Her Gilded Prison (Daughters of Sin 1)
“I...I’m afraid I’m not feeling myself,” she said, preparing for the first time in her life to quit her position as mistress of the dinner table pleading ill health.
“Don’t go yet, Mama.” It was Araminta, putting down her knife and fork and looking at her with an expression of odd defiance and sudden determination.
A ghastly premonition visited Sybil. She caught her breath.
Araminta squared her shoulders and looked around the table, her gestures indicating that what she was about to say was of the greatest importance. Sybil didn’t miss the almost petulant tilt to her chin as her gaze rested briefly on Stephen.
“Mama...Papa...everyone—”
Sybil drew in her breath in an audible gasp, drawing attention away from Araminta, her mind racing but not fast enough to keep up with her mouth. For the words spilled out before she had time to process the good sense in saying,
“The reason I am feeling unwell is...” She gulped in air and tried a new tack. “Doctor Marsh was here this morning and I am very happy to announce, everyone, that he has confirmed what I have long suspected. I am to have a child.”
Her announcement was greeted by stunned silence. This was not a simple instance of the patter of tiny feet a few months hence. This had ramifications for everyone. Oh, she knew it very well.
Which was why everyone was lost for words except Hetty who did not factor in ramifications in her simple pleasure at what most people would consider a joyous occasion.
“Oh Mama, so that’s why you’re not yourself! I’ve been watching you all through dinner.” If she thought it a most singularly odd manner in which to drop such a bombshell she did not say it.
Gathering her wits, Sybil forced a smile at Araminta. “I’m sorry to cut you off like that, Araminta, dear. What was it you were going to tell us?”
She noticed that Edgar had gone white around the gills and that his grasping fingers were rejected by Araminta, who all but croaked, “It was nothing, Mama.” She looked for a moment as if she were about to be ill. “Congratulations to you and Papa on this...astonishing news.”
* * * * *
Sybil excused herself as quickly as she could and was not surprised to be visited by her husband a short while later, his expression unreadable, though his voice shook.
“You are with child, Sybil?” He stood over her as she reclined upon the chaise longue, a flannel across her brow, which her maid had dampened for her.
Wearily Sybil raised her hand to prevent him saying anything more. “Humphry, I’m sorry for lying. Dr. Marsh didn’t visit but I simply had to say something to stop Araminta blurting out in front of everyone that she and Edgar were betrothed.”
She had her eyes closed and when the silence continued, opened them, shocked as Humphry let out the first genuine guffaw she’d heard since they’d been married.
“Oh, my dear girl,” he laughed, wiping the tears from his eyes as he sat beside her, putting his arm about her. “That was inspired! Did you see Edgar’s expression? Oh, Lord, what a picture! Young Stephen dealt with the hobbling of his ambition with a great deal more dignity than that young ninnyhammer. Hoisted on his own petard, eh wot? If what you said were true it’d be rusticating in the Cotswolds for young Edgar, who’s no doubt been rubbing his hands the past four years at the thought of taking on all this.” He made a sweeping gesture before hugging Sybil again.
Sybil, acutely aware of the rare sensation of Humphry’s arm about her, held her breath, hoping to ward off the plethora of extraordinary mixed feelings that consumed her in this unprecedented moment of comradeship with her husband of twenty years.
Was that desire for him that churned in her lower belly? She intercepted his familiar, uncomplicated smile.
No. It was hard to desire a man who’d shackled her to an emotional wasteland for all her adult life.
But there was gratitude for his kindness and pride in having impressed him.
Kindness? She nearly choked on the bile of injured self-respect. She was a grown woman, not a fawning puppy dog who’d do anything for a kind word from her master.
Tempering her thoughts, she acknowledged her duty. He was her husband, she was fond of him, she’d actively tried to entice him into her bed for years. Now it appeared that tonight’s charade had made him more conscious than he’d ever been of the need for an heir to displace Edgar. Furthermore, with Lizzy Hazlett gone more than a week, it was possible he mightn’t find the idea of conjugal relations with Sybil quite as unpalatable as before.
The trouble was... The trouble was...
She put a hand to her heart and closed her eyes upon the image of Stephen gazing into her eyes, pushing back the distinctive, light-blond cowlick she loved to twine around her finger.
Oh God, what had she done?
The sound of footsteps in the passage caused Humphry to rise.
“Enjoy your rest, my dear.” His expression was enigmatic and he grasped her shoulder and gav
e it a squeeze, his eyes glowing with hidden meaning as he added, “Your inspiration has filled me with inspiration of my own, my love. And pushed me into a greater understanding of my duty.”