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“Oh yes!” Marion giggled, remembering her mother’s French lilt as she intimated her voice. “Only foolish girls are scared of little creepy crawlies!”
“My, my, how these boys will like lessons like those.” Eleanor pressed a finger to Jason’s sleeping nose. “She shall be missed.”
“Yes.” Marion pressed her lips to Edward’s sleeping forehead. “And she will have been sad to miss her only chance at being agrandmère.”
Eleanor frowned at Marion as she set Jason down to nestle beside his brother.
“I wish you would not speak like that, Mari,” Eleanor said, running her hand over the woven basket edge of the cradle. “You may have children some day.”
“Shall I?” Marion tried to keep her tone light but inside her chest was tightening with her own sense of grief.
“Of course!” Eleanor’s blue eyes were wide and earnest. “Why on earth not? You are beautiful, eligible –”
“What can I offer a gentleman, Ellie?” Marion asked lightly, not wanting to snap at her friend but also wishing she would not speak of it. “I have no dowry, no title—”
“None of those things matter in love!” Eleanor insisted.
Marion sighed inwardly. Eleanor was such an intelligent, political, insightful woman but she was also blinded by her own good fortune in love. She had shunned unconventional ideas growing up and had always wanted to pursue life outside of the privileged lifeto which she was entitled. Seeing her father’s drunkenness had made her jaded to the idea that good society was something to aspire to, but she still lived in a world where she had never had to fight for her survival in the way Marion’s mother had. She could sometimes exhibit such naiveté about the real world.
“Perhaps not,” Marion conceded patiently, “but they do matter in society. I am the daughter of a French governess and my father is unknown, a man who left when I was just a child. No sensible man would marry a woman of such questionable providence.”
“That is not true. Convention dictates one thing, but the truth is that those who serve are often formed of stronger moral character than those who don’t,” Eleanor argued, beginning to sound like the bluestocking women she listened to at debates. “You are of true heart, Marion, what matter is it whether or not you have noble blood?”
Marion thought it was probably of very great matter, but moved the conversation along.
“Besides that, Ellie, I am nearly thirty-years-old.” Marion began tidying up around the children’s nursery. “Even if I did marry, who’s to say that I even …?”
Marion let her words trail off. It was too painful to voice, this idea that she might be the very last of her family. That the name Laurie would die out with her and her mother’s legacy would be lost. She had been imagining what her children might be like all her life; if they would have her and her mother’s black hair and unique eyes, if they would take to the piano as she had done as child. But with every passing year these visions of the future became more and more threadbare, as if the reality of life was wearing them thin.
“Oh, Mari.” Eleanor impulsively hugged Marion from behind. “It shall be alright. I really believe that.”
She was a head smaller than her, and Marion felt her warm face pressed into the space between her shoulders. Marion was transported back to when they were little girls and their mothers had allowed them to sleep in the same bed. Eleanor would always roll over in her sleep to cuddle Marion from behind. Even as a young, unmarried woman, Eleanor had liked sharing a bed with Marion. Marion had treasured those moments of companionship, where they whispered softly together until they nodded off to sleep. It saddened her to think that now, with the closest woman she had to a sister married, those days of comfort were behind her. Marion took a shaky breath, blinking back tears, and then shook her head, laughing softly.
“Oh, let’s not talk of these dreary things when there are revels to be spoken of!” She turned to Eleanor and squeezed her hands. “Tell me who has responded to the invitations for tomorrow.”
“Most of society has replied, but Nathan only cares that Simon is coming. He cannot wait to introduce him to the babies.”
Eleanor tapped baby Jason’s chest with a soft finger. The baby puffed out his chest and sighed contentedly.
“That shall be pleasant.”
Marion thought highly of the Earl of Reading. He had already been named a godfather to both of the twins, along with Marion as godmother, and she approved.
“Yes. He shall bring his mother, the Dowager Countess, I believe.” Eleanor shook her head, her dark curls bouncing. “Itisa shame he has not remarried.”
Marion didn’t know if she agreed. Simon Burfield, the Earl of Reading and Nathan’s best friend, was a widower and completely dedicated to his first wife. Eleanor and Nathan often bemoaned his widower status, wishing he would remarry so that they could build their families side by side, but Marion wasn’t completely convinced. She actually found his dedication a little romantic, and certainly honourable.
“He misses his wife,” Marion said, shrugging. “It is natural.”
“Nothing natural about it,” Eleanor snorted. “That man is too handsome to be unwed!”
Marion couldn’t deny his attractiveness. He was over six feet tall—quality that she, as a tall woman herself, appreciated—and had a kind, friendly face. She must admit that when she had been briefly in his presence, she had felt a certain blush when he looked in her direction, but it was only natural when a man of such high status looked at a woman like her.
“Hmm,” Marion said, non-committal. She didn’t want to give Eleanor any reason to think she harboured affection for the Earl of Reading. She was always so ready to jump at the idea that Marion might have a suitor in mind.
“Oh, and Lady Henrietta is coming.” Eleanor pulled a face, not noticing Marion’s lack of comment. “Apparently she’s been on and on about me in Town, how I’ve lost my looks with children.”
“How vile.” Marion frowned with displeasure. She couldn’t imagine how unhelpful it must be to be a woman of society and know that there were gossipy ladies like Lady Henrietta out there, discussing and criticising your every step.
