His nurse had swooped in and lifted him, clucking like a hen.
Now, here he was, her warm arm tight around him, and she was promising to visit the graveyard with him in the morning.
“Can we walk there?” he asked, a little calmer.
“Why ever would we do that?” She laughed lightly. “We’ll take the carriage, of course.” Then she sighed heavily.
“Darling,” she said slowly and sighed again. “You are growing older and I believe I need to familiarize you a bit more with the ways of this world.
“It is good for your sister to hear this as well, I suppose,” she continued, though she didn’t invite Sophia to join them on the settee. Suddenly, the child within her lurched, pushing against Jonathan’s arm.
“Did you feel that?” she asked, laughing and clutching her belly.
Jonathan nodded, his lashes still wet.
“As I was saying,” she put her arm back around him and continued, “darling, have you ever wondered how it is that you came to live in such a great house and that you are so well known in and beyond the county?”
Jonathan shook his head slightly, wanting to talk more of Will and Papa.
“Please understand, this is not something we talk about with others, but your father and I made what most would call an ‘advantageous marriage’. We both benefited vastly from our union. You see, your father was born with a prestigious lineage but over the last century, the wealth that formerly accompanied his estate dwindled. I, however, was born into the Fanshawes, a rather unknown family that, over the past century, acquired a large fortune through commerce and trade. When my father died, I inherited it all.
“Now that your father and elder brother…have passed from this world…you have inherited the baronetcy.” She paused. “Therefore, when you come of age, you shall have wealth and a title.”
Jonathan sighed, picking at the cuff on his jacket.
“Did you know, darling, that your brother was William Walter Clyde the Fifth and your father was William Walter Clyde the Fourth?”
Was…he thought and nodded his head. His little sibling bumped against his arm again.
“Yes, of course you did. And you know that your grandfather was William Walter Clyde the Third and so on all the way back to the year 1640 when William Walter Clyde the First was born.” She paused. “It is a very old name, dearest.”
“Yes, it is,” he mumbled, absent-mindedly.
“…and it would be a great shame if it ended now as there has been a Sir William Walter Clyde living at Whitehall since 1697.” She paused again and took a deep breath. “Therefore, I have decided that you, darling, will carry it on.”
She smiled into his face as if she had just promised him a new horse.
“What do you mean?” he asked, suddenly listening.
“From now on, we shall…everyone shall refer to you as William Walter Clyde the Fifth.”
He stiffened and leaned back from her. “But that is…was Will’s name.”
“It is a family name and a very important one,” she explained.
“But…I’m Jonathan and he was William,” he said, with equal patience.
“Don’t think of it so much as a name as a title. He carried it for a while and now you shall carry it.” The smile had completely faded from her face. Little lines around her mouth grew deeper as her lips settled into a tense pursing. There was a note of annoyance in her voice as she added, “This is all very important.”
“Important to whom?” Jonathan asked, suddenly wanting her arm completely off of him. Springing up from the settee, he firmly planted his feet in a wide stance and nearly shouted in her face, “He was William and I am Jonathan!”
“I just lost a son and a husband. This is a very difficult time for me!” his mother said. “Don’t make it more so by being obstinate. You shall be known as William henceforth and that is final. I trust that as you mature, you will understand the importance of all of this.”
Jonathan stared at his mother, her face set as hard as the stone angel’s. It was a familiar look, very different to how she appeared just a moment ago.
Jonathan felt something inside him flip.
No, he thought. No.
He took a deep breath and declared, “I will never answer to that name. It is my dead brother’s name, which you seem to have forgotten.”
She suddenly looked tired, her face loosened into slack blotchiness. “I only want what’s best,” she said quietly. With a slight wave of her hand she turned her face to gaze out of the window.
Drawing himself up to his full height, he turned his back to her and marched to the door, grabbing Sophia’s hand as he passed, pulling her out of the room with him.
Once the door had swung shut behind them with a click, Sophia murmured, “Well done, Jonathan.”
6: Saying the Definitely Wrong Thing
~ Ploughman
Ohhh, Ploughman groaned inwardly. She paused in her mopping of the marble entryway to rub her aching calves.
I musta mopped this floor eighteen times in the past month. Don’t the Lady know people are comin’ to see the new li’l baby, not the entryway…and with the draining of the lake there’s a lotta new muck to be tracked in when people go traipsing about.
She pushed a knuckle deep into the meatiest part of her left calf, kneading the ache unsatisfactorily.
Better not let anyone see me doing this. I might be hauled off by the knacker.
Just then, the front door swung open. The young heir entered, his trousers and shoes splattered with mud.
A lifetime of servitude had taught Ploughman to mask the emotions she felt daily, hiding frustration, anger, even happiness from the people she served, but the sight of those dirty shoes about to needlessly defile the
