Love's Patient Fury (The Deverell Series Book 3) (28 page)

Varian felt her stomach go rock hard beneath his hand. “Please, Little One, if there is an ounce of fight left in you, give it to us.”

“I have almost got a shoulder, Yer Grace,” Netta exclaimed anxiously.  “Bring me the scissors and twine, girl, and be ready with a blanket for the babe.”

Another pain and this time Merry let out an ever so faint moan in relief of the baby’s passing. Over her shoulder Varian could see first tiny wisps of ebony hair, then the small pink and purple face of their daughter. He eased Merry back, holding her against him with arms that quivered. His face was pressed against her cheek, searching and gratefully finding breath, telling him that she was with him.

“Oh, Little One, I wish you had the strength to open your eyes,” he whispered, lightly kissing the graceful slope of her cheek as Netta and the girl continued their work. “But it is better that you rest. It’s what will get you well.” A slap. Then the raging squall of the newly born, demanding and alive. Varian closed his eyes, before he betrayed to anyone the stinging tears in them. “Don’t let down your guard, Merry. Only let yourself sleep. I can’t wait until I can watch you see what you’ve created.”

~~~

Varian never left Merry’s room nor was he willing to set eyes on his child again for two days. His daughter was taken, bathed and dressed, to be displayed to the Merrick household proudly by Netta. He laid at Merry’s side wanting to be with her the moment she woke.

Morning did not bring the opening of Merry’s eyes, though. It brought fever, ravishing and hot to her tiny body. Two days later, she was still brutally trapped inside of it, fighting whatever battle was going on within, stirring only briefly sometimes to ramble dangerously in her struggles.

Varian never left her side and kept even Rhea from the room. He wouldn’t have left his wife regardless of the things she was mumbling too clearly at times, but if she were silent, at least Rhea could be here with them both. Her gentle presence would be a much needed comfort in his worry, misery and guilt.

He climbed onto the bed, atop the covers beside Merry, and took her in his arms, praying she’d open those bluebell eyes to him. She was not as hot today. It was a good sign, or so Netta had said earlier, but she was still too warm. He gave her a kiss on her brow, the flesh beneath his lips half as fiery as it had been at morning.

He was so tired, drained from worry and forcing himself to stay awake to keep the Merricks from Merry’s sick bed. His cheek came to rest atop her black curls, and refusing to obey his will, his eyes drifted closed and pulled him into the deep sleep of exhaustion.

That was how Rhea found them when she cracked the door to check on Merry. It had become habit for her to do this every time she passed the door, though this was first time Varian had allowed himself sleep and she’d hoped it a sign her daughter was getting better.

She crossed the room to the bed, her heart tight in her chest at the picture they made. Placing a light kiss on her daughter’s pale brow, she was relieved to find that the fever had almost passed. Running a cool cloth across Merry’s still features, she gave a fleeting glance at Varian, wondering at his exhaustion since he did not stir with her in the room and he was always a man of such alert senses.

What was wrong in her home and with her family? So wrong her husband would not explain it to her though she had asked him to. Varian was not behaving as himself, but somehow Rhea knew it was more than Merry being ill. He would not have kept her away from her daughter at such a time if he had believed he could do otherwise.  He was a kind man, in all ways, regardless of what one might believe without knowledge of the heart of the man.

Oh, Lucien, what is it you’ve not told me? I know there is something boding ill over us all. Why will you not confide in me?

Rhea settled in the chair next to the bed and watched them as they slept. Lucien thought they made a bizarre match. The way her husband said it made her laugh, but they did not seem bizarre to her, not to Rhea who looked beneath the surface of things. Their connection was powerful; it was a beautiful and sometimes painful thing for her to watch. Painful, because she shared such a deep connection with her own husband and could not understand how Lucien could not see and understand this. Why was Lucien still so against this union? It made no sense.  Lucien usually made perfect sense to her.

She closed her eyes, feeling her worries ever-present. Her granddaughter was such a beautiful creature. Large like her father and feisty like her mother, dark haired like them both, blue eyes now, but they could turn to black in time. She wondered at the suffering inside of Varian that he would not even look at his miraculous daughter while Merry was unwell. Men were so foolish in their worries at times. It was guilt. Guilt because he feared for Merry, guilt because he had had a child with her, and fear that made him blame himself for both.

Foolish man, I know when she is well you will forget every promise to God you’ve made these last two days. I hope you do. I want many grandchildren, as beautiful as the little one you will not look at who is downstairs amusing Kate and Philip and the staff. I think she knows you are, just for these moments, not happy with her being here because she is screaming with the fury of your wife. You’d better hope your little one is not as stubborn as your wife and forgives you this quickly.

Merry began to stir and her lips moved with blurring words. It reminded Rhea of when she was a little girl. She would always babble in sleep or when she was ill. She wondered if her expressions while she slumbered were still so silly, though she supposed that was not something proper for a mother-in-law to ask her daughter’s husband. Did Merry chew off the cuffs of Varian’s shirts on those nights she slept in them, as she had her nightgowns as a child.  It was sweet, but Rhea couldn’t imagine why her daughter slept in her husband's shirt every so often.

Rhea laughed softly.
I do not understand you completely any more, my dear, and you used to be an open book to me. But you are not a little girl any more, are you? You are a mother, so soon you will understand me better. You are his wife and my daughter and now there are things about you I will know only if you share them with me. I hope you will explain to me the shirts someday. I love it when you amuse me with your whimsy and I miss it now that it is not all mine.

Rhea leaned forward and took her daughter’s hand. Merry was mumbling more clearly. Then she said softly, to no one except who was in her mind and there was no doubt by her expression it was Varian, “I danced in Ireland with a rebel band. Did you see me?”

“Yes, my dear, I saw you, “Rhea whispered softly, wishing she could see the wispy images inside her daughter’s head. She continued to talk to her daughter quietly, even though reason said Merry couldn’t hear, and yet Rhea was sure in her heart she could. “So Varian took you to Ireland, did he? That was not part of what you told me when you came home.  I don’t recall a thing about dancing in Ireland. But you are happy when you say it, my dear, so I am happy he took you there, Irish rebel band or not.”

Rhea sat back, studying her daughter tenderly.
My dear, will you wake and someday share with me the adventure you went on with this man of yours? You were gone from me so long.  I bet it was a tale, because you came back home to me a woman and not a girl. Why have you not told me truth of how you came to be with this man? Did you think I would be ashamed to know your secrets? I would not, Merry. I will love you no matter your secrets, as you will understand someday if your daughter comes home full of secrets in her heart with a husband and a child and a life she will not share with you.

Merry’s words continued, less blurred. It was a good sign; clarity meant she was getting better. Merry’s voice was soft, so Rhea leaned forward. “If I could get rid of you, you insufferable man, I would have left you in Bermuda. I am stuck with you it seems until I tire of you and reason out a way to stop loving you.”

Rhea laughed. They had such strange conversations at times, her daughter and Varian, most probably the result of Merry’s personality, not Varian’s. “Ah, Bermuda? He took you to Bermuda, my dear. Why were you in Bermuda? Will I ever know? I only know you did not tire of him. You brought him home and gave us a grandchild instead.”

More babbling, less coherent, and Rhea smiled. She knew her daughter would get well, had tended her often enough during illness to note her signs of recovery, and this journey she had been on with this man had not been a bad one. Merry was happy in whatever memories were claiming her. It eased what little worry there was from what remained not totally known to Rhea. It had only been slight because Rhea knew Varian too well ever to worry he had harmed Merry. Her worry had come only from not knowing everything. A mother’s natural instinct and reaction.

Her daughter made the cutest move tilting her cheek. And then Merry was laughing, movement without sound. Oh, merciful heavens, it was bad to hear her daughter’s secrets, but they warmed and comforted her mother’s heart which clearly had been more worried than it should. Was that why Varian kept them all out? To protect Merry’s secrets, only known to Varian now, as they should be, and not to fuel Lucien temper.

Rhea rose to leave, feeling badly she had invaded her daughter’s privacy, and placed a kiss on Merry’s brow. Her daughter frowned, but it was a cute expression, more of wonder like a child surprised. Rhea paused to watch the dancing emotion on her daughter’s face. “Is that really the infamous Captain Morgan, sprawled on a carpet in front of me, staring at me with those great dark eyes and wanting to play piquet?”

Rhea’s eyes widened, suddenly understanding all that had not be told to her. And then Merry, troubled, whispered in a voice of crying, “Why did you not tell me my father had somehow tied you to Morgan, and is trying to destroy my husband and take him from me while we stay in his house.  Do you have any idea how it hurt me to learn of this in that manner, not from you, but by chance from my own father, Uncle, and dear friend.”

The color drained from Rhea’s face and she sank weakly back down upon a chair.
My poor daughter, you have had so much worry in your heart and you did not come to me. Were you afraid to tell me the truth? Did you think I could hurt you? Did you not know I would not care what this man had ever been so long as he makes you happy?

Lucien’s behavior suddenly made too much sense to her. She understood his loyalty, his sense of duty that made him the man she loved, but she could not believe Merry was not first in his heart. Their daughter. Her happiness. What did anything matter compared to that? And this man who Merry loved; nothing could change that he was the father of their only grandchild. Could Lucien harm him? It pained her that she did not know, couldn’t know, because her husband had shared none of this with her.

When Varian’s eyes drifted open he found Rhea sitting on a chair close to the bed. How long had he been asleep? How long had Rhea been with them?

“Rhea, what is wrong?” When she didn’t answer, he sat up, worry biting in his stomach. He checked Merry quickly. She was all right. Cooler, better than before he’d slept. He looked at Rhea, the harsh stain of tears on her face. Her expression told him before she spoke.

Rhea’s face was a wash of misery and she was brushing at fresh moisture. “I have been married to Lucien for a very long time, but I can’t tell you how this ends, what he will do because I don’t know. He has not shared any of this with me. Swear to me, Varian. When Merry is well, you will take her far away from here quickly, and that you will never weaken, never tell me where you’ve gone with her and my beautiful granddaughter. I will know they are well because they are with you. I have long known how deeply you love my daughter. But never quite as much as I do now with the memory of you bringing my granddaughter into this world, when my faith was weakened and yours was strong enough for us both so we would not lose our Merry.”

“Rhea, what did you hear?”

Rhea stood up and placed a soft kiss on Varian cheek. She ran a hand lightly through his tussled dark hair. “She is going to get well. I have tended her in every illness and I know the signs of her recovery. Try not look so worried, Varian. Rest. It will alarm her if she wakes to see you how you look. I will watch over her. I will watch over you both. There is nothing more she can say I have not already heard. What I have heard is between my daughter and me. It will stay that way. Because I have only one duty on this earth, Varian. I am her mother.”

~~~

Merry opened her eyes later that night. Varian cried openly in joy and relief. There in front of his wife, whose wide doe eyes saw and noted it in much alarm, and there in front of Rhea who had not left the room.

Varian pulled Merry into his arms, held her fiercely, and was placing kisses all across her head. His muscles were quivering and the protective hold frightened Merry. Her mind was blank, she could remember not a thing after the hours before the child had come, but she could feel the emptiness in her body and Varian was crying. “What is wrong? Did we lose our child?”

“There is nothing wrong now that you are back,” he said in a voice raw with emotion. “You have been unconscious from fever. Two days. And I have never been more relieved in my life.” Varian sat back, just enough so she could see his face. His black eyes sparkled even more intensely because of the residue moisture there and he said, “And we, Little One, have a daughter.”

Merry was tired. She was weak. Her body felt limp like a rag doll.
Two days on this earth and I have not seen our daughter.
Pressing her face was against the warmth of Varian’s neck, she whispered, “Is she well? Is she beautiful? Describe her.”

Varian’s body shook and his eyes were tightly closed. “She is well. I don’t recall what she looks like, Merry. Black hair that is all I know. I only got a quick peek before Netta took her, though she must be beautiful because you are her mother. I have waited to get a good look at her because I was waiting for you to do it with me.”