Page 45 of Convincing Marianne (The Widows of Lavender Cottage #2)

T he afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows of their rented villa overlooking the Arno River, casting golden light across the sitting room where Marianne was attempting to read while Wellington snored contentedly at her feet.

Her book—a detailed account of Italian agricultural innovations that Henry had purchased for her in Rome—lay forgotten in her lap as she watched her husband sketch architectural details from the view outside.

"The drainage systems here are remarkable," Henry was saying, his pencil moving with practiced precision across the paper. "We could adapt several of these techniques for the Somerset orphanage expansion."

"Mmm," Marianne agreed absently, one hand resting on the gentle curve of her abdomen where their first child was making its presence known with increasingly energetic movements.

"Though I suspect our child is going to inherit your systematic mind—he's been practicing architectural projects of his own all morning. "

Henry looked up from his sketching with the sort of tender smile that still made Marianne's heart skip after nearly two years of marriage. "Still convinced it's a boy?"

"Wellington is convinced it's a boy," Marianne corrected, gesturing toward the pug who had become remarkably protective of her condition. "He's been practicing his guard dog responsibilities all across Europe."

"Wellington's judgment has proven reliable in most matters," Henry conceded, setting aside his sketchbook to join Marianne on the comfortable sofa. "Though I confess I'd be equally delighted with a daughter who inherits her mother's talent for organizing beautiful chaos."

"Beautiful chaos," Marianne repeated with amusement. "I still maintain that what I create is actually sophisticated organization that appears chaotic to people who prefer more obvious systems."

"You've convinced me thoroughly on that point," Henry assured her, settling beside her with the careful attention to her comfort that had characterized his behavior since they'd learned about the baby.

"Though I reserve the right to be amazed by your organizational methods even when I understand their underlying logic. "

Their European wedding trip had been a revelation in unexpected ways.

What had begun as a conventional tour of classical sites had evolved into something uniquely theirs: Henry studying agricultural and architectural innovations while Marianne investigated charitable institutions and social reforms. Together, they had visited orphanages in Paris, experimental farms in the Netherlands, and progressive schools in Switzerland, gathering ideas for their own work back in Somerset.

"Speaking of beautiful chaos," Henry continued with obvious amusement, "I received a letter from Lady Joanna this morning. Apparently, Clarence has appointed himself supervisor of the orphanage construction and has strong opinions about the window placement."

"Of course he does," Marianne laughed. "Clarence considers himself an expert on all matters requiring dramatic flair. How is the expansion construction progressing?"

"Ahead of schedule and under budget, thanks to the continued community support. The first children should be able to move in by Christmas."

"Perfect timing," Marianne said with satisfaction. "By the time we return to England, everything will be established and running smoothly."

"Are you eager to return home?"

Marianne considered this seriously. Their months of travel had been wonderful—a chance to experience the world as true partners, to see how their different approaches to problem-solving complemented each other in unfamiliar circumstances, to build memories that would last a lifetime.

But she was ready to return to Somerset, to their cottage with its organized disorder and beloved animal family, to the community they'd helped build around the foundling charity.

"I'm eager to introduce our child to his or her inheritance," she said finally. "The orphanage, the village, the Widows who will undoubtedly spoil him outrageously..."

"And Clarence, who will expect the baby to appreciate his dramatic performances from birth."

"Especially Clarence. I suspect our child's first word will be either 'Mama,' 'Papa,' or a peacock shriek."

Henry's hand joined hers on her abdomen, his touch gentle and protective. "Whatever our child's first word turns out to be, I'm grateful he or she will grow up in a household where authenticity is valued over conformity."

"And where love is expressed through support rather than attempts at improvement."

"Though I reserve the right to offer gentle guidance about not climbing trees while pregnant," Henry said with mock sternness.

"Too late for that particular piece of guidance," Marianne replied with a grin. "That apple tree in the Tuscan countryside was too perfect to resist, and you were the one who helped me reach the highest branches."

"I was ensuring your safety while supporting your impulsive botanical interests," Henry corrected with dignity. "There's a difference."

"The difference being that you've learned to enable my adventures rather than trying to prevent them."

"I've learned that trying to prevent your adventures is both futile and unnecessary. Much better to ensure they're conducted as safely as possible while enjoying the results of your unique perspective."

As if summoned by the conversation, Wellington opened one eye to survey the room before returning to his nap with the sort of satisfied air that suggested all was well with his world.

The little dog had adapted to continental travel with remarkable aplomb, charming hotel staff and fellow travelers with equal enthusiasm.

"I think Wellington approves of married life," Marianne observed.

"Wellington approves of any life that includes regular meals, comfortable napping locations, and unlimited attention from devoted humans," Henry replied. "Marriage simply happens to provide all of those things in abundance."

"Speaking of marriage," Marianne said, pulling out a letter from her own morning correspondence, "Charlotte writes that she's received three proposals since our wedding, apparently inspired by witnessing our romantic success."

"Three proposals? Is she accepting any of them?"

"She's considering one—a gentleman who owns a theater company and apparently appreciates her dramatic talents rather than being intimidated by them."

"Excellent. Charlotte deserves someone who values her flair for performance."

"And Margaret has become quite serious about that banker who helped with the orphanage funding.

Caroline is being courted by a missionary who shares her passion for charitable work.

Even Victoria has attracted the attention of a reformed rake who finds her social connections and sharp wit irresistible. "

"The Somerset Widows are disbanding through matrimonial success?"

"The Somerset Widows are expanding through matrimonial success," Marianne corrected. "Lady Joanna writes that they're already planning to welcome the new wives into their circle, creating an even larger network of independent women supporting each other's goals."

"A terrifying prospect for conventional society," Henry observed with obvious appreciation.

"A wonderful prospect for progressive change," Marianne replied. "Imagine what a dozen determined women could accomplish when they combine their individual strengths and resources."

"I prefer not to imagine it too specifically," Henry said with mock alarm. "I suspect I'll discover the reality soon enough when we return to Somerset."

As the afternoon wore toward evening and the Italian sunset began painting the sky in shades of gold and rose, Marianne reflected on how much her life had changed since that first morning when Clarence had shrieked his disapproval of country life.

She'd thought she was settling into quiet retirement from the complexities of London society.

Instead, she'd found purpose, community, and a love deeper than anything she'd imagined possible.

"Henry," she said quietly, "are you happy? Truly happy with the life we're building together?"

"Profoundly happy," Henry replied without hesitation. "Happier than I knew it was possible to be. Why do you ask?"

"Because sometimes I still can't quite believe that someone can love me exactly as I am, chaos and animals and impulsive decisions included."

"Marianne," Henry said, turning to face her fully, "you are the most remarkable woman I've ever known.

Your chaos creates community, your animals bring joy to everyone they meet, and your impulsive decisions consistently lead to outcomes that methodical planning never could have achieved.

I don't love you despite those qualities—I love you because of them. "

"Even when Clarence stages dramatic performances during dinner parties?"

"Especially when Clarence stages dramatic performances during dinner parties. Life without your particular brand of beautiful unpredictability would be unutterably boring."

"And you're not secretly hoping our child will inherit your systematic tendencies rather than my chaotic ones?"

"I'm hoping our child will inherit the best of both our approaches," Henry said with complete sincerity.

"Your intuitive understanding of what matters combined with enough systematic thinking to turn good intentions into effective action.

Your passionate advocacy for justice tempered by strategic planning that makes change possible. "

"And if our child inherits my tendency to climb trees and your sister's love of dramatic literature?"

"Then we'll have a very interesting household indeed," Henry replied with a laugh. "Though I may need to improve my tree-climbing skills significantly."

As they sat together in the warm Italian evening, planning their return to England and the life they would build there, Marianne felt a deep contentment settle over her.

This was what she'd hoped marriage could be: not the end of individual identity, but the creation of something larger and more beautiful than either person could achieve alone.

Their child would grow up seeing love expressed through partnership rather than dominance, watching parents who supported each other's dreams rather than demanding conformity, learning that families could be built on choice and affection rather than mere obligation.

"One more question," Marianne said as the stars began to appear in the darkening sky.

"Always."

"When we return to Somerset, and our child is born, and the orphanage is full of children, and the Widows are planning their next ambitious project..."

"Yes?"

"Will you still be able to find moments like this? Quiet evenings where it's just us, planning our future together?"

Henry's answer came in the form of a kiss that tasted of Italian wine and promises kept, of adventures shared and dreams fulfilled.

"Always," he said against her lips. "No matter how chaotic our life becomes, no matter how many children or animals or community projects we take on, there will always be moments like this. Just us, building something beautiful together."

Outside their window, the Arno River flowed steadily toward the sea, carrying with it the reflection of stars and the promise of new beginnings. Inside their villa, a devoted pug snored peacefully while his humans planned a future that would be wonderfully, chaotically, perfectly their own.

And somewhere in Marianne's growing belly, their first child practiced the sort of energetic movements that suggested he or she would fit seamlessly into a household where love was measured not by conformity, but by the courage to be authentically, joyfully, completely oneself.

Some love stories, Marianne thought as she drifted off to sleep in her husband's arms, really did have perfectly happy beginnings.