by Geneva Lee
“I’m pregnant.” I forced the words out, desperately needing to say it and wanting to hold it inside at the same time.
“Did…what? Huh?” Belle fumbled for words, her eyes darting from me to the nurse and back again. “Did you know?”
“Of course I didn’t know!” My voice pitched up, growing loud enough that Nurse Taylor stepped forward anxiously.
“Well, you haven’t been drinking for weeks,” Belle said, crossing her arms and staring me down.
“I haven’t wanted to drink. The stress has been making me queasy.”
Belle narrowed her eyes and waited for me to realize what I was saying.
“Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything else to add.
“Are you one of those women from the telly? You know, the ones where they go to the bathroom and a baby comes out?” Her disbelief softened into a teasing tone. “I guess this means Alexander doesn’t know.”
“Believe me, I would have told you if I knew.” Saying the words was a practice run for the more difficult confession I’d have to make later. Dread crept under my skin at the thought.
“I know,” she said softly. “How far?”
“I don’t know.” I had to push the words past the lump forming in my throat. “He said maybe three months. They’re going to give me an ultrasound.”
Belle did her best not to look shocked by this revelation, but it was in her eyes. She reached forward and squeezed my hand. “Can I stay with you? I’d like to see the baby.”
The dam burst and grateful tears rained down my cheeks. I could only nod.
“I’m going to be right here with you,” she promised as the doctor wheeled a cart into the room. He swiftly closed the door behind him. “Let’s see if we can get a peek.”
Nurse Taylor bustled forward and pulled down the hospital sheet to my hips. “Pull your gown up, love, and I’ll hold this.”
I wiggled the thin gown up to reveal my abdomen. Out of the corner of my eye I saw them exchange a look. Glancing down I saw what had attracted their attention. In the light of recent information, it was obvious that the few extra pounds I’d put on were a little more than that.
“This will be cold,” Doctor Andrews warned as he squeezed a glob of jelly over my stomach. “Don’t panic if we can’t see anything. It might be too early for an abdominal ultrasound.”
“And if it is…?” I trailed away as fear circled my heart and constricted. I wasn’t certain if I was more afraid that he would find something or that he might not.
“We’ll have to do an internal scan,” he explained as he smeared the jelly around with the probe, his free hand flicking a switch. Next to me the machine’s screen came to life, filling the room with a gentle whooshing sound followed by a racing heartbeat.
And there he was.
I knew him as soon as I saw him.
I knew he was a boy. I knew he was mine and Alexander’s. Our flesh and blood. Our love combined to create the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.
“Meet your baby,” he said, turning the screen so I could have a better view.
There were a million questions on my tongue and none of them mattered. There was only him. My little majesty. My fingers stretched into the air as if I could reach out and touch him.
“Is he a he?”
“The baby is being a bit shy. I can’t tell you if it’s a boy,” he said. “In a few more weeks your doctor can perform another scan to tell you, but the baby looks healthy.”
I stared at the screen in rapt devotion as he measured and made notes.
“As I suspected, you’re currently measuring about four months along.”
“Four months?” I repeated in shock. “How could I be four months pregnant and not know it?”
“Most first-time mothers don’t feel the baby until four or five months, even then most describe initial movement as feeling like tiny bubbles. It would be hard to overlook at this stage. And there’s the issue of the placenta, which is anterior and quite close to the cervix. That could account for your bleeding. We’ll want to monitor that, but all of this is very normal in early pregnancy. You shouldn’t worry.” He hit a few buttons and a moment later a long sheet printed from the ultrasound machine. “First picture.”
I cradled the sheet to my chest. I’d spent the last several hours wishing I was dreaming, but I wanted this moment to be real. I slid my finger across the edge of the paper until I felt the sharp, familiar sting of a paper cut. Tears of joy—the tears I never expected after today—streamed down my face. Belle’s hand tightened around mine, drawing me back to the present. I turned to find her crying, too.
“He’s beautiful,” I whispered to her.
“So it’s a boy, huh?” she teased, swiping at her eyes with her free hand.
“I know he is.” I couldn’t explain it. No more than I could explain how an hour ago a baby was the furthest thing from my mind and now it was the center of my world. The thought of carrying Alexander’s child captivated me. Maybe it was a sign—a light in the darkness that had consumed us.
I’d been wrong. The worst day of my life—a day filled with unimaginable pain and fear, a day filled with disappointment and grief—had still managed to be the happiest day of my life.
Dressing slowly, I considered how foreign my body felt to me. I was nourishing another life—I had been for months. I’d been betrayed by my womanhood. Despite the love that had taken up residence inside me, I couldn’t ignore that fact. I had to push it aside though and focus on the other realities I needed to face. When I was finally allowed to see Alexander, I couldn’t be wearing a hospital gown. Seeing me like that would add undue stress to him, which wouldn’t help his condition.
The yoga pants and the soft over-the-shoulder sweater Belle had brought me were a soothing replacement after spending hours in the gown. I needed to be comfortable in my own skin, especially as I processed everything that I’d just learned. In the bathroom, I stared into the mirror. My reflection was out of place in this setting: hair still waving over my shoulders, my make-up precisely applied for cameras. I twisted on the hot water and splashed it over my face. But I wanted it all off. Pumping the soap dispenser, I lathered it over my face and rinsed with scalding water. I grabbed a towel and scrubbed until no remnant of today remained on my skin, leaving it tight and red. I yanked out the pins that held my hair out of my face and pulled my hair back, securing it loosely at the nape of my neck. I wanted to look ordinary.
Because I needed to feel ordinary.
I was Clara Bishop. Nothing more and nothing less. I hadn’t married the Prince of England today. I was still a nobody. Somehow that made me feel safer.
As I sat on the bed, slipping on a pair of flats, Nurse Taylor knocked on the door. “I can take you to your fiancé now. If you’re ready.”
I wasn’t ready, not by a long shot. But I knew I would never be prepared. My imagination seized my thoughts, inflicting horrible images upon me. I’d seen him fall in the sanctuary. The powerful, brutal man I loved brought to his knees by one cowardly act of violence. My place was at his side, though.
And I had to tell him.
Every impulse in me wanted to crawl back into the hospital bed and hide. Instead I pushed to my feet and followed her toward the critical care unit.
“We’ve locked down this wing of the unit,” she explained as she led me down a quiet corridor. Security guards lined the walls, motionless as statues as we passed. With each step I took closer to Alexander, my anxiety grew.
“How is he?” I asked her softly.
“I’m not privy to that information,” she told me. “But I assumed you’d want to speak with him immediately.”
That was a reasonable assumption, so why was I suddenly so afraid to face him? How could I feel this compulsion to be with him and run at the same time?
“He’s going to be angry.” I’d spoken out loud without meaning to.
“Surprise is not anger,” she said carefully. “He might need time to adjust to the i
dea of being a father, but don’t assume he won’t want the baby.”
But he wouldn’t want the baby. I knew that, because he’d been very clear about not having children. This wasn’t in his plans. Of course none of today’s events had been in his plans.
She paused at the door to his room. “This is as far as I go.”
“Come with me,” I blurted out, suddenly wondering why I’d sent Belle to check in with my family.
“I’m not cleared to enter that room, miss.” She gave my shoulder a squeeze. “You’ll do just fine.”
Taking a deep breath, I touched my belly, hoping to gain strength from the love I’d recently discovered. My hand dropped away as a guard opened the door for me.
The lights were dim in the room, turned low so he could sleep. Everything was motionless—still—so I didn’t move. I merely soaked in the sight of him, watching his chest rise and fall in shallow heaves. I closed my eyes and concentrated until I heard the rasp of his breath under the oxygen mask. In and out. In and out.
No sound had ever been so precious to me.
And I knew then, that no matter what, we could get through this. Love like this—love that consumes and ravages, it is a living, breathing thing. It demanded more because it returned more. This love was for the brave, and that’s what I had to be right now.
Movement stirred out of the corner of my eye and I whirled around, one hand clutching my chest and the other landing protectively over my belly. Norris said nothing, just regarded me in silence as his eyes traveled over me, stopping briefly when he spotted the hand on my stomach. I let it fall away, shifting self-consciously, and when I dared to meet his eyes, it was clear that he knew.
Neither of us spoke for a long moment until, at last, he pushed to his feet and walked toward Alexander—our common ground. He looked to me and nodded, a signal to say it was okay. Sucking in a shaky breath, I joined him on the other side. Alexander filled the bed, his broad shoulders dwarfing it, and I couldn’t make sense out of it. I couldn’t wrap my head around his silence. It was as if a fire had been extinguished inside him, and I’d burnt out along with it.
“He’s going to pull through, Clara,” Norris told me gently.
“How bad is it?” I asked, unable to tear my eyes from him even though I couldn’t bring myself to reach out and touch him.
“The first shot avoided any major organs, but the second one nicked his subclavian artery. That’s why he was in surgery for such a long time.” He paused and turned his tired eyes toward me. “I apologize for leaving you alone. I felt my place was here.”
I swallowed and offered him the small smile I could muster. “It’s okay. I didn’t need you.”
“He would have wanted me to stay with you.”
I couldn’t deny that he was probably right about that. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“Tell me what?” a dry voice asked.
I dropped to the bed beside him, my fingers finding his and fumbling to twine our hands together. One eye opened and then another.
“Thank god,” he breathed, trying to lift my hand up to bring me closer. He winced and let it fall back to the cot.
“Not so fast, X.” I leaned forward and brushed my lips over his knuckles, still clinging to him.
Alexander couldn’t move his head, but his eyes raked across me, and the chill that had descended over me slowly evaporated under the heat of his gaze. “You weren’t hurt?”
I shook my head as the tears brimming in my eyes spilled over.
His eyes darted to Norris, narrowing as he took in his old friend’s haggard appearance. “You look like hell.”
“You put me through it.” But the joke was hollow. There was no mistaking the emptiness in Norris’s voice. I felt it, too. The sorrow and the confusion this day had wrought upon us all.
We both knew there were hard conversations to come. There was no way to hide that from Alexander.
“Who?” Alexander asked.
“You need to rest,” Norris said, but there was no bypassing the question, just as there was no way to save Alexander from the fate that had been suddenly thrust upon him.
“Who?” he repeated firmly.
“I’m sorry,” Norris said. “Your father is dead.”
I braced myself, tightening my grip on his hand, but Alexander remained silent. A muscle in his jaw twitched, but his face was placid.
“There were papers in my coat,” he told Norris.
“I have them,” Norris assured him. The bodyguard placed a hand on Alexander’s uninjured shoulder. “Your brother has been handling the situation.”
“By situation, you mean he’s deciding what to do next?” Alexander clarified gruffly. “That is not his responsibility.”
“X, I think—”
He cut me off, his tone brisk, “Edward will not bear that burden.”
“He’s more than capable of making arrangements and handling the inquiry.”
“I’m not questioning his competence. I am questioning my own,” he said, “as will the people the longer he’s forced to assume my role.” Alexander turned his attention to me, leveling his gaze until it held my own. “Clara, I need you by my side.”
“I’m right here,” I promised him. “Always.”
Alexander looked to Norris. “Find the chaplain. I want to be married immediately.”
“Not like this,” I said quickly. “It can wait.”
It had to wait. I’d never seen Alexander vulnerable before and I couldn’t take advantage of that. Alexander deserved to know what he was walking into. I couldn’t marry him without telling him about the baby. I refused to. But there were more pressing matters at hand.
“It cannot wait.”
I looked to Norris as I fought to contain the anxiety curling through me. If he was going to demand to be married, I couldn’t put off the truth.
“Can we have a minute?” I asked Norris in a small voice.
His head bobbed, but the look he gave me was one of pride.
I was doing the right thing. I focused on that as he disappeared into the hallway to wait.
“I understand this is not how you pictured your wedding,” Alexander said before I could speak.
“I don’t care about the wedding,” I cried out. Choking back an anxious sob, I clapped my free hand over my mouth and shook my head. Everything was wrong. It was all happening too fast—much too fast. Refusing his wish now would hurt him, but it was for the best. He’d understand why later. “You’re in no position to make this decision.”
“I’m the King of England,” he said, a strange edge coloring his words as if he was trying them out. His lips turned down, but he recovered immediately. “It’s not what we planned.”
He spoke each word in a measured tone, absorbing what he was saying. But I knew it was too much.
“I can’t marry you,” I whispered, my head dropping to stare at our clasped hands. “Please don’t ask why.”
“Clara, look at me,” he commanded. “None of this is your fault. However, if you’ve changed your mind…”
His last words were strangled and I couldn’t bear it. “I want you, X. That hasn’t changed.”
“Then what has?” he asked in a low voice.
“I know that your father refused his consent,” I fumbled, looking for any way to avoid this a while longer. “The marriage will be invalid.”
“The papers I asked Norris for grant that consent. My father delivered them this morning. They also grant your first title, which will hardly matter soon. If you have no further objection…”
The sharp, double-edge of grief swept through me. This morning I’d been willing to marry him without permission, believing it to be my choice. The fact that his father had changed his mind, coupled with the sacrifice he’d given only confused me now. It mixed with shame and sorrow, stealing my breath. Albert had removed the final obstacle to Alexander’s happiness, and now I had to erect a new one.
“I do,” I said, “but I don’t know where t
o start.”
“At the beginning,” he suggested. “Judging from the looks of it, I’ve got nowhere to go.”
Four months ago. That’s where it began. I shook my head, my thoughts filtering through the day’s events and landing on the blood-stained floor of Westminster Abbey. I knew then that it began in darkness, in the void of grief that had swallowed me and returned me to this world completely changed.
“Belle came to me,” I started, gaining strength as he nodded encouragingly. “No one was telling me anything and when she came, I thought she was there to tell me you were gone.” The words fell softly from my lips.
“I’m here.”
It was a simple reassurance, but my stomach bottomed out. For how long?
“I couldn’t handle it. The whole day had been so overwhelming, I fainted.” Embarrassment flushed my cheeks.
“You’re alright though?” he confirmed. “The doctors checked you out.”
I swallowed over the rawness in my throat, nodding slowly. “They did, but they found something.”
Alexander grew very still, his silence spurring me forward.
My words rushed out. “I didn’t know. You have to believe that. I didn’t plan it. I have no idea how it happened.”
“Clara,” he interrupted in a strained voice, “what did they find?”
“A baby,” I whispered.
The soft confession settled heavy over us. I dared to look up only to discover his expression blank, as unreadable as if he’d drawn a mask over his face. Silence stretched between us, the tension between us drawing taut. One wrong word and it would snap.
“How far along are you?” The question was direct, purposeful, without a hint of softness. He’d grown hard before my eyes, steeling himself against a future he didn’t want.
“Four months,” I admitted.
“You were taking your pills?”
Another question of clarification, but the hidden accusation in it stung.
“I was.”
He didn’t release my hand but his went limp as if he no longer wanted to hold it. I rocked a little, trying to soothe the savage ache building inside me.