As calmly as Dr. Chase sat chatting with the Talbot household, he was monitoring the interruptions of sound from above and calculating the time between them. After three-quarters of an hour, he excused himself and went upstairs. Glenda made to follow him, but Sharon put a hand on the woman’s broad forearm. The housekeeper nodded curtly, then went about her business.
Two hours later, Steven came bounding into the parlor. His hair was mussed from running his hands through it and he looked haggard from lack of sleep and worry, but a smile was permanently fixed on his face. “A boy!” he exclaimed.
A great cheer went up, so loud that surely Maripaz also heard upstairs.
“And a girl!”
Whoops of delight and a second cheer filled the house. Peter shook his son’s hand and gave him a great bear hug. Congratulations followed by everyone, one by one, and Steven took it all in as a proud first-time father should – as if he himself had delivered the babies. As each member of the Talbot household stepped aside to allow the next to approach Steven, they alighted up the stairs to meet the new members of the family. Steven disengaged from the last hug and turned, still smiling, to an empty parlor. Confused that he was left alone, he turned and raced up the stairs, too.
Maripaz was propped up with pillows, looking radiant and not a little triumphant at the results of her hard work – two little bundles were being passed from person to person. Dahlia sat back and watched the scene in front of her, amazed at the miracle that had happened while she watched. She felt exhausted, too, but it was not the physical fatigue Maripaz and Steven felt that she knew would soon overwhelm them as soon as the elation of the moment subsided. Dahlia was wearied by the tumult of emotions she had felt during the course of the past 24 hours. She had gone to bed with the excitement and anticipation of the new life that Maripaz would bring into the world, only to wake to find the event had not occurred and the worry that precipitated. She had spent the morning in angst as Maripaz became weaker and weaker with her efforts that produced nothing, only to be replaced with renewed hopefulness as she and her brother walked her sister-in-law around the room. When the delivery was fully underway, she was horrified by Maripaz’s screams as she witnessed the raw, primal pain of giving birth. She swore to herself that she would never have children if it meant going through the ordeal she saw her sister-in-law enduring. There was no changing one’s mind, no refusing to see the job through once it began. There was nothing to do but accept it, deal with it, and hope for the best.
Then, after the fact, she saw Maripaz reach for her children with a tenderness and eagerness that Dahlia doubted she would be capable of after they had caused such extraordinary agony. It all seemed to be forgotten by her sister-in-law, however, the moment she had her little babies in her arms. Giving birth was a messy business indeed, but mother, drenched in sweat though she was, kissed the heads of both babies who were slick with a wet, slightly bloodied gelatinous coating and looked on them as if they were the most beautiful creatures she had ever beheld.
Dahlia thought again of how romanticized having children was portrayed. She believed the eagerness with which the girls in the Gaggle wished for their own families. She had not experienced anything to dispel her of this notion. She knew of the joy mothers-to-be felt and the special attention they were given during their pregnancies. Until today, however, she had never been witness to an actual birth of a human baby. Horses she had seen give birth – a relatively quick and quiet affair they managed quite on their own. In terms of people, Dahlia, like others in the county, would not see the mother and newborn until at least a week after the event. Mother was recuperated and made up as she was whenever she went into public, and the baby was clean and dry and bundled in preciously adorable clothes with pink or blue accents. The reality of the actual labor and delivery was a revelation to Dahlia, a secret about which no one talked. The gory details were ignored by men and glossed over by women, no doubt because no woman would want to go through it if they knew beforehand what the particulars were.
Yet shortly after the baby girl was born, the second of the two, the babies had been rinsed and patted dry, swaddled in clean, soft blankets. Maripaz was given a sponge bath and clothed in a fresh nightgown, her hair brushed and re-braided. Bloodied and soaking wet linens were removed from the room, and the chamber of horrors was transformed once again into an idyllic scene of a new family. As Dahlia watched the joy and happiness that filled the room with each successive visitor – not to mention the delightful music the crowd prompted in her mind – she, too, found herself caught up in the miracle of it all and the frightful essentials of how it came to be were pushed aside.
Lady Sweet was the one to start shooing the crowd out of the room to leave the new parents alone with their twins, Peter Christopher and Anna Serena. Dahlia was the last to leave, bending over to kiss the two little foreheads and Maripaz’s cheek.
“Thank you for making me an auntie,” she whispered.
Maripaz beamed, then whispered back, “Valen la pena.”
They are worth it all. She must have guessed what Dahlia was thinking and, looking into the new mother’s eyes, Dahlia knew she spoke the truth and that the ordeal – as countless mothers had found over the millennia – was quickly forgotten with the spoils that came from the physical war that only women waged.
Chapter 48
One baby could change a household over night; two babies turned it upside down. The boy, whom they called by his middle name, Christopher, to avoid confusion with his grandsire, and his sister Anna may have shared the womb together, but they proved with time to be as different as two siblings could be. They were want to feed and sleep at differing times which kept the Talbots busy every minute of the day. Glenda mused at how she had forgotten how much laundry babies created. Maripaz wondered at how much they could eat, and was constantly excusing herself to go breastfeed one or the other. Everyone marveled at how vocal they could be, especially in the middle of the night.
The normal routine of Talbot Hall adjusted quickly, however, and a new rhythm began. As was often the case with new family members, no one could recall life before the twins. As the weeks passed, each baby started to exhibit more and more of its own personality. They were physically different as well. Christopher’s hair was dark like his mother’s, while Anna’s was fair like her father’s. Both grew at a surprising rate and when they were one month old, Maripaz could hardly believe she had carried both inside her.
Just as Dahlia became thoroughly accustomed to life with her niece and nephew and was reveling in her role as auntie, Maripaz and Steven announced they would be leaving Talbot Hall to join the Roma again.
“So soon?” Dahlia asked in a quiet voice, trying to hide her disappointment and failing miserably.
“The babies are strong and healthy, gracias a Díos, and we want to rejoin my family on their southern route before the weather turns,” Maripaz explained. Dahlia recognized the logic of the timing of their departure, but could not reconcile it to her own feelings of abandonment. She had grown up the youngest of her own family, without a mother and without younger siblings or sisters. Since Maripaz had come to stay with them, Dahlia had gained a sister figure and two beautiful babies to look after. The way that these additions had changed the nature of Talbot Hall was inconceivable before their arrival. As raucous as the household had been growing up with five brothers, the decidedly masculine nature of the environment was quite quiet and calm compared with the noisy hustle and bustle of newborns and female conversations. For Dahlia, there was also the added music of Maripaz and now the twins she heard in her mind, as well as the lovely voice of her sister-in-law that everyone heard when she sang to her children or hummed for the sheer joy of the happiness she felt as a woman content with her situation. The house also had more visitors than ever before as the members of the county came to greet the new arrivals. Dahlia tried to savor each moment she had left with them, while fearing the deafening silence of the house that would follow in the wake of their dep
arture.
The eerie calm that invaded the house the evening they were gone was worse than she had imagined. If Dahlia thought the change would be noted only by her, she was mistaken. Dinner was quiet indeed, with little conversation to be had amongst herself, Michael, Tom, and her father. They had all grown used to the chatter which began with someone asking “guess what the twins did today.” They had owned the first smiles, the first gurgles of laughter, the first gripping of fingers, and the first strolls in the pram. They would miss, however, the first time sitting up, rolling over, and perhaps first steps – those would be experienced by Maripaz’s family and the extended families of the Roma troupe.
Dahlia noted her father seemed just as out of sorts as she was, especially after dinner when they all would adjourn to the library and one or both of the twins would be put in his lap while Matty told her stories or Dahlia played the piano. Tonight, his lap was empty and Peter Talbot looked at a loss for what to do with his two free hands. Dahlia guessed that he truly had loved becoming a grandfather, of seeing the next generation of Talbots growing stronger and healthier each day. He got up from his wingback to retire earlier than usual, mumbling about finally getting a night of uninterrupted sleep, but Dahlia knew he was feeling the absence of his son’s family, but uncomfortable speaking about it. With nearly a dozen years’ experience living with five men, she had noted that men seldom talked about their feelings. With only two years experience with the Gaggle, she knew women spoke almost exclusively of them. Perhaps it was this fundamental difference of dealing with feelings that naturally separated the sexes in society.
The next morning, Dahlia lay in bed despairing of the fact there was no immediate hurry to get up. Since the birth of the twins, she had jumped out of bed to check on the twins in the nursery. If they were asleep, she would watch them and marvel at the miracle of reproduction that would result in such perfectly formed babies. If one or both were awake, there was always something to do – changing diapers, dressing them, feeding them. Today was different. Today, everyone in the Talbot household would have extra time on their hands – time previously spent with the babies, their parents, or simply with their laundry. Today everything would be quieter and things would be easier to coordinate without the consideration of the newborns. Dahlia wondered at how easily one’s life could be altered by the addition – or subtraction – of other lives in it.
Lady Sweet arrived for tea in the afternoon, quite unbidden. Dahlia hugged her in the foyer. “How did you know I’d need you today?”
“The same way your mother knew to visit me the day after we moved in. Changes in household, whether moving in, moving out, making room for additions, or dealing with departures of those we love, always affect women. Men go about their business coordinating and ordering and seeing to the structures, women need to sort out their homes for it is there we associate our deepest feelings.”
Dahlia, Lady Sweet, and Matty spent several hours chatting over tea in the parlor, then Sharon and Dahlia went for a walk to the ravine. A warm breeze greeted them as they ascended up the slope. It was quiet, peaceful.
“Tisn’t any wonder why your mother came here so often,” said Sharon, stopping at the top and looking down at the little stone cairn of remembrance. Dahlia picked up the faded flowers there and threw them over the edge into the ravine. She then replaced them with a small sprig of lavender she had dried over the summer.
“I always hear her music up here,” Dahlia said, listening internally, then frowning. “Why do you think that is?”
Sharon looked at her sharply, then let her features soften. “Probably because it was one of her favorite places.”
“It is just curious, don’t you think? That I would hear her music here more than at the house?”
“I would imagine that there are so many people’s music at the house – what with all your brothers and father, not to mention the dogs and horses, that it comes to mind here in the peacefulness of the spot.”
To Sharon’s relief, Dahlia seemed satisfied with this explanation. Sharon knew only too well that it was here her friend had met her untimely and mysterious death. She also knew that Peter had told his children a completely different circumstance, wanting to hide from them the fact that their mother’s death was not the result of an innocent and random fever but something altogether more sinister. Sharon had played a part in that deception. At Peter’s insistence, she had agreed to say that Penelope had been at her house the day she died, had fallen sick there and was put to bed with a raging fever that the doctor had been unable to control. The Talbot children were told she died two days after she actually did, and her headstone corroborated this. Were they to ever review the parish records, however, they would see the real date listed.
Now, as then, Sharon could find no good reason to impart the truth to Dahlia or her brothers. The death of Penelope Talbot was painful enough, regardless of the cause, to everyone who knew her. Had they any proof of further information on how her body had come to rest at the bottom of the ravine, things might have been different, but they were not. Best to leave the truth, as the children perceived it, intact.
Sharon directed the conversation in a different direction, and they stayed and talked until the sun started to court the horizon. Then, they walked back to Talbot Hall arm in arm. “Mama would be grateful to know you have been such a constant and dear friend to me, Lady Sweet. I sometimes think of her, in heaven, looking down on me from time to time. I think she must be relieved that I always have you to turn to.”
The older woman looked down at the face of the younger. “Everything works out according to a greater plan, Dahlia. For some reason, God decided to call your mother away and to give me a beautiful healthy child, but only one.” Dahlia looked up at Lady Sweet. She had always wondered why she had only little Randy, but it was not a topic one inquired about. “Surely these two situations are related since I have had the distinct pleasure of treating with you as the daughter I shall never have otherwise.”
Dahlia squeezed Lady Sweet’s arm in unspoken gratitude. “I don’t know what I would do without you,” she managed, but could say no more as she felt emotion overwhelming her.
Chapter 49
The first week without the twins, Dahlia spent a good deal of time writing letters – proper letters as she thought of them, since her correspondence following the twins’ birth were nothing more than quick notes hastily composed that conveyed all the key events, but not much else. She wrote a good long tome to Miss McElroy to fill in the details, and another to Mr. Kent. She had received two letters from him since his return to London, both tucked inside letters from Miss McElroy. Dahlia had been surprised by the extent of his correspondence – two full pages of closely written lines, front and back. His first letter informed her of his safe arrival in town and the indifference of his uncle to his return. He then gave some background regarding the tenuous relationship with his father’s brother. Although he tried to make light of it in his letter, Dahlia was sorry that James had lost his father, to whom he was seemingly very close, and had not found in his uncle anything akin to a father figure. At least Dahlia had Lady Sweet; James, it seemed, had no one. His first letter ended with an expression of how much he regretted parting from her, and a desire to see her again very soon. At first, Dahlia was chagrined at the staid composition of these sentiments, then she remembered that Miss McElroy was reviewing each of their letters.
The second letter was a detailed missive on James’ studies and classmates, as well as his views on architecture in general and the differences he saw in the works in England and those in France. Instead of being tiresome, however, his accounts were interjected with amusing anecdotes and Dahlia laughed her way through the descriptions. The way he described his classmates and friends made them real to her. Love letters they were not, but Dahlia gained insight into James’ life and interests. He already knew so much more about her life and family and home than she knew of his, that she thought this was his way of evening the in
formation exchange.
Dahlia’s father received a letter from Steven the following week. He and his new family had safely rejoined the Roma. To celebrate, and to reanimate the inhabitants of Talbot Hall, Peter decided to hold a dinner for all the Quartermaster families. A bustle, different from the one it had experienced during the month with the twins, but an excited energy nonetheless, reclaimed Talbot Hall for two days to prepare for its visitors. On the appointed night, the Sweets arrived first, with little Randy. The Colonel and Mrs. Parkinson, jolly as ever. The Standfords, Alyce included, brought up the rear to complete the party.
As official hostess, Dahlia greeted everyone graciously. She made sure everyone had a cool drink while Glenda served hors d'oeuvres. Everyone conversed amiably about everyday happenings in the county, then the conversations expanded to include national events, and eventually global news. India was all the rage with the pronouncement of Queen Victoria as Empress earlier in the year. As time passed, the separation occurred that was as inevitable as cream rising to the top of a pitcher of milk. The men and women coalesced into two distinct groups, one talked heatedly of foreign investments and international politics while the other focused on the latest fashions, including the Indian silks and jewels hailed in the papers.
After an hour, dinner was announced, and the groups slowly started to join together as the men escorted the ladies to the dining room. Peter lead the entourage with Dahlia on his arm, followed by the Sweets and little Randy. The Colonel and Mrs.Parkinson were next. Tom, ever the gentleman, escorted Alyce Standford.
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