NaNoWriMo
-Chapter One-
It was a short and quick labor as births go. After a sparse few hours, Lady Thornhill gifted her anxious husband with a beautiful baby girl. She smiled as he came up to her cautiously, in awe and fear of the miracle she had performed. But in face of her tired, warm smile and the indescribable softness of the bundle his arms enclosed, Lord Thornhill knew he stood not a chance. His will and heart were stolen by the fresh blue baby eyes and chubby waving fist. Gently, to avoid any chance of jostling the child, Lord Thornhill eased himself into a place next to his wife, and it was upon this scene where Father, Mother and Child nestled together in their private world that the midwife and servants slipped quietly, shutting the door against the rest of the world for just a little longer.
~*~
“I suspect our gels are down in the garden prattling about our business, as usual,” Lord Whitham said jovially, a sparkle of jest in his hazel eyes. He was an impressively built duke of robust humor and masculine charm as well as the closest friend of Charles Harshorn, Marques of the Thornhill Estates. The marques in question smiled widely as he headed toward the decanters in one of the cabinets.
“In all likeliness, they are remonstrating to our mere memory the brandy we are about to imbibe at so early an hour. So my friend,” Lord Thornhill said, offering his companion a glass with two fingers of brandy, “Who are we to disappoint?”
They shared a good natured laugh and drank to the health of the new child and mother. Talk turned toward the matter at hand.
“Now, Charles,” Lord Whitham said, placing his glass down on a side table and settling himself more comfortably in his chair, “We’ve always said we wanted to combine our estates and marry our children off to each other. Now that you have your Adela, do you still want to throw her into my lot?” His gaze was serious and his posture spoke of business. Lord Thornhill placed his own glass down and looked contemplative.
“Freddie, we’ve long established that should we have children of the opposite gender, we would arrange a betrothal between them. You beat me to the punch having a son first, but Providence deemed it worthy that I uphold my end. I cannot imagine a better match for my child and can rest assured her future is secure. I would be honored if you would allow my daughter to join your family.”
“Then, my friend,” Lord Whitham said grandly, a boyish satisfied grin spreading across his face, “It shall be done.”
~*~
“Edie, she is just the most darling little girl I have ever seen!” cooed the duchess of Whitham. The elegant, influential member of the ton went into gleeful raptures, eyes wide and adoring as the two week old infant girl grasped hold of her slender index finger.
“You cannot know how happy I am to know she will be a part of my family,” Lady Whitham sparkled, “She and Damien will make a lovely match.”
Lady Thornhill, spirits recovered from childbirth but physically still tired, returned the same enthusiasm, though in a more subdued smile.
“I’ve no doubt they will. I believe Charles and William are drawing up the contract now, though knowing men they are sitting in the study sipping brandy despite the hour trading remarks on marriage.”
Lady Whitham laughed and conceded the point to her dear friend. Turning her attention back to the new child, Lady Whitham’s eyes shone with maternal warmth again, and once more she was reduced to raptures.
“Oh Edie, what is this dearest creature’s name?”
“I decided on Adela after my grandmother and Lorel as a middle name after Charles’s mother.”
“Well,” Lady Whitham said, gently stroking the downy black hair already growing on the girl’s head, “Adela Lorel Harshorn. It’s a delight to make your acquaintance.”
The tiny child in her arms must have thought so, too, as she gurgled happily in the duchess’s arms. Lady Whitham sighed dreamily and rocked the baby gently.
Three boys stampeded through the tranquility as they crashed out of the hedges and tumbled to the feet of the two ladies. They rolled to a dusty, leafy stop, collapsed in a heap of developing limbs and bickering.
“How good of you to join us, Damien, James, Theodore,” Lady Whitham said, looking pointedly at them in turn. Damien and James scrambled off of Theodore, on whom they landed, and looked appropriately sheepish while Theodore cast a rather indignant look upon his companions.
“Well, Mother,” Damien piped up, hands clasped innocently behind him, “We thought you had been deprived of our dashing presence for far too long, and decided to come to your aid and spare you the anxiety. In our haste we seem to have, ah, hurried with too great an urgency.”
Lady Thornhill chuckled, “Your son is quite the precocious one, isn’t he?”
Lady Whitham seemed to be having trouble not looking at her brood fondly, as she was certain a proper ton mother did not encourage such rambunctious ness from her husband’s heir. Shaking her head, she beckoned the boys closer.
“Well, as you are here now, come meet your newest companion. Do attempt to curb your enthusiasm, as she is very delicate and will not be able to handle your exuberance all at once.” Looking up at her friend whose eyes still sparkled with mirth, she added, “The boys are allowed to meet Adela, aren’t they, Edie?”
“Oh yes, I’m sure she won’t mind,” Lady Thornhill replied, taking her baby girl back into her arms. The boys approached; quiet for once, though out of curiosity more than any understanding that the small creature in Aunt Edie’s arms needed careful handling. They crowded around the lovely woman who always had sugar cookies for them and peered into the cloth bundle to see a soft, chubby face stare back at them with wide blue eyes. It was difficult to say which side was more curious about the other, though the boys quickly caught on to the fact that this was a different creature than they, or indeed, than anything they had ever encountered before in their short five years on earth.
“Boys,” Lady Thornhill said softly, “Meet Adela. I’m sure you four will become very well acquainted.”
From Lady Thornhill’s left, Damien took the initiative and tentatively reached out a hand to touch a small, curled fist. The blue eyes, still pale, fixed on him, and in a moment she grasped the nearest extended finger and squealed in delight, yanking on the digit with surprising vigor. Damien jerked back, startled, and the company around laughed merrily. Adela whined at the loss of her new play thing, and looked up at her mother, waving her arms. Still laughing lightly, Lady Thornhill hugged her child close, and cooed, “Oh, my dear, and I feared Damien would be too much for you.”
Theodore stepped forward for a better view of this little person, and studied her nonsensical noises and flailing limbs almost clinically. The child seemed in particularly good spirits, so far not a cry to be heard and a bright spark of inquisitiveness shining in her large eyes. Curiosity getting the better of him, he asked, musingly, “Aunt Edie, can I-may I hold Adela?”
Lady Thornhill looked up, eyes widened in surprise quickly melting into a pleased smile. Passing Adela to Lady Whitham for a moment, she gestured for Theodore to sit on her lap, and once he was settled, had Lady Whitham place the squirming bundle securely in his arms. In his toddler arms, Adela didn’t seem small anymore as the swath of blankets that encased her nearly engulfed him. But as he noticed the sum of her parts, a tiny fist, the pert nose, the bow mouth, he was struck by how small she was. The only thing big about her were her eyes, and as he leaned closer to study them, she reached out a hand and patted his nose. Theodore followed the hand and became cross-eyed for a moment, much to the amusement of Lady Thornhill.
“I think she likes you, Theodore,” the mother of the being in his arms said gaily.
The five year old boy shook his head to dislodge her doll-like fingers and drew back. He looked at the child again, nonplussed. The child seemed to be laughing at him, gurgling happily and squirming in his hold, fragile arms reaching for his face again.
Theodore was at a loss. Not knowing what he was curious about in the first place, he finally registered that he had a baby in his arms and was struck by how soft and fragile she felt. He became aware of how precious a thing he had cradled in his sloppy grip. As he and the baby studied each other, James came up with Damien, now recovered from his initial surprise. Looking over Theodore’s shoulder from the right, and when the bright eyes swiveled to focus of him, James grinned and offered a finger for her to shake.
“Hello Adela. Jolly good show there, giving Damien a right scare.”
“She did not,” the marques of Gavendale cried indignantly. As the impending childish bickering threatened to ensue, Lady Whitham broke in with admonishment.
“Really, boys, is this any way to behave in front of a lady? Who knows what impression she has of you two, arguing like the stable lads.”
“I don’t know, Ellie,” Lady Thornhill interjected mirthfully; “Adela seems to be amused.”
Attention drawn back to the small creature, they saw her bounce delightedly, warbling a high pitched giggle. Theodore looked flustered as he tried to keep his hold on the active child.
“Oh dear, it seems Adela will be able to keep up with you three quite well. She certainly has the energy. Here, Theodore, let me take her from you. It’s time she had a nap. She wants one, regardless of how lively she seems now.”
Like a prophet, as soon as Lady Thornhill uttered the words Adela stopped mid-giggle and yawned impressively. Hesitantly, Theodore shifted the baby back into Lady Thornhill’s arms and slid from her lap. Adela made small baby noises and the garden suddenly seemed blanketed by a soft hush. Lady Thornhill rocked her daughter gently and hummed a lullaby until the quiet seemed to center in the little cloth bundle. Adela was asleep.
“Boys, let us leave Adela to her rest,” Lady Whitham murmured. She turned to her friend as she got up and smiled softly, “Is there anything you need, Edie? It’s almost dinner time, surely you must be famished. Even if you are not, you need to sustain yourself. I shall have Jane bring a tray out to you.”
“Thank you, Ellie; I do feel a bit peckish. Dora should have dinner ready, you can ask her to serve at any time, and be sure to call Charles and William down to eat as well. Men will insist on believing they can derive all sustenance from the liquor cabinet.”
Lady Whitham laughed lightly, and affirmed she would do so. She rounded up the boys who, reaching their capacity for stillness, were fidgeting and edging toward the hedge as if to spring over or through it, and urged them toward the house.