The Elusive Flame (46 page)

Philippe had barely stepped out of the study when a muted cry from above brought Beau out of his chair. Even if it hadn’t sounded like his name, Beau’s reaction would have been the same. Sprinting across the hall, he vaulted up the stairs as the chef stared after him, much agog at the swiftness of his flight. In the years he had worked for the captain, he couldn’t remember a time when the man had moved so briskly, impossible though it might have seemed ere this moment, considering the fact that the captain had proven time and again that he was just as nimble of foot as he was quick of wit.

Not bothering to knock, Beau flung the bedroom door open and strode in. Dr. Wilhelm whirled from the bed, totally aghast at this interference. Immediately he tried to shoo the younger man out. “I told you before that you
weren’t needed in here! Now kindly remove yourself forthwith!”

Heather laid a gentle hand upon the physician’s arm and quietly murmured, “Cerynise needs her husband here, and he wants to be with her. I would advise you, sir, not to protest any more.”

“This is absurd!” he ranted, ignoring her counsel. “I’ve never yet allowed a father to be present at the birth of a child. Why, it’s unheard of!”

“Then perhaps it’s time you revise your thinking,” Heather suggested. “Who has a better right to be a witness than the father of the child?”

“I won’t stand for this!” he rumbled.

“You may leave,” Cerynise gasped from the bed. Her husband had fallen to his knees beside the bed and was gripping her hand in a way that was far more comforting than the presence of the doctor. “I think Hatti will be able to assist me from now on.”

“Yas’um!” The black woman grinned broadly as the doctor turned a glare upon her. Angrily he whipped down the sleeves of his shirt and began buttoning the cuffs. Glaring about him, he swept up his coat, snapped his satchel closed, and stalked out of the room without another word. Hatti followed as far as the door and, from there, yelled down for Bridget to get herself upstairs and “Fan this poor, suffering chile in this beastly hot furnace.”

Hatti won another glower from the doctor which he tossed at her from the stairs, but she cackled in glee and sashayed her broad self back into the bedroom.

The black woman had barely closed the door when Cerynise cried in alarm, “Oh, Hatti, I think the baby is coming! Truly I do!”

The soothing strokes of the wet cloth that Heather plied across her daughter-in-law’s cheeks and brow did nothing to diminish the flush of color that flooded into Cerynise’s face as she strained to thrust the child from her loins. The impulse was too great to be subdued. Clenching her teeth, she raised her head off the pillow and bore down, all the
while squeezing her husband’s hand in a grip that nearly astounded him.

“Yas’um! It’s a-comin’!” Hatti affirmed after pushing aside the sheet, a covering which the doctor had insisted upon. She promptly swept the girl’s nightgown out of the way and prepared the necessary items.

Bridget came running into the room but Cerynise no longer had her mind on preserving propriety. She was straining for all she was worth. Beau had risen and was staring fixedly at the bloody black head emerging from her body. It thrust free in a sudden surge, and immediately the wrinkled creature gave a muted squall, evoking laughter from everyone in the room, including Cerynise.

“Jes’ rest yo’self a moment, Miz Cerynise,” Hatti advised, “’cause yo’ gonna be pushin’ again real hard any time now.” She had hardly spoken when the pain began anew and the urge to bear down seized hold of Cerynise once again. A chortle came from Hatti as she observed the results. “Here comes the shoulders, an’ they’s as wide as I’ve ever seen. It’s gotta be a boy with shoulders like that.”

“He certainly has a fine pair of lungs,” Beau commented, rather awed by the lusty wails and the relentless miracle of birth.

Bridget busily fanned her mistress while taking everything in. She had never seen a baby born before, but after Stephen Oaks’s recent proposal of marriage, they were already dreaming of having a large family.

The newest Birmingham gave another outraged squall as he was thrust completely into the world and into the waiting hands of Hatti. He flailed his tiny fists and turned beet red as he was laid upon his mother’s stomach. At that precise moment and forever afterwards, Beau would firmly attest to the belief that his son looked straight at him and stopped crying.

“Isn’t he beautiful!” Cerynise cooed, still holding her husband’s hand.

Heather proudly agreed. “He’ll look like his father with all that curling black hair.”

Bridget was just as enthralled. “Oh, he’s darlin’.”

“When can I hold him?” Beau asked eagerly.

“Aftah I ties an’ cuts the cord an’ cleans him up a bit, Mistah Beau,” Hatti replied. “Jes’ be patient.”

It was several moments before the baby was delivered into his father’s arms. Beau stared down at the puckered little face with a feeling of wonder. The child’s eyes were wide open, and he looked back at his father with what Beau proudly surmised as keenly intelligent interest. With a laugh of sheer exaltation, he carried their son to Cerynise and gently placed him within the crook of her arm. Together they examined the wonder they had wrought, spreading the tiny fingers and smoothing the silken wisps of black hair.

Heather went downstairs to give Brandon the news of their grandson while Hatti finished up what needed to be done. It was the grandfather’s loud whoop of pure joy that brought Philippe running into the study.

“It’s a boy, Philippe!” Heather announced happily. “A strong, healthy, black-haired boy!”

“And Madame Birmingham?” he queried hesitantly. “She is all right?”

Heather nodded enthusiastically. “She couldn’t be happier.”

“Excellent!” he cried jubilantly.

Upstairs in the master bedroom, Hatti leaned over for a better peek at the new Birmingham and grinned broadly. “Well now, li’l mistah, yo’d better thank yo’ mammy for all she’s done ’cause yo’s the finest babe I’ve seen since Mistah Jeff’s Tamarah was born. Yassah, an’ dat’s the gospel!”

Cerynise could hardly believe she was holding her own child in her arms, one sired by Beau Birmingham. The baby was not only fair-sized, he was also vigorous and alert despite the trauma she had gone through after being shoved into the way of the six-in-hand and, more recently,
down the stairs. Already, he was rooting around with clear intent, and when he didn’t get what he sought, he wailed again in indignation.

“Just listen ta that chile!” Hatti cackled. “He’s gonna have a temper jes’ like all de rest o’ de Birmingham men!”

Cerynise raised glowing eyes to Beau. “Did we ever settle on a name?”

He stroked his fingers across hers. “What about Marcus for your father, Bradford for your mother’s last name…and Birmingham for me?”

Tears of joy filled her eyes. They had never once discussed his present proposal. She tested the sound of the names altogether. “Marcus Bradford Birmingham. Quite a name for such a tiny little boy.”

“He’ll grow into it,” Beau averred with a chuckle. “Do you like it?”

“Yes, my dearest love. Absolutely, and thank you for remembering my parents.”

“I owe them a debt of gratitude for having such a beautiful daughter. We certainly made a fine son together, didn’t we, my sweet?”

Cerynise proudly surveyed their accomplishment and thought she glimpsed a sapphire glint in her son’s eyes. Even the wee one’s expression somehow reflected the more thoughtful facial cast of his sire. “As far as I can determine from looking at our baby, my love,” she murmured with a warm, tender smile, “I did all the work, but you’ll be getting all the glory.”

“How so, my sweet?” Beau asked, perplexed.

“Like father, like son. I have a feeling he’s going to look as much like you as you resemble your father.”

“Do you really think so?”

His eager question drew an amused chuckle from his wife. “Don’t preen your fine feathers too soon, my fancy peacock. I may find a little of me in him yet.”

“Without you, my pet,” her husband softly whispered above her lips, “our baby wouldn’t even be here.”

*   *   *

Master Marcus Bradford Birmingham grew at a rate that astounded his parents, thrilled his grandparents, and impressed even his Great-uncle Sterling, who, though admitting himself no expert on babies, pronounced the youngster as “very fine indeed.” Beau was clearly besotted with the youngster whose very existence filled him with wonder and joy. He was eager to share in Marcus’s care. He thought nothing of fetching the boy when he woke in the middle of the night and bringing him to Cerynise for her to nurse him. He held him, rocked him and talked to him as if the babe could understand every word he said. And truly, Marcus seemed attentive enough to watch the elder and purse his lips as if he were but waiting for his chance to speak. Beau even went so far as to scandalize Hatti by changing the small one’s diapers. Already the sight of Beau and his son happily absorbed in one another was becoming commonplace in the household.

Cerynise found a joy in motherhood that vastly exceeded anything she had anticipated. Whether she sat with her son at her breast, bathed, rocked or merely sang a lullaby to him, she felt wonderfully complete as a woman. It was as if she had become connected to some emotion that was infinitely precious, loving and maternally fulfilling. When she was thusly involved, she was certain that all the ordinary concerns of the outside world had dwindled to nonexistence.

By the time the first month’s anniversary of his birth had rolled past, Marcus had become quite enamored with the idea of being nurtured with sustenance from his mother’s breast. He raised such a row when he wasn’t punctually placated that almost everyone in the house was made aware that it was time for him to be fed. The moment he was either taken up in his mother’s arms or laid in them, he immediately recognized the fact that she was the right person to satisfy his growing appetite and would start rooting at her breast. If anything hindered that connection, he let his mother know he was extremely upset. His appetite
proved voracious, but to Cerynise’s great relief, she had no difficulty meeting it.

“He’s starting off rather young, isn’t he?” Cerynise asked her husband, her lovely lips drawn up in a teasing smile. At the moment the baby was kneading her breast with his tiny fists as he sucked ravenously at her nipple.

Beau looked on with doting pride. “In what way, my dear?”

“He’s not the only one in the family who likes to be nurtured at my breast.”

Her husband gave her a meaningful look above a slow grin. “I’m anxiously awaiting my turn, madam. I quite clearly remember Hatti saying that you should have about six weeks to properly heal. So another week or so should see us back on intimate terms again.”

“If I don’t get waylaid in the meantime,” she needled sweetly.

“A little fondle here and there keeps the spirits alive, madam,” he argued, trying to curb the telltale twitching of his lips as he defended his entrapment of his wife in their dressing room earlier that morning. She had barely donned her chemise when he decided he wanted to take a longer look and do a little exploring. “You’ve gotten back your beautiful figure, and I just like to admire it, that’s all.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Cerynise smilingly asserted. Indeed, she had been very much a willing participant in all the fondling and kissing that had ensued. “But I must confess I didn’t quite know how to explain my torn chemise when Bridget found it stuffed in my armoire. All the buttons gone and the lace on the strap ripped. I could hardly place the blame for your eagerness on Marcus.”

“Bridget will be getting married soon,” Beau rejoined with a chuckle. “She’ll learn soon enough that those things happen when a man gets in a heat for a woman.” He cocked his head aslant as he gave her a meaningful perusal. “Or you could tell Bridget that she might be able
to save some of her shifts by not getting dressed at all in the morning until her husband has had his breakfast.”

“Breakfast being…?”

His eyes glowed as they swept her again. “Are you playing coy with me, madam, or would you really like a demonstration?”

“Hatti said…”

“It doesn’t matter what Hatti said. It all depends on how you’re feeling.”

Cerynise smiled coquettishly. “A bit tender perhaps.”

“We could work into it
gradually
.”

“You’re tempting me again,” she accused with a flirtatious pout.

Beau threw his head back and laughed in hearty amusement. Then, upon sobering, he stepped close and leaned down to kiss his wife. “Two more weeks at the most, madam,” he whispered above her lips. “That’s all I will allow. As for now, I have to get back to work or Uncle Jeff will dismiss me.”

“Hardly!” Cerynise scoffed in amusement. “You’re the best thing that has happened to the shipping company. Uncle Jeff said as much when he and his family came to see Marcus.”

Beau shoved his hands in his trouser pockets as he straightened. “Uncle Jeff is only saying that because he’d like for me to stay on without making another voyage.”

“Aye, I heard him, but he also said you were good for business and that if you’d stay, he’d give you whatever you wanted.”

Growing wary of her motives for such talk, Beau searched his wife’s face. “Are you trying to tell me that you’d like it if we didn’t take another voyage together?”

“Absolutely not!” Cerynise denied, catching his hand and drawing him down to her again. “I will go to the ends of the earth to be with you. I’m just saying that you’re blandly dismissing how important you’ve become to the company. Uncle Jeff can manage it for another year or so without you, allowing us to take the voyage, but I
think he’d be absolutely delighted if you’d commit yourself fairly soon to taking over the business after your return.”

“What about Harthaven? My father has mentioned that one day he’d like for me to take over.”

She smiled and, gathering his fingers in her hand, lovingly pressed his knuckles against her cheek. “Do you honestly think your father would know what to do with himself if he gave over the management of Harthaven to you? I believe that running the plantation is an elixir of youth for him, as much as your mother is. Perhaps it will be for you someday, but I don’t think you need worry that your father will be offended if you go into partnership with Uncle Jeff. Of the two men, your uncle needs your help more. Clay is clearly not interested in managing the company for his father, and since you’ve been there, Jeff has had more time to enjoy himself.”