Page 40 of Better in Black
Thomas sighed and came over to stand behind Zachary, who tipped his head backward to get a look at Thomas, inadvertently sprawling onto his back and kicking over a whole squadron of redcoats. He giggled, and Thomas smiled down at him. “You, too, probably started out by putting Lord Nelson in your mouth,” he pointed out to Alastair.
“I did not,” Alastair said quietly. “Father would have been furious.”
Thomas decided this was not the right moment to dig into it. “I’ve had an idea. Let’s put him in the carriage and take him over to the Fairchilds’. Charlotte has her own new babies; she’ll have lotsof toys around. Not just whatever we can find of yours or Cordelia’s from twenty years back.”
Before Alastair could object, Thomas addressed Zachary directly, as he was still watching Thomas upside down. “Do you want to go for a stroll? A little sun, a little walk? See your Aunt Charlotte and the babies?”
“He doesn’t know any more about them than he does about Napoleon,” Alastair protested, but Zachary nodded (knocking over another two soldiers) and scrambled to his feet on top of the table.
“All right,” said Thomas, picking him up. “And there might be ice cream in it for you, if you’re good.”
—
The suggestion of ice cream was evidently a clever gambit, as Zachary all but leapt into the baby buggy on his own. Alastair fussed about, wrapping blankets around Zachary (who immediately threw them off again) and tucking toys into the pram. At last, standing by the front door, he turned to Thomas. “Shall we go?”
Thomas knew whatshall we go,when spoken by Alastair on the way out of the house, meant. It meant, we must be out in the world now, so kiss me before we open the door. And so he did, allowing his tension and frustration to dissolve for a moment as Alastair drew him close. He felt a small unknotting of his muscles at the familiar feel of Alastair’s strong arms around him, his smell of soap and cologne, the softness of his mouth.
Zachary made a noise that, despite missing most of its consonants, Thomas was fairly sure meant “Ice cream!” He smiled against Alastair’s cheek and pulled away.
“Shall we go indeed,” he whispered.
The walk was lovely, as Thomas had hoped; the route to Grosvenor Square took them mostly across Hyde Park, which was crowdedwith others out for a stroll or picnicking on the grass. A few passersby shot them odd looks: not because of their runes or weapons, which, when they were glamoured, were invisible to mundanes. But rather because they were two men, one of them pushing a baby carriage. Few gentlemen would be caught dead pushing a pram—perhaps a husband might take over for a moment while his wife adjusted a flyaway hat—and two men was a mystery. Brothers, perhaps? Not that he and Alastair looked at all alike.
Thomas returned all curious stares with a look of flat indifference. Let them wonder.
On their way they passed a few faeries dozing in the low branches of a hemlock. One of them lifted his head to regard them sleepily, but soon closed his eyes and returned to his nap.
—
Alastair pointed out that they should go to Charlotte’s first, and then seek ice cream, as Charlotte might not appreciate ice cream’s unexpected arrival into her well-kept parlour.
Nobody answered the door when they rang the Fairchilds’ bell. At the second ring, they heard Charlotte herself call out for them to come in.
Inside, the famous well-kept parlour was in an unusually unkept state. Charlotte, her hair askew, was sitting in one of the large armchairs, holding both of her twins, one in each arm. She gave Thomas, Alastair, and the pram a surprised look.
“I thought you were Mrs.Paisley, back from the shops,” she exclaimed.
“Well,” said Alastair, “we aren’t. Where’s Henry?”
“He’s out getting things for his lab. Is that little Zachary?”
Thomas nodded. “We’re watching him while Sona is having a day with the Lightwood ladies,” he explained. “We thought we’d bring him by to meet the new Fairchilds.”
“Lovely,” said Charlotte, with a marked lack of enthusiasm. Zachary was looking around at the new environs; he hadn’t taken any apparent notice of the new Fairchilds or, indeed, the Fairchild he’d met before. Alastair began extracting him from the pram.
“Who is Mrs.Paisley?” said Thomas.
“Oh, I suppose you wouldn’t have met. She’s the nanny—you’ve no idea what it’s like to deal with two of them at the same time, when one has only two hands and one head. She was only supposed to pop out for some provisions; I expected her back twenty minutes ago.”
Alastair carefully placed Zachary on the divan, sitting up with his back against the pillows. “This is your Aunt Charlotte,” he said. “You’ve met her before. Do you remember?”
In answer, Zachary tipped himself over onto his side and started giggling again. Thomas reached over and ruffled his hair.
“You’re very good with him,” Charlotte said, a dangerous thoughtfulness in her voice. She stood up with sudden purpose, and handed Thomas and then Alastair one of the twins.
“Um,” said Thomas carefully, examining his baby. It was bald, and wrapped in a purple fuzzy thing. “I don’t mean to be rude, but…which one is which?”
“You have Alice there,” said Charlotte, “and Alastair has Branwell. I’m going to go take a short nap, but feel free to hand them off to Mrs.Paisley when she returns. It shouldn’t be long now.”
