ROMANCE: CLEAN ROMANCE: Summer Splash! (Sweet Inspirational Contemporary Romance) (New Adult Clean Fantasy Short Stories) (167 page)

Chapter 19

Lord and Lady Hexley stood at the front doorway with some of the servants, as the coach pulled up. Out of it stepped Lord Hexley’s youngest sister, Lady Olivia Fitzwilliam, and her nursemaid, holding her baby girl, Georgiana. Bridget was so very happy to see her sister-in-law and her very healthy baby. This gave her hope for her own child. Cholera had recently broken out amongst the villagers and she worried for her health and the child that kicked within her belly.

“Oh, my, Bridget, look at the size of you!” Olivia whispered in her ear as they kissed one another’s cheeks in greeting.

Bridge rubbed her stomach in pride, she did not have long to go now, which was the reason for Olivia’s visit. Lady Fitzwilliam was here for an extended stay with the intention of supporting her sister-in-law. She was after all, a mother now, and a woman of experience. Though she might add, an experience she never wished to go through again, at the time of the event. Now though, seeing Bridget’s bump, it made her pine to have another child.

The nursemaid took baby Georgiana straight up to the nursery; her mother would see her later, after she had rested from the long journey here. Lord Fitzwilliam had joined his wife, not wanting them to undertake the arduous travel alone. Besides he liked his brother-in-law, Mathias, and looked forward to many happy days ahead, hunting and fishing.

The whole household was abuzz with the excitement over new visitors, especially with a new baby in the house too. Combined with Lady Hexley’s impending arrival, this was indeed a happy and contented household.

* * *

Tristan boarded the large ship. His father had come to visit him to see him off, and he waved to him from the deck. They had discussed his father joining him, seeing as how he was retired from work now, but his bones ached and he did not wish to embark on such an adventure at this time in his life. When Tristan had visited his father’s new home, he was almost tempted to stay in England. The view of the ocean from the house was stunning.

In the end it was probably that view that had encouraged him to accept the Lord’s offer. At first he was angry that Lord Hexley thought he could buy him off. He had truly been fond of Bridget. However, his experiences over the last few months had made him realize the difference in their worlds. They were not meant for each other; it was now obvious to him. Although he was a little surprised at Lord Hexley’s generosity, but what did it matter. If his Lordship was willing to pay him off never to see his wife again, which he wasn’t going to be doing anyway, then so be it. The thought of never seeing his father again had been the hardest part. Yet his father more than encouraged him to go seek a new life, find a wife and have a beautiful family of his own. His father made it all appear very tempting.

And so, here he was, setting off to the new world, and seeking out a whole new life for himself, all at the expense of Lord Hexley. His passage fully paid, in a cabin as well, and money to spare to get him started, what more could a young ex-soldier hope for. He hoped that his skills with the guns might see him into a new trade.

Malcolm waved his son goodbye, a few tears in his eyes, but they were of happiness. He had never informed Tristan that he may be a father, what was the point of causing him more grief. The lad had suffered enough, what with his experience in the wars and then falling in love with someone he could never have. He deserved better, and the generosity of Lord Hexley would see to it that Tristan had a good start.

Chapter 20

The whole household was in disarray. All the staff had been informed that Lady Hexley had started in labour, in the early hours of the morning. Everyone was excited and worried, all at the same time. These things could go so very wrong, even money could not guarantee a healthy birth.

Downstairs in the kitchen, everyone had said a prayer around the table at breakfast time. They all hoped that the birth would go well and the baby is healthy. The patter of tiny feet was just what this house needed.

* * *

Bridget insisted on the fresh air from the window. Gertrude had wanted all the windows and curtains closing, and a large fire burning in the hearth, but Bridget would not hear of it. As Mathias was banned from the room, Gertrude had no one to support her, so she reluctantly agreed. She had no choice in the matter as Olivia had supported Bridget.

Bridget had also not allowed any midwives near her. Her housekeeper would be there when she needed her. She wanted no influence from others, much against the better judgement of her husband. He had insisted on a surgeon being in attendance for the birth. Originally she only wanted Olivia in the room, and no one else. She knew though that she was in no condition to object, but she would insist on having things done her own way. Olivia felt the same way and between them they managed to convince Gertrude.

Gertrude, on her part was annoyed with Bridget, she had refuse to any “lying-in,” period, saying that continual rest just gave her more back ache. Gertrude believed a woman needed rest in the later stages, but Bridget would still go for walks in the garden. Thankfully, she had agreed to stop horse riding, for a short while anyway.

* * *

Mathias was aware of his wife’s strange behaviour throughout her pregnancy, but he trusted her instincts. After all, it was her free spirit that had attracted him to her in the first place. She would not rest when she was told to, she would not eat and drink as she had been advised and she wanted only herself and Olivia to deliver the baby. That was preposterous and he had insisted on others being in attendance, at least she had relented on that.

He paced the floor and then poured himself a stiff drink. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

The cry of a baby rang throughout the house. Mathias sat at his desk and put his head in his hands in relief. At least the baby had been born, alive.

“Lady Hexley insists on you joining her, me Lord,” a voice said from the door. One of the maids was over excited at bringing him the strange request.

It was typical of Bridget, he could imagine his sister, Gertrude, would be furious even at the door being opened and risking a draft, never mind letting a man into the room. When he got to her bedroom, he had been right, Bridget has insisted on the door being open and the curtains, and the windows. His eyes gleamed with happiness at the sight before him. There she was, his wife with a bundle in her arms. She smiled at him, though she looked exhausted.

“Mathias,” she said to him as he approached her, “come and introduce yourself to your son.”

At that moment in time Mathias knew he had done everything right. All the decisions he had made over the last few months regarding his wife’s infidelity, had been the right ones. Now they had a child and their family was complete.

He sat at his wife’s side, despite the constant tutting from Gertrude, and looked at his adorable son. His heart was filled with a deep and overwhelming love at the sight of the little infant. Despite his squashed and pink features, he could see much of his mother in his face, her generous mouth and small nose. Maybe it was his just his imagination or desire, but Mathias thought he saw his own eyes in him too.

THE END

His Reluctant Heart

              Eddie stepped back to admire his handiwork, wondering when the realization of his the end of his bachelor status would set in. His life was about to change so drastically that he may never again have time to leisurely paint his own house. He probably wouldn’t be able to paint anyone else’s house while drunk either, since the beer slowed his speed considerably, and he’d have to keep better hours now. It never affected his precision, but his hand couldn’t keep up with the speed of his thoughts. He set down his empty glass of ale and ran his dark blue pupils over the cream-colored walls again. The windowsills were painted a true blue, smooth and nearly has deep as his eyes, and the steps and railing were the same shade. He hoped his new bride like it; then the next second a voice within him scolded the thought.
What are you, a wuss? Who cares if she likes it.

              Your uncle probably will,
he reminded himself. His Uncle Raymond was counting on him to make this marriage stick, unlike his own father had done with his series of wives. By the time Eddie was four, his mother, Lola, was living with her sister and allowed the confused boy to see his father one day a week, if that, and never while he was drunk (after the first time Eddie came home with singed pants: his father had accidentally lit him on fire with a cigarette). His Uncle never wasted breath tiptoeing around the fact that he feared Eddie would turn into Edward Senior, and this was no different. Raymond reminded Eddie of his father’s last words, spoken before he’d died of a head injury.

              “I promised your father I’d take care of you,” Raymond said gruffly a month before Eddie’s bride was due to arrive. “And I’ve done that. I gave you  a plot of land, materials for houses, and taught you to build and paint. And you done good in some respects,” Raymond said hurriedly as he saw Eddie’s face grow red. “But you ain’t taking real good care of yourself.”

              “I’m fine, Uncle Ray.” Eddie had grown tired of lectures by the time he turned 16.  “I work, I rest, I work some more. I don’t need anyone to help, and when I find someone, I’ll settle down. I’m not an old man yet.”

              “Moments away,” Raymond answered. “You’re 35. You can’t keep bringing loose women into this pigsty you call a home for a night or two. It’s time to calm down and have a real life. You ain’t gonna live forever.”

              “I don’t want to,” Eddie said hotly. He towered over his uncle normally, but now he was sitting on his sofa with his head in his hands while the portly older gentleman stood in front of his hunched body. “I just want to
live.
How can I do that with some biddy tying me down?”

              “Don’t call her that. You’re not a kid anymore, Eddie, you know those ideas don’t fly!” Raymond had lost his patience and was wringing his handkerchief fretfully. “I can’t take this. I’m gonna come over and find you lying on the ground with your head cracked open, just like your father. Except it’ll be you who done it, and not some sap who’s been cuckolded.”

              Eddie fell silent then. He remembered the scene clearly because he’d been with Raymond on the day his father died. Raymond traditionally took Eddie to his father’s house---he was the only family member of Eddie Senior’s that Lola still got along with. Eddie recalled Raymond slinging him over his shoulder and backing away hurriedly, depositing him with a neighbor before tearing back down the street. Eddie had time to glimpse his father with his limbs splayed akimbo and a dark red pool surrounding his head like a crimson halo. He saw him again after they transported him to the hospital, one short hour before he died. The horrible memory hung between the two men, and Eddie finally raised his eyes to meet his uncle’s.

              “Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll take the bride.”

              Now she was finally arriving. Eddie worked thought the month numbly, making alterations and additions to the house without letting himself acknowledge why. He spoke about his bride---Martha Hannigan---with his uncle only when the other man brought it up. For the rest of the time, he simply put his body in motion and didn’t think about the reasoning behind it. He’d meant every word he said to his uncle, but he also acknowledged that something about him wasn’t completely right. Sometimes he broke things simply because rage ballooned in him so hard and fast that he had to let it out some way. He drank until he blacked out and occasionally woke up choking on his own sick. And even though being the best carpenter in a hundred miles meant he often met a pretty young thing who gushed over his craftwork and took him to  bed, after she left, he was always overcome with the same feeling: an astounding emptiness, like the woman had simply reached inside him and tore a chunk of his soul away as she walked out the door. It felt hollow and raw and horribly painful all at the same time, and sometimes he’d drink just to black out and wipe the feeling away. He didn’t say anything of this to his Uncle, or even aloud to himself. He didn’t want to make it more real.

              Eddie sighed, picked up his glass, and started up the stairs. He’d painted the whole house last night, and it had come out flawless, as usual. Hand-eye coordination was one thing Eddie prided in himself---that and his ability to hold his liquor. In the last month, he’d also worked on the kitchen: new flooring, a brand-new stove, and a wider window. Eddie was the only builder in town, and even though some residents remembered his father’s work ethic and so avoided the younger Edward, most people knew Eddie wasn’t mean or lazy, and he was highly requested. It was one of the reason’s he’d avoided settling down---so many women admired his skilled hands and found excuses to come to his home office that he saw no reason to choose one. It meant that more than a few of the women grew attached to him and caused trouble when they saw him with another one, but after a few years, squeamish or romantic maids learned to steer clear of him, and even warned off some of the more naïve ladies. Eddie had been active since he was 18, and he’d always lived in the same town, so he’d gone from the center of attention to a shunned pariah and back again more times than he could count in the last 17 years. He knew what some of the women thought of him, and he knew he never laid with a woman unless she knew he was a lone wolf, but gossip was more interesting than the truth.

              After washing his glass, Eddie walked down the wide hall to his bedroom. The house came with three---he’d built it when he was far younger and optimistic than he was now. The biggest bedroom was his, and the only change he made to it was getting a larger bed. It was perhaps more lavish than he should have sprung for, but being a bachelor meant he had fewer things to spend his wages on than other men, and he knew his finances could take the hit. He did repaint the other bedrooms to a butter yellow hue, just in case they were used to baby’s rooms in the future, but he didn’t honestly think he would ever need it. In fact, Eddie was secretly expecting his bride to be an insane person, or perhaps even made up---an elaborate ruse someone carried to far. Mostly, Eddie imagined her as a spinster, frail and shrill and unsuitable for anyone less broken than he. He knew it was hypocritical, but he assumed any bride willing to marry him was probably damaged goods. He briefly recalled a story Evan told him--- his best friend since childhood whose younger brother received a mail order bride.

              “Said she was 22, blonde, slender and talented,” Evan recited. “Parents and grandparents dead, but she said she was fertile and strong. He want to pick her up, and the woman was 400 pounds if she was a stone. Older than sin, dumber than a post. Sat on him and broke both his legs one night They’re still married.”

              Eddie imagined waking up to a rotund woman squashing his chest slowly in the darkness of his room. He’d be pressed into his mattress and no one would ever find him. He shook his head roughly to bring himself back into the present, pressing one hand to his broad chest to feel his racing heart. He was far more nervous than he had been a moment ago, and he realized it was because he’d caught sight of Marsha’s last letter. After Uncle Raymond arranged the trip for Martha, he gave Eddie the stack of missives so he could get to know his new bride. She sounded too good to be true: 25, five and a half feet tall, creamy skin and a lovely singing voice. She worked with school children but wouldn’t mind staying home. She liked animals, cooking, and taking walks. She raised her younger sister along with her single father, and wanted children of her own some day. Her words were flowery and tinged with hope: hope ‘for their future’, for the ‘seed of their love’, for her success in the move, and for his ‘eternal happiness’; Eddie hated her already. He took a deep breath as he stared at her letter now---a short one informing him of her arrival date and how much she’d be bringing.
Not much; two trunks and one large duffel.

             
Eddie pulled on a dark blue dress shirt and buttoned it over his hairy chest. It was close to noon, and the train station was around the corner, about three minute’s walk. The location was often noisy, but he loved living in the thriving center of action. He felt safe and complete when he could hear the sharp whistle of a steam engine careening down a track toward the town, or children playing in the streets on the way home from school. The streets were empty of children as he descended the stairs, but a few carriages were trundling to and from the center of town. He hoped he wouldn’t have to hail one for Marsha’s things; he trusted his arms to be able to carry her belongings.

              There was one other house between his and the train stations---the house belonging to Evan and his wife Cheryl, who taught at the school. Evan was waiting at his porch with a baby on his hip---Emma or Charles, Eddie couldn’t tell which, they were both so young. The baby was in a long white garment that covered its feet, and it gurgled happily as its father waved cheerily to Eddie. Evan had matured long before Eddie had, and married to high school sweetheart to boot. Cheryl was plain but brilliant, and she’d been a schoolteacher since she was 16. She’d been the brightest in her class from the very start, and was the only woman Eddie ever met who regularly read books that weren’t about prairie life or the like. Cheryl was intimidating, for sure, but she made Evan incredibly happy. This was clear in the way he treated her, and the way he lived since they’d married. Evan hardly saw Eddie anymore, and when he did, he sometimes regaled him with tales of caring for sick infants, cooking disasters, or sleepless nights driven by spats with Cheryl. When Eddie mentioned that it sounded miserable, Evan’s face broke out into a huge smile.

              “Only sometimes, but that’s the thing.” He lowered his voice and leaned in as though he was letting Eddie in on a huge secret. “Even when it is,
it ain’t.
Even when I’m up to my elbows in diapers or sleeping on the floor after Cheryl kicks me out of bed, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

              “You’re crazy,” Eddie said, shaking his head. Evan simply sat back and rested his hands on his round belly.

              “Still wouldn’t trade it for nothing.”

              As Eddie approached the main platform, Evan’s words rang in his head the clearest. His mind was filled with images of a snaggle-toothed crone limping toward him, or a mean walrus of a woman swatting him when she got angry. He considered the possibility that she might  be a drunk like him, which would prove to be so useless that he didn’t think the marriage would weather their shared disease. During the past few days, he even thought about purposely driving her away with invented drama or with his admittedly long list of carnal conquests. What he would not allow himself to imagine--- not even in for a moment---was the woman taking a look at his dark, broken joke of a life and past and walking away in disgust. He couldn’t bear the thought of someone finding him so repulsive that they couldn’t stand to live with him at all, even though it had already happened to him once.

              As he neared the crowd, his heartbeat started to pound in her ears.  Panic was beginning to slip into his bloodstream as his new impending reality finally settled around him. Here he was, about to meet the person he would probably spend the rest of his life with, and he didn’t feel anything stronger than the vague interest he felt for passerby. He caught sight of several women in dresses standing near their respective trunks--- most of them younger than he was, but a few were markedly older; one had a hunched back and a long, crooked nose like a witch in a child’s drawing. His heart stopped, and he felt sure that this was Martha--- it had to be. How else would God punish him for not getting his life together? Suddenly, all his fear and self-doubt was fighting to reach his brain, clawing at the soft flesh of his throat like wild animals. He stopped in his tracks, planning to turn and run and measuring the distance to the street in his mind in preparation. None of the women had paid him any mind yet,  even though the crowd was starting to dissipate and moved around him like water around a boulder. He took one step back, then another. Eddie thought he could make it in about ten seconds, and he took another step back, then turned on his heel. It was as far as he got; as soon as he started to move forward, he crashed into a teenager holding a parasol and   a sack of clothes.

              “Sorry!” the young woman squeaked. She had dark red hair in along braid down her back and a dress in nearly the exact shade. She scrambled to her feet and peered down at Eddie with her hands over mouth, dancing from foot to foot in a fit of anxiety. “I’m so sorry, sir!”

              Eddie was dusting himself off and standing, his momentary anger already fading as he looked into the girl’s flushed, delicate face. Her green eyes were wide with fear, and he felt pity swell in his heart. “It’s ok,” he said gently. “I wasn’t watching where I was going, that was my fault.”