Seven Minutes in Heaven(117)
She had two things to tell him, and she was hugging them to her until they sat down to eat together later that night. First, she’d had a letter from Marcel: their venture had just finished its first quarter with an actual profit.
This was wonderful, but the second bit of news was even better. For all her childhood dreams of living in a neatly ordered household, she was now the mistress of a house that rang with laughter and chaos, in which intellectual curiosity and experimentation ranked far above the propriety she had so yearned for.
She wouldn’t trade it for a moment—although the baby nestled in her womb would only add to the mayhem.
Lizzie, meanwhile, had moved from lecturing Ward about possible epidemics to telling him about the bird’s nest she’d found that morning, when she stopped and put a finger to her lips.
Ward turned to find that that his wife and daughter had fallen asleep. Sally was sucking her thumb just as he used to, her cheek nestled against her mother’s shoulder. His heart gave a thump in his ribs that told him, again, how lucky he was.
Eugenia thought he didn’t know that she was carrying a baby, but he watched everything about her, driven by a gut-deep need to make certain that his wife was well and happy. Her breasts had grown delightfully larger, and she tired more easily.
She would tell him in her own time, though; he didn’t want to ruin her surprise.
“She’s having another baby, isn’t she?” Lizzie asked.
He looked down in surprise as his sister slipped her hand into his.
“Well, isn’t she?”
“I think so. Why do you think so?”
“She’s sleeping,” Lizzie said. “Normally she doesn’t stop moving.”
“That’s true.”
“I guessed yesterday, when she didn’t want any trifle. Eugenia never refuses trifle—except when she was carrying Sally.”
Ward ruffled her hair. “You frighten me sometimes, Miss Lizzie.”
“Pooh,” his sister said. She kicked Otis’s leg. “Let’s go see the new puppies in the stable before we have to go to bed.”
Marmaduke leapt to his feet, though Otis just gave his sister a mulish look.
“Come on, Marmaduke,” Lizzie said, grabbing his hand.
Ward had the feeling that it would be like that for the next fifty years.
He took Sally from her mother’s arms and handed her to Ruby before he picked up Eugenia and carried her off to their bedchamber, ignoring her sleepy protests.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “We’ll name him Felix,” she said, before going back to sleep.
“Felix?” Ward snorted. Not if he had any say in the matter.
Then he kissed her, and knew that he would let her have her way, because all that mattered was that his family was safe and together. And that he showed this woman every day that his promise of seven minutes, seven minutes in heaven, would be repeated to the very end of their days.
It would never be enough.
Naughty Children, Pets Rats, and Pornographic Cigar Boxes
Seven Minutes in Heaven is the third in a series of novels which feature heroines with unusual professions for the 1800s. India from Three Weeks with Lady X decorates houses; Mia from Four Nights with the Duke writes romance novels; and Eugenia runs a registry for governesses.
In the process of learning about governesses, I had a lot of fun reading novels about naughty children. Some of Marmeduke’s adventures were inspired by a sequence of 39 books, the Just William series, written by Richmal Crompton between 1921 and 1970. Those of you who have read the Nurse Matilda novels will recognize the speckled children in my epilogue.
Lizzie’s particular brand of naughtiness—trying to use magic in a vain attempt to control a world that has buffeted her with chaos—comes from an old play by Thomas Middleton called The Puritan, or the Widow of Watling Street. And speaking of old plays, Lizzie is not always right in her quotations, but the plays she quotes are lively and well worth reading.
The remarkably pornographic cigar box that serves as Jarvis’s bed is a real box, dated approximately 1803; I posted a photo on my website, www.eloisajames.com, under the Book Extras for Seven Minutes. The inspiration for Jarvis is one of my daughter’s pet rats named Teddy. You can find a picture of him there as well, nestled on top of his best friend, who happens to be a large dog.
One more inspiration I should add: Gunter’s was, by all account, a marvelous establishment. I happily threw myself into exploration of trifles and cakes from the period; the blogger RedHeadedGirl was a big help, sharing recipes from her 1805 edition of The Art of Cookery by Hannah Glasse, as well as a recipe for trifle from a 1769 manuscript.