“I only told the truth!” Ellen glared.
“I know it, and so does everyone else. So does he, and that’s why he’ll take any chance he has to get back at you.”
Ellen rolled her eyes. “He’ll have drunk himself to death before Easter. I’m surprised he hasn’t died in the cold yet.”
“Then we’ll be careful until Easter,” Mark replied, undeterred.
Ellen reached out and took his gloved hand in hers. “Very well.” But her sigh masked the anxiety bubbling inside her. She'd expected to begin her monthly bleeding yesterday, and she hadn’t. That wasn’t terribly unusual. Ellen could be a few days late in normal times, and the past two weeks had been incredibly stressful. Still. She’d missed four doses out of the nine. She refused to think about it. She poured herself into her work and into Mark. If she wasn’t thinking about it, it wasn’t happening.
At the end of January, she wasn’t just late for her courses. She’d skipped them completely. And that never happened. The knowledge she was eight days late for her typically five-day bleeding cycle finally came crashing down on her in the morning, right after she’d finished her time in the water closet and freshened to meet the day.
There’s no certainty,Ellen told herself.I’d have to have an internal exam for certainty, and even then it’s still so soon.She couldn’t imagine asking Mrs. Daugherty for that.Pregnancy isn’t confirmed for certain until the quickening.She did the math, trying to bolster her denial. She hadn’t felt Constance move until she’d been four, almost five months pregnant. Holding her breath, Ellen slipped a hand down her dress to cup one of her breasts. She passed her fingers over one nipple and almost cried out in pain. Nipple sensitivity and missing one cycle was confirmation enough.
Mark stuck his head in her bathroom, half-dressed. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
At his soft, sweet tone, all stoicism eroded. Ellen burst into tears.
Chapter Eighteen
Mark stared aghast at his wife as she put her face in her hands and sobbed. “What’s happened?” he stammered, pausing in buttoning his shirt and putting his arms around her. “Darling, tell me.”
“I’m p-p-p-pregnant.” She sagged against him.
His mouth dropped open. So many emotions surged through him that he didn’t know what he felt. Ellen was grabbing him like a drowning person, gasping for air and still unable to catch her breath. Mark grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back to look in her face.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her sobs shook her whole body. She gasped over and over for air, but it was like her lungs refused to receive it.
Alarmed, Mark held her tightly. “Ellen, Ellen. Breathe. Just breathe, don’t fight it, darling.”
Her wide eyes latched on his, and he could see her trying to follow his instructions, but her body wasn’t cooperating. Mark removed his hands from her shoulders to cup her chin and leaned close, pressing their foreheads and noses together. “In, Ellen. Hold it, hold it, then out.” He’d seen young men, boys, really, panic at things on a ship. Sometimes from the close quarters anddarkness, sometimes from the sickness that spread like wildfire on a ship no one could escape. Mark coached Ellen like he’d coached a few boys before, counting and breathing with her until her body relaxed against his, and her sobs quieted to little whimpers.
When he was certain she could breathe regularly again, he moved to rub her back in soothing circles. He backed them to the wingback chair in the corner, the one he’d made her sit on three nights ago, naked with her legs slung over the arms while he feasted on her. Now he eased down on the chair and brought her down on his legs, curled up and leaning against his chest.
“Now, when you’re ready, tell me.” He rested his chin on the top of her head and closed his eyes.Pregnant? A baby?His pulse spiked, either in anxiety or excitement, he wasn’t sure which. He glanced at their photo of Constance on the nightstand to steady himself.
After a moment, Ellen spoke. “I skipped four teas. It was stupid.”
Skipping tea, after what you said about needing it?he wanted to demand, but bit his tongue. “Why?”
“The Carlson family needed us that night. And then I slept half the day, and then I took care of you because I was afraid you were going to get sick. I started taking it again, but…I suppose that was just enough for it to happen.”
Mark tried to be rational, even as his mind spun. “What are our options?”
She sniffled, her grip on his shirt collar tightening. “What do you mean?”
“You said you never wanted to birth a child again. Surely if there are teas to keep from conception, there are teas to…keep things from progressing.” Inwardly he shriveled at the possibility of having an heir and discarding the opportunity. But Ellen was more important.
“I don’t want to keep things from progressing,” Ellen wailed. “I just wanted to never be in this position!”
“I don’t understand.”
“Iwanta baby. Iwantkisses and baby hair and snuggles and lullabies. I used to dream about it. But I couldn’t risk it happening again.”
“And now we’re here. Risking it.” Mark was beginning to understand. He continued to rub her back in soothing circles.
“I suppose it’s happening.” Ellen’s voice wavered. “I refuse to actively destroy my dream.”
“So…we’re having a baby?” Mark’s heart leapt, though he tried to keep his voice neutral.