Chapter Twenty
Elias stared across the valley, following every ridge and vale where it was illuminated by the sun. He had walked around the perimeter of his estate and yet every ounce of his attention was focused on the house where Laura was giving birth.
He thought of Gina’s stillborn child and recoiled at the thought it, too, would be the fate of Laura’s babe. He closed his eyes to pray, mindful of the fact his every word was a selfish one – please don’t let Laura die. Please don’t let the baby die.
In the heat of battle, when his very own life was in peril, Elias had never felt this degree of helplessness. He picked up a small stone and hurled it as far as his strength would allow. A moment later, he heard the sound of someone approaching him. They walked rather than ran, which meant there was no news yet – for good or ill.
He recognized the footsteps as belonging to Kit and did not turn until his friend stood at his shoulder.
“Months ago, you asked me if this was the end,” said Kit. “I made some quip and never answered you.”
“I remember.” Elias bent to pick up another stone. “I decided your non-answer was an answer itself. Now with Kaddouri gone, do we call our war over? I suppose that’s up to you, Captain.”
He let the pebble’s uneven edges roll through his fingers. “I know we said no more going into battle, but I can’t help feeling we’re leaving loose ends untied. That doesn’t sit well with me.”
Kit shifted on his feet, letting his left leg take his weight. “It’s another type of battle if you want to win the war for Laura. Be sure you’re fighting the right enemy. Kaddouri is dead. So is Selim Omar – and Ahmed Sharrouf. You can’t kill them over again, no matter how much you want to.”
The captain barked a self-deprecating laugh. “I should know, I’ve tried.”
Elias checked the weight of the stone in his hand and threw it with all his strength. Fighting the right enemy? Who was that exactly? He didn’t know. Frankly, he wasn’t sure of anything.
“I’ve been thinking…” Kit continued.
Elias felt his senses sharpen at the words and he turned to face his friend properly. The man’s blond hair glinted gold in the early morning sun and cast his face in relief.
“We were so preoccupied with the rescue of Sophia and Laura we never went back to Pantelleria to see what happened to Sharrouf’s network of spies. The information we could glean there could keep us busy for quite some time.”
Elias turned his face back to the sun, absorbing its meager warmth on this January morning. “I made some enquiries during a trading run three months back. Apparently, a family has claimed Sharrouf’s compound.”
“His family?”
Elias shrugged. “They say not, but no one knows who they are or where they came from, but as long as they don’t cause any trouble for us, right?”
Kit looked thoughtful. “Perhaps we should make sure. Just to keep your suspicions in check.”
Then he slapped Elias on the shoulder.
“So show me this vast olive oil press that Jonathan has been telling me about.”
Elias tilted his head. “Since when have you been interested in olive oil production?”
“I’m not, but since we’ve been thrown out of the house until Laura gives birth, I might as well do something – anything to keep you occupied.”
The sun had reached the highest point in the sky when Matteo tracked them down in one of the furthest fields where Kit was helping Elias with a minor repair to a fence.
“Senor Nash! The baby has arrived. It is a boy. A healthy boy!”
Elias felt his jaw tighten. He was well aware of the scrutiny Kit gave him.
“And Miss Laura?” There. He delivered the question without revealing an ounce of worry in his voice.
Matteo shrugged his shoulders. “She’s fine, they say. Sleeping now, I think.”
He thanked the young man, who ran off back toward the villa. He let out a low exhale of breath and shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets to stop them from shaking. He did not want to betray his feeling of relief, or of joy.
Kit, as usual, showed no such restraint. Elias found himself in his friend’s embrace.
“Congratulations, Pater.”
Elias offered him a wan smile in return and watched as Kit’s enthusiasm dimmed in the face of it. “Come on,” he offered, “cheer up. Laura’s done all the hard work. All you have to do is convince her you’re a halfway decent prospect.”
“Ah yes, the easy part…”
Kit laughed, then started back toward the house, leaning on his cane, leg stiff from the cold. Elias watched him go. Just as his friend was about to disappear into the olive grove, he glanced back and waved Elias to follow. Elias shook his head and Kit shrugged and continued on.
Elias loved Kit like a brother, but sometimes one needed solitude, not another’s voice in one’s ear.
As soon as he was alone, he sank to his knees. On his lips was a prayer of heartfelt relief at not having to bury another babe – or worse, the babe’s mother. Then he whispered another prayer to help ready himself for the challenge to come.
How did Laura feel, now that the child was here? A boy. Would she love him, having given him life? Or would she, like many unwed mothers he was aware of, be happy to give up the babe and carry on as though the nine months had never existed?
He had always imagined himself a father and husband one day, but never in his wildest dreams under such circumstances as these. He always thought he would marry some local girl. She would be pleasant and even-tempered. Perhaps, she would even be pretty. Sometimes, when he had let himself imagine what she might look like, he was ashamed to admit she resembled the young woman who had offered herself to him in the brothel, the closest he had ever come to a flesh and blood nearly-nude woman.
Now, the bride of his imagination was fair-haired and vivacious with blue eyes that took a man’s breath away – but she did not want him.
Or her child.
*
Laura kept her eyes closed. It was the only way to stop the tears, which came with near constant regularity.
Why should she cry? She was whole and had given birth to a healthy boy a few weeks ago. But nothing she seemed to do was right. The infant cried every time she picked it up, but it settled every time Sophia held him. Despite her squeamishness, Laura had tried her hardest to nurse the boy, but her milk did not come.
Gina should be the one to cry. Her child had died. But now the Sicilian girl happily clutched Laura’s son to her breast. She was the one giving him nourishment and love, not his own mother. Perhaps the boy would be better off without her.
The baby. Her baby, as yet unnamed. Sophia and Morwena in their own ways had made it plain they would like to see the babe named and baptized, but when it came to setting the date, she always found some excuse to put it off – the weather was too inclement, she still did not feel well, it was too cold for the child to go out…
Sophia had indulged her. Laura had even overheard her cousin defending her to Kit, whose patience was wearing thin.
But Laura confessed to no one her real reason for demurring. If she named the child and had it baptized, then he would have her name and, forever in the church register, she would be its mother.
Tears welled behind Laura’s closed lids nonetheless, waking her from a semi-doze of black thoughts. She lay on the bed and brought herself back to the present. A sliver of mid-winter sun cut across her arm which lay across her belly. Birds twittered in the bushes outside. And, inside, in the room with her, were the soft rustle of fabric and the smell of lemons and rosemary.
She opened her eyes and shifted on the bed soundlessly to watch a familiar figure softly pace the floor with the sleeping child resting his head on the man’s broad shoulder. Elias’ eyes were closed, his own cheek nestled against the child’s.
Damn it all! The scene was beautiful and she found herself close to tears once again. Her heart swelled with gratitude toward Elias. He had done everything for her and more, and asked nothing of her in return – not even a simple answer to the question he had asked so many months ago.
If he opened his eyes and repeated his offer of marriage and granting a name to her son, she would give him her answer and be sure of it.
The answer would be yes.
Elias’ left hand lay on the child’s bare back, tanned skin dark against the infant’s much lighter flesh. All though her labor, she was terrified the baby would be the image of its father, that she would look at the child and see Selim Omar. It was a relief when she was first presented with the baby after it had been cleaned up. There was little hair on its head, but what there was appeared more fair than dark, and, when he opened his eyes, they were the deepest shade of blue she had ever seen.
That pair of eyes opened to hers across the room now, and she was drawn into them as inexorably as the river is drawn to the sea. She sat up. Her stockinged feet touched the soft wool rug by her bed. Elias turned at the sound of the bed creaking, and he smiled sleepily at her. To Laura’s surprise, the baby turned his head also, and now two pairs of eyes regarded her.
“I’ve been thinking of names,” said Elias, his voice soft.
Laura inclined her head. “Such as?”
“Benjamin.”
“Benjamin?”
“It means ‘son of my right hand’. Do you object?”
Laura shook her head and stood up. She drew a hand over the child’s arm, feeling softness in the limbs not yet muscled and strong.
“Benjamin is a fine name,” she said.
Silence stretched on as she waited for Elias to repeat his offer of marriage.
“There is no Church of England here,” he said instead. “I know Morwena would like the child baptized Catholic, but we don’t have to. We could do the service here ourselves.”
Still no proposal.
After a moment, Laura nodded her agreement to his plan. “Yes, here would be best.”
She kept her eyes on the baby – Benjamin – and found a little piece of her heart filled knowing the child now had a Christian name.
“With your permission, Benjamin will take my family name,” said Elias, as if he had carried on her thoughts.
Laura raised her eyes to Elias’. With his name, the child could be free from the chains of his past. He would have a new father, a new destiny. Could a change of name provide such a future for her?
“Yes,” she replied, her voice hoarse with the emotion that welled up behind it. “He will be Benjamin Edward Nash. Edward for my father.”
Elias’ eyes deepened in color until she no longer knew where the irises ended and the pupils began.
“He will grow into a fine man, Laura.” Elias made it sound like a vow. She swayed and she found herself in his embrace, one arm around her while the other securely cradled her child. Their child.
“I have an answer for you, if you wish to hear it,” she whispered.
Elias’ expression deepened to a frown as he appeared to puzzle through her words. She gave a small smile and the pieces fell into place. His expression became wary, cautious. Laura drew another breath to give herself time to choose her words carefully.
“You do me the greatest compliment by asking me to be your wife,” she said.
Elias looked at her. “If that were to be your answer alone, then you would make me the happiest of men. But I know it’s not.”
She conceded the truth with an incline of her head. She swallowed and pushed on.
“Every day, I find myself with more reasons to love you.” Laura felt Elias’ feet shift and thought she might have even heard an intake of breath but she was afraid to look up into his face. “I want to marry you. I will marry you. I want to be your wife in every sense, but I’m not ready. I need time.”
Now she felt brave enough to look up into Elias’ face and found the expected mixture of hope and fear in his eyes.
She imagined him thinking over her words and formulating an argument to press her to a date. But Laura was ready for it. She would be ready in her own good time.
They held one another for a while. Then Benjamin started to squirm and Elias had to accommodate him. He removed his arm from around Laura to cradle the baby in both his arms, and she felt the loss.
“Will you be sure to let me know when you are ready?” he asked. His tone seemed to express a grim realization that such a time may not be soon.
“I will,” she replied. It was the only vow she could bring herself to make.