Page 46 of Jillian’s Wild Heart (Ladies of Munro #4)

Ellena shook her head. “His brother’s death brought challenges to you both.

You did not make room for Lewis to catch his breath any more than he did for you.

You both tried to squeeze your expectations into circumstances where they no longer fit.

If you really loved each other, mutual support and understanding would have come before demands.

But you loved the idea of marriage. It was all play and endless freedom.

No marriage can survive such willful insistence that all should go according to plan, especially when such plans are counter to where you find yourselves.

There is a reason we make an oath. Marriage is hard.

If we did not pledge to be loyal, then times of struggle would easily undo our affection. ”

Jillian’s lip began to tremble. “I don’t want to hear any more.” Nausea lurched up into her throat. She pulled open the door with gusto, fled down the corridor, and descended the stairs swiftly, driven to such haste by an urgent need for fresh air rather than the usual lively abandon.

Outside, she leaned forward, her forearm bent against the wall of the house as she sucked in deep mouthfuls of cool breath.

The queasiness subsided somewhat but did not altogether disappear.

Walking carefully like a landsick sailor, her steps feeling unsteady and the nausea threatening to rise again, Jillian maneuvered her way to her family home.

It was strangely quiet. The boys must have been busy elsewhere. Jillian sat down gingerly, then jumped up frantically and emptied the contents of her stomach into the flowerbed by the door.

“Jillian?” came the worried voice of her mother. She hastened forward, a basket of eggs swinging precariously on her arm as she did so. “Wait here. I will fetch water for you to rinse your mouth with.”

Mrs. Kinsey hurried inside and came back with a jug of water and a cup, which she filled and handed to her daughter. “Rinse and spit,” she instructed.

Jillian did so.

“Better?”

Jilly nodded.

“Come and sit down. I will make you some ginger tea.” Her mother threw out the rest of the water over the befouled plants to cleanse them, then hurried to put the kettle on the stove.

“Is the food too rich for you at the big house?” she asked, throwing a concerned glance Jilly’s way while she bustled around collecting the ginger root and breaking a piece off into the cup.

“Ellena and I had a falling out,” Jilly mumbled low, wary that any sudden move or exertion might trigger another trip to the flowerbed.

“All friends have disagreements. Why are you allowing it to upset you this much?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think I was. One minute, she was scolding me for promising a dance to Simon Boyd at the shindy tonight. The next minute, I was ready to retch out my breakfast.”

An “o” of realization formed on her mother’s face. “Jilly, when last did you bleed?”

“I don’t remember exactly. I’m a few weeks late with all the stress and the travelling and…” Jillian’s expression shifted to match her mother’s. “You don’t think…?”

Mrs. Kinsey smiled in a knowing way. “I do.”

“You think I am with child?”

Her mother laid her hand upon Jillian’s shoulder. “I think you are with child.”

Jilly cupped her own hand across her still-flat belly. If her mother was right, a little life was forming there, deep within the safe cocoon of her body. A little Lewis or Jillian. Her breath snatched. Something beautiful may have come from the unhappiness of the past months…

“Should I tell Lewis?” she asked aloud.

“Not yet,” her mother answered. “Let us be certain before we give him hope.”

Hope. This was a thing of hope, was it not? A little joyful bundle to love with all their hearts.

A possible heir.

Jilly’s mood darkened.

A son or daughter to be trained in the ways of the Bradford family. A girl who must not run barefoot. A boy who must be baron one day.

The nausea rolled through her once again. Her mother ran and fetched a bowl. Jillian waved it away.

“I’m all right,” she said. “But I think I might want to lie down a bit until this queasiness passes.”

“Of course.”

Jillian’s mother helped her to the bigger of the humble beds, pulled off her boots, and brought a cool, damp cloth to lay across Jilly’s forehead.

“I don’t like feeling out of sorts,” Jillian complained.

Her mother took her hand and wrapped it inside her own. “If there is a little one on the way, you may have to get used to it for a while.”

“Little tyrant.” Jilly smiled wanly and lay her hand across her belly. “I guess there’ll be no more leaping about for a while. That should make everyone happy. Especially Ellena. She didn’t think I should attend the barn roof-wetting tonight. It seems she will be getting her wish.”

“Now, now,” her mother scolded gently, “no one wishes you ill, you goose, or desires you to give up your happiness. But mothering is a solemn commitment. You will be thinking of the little one first now. Putting their needs before your own. There is a very special kind of happiness set aside for those willing to do that.”

Jillian tried to lie quite still, but her thoughts tumbled through her brain.

Yes, she would protect this baby… if she were indeed with child.

It must never feel neglected as Lewis had been.

Or be expected to live up to silly rules that had nothing to do with decency and kindness.

She would fight for this little soul as no one had fought for Lewis.

Jillian felt the mother tigress rise within her, a powerful instinct, enough to swipe fiercely out of the way all who would hurt this tiny, fragile life.

The urge to bare her teeth and snarl at those who would wound the innocence of her little babe grew hot within her.

And then the nausea followed.

Jillian rolled over and released what was left of her breakfast into the bowl her mother had held out hurriedly. Mrs. Kinsey gently removed a stray strand of hair from her daughter’s cheek and used the damp cloth to wipe her mouth.

“Can I stay here with you?” Jillian asked plaintively.

“For the day?”

“Until my return to Munro.”

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in that lovely guest room at Trenton Grange with maids to see to your every need?”

Jillian closed her eyes and fought the giddiness that now joined the nausea in torturing her.

Her voice was small. “They will fuss over me.” She took a shallow breath.

“But not with love. I have had enough of that sort of attention.” She opened her eyes again, focusing them on her mother’s kind face.

“Please, I can sleep on a straw mattress on the floor. “I just want my mum.”

A tear formed and slipped down the side of her nose.

“There now,” said her mother. “I think we could manage that. You just rest. I will go speak to Lady Howell and explain things to her quietly. Only as much as she needs to know. No need for us to make a big fuss. Now, close your eyes awhile. I will pull the shade. And when I come back, I will make you a new cup of ginger tea.”

Jillian sighed out her relief. Her body, which had been a tight fist of fear and physical distress, released itself more fully into the soft embrace of the mattress. She would be all right now. She was safe.

In a few more days, if her bleeding had not resumed and the nausea did not abate, she would be able to tell Lewis the life-changing news that he was to become a father. There would be a letter at last. She smiled—a slow, weak version of her usual display, but a smile nevertheless.

She imagined Lewis reading the words, his eyes growing large, his heart, like hers, filling to capacity for the new life they would bring into the world.

He would abandon his stiff ways, so recently acquired, and run down the hallway, waving the letter at anyone he passed and shouting, “I’m going to be a father! ”

Much later, when he had calmed from the initial excitement, he would sit and write and share with Jillian all the plans he had for their new little family to be happy. She would receive it and hold the words to her heart. This would be the push he needed to make things right, once and for all.

Jilly’s eyes grew heavy as her thoughts grew peaceful. Just a few more days…