“I have no intention of making rash decisions.” To be sure, Cressida now being a part of the family, and living with them, was urging her to more seriously consider the marriage prospects in the men she knew.
“It’s important to find a good husband, a husband that suits one, more than a suitable husband. I fear Julius has made the latter choice, and I do hope it works well for him. They seem similar in their outlook on life, and that might serve them well.” Clearly, Eliza was more worried about Julius’ marriage than Octavia had expected. She was hoping for the best, but she was cautious. It reflected Octavia’s view, but more eloquently. “What about Lord Fortescue?”
“I’m sorry. What about him?”
“He is the most eligible man in town at the moment.”
“Well, firstly, he’s escaped town, and I expect he’ll continue to be ‘escaped’, and secondly, did you just not tell me it was more important to pick someone who suits me more than who is deemed suitable? Lord Fortescue would be worst possible choice. We do not get on at all.” Octavia made a cutting motion with her hand to accentuate her sentiments. Where was Eliza getting these ludicrous ideas?
“He is a good man.”
For a moment, Octavia had no means to argue, or rather, couldn’t get the right argument out. Eliza thought he was a good man, and maybe there was something to be said for him recognizing what a gem Eliza was, even when the entire world was set against her. And for herself, she struggled to forgive herself for not seeing through the claims that awful man had constructed against her.
So it was understandable that Eliza was fond of him. That didn’t mean Octavia and him were remotely suitable. It was the silliest notion, born out of fondness, but not rationality. It was so silly, Octavia had to chuckle. “What ideas you have.”
The comment seemed to make Eliza grow completely pale and Octavia was confused. Why was this so shocking?
Hurriedly, Eliza grabbed a pot plant and threw up into it, a sight both distressing and shocking. Octavia didn’t know what to do, while Eliza hung onto the pot plant as if it would save her life. “Mr. James!” Octavia called and she heard the man’s hurried step. For being a butler, Mr. James was extraordinary with his missing arm and general ragamuffin appearance, but he assessed the situation quickly and rescued the distressed pot plant. “Perhaps you need to lie down for a moment, madam,” he suggested.
“No, I’m fine. It has passed, I think,” Eliza said, while Octavia found herself frozen somewhere between sitting and standing.
“It comes on so quickly, I barely have time to react. It’s settling... I think.”
“Should I bring a bowl, just in case?” Mr. James suggested.
“I should have thought of it,” Eliza said with a smile, looking embarrassed. Well, at least her cheeks were nice and pink now rather than the instantaneous pale of a minute ago. “I’m fine,” she reiterated.
“It is the morning sickness?” Octavia asked—something she’d always heard about, but had never seen in person. And it was shocking how violently it had come on.
“Yes, but they lie. It isn’t just mornings at all. It can happen any time. If it was just mornings, you could plan your day around it. As it is, I should walk around with a bowl wherever I go.”
Mr. James took the plant away.
Was Caius aware of this? He had to be. “Where is my brother?”
“He had to go somewhere,” Eliza answered. “He said, but you know, I can’t remember anything people tell me at the moment.” Well, hopefully she’d forget entirely bringing up any notion of her and Lord Fortescue, Octavia thought. She hadn’t realized Eliza was so fragile in her pregnancy. “Now what were we talking about?”
“The nursery,” Octavia lied. “You have yet to decide what color it should be.”
“I don’t recall mentioning, but I think green.”
“Green is an excellent color for a nursery.” The one upstairs was from another time, probably from when fairytales were from, when there seemed to have been a more grim view on raising children. It was dark and unpleasant, and she felt sorry for any family members who’d grown up there.
“Saying that, it might be better to have the child at Bickerley. It will be hot and unpleasant here by the time the child is born.”
“Well, getting to Bickerley might not be pleasant. You can’t go now—you’d freeze to death. And come spring, travel may be too difficult.”
“We will see,” Eliza said. “It’s not ideal.”
Child-carrying never was. Octavia couldn’t imagine herself doing it, and much less so with Lord Fortescue being the cause. It was the most insane thought she could think of. Lord Fortescue stroking her belly the way Caius did—that was … ludicrious.
“Would you like some tea?” Octavia asked with uncertainty.
“Oh, I might fast just for a moment,” Eliza said with a smile.
Eliza would make an excellent mother, but Octavia was starting to wonder if the pregnancy might be difficult for her. “They say the sickness passes after a few months.”
“One can only hope. We should perhaps purchase some furniture for the nursery,” Eliza said. “We should see some of the furniture makers this afternoon and see if we can find a style we like.”
It was true that Eliza was never one to keep still, so she struggled to be at home and doing little. Encouraging her to rest relentlessly was going to be a nightmare. It was difficult enough not to have her running off to that business of hers every day.
The doorbell chimed and they heard murmurings as Mr. James dealt to the visitor. Before long, that woman Eliza worked with
