Page 65 of Love, Remember Me

Now she was a married woman, enormous with child, in a strange house that had no customs.She wanted to go home!She wanted to be Nyssa Wyndham again. Young and free to do as she pleased. The invader within her kicked and turned itself about, reminding her sharply that those days were over forever. Several tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Why, m'lady, what is the matter?" Tillie asked her.

Nyssa shook her head. Tillie would never understand how she felt. Why should she? She was young, and free yet. "Nothing fits," she muttered. "Practically everything Mama gave me is too tight now."

"You are carrying big," Tillie admitted. "I've seen me ma the same way, and then the baby is just the littlest bit of a thing. 'Tis all the waters, m'lady. As long as he's active, he's healthy."

"He is very active, Tillie," Nyssa grumbled. "As active as one of those tumblers one sees at the fair. I barely slept last night."

"Just a few more weeks, m'lady," Tillie soothed her mistress. "Why, spring will be here before you know it," she promised.

" 'Tis Christmas Day, Tillie," Nyssa said gloomily. "Spring is weeks and weeks away." She sighed piteously.

Tillie said nothing more. Carefully she brushed her mistress's lovely dark hair, braiding it into a single plait with a red ribbon through the strands. She helped Nyssa into a velvet breeding gown of dark green, noting the laces barely tied now. Her lady's bosom had greatly enlarged over the last few months, and swelled quite dangerously over the edge of the bodice. The skirt was divided, and the underskirt was of silver and green brocade.

Nyssa looked at her belly straining beneath the fabric, and fell into a fit of giggles. "I wonder if this is how a heifer would look if you dressed her up in a fine gown." She chuckled.

"She would be the best-dressed heifer in all of England," Tillie said, laughing, pleased to see Nyssa's good humor restored. One never knew these days if she would laugh or cry, or shout over some little thing.

The two women joined the earl in the chapel of Winterhaven for the morning mass. Nyssa grew weepy again. They were all alone, just the two of them. She wondered why she had even bothered to decorate the Great Hall with greens and candles. Who would appreciate them? There was no one. She sniffled softly.

When the mass ended, Varian de Winter took his wife's hand. "Let us go into the Great Hall and break our fast. Young Mistress Browning tells me that the kitchen staff have prepared a special holiday feast for us this day." He kissed her softly. "Happy Christmas, sweeting."

"I am not hungry," Nyssa said. "I think I shall return to my chamber to rest." She looked so woebegone.

"Nay, Nyssa, you shall not," he said adamantly. She glanced up at him, surprised. "You shall not disappoint the servants who have worked so hard to make this day a special one for you. I am sorry you cannot be atRiversEdge, sweeting, but it would not have been safe for you to go in your condition. That is no reason, however, to mope about and spoil Christmas for the rest of us at Winterhaven."

He had never spoken to her that way. He had always been so gentle, and so considerate of her. How could he possibly understand her feelings? He had never had the kind of family she had. But before the protest might even form upon her lips, he was leading her firmly from the chapel to the Great Hall. She could smell the pine and the bay as they approached. There was a low hum coming from the hall. What was it? She had certainly never heard that noise before. They entered the room, and she gasped with surprise, her eyes flying to his smiling face.

"Merry Christmas, Nyssa!" her family chorused as one.

Nyssa burst into tears. "Oh!" she sobbed. "Oh, I am so happy!Mama! Papa! Grandmama Doro! Philip!Giles! Richard! Edward! Henry! And, ohh, look at the girls. Annie and Jane have grown so since I saw them last!" She turned to her husband. "Thank you, Varian," was all she could manage to say before she began sobbing against his velvet-clad chest. How could she have ever believed the terrible gossip surrounding his earlier life, or his actions toward her? A man so thoughtful of his wife couldn't be wicked or untrustworthy. How could she have ever thought it?

"She is just like her mother," Anthony Wyndham told his son-in-law calmly. "They weep at the drop of a bonnet, these women. Do not look so distressed, Varian. She is delighted with your little surprise."

"Ohhh, I am!" Nyssa sobbed. "I have never been happier in my entire life, my lord." She reached for her handkerchief, wiping her eyes and noisily blowing her nose. "Mama!" She and Blaze embraced.

"You are enormous," her mother noted. "Are you certain this baby is not due until the end of March? Perhaps I was mistaken about the dates. After all, you were married at the end of April. The child could be here sooner. Sometimes a woman's flow does not stop right away. It is unusual, but it has been known to happen.

"I had meant to return home in just a few days' time," Blaze continued, "but I think now that I may remain with you until after the baby comes, Nyssa. If there were to be a bad storm and I could not get back, I should be most distressed. I shall keep Henry and the girls with me." She looked to her son-in-law. "Will you mind, Varian?"

"Nay, madame, you are most welcome to remain as long as you desire. Indeed I would be hard-pressed to help Nyssa when the child comes. I am glad for your company, I assure you."

"You may not be glad for the company of these rascals," the Countess of Langford said, a twinkle in her eyes, as she watched her twin daughters toddling with determination after one of the hounds.

The morning meal was served, and Nyssa was astounded. Entirely on their own the kitchen staff had set a menu and prepared it. There was a large country ham, pink and sweet; dishes of eggs in a sauce of cream and marsala wine, sprinkled with cinnamon. Hot wheat cereal with bits of dried apple and pear was served up in fresh trenchers of bread. Trout, poached in white wine with dill and lemon, caught the men's fancy. There was a platter of large stewed apples floating in a mixture of hot honey, raisins, and nutmeg, with a companion pitcher of thick, clotted cream. There was a small wheel of sharp cheese, hot cottage loaves, silver dishes of newly churned butter, and pitchers of both October ale and red wine.

Outside it was still dark, for the dawn came late at this time of year and the days were short. The family trooped to the high board and, seating themselves, began to eat with enthusiasm.

"How did you get here, and when did you arrive?" Nyssa asked her parents. "I did not hear you, and my ears are sharp."

"Old Rumford ferried us across early this morning. The road to Winterhaven is a clear one, and the moon was high," Anthony told her. "We traveled easily, my dear."

"And we arrived while you were at mass," Blaze said, taking up the explanation. "Our timing was quite perfect, I think." She smiled at her daughter.

It was suddenly the best Christmas Nyssa could ever remember. She was surrounded by so many who loved her—her parents, her siblings,her husband. Aye, he really did love her, and he never wavered in his devotion to her. Yet although she cared for him more than when they had first been wed, she still did not think she loved him. It was a puzzle, but she realized she was not unhappy, and surely that was all to the good.

Her family celebrated her nineteenth birthday with her, and they stayed until after Twelfth Night. Her Morgan grandparents, her aunts, her uncles, and her cousins all came to visit during those days. When they finally had all departed but for her mother and the three youngest of her siblings, she felt relief to have her home to herself again, though she had been so happy to see everyone.

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