Page 30 of 1797 Club 2nd Epilogue Collection (The 1797 Club #11)

T he next day’s breakfast was a surprise to Sarah.

Phoebe joined them, as always, and she behaved as though nothing at all had happened the night before.

There was no mention of the baby, nor any petulant behavior.

She ate like her normally happy self. Kit shrugged as Sarah met her eyes, as if he wasn’t certain of the next step either.

“May we work on the playhouse today, Kit?” Phoebe asked at last, as they finished their food.

He nodded as he downed the last of his morning tea. “We may. The weather is fine and I sent down all the materials so they should be ready for us.”

Sarah smiled at Phoebe. “Perhaps I’ll join you today. I think a walk would be wonderful.”

Phoebe sent her a side glance, not her usual bright happiness, especially considering that just the previous night she had been asking Sarah to come along for the fun. Now her mouth drew down as if she didn’t want that.

Sarah ignored it for the time being and together they all left the table and the house, heading down the hill toward the forested grove on the edge of the grass where Kit’s childhood playhouse was waiting to be revisited and upgraded.

As they walked, Kit took Sarah’s hand, his fingers threading between hers.

She looked up to smile at him and waited for Phoebe to either take his opposite hand or hers, as she usually did.

But today she did neither. Instead she shoved herself between them and took Kit’s hand.

Sarah glanced at him and offered her own, but Phoebe ignored it.

Sarah worried her lip. So, she was the villain at present. That was fine. Why wouldn’t she be? If Phoebe had worries about the future, the person who was carrying the child that threatened her would be the villain.

Kit looked at her again, but she slightly shook her head, encouraging him to let it pass as they made their way into the woods and around the well-worn path to the little playhouse.

“You know, Papa built this house with me when I was a little boy,” Kit said.

Sarah smiled at the joy in his expression. Even when tinged with the sadness of the loss of his beloved father, he had so many good memories.

“I know,” Phoebe said softly. “And now you and I are building it for me.”

Kit nodded and they moved together to look at the worn out little house. “Yes. For you and later for the other children Sarah and I will have.”

Phoebe pivoted. “No! I don’t want to share my house.”

Kit flinched and Sarah couldn’t help but do the same. So there it was. Phoebe didn’t just mean this little shack.

“Phoebe,” Kit said, his tone a little firmer. “I hear you, you don’t need to shout. I know you’re worried about the baby, but there is enough love and space and happiness to share. Sarah and I-”

“I think Sarah should go away,” Phoebe said. “Sarah should go away with her baby. You have me. You can take care of me. We don’t need her, do we? ”

It was impossible not to be a little hurt by that assessment, even though Sarah understood it’s root.

Phoebe lashed out from fear. She struggled to protect her world because she couldn’t imagine that it wouldn’t fall apart.

And why not? She had experienced so much loss and change the last six months.

Sarah came down to her knees in the soft, damp earth before Phoebe. She didn’t care if it ruined her gown, she didn’t care if her growing stomach would make it hard to get up. The most important thing was Phoebe at present. “My love,” she said, reaching for the little girl’s hands.

“No!” Phoebe shocked her by swatting her hands away, though of course her little strike did nothing to physically harm her.

Kit stepped forward. “Phoebe Elizabeth, that is enough!” His very sharp tone seemed to shock his sister to her senses. She straightened up, tears filling her eyes. Kit was softer as he continued, “Apologize to Sarah.”

“I-I’m sorry, Sarah,” she whispered.

Sarah could see the deep truth in the apology. Gently she held out her arms and Phoebe rushed to her, wrapping her arms around her neck and clinging there as she wept. Sarah smoothed her hair, rocked her a little even as she let her cry it all out. That was the first step, after all.

“You’re afraid of what will happen after the baby comes?” Sarah asked at last.

Phoebe nodded without looking up from Sarah’s now-damp shoulder.

Kit dropped down next to them and stroked his hand down the little girl’s hair. “Do you remember after Papa died and you were afraid that you would be sent away?” he asked.

Phoebe lifted her head then and looked over her shoulder at him. “Y-Yes.”

“But that didn’t happen, did it? You know now that Sarah and I would never, ever send you away. That we love you very much.”

Phoebe hiccuped over a sob and nodded wordlessly. Sarah felt a little relief at that. “Sweet, why don’t you tell us what scares you now and we can help you like we did then?”

Phoebe’s breath was shaky and she wiped her nose on the back of her arm before she said, “You’ll love-love your baby more than me. I won’t be-belong.”

Sarah shut her eyes. It was as she feared. Kit wrapped his arm around Phoebe and drew her into his arms. “Lovey, that isn’t true. You will belong more than ever. You’ll be an aunt and-”

“No!” Phoebe pulled away from him. “I don’t want to be an aunt. I want to be your baby. I want…I want Sarah to be my Mama and you to be my Papa. Like Papa was before.”

Sarah exchanged a look with Kit. This was not something they’d ever talked about.

They were raising Phoebe as their own, of course.

They both thought of her as a daughter as much as his sister.

Perhaps more so. But with it so close to the death of Kit and Phoebe’s father, to make that feeling something any of them voiced hadn’t felt… right.

But now that it had been spoken, she could see from Kit’s expression that he understood the meaning of it just as she did. He felt the depth of that request, demand, down to his core.

Sarah touched her face. “You are our baby, Phoebe. I feel like your mother just as strongly as I feel like the mother to this baby.” She touched her stomach and felt the flutter of the child within moving.

It was still a new sensation and one that gave her so much joy.

She glanced at Kit again, but continued without asking his leave.

This was between her and Phoebe at any rate.

“Phoebe would you like to call me Mama?”

Phoebe’s eyes went wide. “Mama?” she repeated, the sound a reverent whisper.

The little girl had never known her mother. Never met her, thank God. She’d lived a life without that and Sarah could see now how much it meant.

“You can if you’d like. And if you want to still call me Sarah that’s fine, too. But you are my daughter, love. Nothing will change that. ”

“I want to call you Mama,” Phoebe whispered.

Sarah hugged her tightly, tears starting down her cheeks. “I’m so glad.”

Phoebe turned toward Kit and the siblings’ eyes met.

Kit took her hand. “I know our Papa was the best Papa,” he said softly.

“And I never want to take that away from you. But like Sarah, I already consider you my child. I love raising you and seeing you grow and making playhouses and block towers and dolly tea parties with you. It is the greatest joy of my life, Phoebe. So what would you like to call me?”

Phoebe considered it. “Would Papa be angry?”

“If you called me Papa?” Kit smiled softly, the wistful look he always had when he talked of the late duke. “No, Phoebe. Papa would never be angry with you. Never.”

“What about Papa Kit?” Phoebe asked slowly. “Papa would still be Papa then.”

Kit’s expression softened. “Oh yes. I think that would be very nice. But you know that the baby will still come. You’ll be a big sister, even if you don’t want to be an aunt.”

She nodded. “I know.” There was still hesitance in her voice.

“You’ll get to play and love the baby like you do the other babies when they visit,” Sarah said. “And you’ll still have time with just me and-and Papa Kit whenever you like it. You could never be forgotten or unloved, my sweet. I promise you that.”

Kit looked over their child’s head at each other and he smiled. “And Sarah always keeps her promises.”

Phoebe seemed to consider that for a moment and then she smiled, wider and wider. “Can I help with the nursery?”

Sarah laughed. “I was going to ask you to do that. You can pick colors and help choose toys. And if you wanted to change anything in your room we can do that too.”

“And we’ll need help with names,” Kit suggested. “You’re always very good at naming your dollies.”

Sarah smothered a smile since one of Phoebe’s dolls was named Twinkle-Eyed Treasure. Twinkle for short. Lady Twinkle. Or Lord Twinkle, future Duke of Kingsacre. There would be something to shock Society.

Phoebe clapped her hands together. “Oh yes!”

“Do you feel better?” Sarah asked gently.

Phoebe turned to her and her eyes were bright now, filled with the joy both she and Kit had expected when they first decided to reveal their happy secret. “Oh yes, Sarah. Mama. Oh, yes, Mama !”

The name hit Sarah in the chest, the most powerful thing she’d ever been called.

And as she drew Phoebe in for a hug and Kit wrapped her arms around both of them, as well as the child that had not been yet born, she was certain that this family they had made, that they continue to build, was the greatest accomplishment of her life.

And that her greatest joy would be continuing to love them until her last breath.