“Some do,” the physician said, folding the earpieces on his spectacles, then unfolding them. “Each case is different. Some go on and become as good as new, some fall victim to other illnesses, some are taken by another apoplexy within days, even hours.”
And, Garner seemed to be saying, medicine played no role in altering those outcomes.
Vivian unclenched her fisted hands. “William’s heir was just born a few weeks ago. His lordship has much to live for, and we will do all we can to keep him with us.”
“I’d advise against such determination,” the man said, tucking his spectacles into a vest pocket. “Clearly, my lady, you are devoted to your spouse, which does you credit, but he’s very old, and being dependent on others for all assistance isn’t easy for a man like Lord Longstreet. I’ve been his physician for years and had to have this same discussion with him when the late Lady Longstreet became so ill. If God is calling William home, who are we to demand William ignore that summons for our comfort?”
“When it was William’s spouse dying”—Vivian had to pause on that word—“I understood such sentiments clearly, Doctor. I was closer to Muriel than to William at the time, of course, but now…”
Doctor Garner patted her arm. “Now you keep him as cheerful and comfortable as you can, and leave the rest in God’s hands. Then too, you have a new baby, and your own health cannot be allowed to suffer because you’re fretting over Lord Longstreet. Physically, he’s not in much pain beyond what ails an old man. His discomfort is more likely caused by the injury to his dignity.”
“Oh, that.” Vivian’s smile was rueful. “We Longstreets are always very much on our dignity.”
“Sometimes dignity is all that’s left to us. You’ll send for me if there’s any change in his condition?”
“Of course.” Vivian showed him out and felt keenly the silence in the house in the wake of the morning’s developments. She had to face her husband’s approaching death, but how, exactly, did one face such a loss? She mentally put the question to her Maker, but no almighty answer rained down from the puffy clouds in the pretty September sky. Not knowing what else to do, Vivian fetched her son, had a rocking chair moved into William’s room, and brought the baby with her so she could sit by William’s bedside and pray for his full recovery.
Valentine Windham had agreed to accompany Darius to the christening in exchange for Darius’s promise to attend the opening concert of the symphony season. Darius had updated his wardrobe, procured a rattle in the shape of a scepter for the baby, and ordered flowers sent ’round to the new mother.
All that remained was to call upon Lord William—as a courtesy—the day before the christening. A simple social call had never caused a grown man so much trepidation or so much dithering over his attire.
“Good afternoon, sir,” the butler said, handing Darius’s hat and cane off to a footman. “The Honorable Mr. Darius Lindsey?”
“Yes. If you’d take my card to Lord Longstreet?”
“Lord Longstreet is likely not at home.” The butler’s brow puckered as he led Darius into the library. “Shall I let Lady Longstreet know you’re here?”
“I don’t want to bother her,” Darius said. Calling on William was one thing; calling on Vivian just weeks after she’d given birth wasn’t as easy to explain.
“You’re sure?”
“I am.” Darius took a minute to glance around the parlor. The wainscoting was dark, the walls done in a forest green, the gilt kept to a minimum. A comfortable, masculine room with well-padded chairs—probably William’s preferred territory.
“If you’ll just wait a moment, sir.” The butler bowed slightly. “I’ll retrieve your hat and cane.”
“Certainly.” Darius nodded, not at all displeased to have a few minutes to study this little piece of Vivian’s world, and just perhaps, to hear the sound of a baby crying elsewhere in the house.
He heard the butler’s dry tones and a softer voice, the words indistinct. Without warning, the door opened, and Vivian stood there, her expression surprised. “Mr. Lindsey?”
“Viv—my lady.” He didn’t approach her, but he wanted to. God in heaven, he wanted to. “A pleasure to see you.” A pleasure and a towering relief, also the answer to myriad heartfelt prayers for the lady’s well-being.
“I didn’t know you’d come calling.” She took a few steps into the room, paused, and turned to close the door. “Dilquin suggested William might like me to read something besides Muriel’s diaries, but he neglected to mention we had a caller.”
“He’s… unavailable.” Vivian looked away, her expression bleak. “Would you like some tea?”
“Tea sounds good.” Bilge water would sound good, provided he could drink it in Vivian’s parlor, in Vivian’s company—though William’s situation sounded not good at all. Darius held his ground while Vivian went to signal a footman. His eyes traveled over her as discreetly as he could manage, silently cataloging the changes: Her figure was once more in evidence, but more lush. The waistline of her dress was raised, though Darius could tell her breasts were fuller, her hips a little rounder, her backside a touch more generous.
The sight of her made his mouth go dry, she was so lovely. There was a softness about her, a maturity that made what had been pretty before beautiful now—despite the fatigue he could see in her eyes, and in the way she moved a little carefully to the sofa and took a seat.
She raised her gaze to his. “Will you join me?”
He could not tell if he was supposed to be Darius or Mr. Lindsey today, but he accepted the invitation and sat beside her, leaning close enough for a little whiff of her scent. “The baby is well?”
The exact right question to ask a new mother, and the answer a new father very much needed to know.
Vivian smiled broadly. “Healthy as a little piglet. He’s perfect, Darius. Just… perfect, and when he smiles, it’s impossible to believe there’s misery or strife anywhere in God’s creation.”
“You’re smitten with your own offspring,” Darius accused, returning her smile. “He’s keeping you up nights, I’d guess.”
“He’s growing.” Vivian smoothed a hand down her skirts, and Darius was pleased to note that with him, she did not blush. “Growing boys need sustenance.”
“You’re not using a wet nurse?”
“My mother didn’t endorse it, and neither does Angela, and all four of hers are thriving. I don’t want to hand my son off to a stranger, not until I have to.”
“‘Boys go into men’s hands,’” she quoted, “though I have a few years before that happens.”
She had those years, while Darius did not, and yet he didn’t begrudge them to her—exactly. “I’m glad you’re not using a wet nurse. If nature is any guide, it’s a peculiar practice at best, but is there something you’re not telling me, Vivvie?”
She was saved from answering by the arrival of the tea service, which gave Darius further opportunity to study her. There was an agitated quality to her, in her movements, around her eyes and mouth. He’d seen Vivian in many moods, from uncertain to angry to passionate, but she’d always had a quality of self-possession.
She passed him his tea, prepared with both cream and sugar, and Darius watched while she poured her own.
“You’re tired, Vivvie,” he said, “and maybe a little frayed around the edges from the birth and delivery. Was it very bad?”
“Bad?” She set the teapot down but kept her fingers wrapped around the handle, as if a little porcelain pot might steady her.
“I thought of you.” He set his teacup aside and saw his hand was reaching forward to rub a slow circle on her shoulder. She looked in want of cuddling to him, in want of comfort. “I thought of you constantly. Childbirth is legendarily uncomfortable. That you suffered… I would wish it otherwise.”
Was he the only man in all creation who would have borne a child to spare the mother her travail?
“I have a healthy son.” She spoke as if reciting from a copybook. “William has his heir, and it was worth it. Angela said her first took twice as long as little Will did.”
“You’ve named him William? The quintessential good English name. I like it.”
“Wilhelm, actually.” She turned a faint smile on him. Had she wondered what he’d think of the name? “Wilhelm Fordham Longstreet, after William’s grandmother, Wilhelmina, who came over with the court of German
