Chapter Twenty-Three
“I wish you could stay longer,” said Cressida the following morning.
“As do I,” said Hecate, gently giving her as much of a hug as she could, around the protrusion of babies. “It won’t be long now, dear. And all will be well.” She put her hands on the bulge. “They’re healthy, growing and almost ready to be born.”
“Oh God,” whispered Cressida. “I’m scared.”
“Don’t be,” soothed Hecate. “You’re as healthy as can be, and it will be an easy birthing. Believe me.”
Cressy hung onto Hecate’s hands. “I want to believe you. You have no idea how much I want to believe you,” she confessed.
“Richard will stand by you, love. Let him be there. Let him see his children take their first breaths. It’s important, you know.”
“Really?” Cressy raised her eyebrows. “I thought men were supposed to pace and drink brandy and do other manly things during their wives’ childbirth.”
“Nonsense,” grinned Hecate. “All men should watch the moment their child opens its eyes for the first time. Such an experience will also gain the mother a lot more respect.”
“I’ll tell him that.”
“Do. And remember, all will be well. I know it.”
“When she says that, I have to confess to feeling a lot better about it all,” said Richard, overhearing Hecate’s words. “She’s always right, damn her.” He hugged his sister hard. “I could wish you were able to stay as well, but I understand.”
Finn came back up the steps. “The carriage is ready. Thanks for the help in getting it here so quickly, Richard.”
“Don’t mention it,” he answered.
“All right. I won’t.” Finn grinned.
“I think we should leave, otherwise these two will be at it again,” said Hecate turning to descend the steps.
“This way, my Lady.” Finn held out his arm. It had rained overnight and the marble slabs were slippery.
Sure enough, Hecate’s boot caught on the top step, but before she could topple, Finn swept her off her feet and hurried down the last of the steps. He plopped her down inside the carriage with little fanfare, then glanced back at Richard and Cressida who were wide-eyed on the top step.
“See? You can trust her to me, Richard. I will always catch her…”
“Make sure you do, old chap. God speed, and let us know what happens in town.”
Finn jumped in to the carriage. “We will.”
Waves were exchanged as the carriage pulled away, beginning the next leg of their journey which would take them to Ridlington.
“I think they’re pleased with us,” said Finn, settling back against the squabs with a satisfied grin on his face.
“I think so too.” Hecate rearranged her skirts and pulled off her gloves, making herself as comfortable as possible. “There’ll be an increase in the residents before too long. I doubt Cressida has more than two or three weeks to go before the babes arrive.”
Finn blinked. “But I thought they said another month? Right around Christmas?”
“They did. Which is all well and good but has nothing to do with what the babes themselves decide.”
“Oh.”
She leaned over and rubbed her hand on his. “Don’t worry about it, Finn. All will be well for them. Cressida is going to be a wonderful mother and Richard will spoil them to bits.”
“No troubles then? Giving birth to two?”
“None.” Hecate smiled confidently. “The Ridlington family might have been one of the most complicated and neglected group of misfit siblings, suffering under the abysmally despotic hand of our father, but we’re survivors. We make our own happiness, it seems. Find our own way to a new life. And we’re pretty strong too. Richard will be there for Cressy every step of the way, and she’s a strong woman in her own right. It will be painful, but within moments of those first cries—the pain fades into a distant memory.”
Finn raised an eyebrow. “And you know this how?”
“I read it in a book,” she chuckled.
“Do you want children, Hecate?” Finn tilted his head to one side.
She stayed silent for a minute or two, thinking over his question. Finally, she nodded. “Yes, I believe I would like a child, Finn.” She bit her lip. “But I have to be realistic. My injuries after the accident were serious. Edmund once referred to them as severe. My hope is that only my bones were involved. But there’s always a chance that I cannot bear a child because of it. I don’t know.”
“You cannot see what lies ahead for yourself?”
“In this instance, no.” She sighed.
“And yet you knew that you and I would…be together…” He smiled that wicked smile she adored.
She couldn’t help but smile back. “Yes, I knew that.”
“But you cannot see the future…for just yourself?”
Hecate shrugged. “Finn, it’s so hard for me to explain any of it, especially when it comes to looking ahead. I feel things. I see things. I sense something is coming or about to happen. My gifts have magnified everything that you or others might call intuition. And some of my other skills have nothing to do with any of that. I still don’t know the full scope of what I can do.” She gazed at him, willing him to understand the inexplicable.
“I have a scrying bowl that shows me glimpses of what may lie ahead. Sometimes my dreams foretell events, and sometimes it’s as simple as touching something and knowing, just like that.”
“Simple is not a word I’d use in connection with your gifts, as you call them, sweetheart. They saved my life.”
“Do they bother you, Finn? Are you not worried at the thought of having a wife that others might well call a witch?”
He grinned, and reached down, lifting her leg up onto the seat beside him. One hand slid to her calf, and he massaged it. “Not at all. You’re my witch.” His hand slid a little higher. “I like having my personal and private witch near me. Letting me touch her and touching me in her turn. I like it very much indeed…”
His hand slipped even higher, and Hecate sighed. “So do I.”
*~~*~~*
They reached Ridlington Chase just as the snow began, late in the afternoon. There seemed to be lights everywhere as the carriage made its way up the drive to the front door, and Hecate hung from the window, ignoring the fat snowflakes, eager to see the Chase once again.
Finn couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, even though his mouth was dry and his palms damp at the prospect of facing the Baron—head of the Ridlington family.
The front door opened just as the horses drew to a halt and a stately figure walked out onto the top step.
“Chidwell,” shrieked Hecate. “Oh Chidwell…” She scrambled out, ignoring Finn’s attempt to help her, and walked quickly up the steps to administer a huge hug on the awe-inspiring gentleman standing there.
“There now, Miss Hecate. Some decorum if you please.”
Finn observed his face, however, which had warmed into a smile, and was followed by a quick hug as he disentangled himself from Hecate’s warm embrace.
“Put the butler down, youngster,” came a voice from behind Chidwell.
“Edmund,” she said, “Edmund.”
More hugs followed, and Finn observed the tall gentleman with the most imposing set of eyebrows he’d yet to encounter.
“My turn. Let go, Edmund. It’s my turn…” A beautiful woman sailed up to the happy group, managing to hug Hecate. “Welcome, lovey. I am so glad to see you here. We’ve missed you…” She looked up. “And this must be Mr. Casey.” She released Hecate. “Won’t you both come inside? It’s just begun to snow, so your arrival is most timely…”
She smiled at Finn. “I’m Rosaline. And I’d hazard a guess that you’ll be family before too long, so Rosaline is how you will address me.”
Finn bowed. “As you wish, Ma’am.”
She raised an eyebrow. While not as impressive as her husband’s, it got the point across.
“Er…Rosaline.”
“Better.” She tugged Hecate inside, leaving Edmund and Finn staring at each other.
“Well then.” Edmund cleared his throat.
“Ah, yes. Um…very good of you to have us, my Lord.”
Edmund sighed and rolled his eyes. “Come on in. And it’s Edmund, lad. Hecate wouldn’t have brought you if you weren’t someone special in her life. So let’s start as we mean to go on.” He held out his hand. “Welcome to Ridlington Chase, Finn Casey. And I hope you’re ready for the chaos within.”
Finn, fighting the cowardly urge to turn tail and run back to Doireann Vale, nodded his thanks. “I survived Waterloo. What could be worse?”
“Good point,” answered Edmund, leading him through an impressive hall.
A yell, a thundering of feet on the grand staircase and a yelp as a puppy arrived at the bottom, skidding on the tiles, closely followed by a young lad, obviously the source of the yell.
Behind him came a little girl, yelling just as loudly, and waving a wooden sword. “I caught, you Hugh. You my pwisoner.”
“Am not,” insisted Hugh. “My trusty wizard turned you into a sheep before you picked up your sword.”
“Don’t want to be a sheep. Sheep smell nasty.”
“But then again,” observed the Baron as he calmly watched the trio gallop away into another room, “children are a unique battle all their own.”
All Finn could do was nod and follow his host.