Andrew Lord of Despair(101)
She went to the door at a more careful walk and opened it a crack.
“David!” She threw the door open the rest of the way and wrapped her arms around her brother. “Oh, it is so good to see you,” she said, drawing him into the room. “You’ve arrived at a good time. Felicity is awake, and the babies are asleep.”
“And best of all,” David added, “Heathgate is not straining on the end of his chain, threatening to breathe fire on all passersby. Hello, Sisters.” He returned Astrid’s hug, then kissed Felicity’s cheek. “How are you?”
“Tired,” Felicity said, smiling up at him. “Relentlessly tired. But alive.”
“Of course you are,” he replied, propping a hip on the bed and giving her a pensive look. “You are much, much too pale, Lissy.” He put the backs of his fingers against her forehead. “No fever, though. Well done of you.”
“I had help.”
“Really?” David raised an eyebrow at Astrid. “I handed my horse off to a groom at the foot of the steps, so you’ll have to enlighten me. And ladies, do not even think to dissemble.”
“Astrid and Andrew had to turn one of the babies,” Felicity said. “Heathgate, fortunately, was felled by exhaustion for those few moments and spared us his presence for the actual deliveries, though it was a near thing.”
“Divine providence, though there’s doubtless a part of him that would delight in shocking the gossips.” He ambled over to the bassinet and picked up one bundle. “What unbelievably lovely little babies these are. Be proud of yourselves, ladies. When God wants to add to Creation, he chooses only the most worthy assistants.”
“What a lovely sentiment,” Felicity said.
Astrid remained silent but thought of Andrew, of his calm in the birthing room, of his methodical study of childbirth—in multiple languages—when Astrid had mentally accused him of hiding in his study by the hour.
“Babies,” said David, picking up the second child, “make everything lovely.”
He kept the child—Pen—in his arms when he came back to sit on the bed.
“Now,” he said, “pay attention, Sisters, because Heathgate will soon come through that door like a jealous horse and shoo me off to drink brandy with Greymoor in the billiards room. Felicity,” he continued, “you are to eat red meat at every meal until the bleeding stops, and then twice a day until your energy is back where you need it to be. Liver or other organ meats would be best. Some Spanish oranges would be well advised too. You are to drink as much as you can stand, because you will be nursing two babies, not one, and you are to get out of this bed for a few minutes at a time, starting immediately.”
His tone dared either sister to argue with him, but they merely exchanged a look of sororal curiosity.
“You are justifiably exhausted, Lissy,” he pointed out. “But for the past week, you haven’t even gone up and down a flight of stairs. Soon you will lose the strength you had when you climbed into this bed, and thus you will invite more fatigue. I will take my leave of you now, but I sincerely hope that before you blow out the candles tonight, you will consider reading for a few minutes by the window, sitting by the fire while Astrid changes your sheets, or taking a turn about the room.”
David glanced at the ceiling, then looked at them askance. “What is that noise?”
“The playroom is directly above us,” Felicity said. “Gareth and Andrew went up there to visit him.”
“I will offer mine host a proper greeting,” David said, kissing each sister on the cheek. He handed Pen to Astrid before adding, “Remember: red meat, fluids, and moderate activity.”
When the door closed behind him, Felicity flopped the covers back and wrestled her way to the edge of the bed.
“I feel like Dr. Mayhew’s younger, better-informed assistant paid me a call,” she said. “Dr. Mayhew said to remain abed for at least a week after James was born, and mentioned neither fluids nor red meat.”
“David has medical training,” Astrid replied. Also good timing and a way of dealing with the difficult topics directly. “Could I talk you into some cold slices of beef, perhaps taken by the fire?”
Felicity pushed to her feet. “I suppose so. After which, by God, I am going to read something besides that dreadful Mrs. Radcliffe.”
“She awaits you by the fire. I’ll order you a tray, then, and see what all that rumpus was about in the playroom.”
Astrid made it as far as the hallway before a footman stopped her with a note.
Meet me in the stable in twenty minutes.