Conrad is caressed

Conrad was not the person being awoken, but he must have been the first person awake. From a dreamless stupor he was roused by Margaret’s crisp whispers in the cold air: “Father! Father!”

It must have been the darkest hour of the night. He could hear her feet swishing over the floorboards and the puffs of her breath. The wood ticked and creaked. And Margaret was electric. Even from a distance she made his hair stand on end.

Finally the Duke grunted and rubbed his face.

“Father!” she whispered. “Get up! The baby’s here!”

“Mmm?”

Conrad got his elbow beneath him and pushed himself up.

“The baby’s here!” Margaret repeated, shivering with the excitement of strange happenings at silent hours.

Conrad lifted his bleary eyes and saw her spritelike face grinning down at him. “It’s a girl!” she whispered.

Conrad worked up a smile for her. She and Gwynn had been praying for a girl. Gwynn because it was what Hetty wanted. Margaret because she imagined a girl would fix everything.

“A girl?” her father asked. He attempted to make up for his slowness to awake by bolting gracelessly from the bench.

He repeated himself aloud—“A girl?”—and Father Matthew reared back in his chair, lifting his head and folded arms from the table with such a comical expression of fright that Conrad would forever after believe the Duke had unintentionally guessed the substance of his dream.

“A girl!” Margaret echoed. “A beautiful, fat, perfect baby girl! And Hetty came through it beautifully, and now she wants you to come see your daughter!”

Margaret must have touched one of her father’s hidden springs, for he gasped, “My daughter!” and pounced on her, pulling her into one of his rare crushing hugs.

“My baby sister!” Margaret continued undaunted, chattering away with her chin on her father’s shoulder. “And she’s so cute! Wait till you see her! She has so much hair her head is simply black with it! More hair than the Old Man had at a year old! And Hetty says she has your mouth. And she’s so calm and wide awake! Looking all around at everyone! The baby is, I mean. Hetty isn’t calm at all, she’s laughing and laughing!”

Margaret finally burst into shivery laughter herself. And Father Matthew, who had been awaiting his chance all this time, said somewhat irrelevantly, “Praise God!”

“And Father,” Margaret said, “she wants to name her Lili, and I hope you will let her! You know she’ll never insist if you come up with another idea.”

“Certainly she shall!” Alred said. “Certainly she shall! She shall name her whatever she likes!”

He turned about, appearing at a loss for something to do, until he spotted Father Matthew and pounced again.

“Congratulations, Father! Your parish has just increased by another soul!”

Father Matthew responded to this backslapping embrace with irrelevant laughter and a reflexive, “Praise God!”

“So shall we all!” the Duke declared. “How early is it? We shall all attend a Mass of thanksgiving this morning! Praise God! A daughter!”

He gave Father Matthew’s back a last slap and dashed for the door. A pink-​faced Matthew turned dazedly and trotted off through the other door, murmuring to himself something about making ready. And Margaret rubbed her shivering arms and padded over to sit on the bench, still grinning.

Conrad picked up a log but hesitated, listening, until he heard the door to the gate stairs slam behind the priest.

Then he asked, “Did Father Matthew just leave us alone together?”

Margaret laughed with no sign of self-​consciousness. “Poor Matthew! He’s lucky Father didn’t come out and kiss him as he did Gunnie when I was born. He probably won’t even remember he saw me.”

Conrad kneeled to feed a few sticks of kindling into the fire. “And you in your nightgown, too!” he crooned.

Margaret sniffed. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

“It’s not my hopes Father Matthew worries will get up.”

Margaret groaned, and Conrad snickered. He would have that satisfaction, at least.

“I can’t believe you sat up half the night with Father Matthew,” Margaret said drearily.

“He thought it was his duty!”

“What did you do all night with him in the room? During Lent? Pray?”

“We did some of that too.”

Conrad brushed off his knees and went to join her on the bench. She was sitting smack in the middle, so he could innocently thump down by her side.

“But we also drank a fair bit too much—because of the cold, the good Father said!” He winked at her. “And ate a pie to keep our strength up, Lent notwithstanding, and played dice for a good part of the night.”

“You played dice with Father Matthew in the room?”

“No, we played dice with Father Matthew.”

Margaret simply gaped at this revelation.

Conrad laughed. “It was plain he was dying to join us, so your father casually reminded him that Father Brandt plays dice so long as no gambling is involved. And so Matthew announced that he ought to play with us, lest it seem he were judging an elder priest by refusing.”

Margaret’s mouth snapped shut, only to open again a moment later when she declared, “That Pharisee!”

Conrad chuckled and draped his arm across the back of the bench. He wasn’t touching her yet, but she didn’t shrink away.

“What about you, you Sadducee?” he asked, leaning closer. “How is it that you saw the baby before your father did?”

“Because I was there when she was born.”

“You were what?”

Margaret smirked. “I was there.”

Conrad was so stunned that he sat up straight, losing the ground he had just gained. “You were there in the… room?”

Margaret cocked her head and looked adorably impudent. “My father was in my room when the maid came to fetch him. So I tiptoed out after them and hid in the alcove in Hetty’s room till he was gone.”

“And they let you stay?”

“Of course. Gunnie carried my father out by the scruff of the neck, but I got to stay. I got to see my baby sister being born!”

Conrad swallowed and discreetly glanced her over for traces of blood or other unpleasantries.

Margaret dropped her smirk, the better to jabber at him. “Well—I didn’t see her coming out, exactly. I was sitting at Hetty’s side and holding her hand, so I only saw as much as Hetty did. But I saw Gunnie lift the baby up as soon as she came out, and give her to Hetty all wet and slippery, and still attached by the cord.”

Conrad winced, but Margaret failed to notice.

“You wouldn’t believe the way they were swinging that poor baby around! And Hetty was laughing and babbling in German, and everyone was so happy, except for the baby! When Hetty was holding her, she opened her eyes and made this scrunchy angry face as if to say ‘What is this indignity?’”

Margaret did her best to reproduce this scrunchy angry face, but the effect was spoiled by her giggles. Conrad weakly smiled.

“And then she cried! And that only made everyone happier. She was so cute!” Margaret concluded with a happy sigh. “I love her so much already.”

She relaxed against the back of the bench, and her head thumped against Conrad’s arm. She didn’t notice, or else didn’t mind.

“Vain Dieu!” he sighed. “I don’t know whether to congratulate you, or… congratulate you! For having survived.”

“Well you might say! You wouldn’t believe how Hetty can squeeze a hand.”

She held up one hand for inspection. Conrad tried to hold it, but his clasp was too gentle, and she whisked it away.

He said, “I meant congratulate you for making it through without having swooned.”

“What? Are you confusing me with my sister?”

He laughed. “Good Lord, no. But I’m getting queasy just thinking about it.”

“You are a man.”

“Good point.”

She stretched and snuggled into the cushions, looking soft and inviting. He slid closer, and when she did not squirm away, he draped his arm over her shoulder. His hand rested in her hair. He realized he was getting close to thinking of things that would have startled Father Matthew, so he tried to return to the conversation.

“Wasn’t Gwynn there, au fait? What’s she going to say when she finds out you were?”

Margaret twitched, and her dreamy smile soured. “Why, she’s going to say it doesn’t bother her at all, of course, and then go off bravely and shed a silent tear! What else? One can’t expect me to think of my sister first in every single thing, you know! For once when I wanted something—”

She broke off abruptly, almost tearfully. Conrad did not entirely understand—she was a girl, after all—but he knew he did not want to argue with her over such an uninteresting subject as Gwynn.

“She’ll survive,” he assured her. His fingers toyed with her hair.

“Besides,” she pouted, “once Brit finds out, she’ll probably invite Gwynn for when she’s confined. Gwynn’s closer to Brit and Dunstan, anyway. I wanted to see my baby sister being born. That way I get to keep her.”

“I never knew you to get so excited about babies.”

“Not all babies. Just Baby Lili. She’s so sweet. I’m so glad she’s a girl.”

Conrad’s fingers stopped stroking.

“Hetty was so happy,” she continued. “I’m so glad for her. And did you see my father? ‘A girl? A girl?’”

Conrad grunted.

“That’s why I’m here, you know.” She snuggled into the curve of his arm, but she sounded off-​puttingly pert. “So don’t get your hopes up, Squire, nor anything else for that matter. I wanted to give my father some time alone with Hetty and the baby.”

Conrad sighed. “Mags…”

She giggled. He was getting to know that giggle as the sound of pattering feet running away from serious subjects she had rather not discuss.

“Don’t get your hopes up either,” he said.

“What?”

“Don’t think this baby is going to solve your parents’ problems.”

“I don’t!”

Of course she would deny it. He had been too blunt.

“Listen, your father’s happy, and Hetty’s happy, and everyone is happy. And once Hetty is back on her feet, it will be more like old times around here. So, hurrah! You have every reason to be glad. But, Mags, just love the kid for her cute scrunchy faces and not for the difference you think she’s going to make. Compris?”

“I know,” she growled.

Conrad sighed. He did not know how to explain it without explaining it outright. He did not know how to get through Margaret’s defenses.

“I know you know,” he said, seeking a truce for now. “I’m just half asleep.”

Margaret snorted, but she relaxed against his shoulder. Conrad yawned, and she yawned in reply.

“And I’m another half asleep,” she said. “That makes one of us.”

She jerked away from him, and Conrad froze, though he did not think he had moved to startle her.

But Margaret pulled her legs up onto the bench and slid down to lay back with her head in his lap. Conrad remained frozen.

She yawned again and mumbled, “I hate this bench. I wish my father would put the couch back. It only needs new cushions. It isn’t as if the blood soaked into the wood.”

Conrad took care to choose his next words. If he could speak on two matters at once, he might sneak an idea through Margaret’s defenses. Meanwhile, gently, he laid his hand over the hands she held clasped over her belly.

“Your father…” he said. “It takes him a while to put unpleasant images out of his mind. It takes time for him to forget.”

“I know.”

She moved abruptly again, startling him by raising one of her arms. But instead of tossing off his hand, she lifted her hand to the back of his neck and held his head tipped down towards hers.

“Happy birthday,” she said.

“Oh!” He laughed stupidly. “It isn’t dawn yet.”

“Then I’m the first to wish you a happy birthday.”

“You’ll probably be the only, thanks to Baby Lili. Now and forever!”

“I will never forget it,” she promised him.

“Ah… thank you.”

She closed her eyes and lowered her arm, but she let the backs of her fingers caress his cheek on the way down. Conrad was spellbound. He had learned to take her pinches and pokes and practical jokes as signs of affection. He did not think Margaret had ever deliberately caressed him. Was it because of his birthday? He wondered what it might mean.

Meanwhile Margaret turned over onto her side, huffing and grunting at her discomfort on the wooden bench. She yanked down a pillow and stuffed it beneath her shoulder, but she laid her head back on his lap.

In a hopeful little voice she said, “Before Gunnie hauled him off, I heard Father call Hetty ‘My beauty.’”

She had returned to the subject only now that he could no longer see her face. Her high-​pitched voice was like her giggles—not running away, perhaps, but pattering around, childlike and evasive.

His Maggot could look at the ugliest things straight on and not quail or swoon, as she had just proved by stepping jauntily out of a birthing room at the darkest hour of the night to chatter about all she had seen. But there was one thing she refused to face. And she wanted him to help her not see.

Conrad did not know the right thing to do. He did not want to see her hurt, but he did not want to hurt her, either. She did not realize she only saw her father at his best. She did not know that on his worst days he spoke of sending Hetty and the youngest children to Sceadwung-​clif in the spring.

Then it struck him that she might have been gentle with him because she needed him to be gentle with her.

So he caressed her warm hair and said, “That’s a very good sign.”