Page 83 of Dark Tidings on the Thames
“Oh, no. I’m not ill, I am sure. Do not fear, Turner. Perhaps it is only a delayed reaction to all the excitement.”
“Perhaps. Will you sit, Your Grace?” He patted the back of a chair by the hearth.
“Just for a moment. Join me? We’ll hide out for a few minutes before we tackle the rest of the picnic preparations.”
“Thank you.” Turner sat, then cleared his throat. “I thought I might ask… It’s just that I often found your mother asleep at odd times—”
“Oh? Did you?” She was touched—and relieved—to hear her mother had displayed some odd tendencies, too.
“It happened often, Your Grace, when she found herself… in expectation.”
“Of what?”
“Of you, Your Grace.”
“Oh!” Kara flushed. “Oh!” She clapped both hands over her mouth. “You mean… You think… That I… That we…” Abruptly, she started to cry. “Turner! Do you think? A baby?”
He blinked furiously. “I think that you might wish to consult with Elsie.”
“With Elsie?” Kara frowned. Her maid? “Oh! Oh! Yes. Let me think.” She started to shake. “Oh, Turner! I think you might be right!”
The butler stood, and so did she, and suddenly she was in his arms and they were both crying and hugging each other close. Eventually, Turner stepped back and offered her a handkerchief. “May I say how very happy I am for you? For you both.”
“Yes! I must tell Niall!” She hugged Turner once more before they both left the sitting room, only to find that the first picnic guests were arriving.
Kara floated through the evening, her heart full and her pulse pounding in excitement and anticipation.
It was a lovely party. Harold was in fine form, making everyone laugh and eating his way through the tables of food. Her cousin Joseph came, and he brought along a Miss Steene and her parents.
“She seems lovely,” Niall whispered, after the group of them wandered away to play a round of croquet. “Dare we hope?”
“Joseph deserves to be happy. I’m daring,” she whispered back, staring at her husband and wishing she could drag him away to tell him.
But Josie Lowe was being appealed to for a song, and she soon had everyone both laughing and crying. It was a relief for Kara to have an excuse to vent a little of what she was feeling. Gyda, too, seemed to feel Josie’s sad song strongly, but Kara watched her closely, and she seemed to recover.
Kara strolled over to ask, “How did you find the Countess of Canfield this afternoon?”
“I liked her immensely. She has a daughter, did you know?” Gyda said.
“Oh. No, I didn’t.”
“The girl is obsessed with her father’s family’s Russian ancestors and Russian folklore. The countess told me some interesting stories.”
“How nice.” Gyda was intensely proud of her own Norse blood, so she would approve of such an interest.
“Kara, do you think Niall meant it, when he said I could use his little forge in Scotland?”
Kara’s interest instantly piqued. “Yes, absolutely.” She paused. “Do you think you are ready to begin your work again?”
“Perhaps. I think I’d like to be up there, alone for a while, to think about it.”
“I think it’s a lovely idea.”
Kara was called away then, but her heart felt lighter for her friend. She moved through the party, keeping check.
Cook and Maisie had circled each other warily, but now Kara saw them sharing a bottle of wine with Emelia and joining together to argue that English cuisine could not besomuch worse than Italian.
Miss Henrietta Moseman stopped Kara to fill her ears with raptures about her latest beau, while across the way, Mr. Arthur Towland filled Niall’s with excited descriptions of the latest rare book he’d found for the library in the Druid’s Grove.
