He
had decided he needed to join the army. To leave her and their baby. She was only trying to help him, to
save
him. Who cared about his absurd pride if his life was kept safe?

She waited until he was out the door before running into their bedroom and throwing herself onto the bed that had so recently been the site of their lovemaking.

She wept, ugly sobs that she hated herself for, but she couldn’t help it. Only one year ago, she had been living in a
fine home, with a family who loved her and servants to care for her. Life had been leisurely and lovely, with music, books, social gatherings, outings to museums, and constant companionship. Now she was lonely and afraid, and the one person who kept her safe had chosen to leave her. No matter how hard she tried to understand, it was beyond her realm of acceptance.

She must have slept because she awoke sometime later, hearing the closing of the front door. She froze, her heart clenching. Had he left without even saying good-bye?

Then she heard him moving about quietly, gathering his things, as she lay racked by indecision. Should she get up and tell him she was sorry? Beg him to forgive her? But for what? For doing whatever she could to keep the father of her baby alive? For that she needed to apologize?

She shut her eyes when he came into the bedroom and held her breath as he stood over where she lay curled up on their bed. Then she felt his hand on her shoulder and he drew close. He pressed his lips briefly to her cheek and she crumpled. Grabbing his hand with hers, she pressed it to her lips. She couldn’t let that row be their last interaction before his departure.

His other hand ran over her hair, just once, and then he pulled away, gently but insistently. He was leaving and she could do nothing in the world but let him go.