"Death, taxes and childbirth! There's never any convenient time for any of them." Margaret Mitchell, Gone With the Wind

----

XXX.

It was the eighth Sunday that Claire had attended church alone. Of course, she was never alone, but Jack was not there.

He was not there because they had quarrelled. Or rather, Jack had refused to listen to Claire long enough for her to explain her side of the story, or even the story in general. It had also taken four or so letters before she had received an apologetic reply from Jack.

And that was weeks ago.

He had still not returned.

Claire had never felt more isolated in her life. She was in a house full of people who couldn't know what she was experiencing, and the one person who had promised to be on her side wasn't.

Jack didn't trust Claire, and she did understand why. She had allowed herself to be compromised, but that still didn't mean Jack's flight to London didn't hurt. Jack could believe the worst in her and Claire had the reason why tucked underneath her dress.

What was worse was that she had needed to pretend that all was fine. She had perfected her false smile, and had assured Grace mainly that she was fine, and was in regular contact with Jack while he conducted his business in London.

Cecily, who was still not privy to Jack's plans, had made a few comments about Jack slipping back into old habits when she thought Claire wasn't in earshot, but she had heard them, and she had to admit that it had crossed her mind, too.

If Jack knew the truth, and was sorry, why hadn't he come home to ensure that she was alright? The name Giulia Panetta kept haunting her, and Claire was unsure what she would say or do if she found out that Jack had reverted to his old ways. Would she be expected to permit them? He had promised her that he would never take a mistress, but had he changed his mind?

These were all questions that she longed to ask him if he ever deemed it necessary to show his face.

At the conclusion of the service, Claire excused herself to go and make a contribution to the collection box. It was getting harder and harder to get up and down, particularly after an hour of sitting on those uncomfortable wooden pews. Claire didn't know how Grace was managing it considering she had mere days or weeks to go before the birth of her own child.

She rubbed her sore back before she unfastened her money purse to make a donation.

"Are you alright, Claire?"

Claire was startled as someone else dropped a handful of coins into the box quickly after her. When she looked up, she saw Arthur's green eyes watching her curiously.

"Leave me alone," Claire whispered in reply.

"It seems that is all that husband of yours is doing lately," countered Arthur coolly. "What has it been, two months, or three, since he has last escorted you to church, or anywhere? And in your condition, my, my," he tsked.

Claire had become an unwitting participant in a correspondence with Arthur since Jack had left for London. He wrote her love letters, really, messages of affection, care, and curiosity after the baby. Claire had ignored his letters, or responded with brief requests for them to cease, but if she didn't reply, he happened upon her in the street as she visited her mother or accosted her in church as he was now.

And as much as Claire didn't want to be receiving correspondence from Arthur, she couldn't deny that it was nice to read kind words. In comparison, the letters from her husband boasted the number of ruddy printing presses he had acquired, and it did nothing but infuriate her.

Nevertheless, Claire knew that the letters were wrong, and would only cause more friction, which she believed was one motive of Arthur's. What she wasn't certain of was his endgame. What did he hope to achieve? She couldn't marry him. He wouldn't have any claim over the baby. If anything, all he could really achieve would be Claire's ruin, which was what stopped her from scratching his eyes out.

"You look beautiful today," Arthur continued softly, a smile teasing at his lips. "You know I always loved you in white. Is that why you chose that dress?"

Claire frowned in poor temper. "No," she said flatly. "I chose it because it is one of the few that fit me at my current size. Do not flatter yourself. Your head is big enough."

Arthur chuckled, an impressed expression upon his face. "How ever could Beresford leave you?" he wondered aloud.

"Is that a joke?" Claire practically hissed. "Why don't you ask yourself that same question because you managed it, too, or don't you remember?"

"Too?" repeated Arthur. "So, he has left you?"

Claire bit her tongue, annoyed that she had allowed her temper to get the better of her. What plagued her now, really, was that she didn't know if her words were the truth. Jack could have well left her. Perhaps that was what kept him away, and the letters of business were a sham to cover it up.

"Claire," Grace murmured, joining their conversation as she linked her arm through her sister's. Grace looked between Arthur and Claire curiously, not apologising for the look of disdain she gave to Arthur. "We are leaving. Come along," she urged.

"Your Grace," greeted Arthur, almost slyly, enjoying Grace's disapproval as he tipped his hat and bowed to her. "How well you look."

"Do pass along my best wishes to your mother, Mr Slickson," Grace said tersely. "On behalf of Mrs Denham, also."

Mrs Slickson was not in church today and hadn't been on the days that Arthur had intercepted Claire as he had.

"Mother is only too happy to hear how well her former servants are doing," Arthur replied in a menacing tone, a clear attempt to put Grace in her place.

But Grace was poised and practised in receiving such taunts. Cecily had prepared Grace well for her first jaunt into London society. She did not crumble as Claire would in being chided so.

"Forgive me, Mr Slickson, but green is not your colour," Grace said apologetically, but without sincerity.

Arthur furrowed his brows and looked down briefly at his clothing. "I am not wearing green, Your Grace."

"Oh, I was not referring to your attire. Good morning." She smiled sweetly, before leading Claire away from him and towards the church doors where the congregation were exiting. "I do not like that man," Grace hissed under her breath. "What was he doing talking to you?"

"Mr Slickson was making his donation as I was," replied Claire quietly.

"I feel like he has taken a bit of an interest in you these last weeks, or are my eyes deceiving me? I have never seen him pay a bit of attention towards you before now. Well, aside from the assembly, of course."

And she wouldn't have. Arthur had been very careful to appear aloof during their secret courtship. He was now breaking all the rules.

"Has he? I hadn't noticed," replied Claire as they met with their family.

Grace was immediately claimed by Adam, who had taken to fussing over her, and so she was not able to ask Claire anything else.

***

Claire received two letters in the morning post a few days later. One from Jack telling her about a house that he had leased for them, and one from Arthur, detailing how lovely she looked at church on Sunday.

Claire abandoned Arthur's letter quickly for Jack's. A house? This was the first time he had written to her about something other than the preparations for the publishing company. He had leased them a house in London. Jack went on to describe the rooms, and his plans for what needed to be done. He even suggested that Claire begin to source nursery furniture that she liked.

Jack clearly planned for Claire and their child to accompany him to London. He wasn't set on abandoning her, then. That much was clear. But then, nothing felt clear. Not until he returned and explained.

Claire stashed the letters in her pocket and decided to go back up to her bedroom. The stairs were getting harder and harder each day and looked very much like a mountain today. The baby kicked her right in the ribs as if to mock her lethargy.

No sooner had she climbed the first step did Cecily appear at the top of them. She looked upon Claire with an expression of relief. "There you are, Claire!" she exclaimed. "Hurry up! It's Grace's time!"

All of her unsettled emotions vanished to the back of her mind as her focus shifted to her sister. Claire had been present for Perrie's birth, but this felt different, incredibly so. Claire used the bannister to pull herself up the stairs as quickly as she could, before she hurried after Cecily as swiftly as her legs would carry her.

As Claire and Cecily rushed down the hallway, Claire could see Adam pacing outside of his and Grace's bedroom while holding Perrie on his hip.

"Did you send for Mrs Denham?" Cecily asked as they reached the door. "And the doctor?"

"Yes," replied Adam, an anxious and pained expression upon his face. "I should be in there," he said insistently. "This is my bloody house, my wife, my child ..."

"No," said Cecily firmly. "Even if it wasn't how things are done, you are far too nervous and will only put stress on Grace. She has a big job to do. It is not comfortable pushing one of those out." She nodded to Perrie. "You wait here, and I'll let you know when you have your child."

"Mother," Adam said tensely. "It's early. The doctor predicted the end of March and it is only the eighth. Will Grace be ..." Adam couldn't finish his sentence, and Claire could see the true fear in his eyes.

And the minute that thought entered Claire's mind, fear set in for her as well. Oh, God. Was her sister in danger? Would ... would Claire be in danger, too?

"Grace will be just fine," promised Cecily, putting a comforting hand on Adam's arm.

"Mother," Adam said again, more forcefully this time, his hazel eyes watering. "I don't care a wit if it's a boy or a girl, I just need everyone in that room to be healthy and stay healthy."

His voice was cracking on nearly every word and Claire needed to leave. As she pushed open the door to the bedroom, she heard Cecily reply, "I am not about to let anything happen to either of them, I promise."

Cecily followed Claire inside the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Inside, Grace was pacing in front of the fireplace, her maid, Ruby, flanking her with her arms outstretched to catch Grace if she fell. Susanna was pulling back the covers on the bed.

Grace suddenly stopped, placed her hands on her waist and threw her head back as she moaned, clamping her eyes shut. "Oh, Lord, that was a big one," she complained, before she continued to walk.

"Grace, come and lie down," suggested Cecily.

"No," rebuffed Grace. "I need to stand. I need to walk."

"Ruby, how close are the pains?" Cecily asked.

"About six or seven minutes apart, Your Grace," replied Ruby. "She says she was having the pains all night but didn't say anything."

"You saw Adam, didn't you?" Grace huffed as she stopped to lean against the mantle. "They were intermittent, and I knew if I woke him, he'd be in a panic. At least this way he has had a proper night's sleep."

Claire's mouth opened as she realised just how impressed with her sister she was. Claire didn't yet know the pain, but she couldn't imagine suffering in silence just so her husband could be fully rested. Claire's next thought was that she would wake Jack the minute her pain began so he could suffer alongside her.

Claire then wondered if that would even be possible considering she had no idea of when he was planning on returning. For all she knew, she could be sending him a missive to London to let him know that the child had arrived.

"Alright, well, your mother has been sent for, and the doctor," Cecily announced. "You can tell us when you are ready to get into the bed."

Grace nodded as she winced, leaning her head against the mantle now as another wave of pain hit her. She let out a long, excruciating moan and cried as it left her. "Oh, that one was awful!" she complained weakly. "And it came faster."

Claire watched, half in fear, half in awe, as her sister soldiered through a dreadful labour. Grace was strong, and she bore every wave of agonising pain for hours.

Mrs Denham and Kate had arrived, and by the time that the doctor had entered the room, Grace was in bed and pushing. Grace was covered in sweat, her dark hair slick against her forehead. Susanna was wiping her forehead every ten seconds it seemed as she pushed harder and harder, veins appearing out of nowhere to show just how hard Grace was working.

Claire and Mrs Denham were either side of Grace, holding onto both of her hands. Every time Grace pushed, she nearly broke all the bones in their hands and Mrs Denham was forced to give her hand to Kate.

"Mama," whined Grace, "I'm tired. It hurts." Grace was exhausted and pale, and looked as though she had absolutely nothing left to give.

"I know, darling, I know," comforted Mrs Denham. "You are doing so well."

"Push, Your Grace," instructed the doctor. "I can see him."

Grace found a strength within her to obey, and she cried with all her might.

"Oh, my goodness," gasped Susanna as the sound of a newborn crying filled the bedroom.

Grace collapsed into a heap and started to cry as she pulled her hands from both Kate and Claire and reached out in front of her, anxious for the child to be given to her.

Cecily took the baby into her arms as she was holding fresh linens to allow the doctor to finish with Grace. Claire looked up at the grandmother to see tears streaming down her face as she smiled at the new baby. Cecily quickly placed the bundle on Grace's chest. As soon as she had her baby, Grace wrapped him safely in her arms.

"It's a boy?" Grace asked weakly as she tried to crane her neck to look.

"No, dear," replied Cecily, still brimming with happy tears. "She's a perfect little girl."

Claire couldn't help herself either. She cried as she watched Grace immediately bond with her baby. The pain she had endured through over the last several hours vanished and it was swiftly replaced by a look of true love, a look that told Claire that Grace would do it all over again. Claire instinctively hugged her belly protectively.

"Well, what do you know?" murmured Cecily. "Lamb's bladder doesn't ensure a boy."

Grace gasped. "You actually fed me bladder?" she snapped.

"What does it matter?" Cecily said dismissively. "Who cares a wit? We have another perfect little girl in the family." She cooed over the newborn and stroked her head gently.

As Cecily pushed back the linen slightly, Claire could see that the new baby had quite a lot of dark hair, just as Perrie had when she was born.

Grace shook her head. "Will someone go out there and put Adam out of his misery?" she asked, and Ruby dutifully left Grace's side to go to the door.

No sooner had the door been opened did Adam burst in, not waiting to hear what Ruby had to say. He raced over to the bed, practically pushing Susanna out of the way to sit down beside Grace.

His eyes were not for the baby, not at first. Adam's focus was solely on Grace as he looked over her with a husband's worry. Adam then looked to the doctor, who was now standing by the basin and washing his bloody hands. "Is the duchess alright?" he asked desperately. "Are they both alright?"

"Yes, Your Grace," confirmed the doctor. "The duchess did excellently, and the new babe has a good set of lungs. You're not to worry."

Adam kissed Grace with relief and broke away with a smile. "Thank God," he declared, before he could finally look down at their new child. Adam gently kissed the top of the baby's head as well. "Who do we have here? Is it a boy or a girl?"

Grace smiled up at Adam tearfully as she said, "It's Lily."

Adam grinned. "Welcome, Lily."

"Lily," both Cecily and Mrs Denham said at the same time. "I love it," then added Mrs Denham.

"Perrie was named for our fathers," Grace surmised quietly. "And now Lily is named for our mothers."

"Oh," gasped Cecily, holding a hand to her chest. She appeared truly touched.

Tears fell freely down Mrs Denham's face. Kate hugged their mother.

"Cecily Ellen Beresford," clarified Adam.

"Did I hear that right? We have a Lily?"

Claire's head snapped around at the sound of a voice she recognised.