Closer and Closer

Kasey

kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: Christiana and Jocelyn have a talk.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Not mine and I do not own them.

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It is a beautiful day. The sun is shining and the birds are singing and I have come to realize that I am pregnant. Is it not funny how those three words can change so many things? I am pregnant. I have been feeling queasy and sleepy for so long that it seemed like a natural thing to be so. Well, it is natural for being pregnant. There was no suspicion in my mind, no worry. My thoughts have been so taken up with Patrice leaving and dealing with Etienne and his moods, that I did not take notice of my condition.

Expecting. With child.

I feel a grin tugging at my lips and give in to the impulse, pulling the fabric of my shift taut over my belly. Still fairly flat, but the rounding will come. I look forward to that, to feeling the tiny life inside me move.

It has been lovely to listen to Jocelyn discuss her pregnancy. She is not shy about giving me the problems along with the joys. She mentions her feet and ankles swelling, mild insomnia now that she is closer to being due, aches in her lower back and legs, and having to use the privy more often. But the joys she says....They "outweigh the nuisances. There is nothing that compares to the first time you feel your baby move."

Oh, I cannot wait to tell Etienne he is to be a father!

In my mind, I picture him holding our child in his arms. This will please him. It will please him to see proof of his virility, to have an heir. I splay my fingers over my belly. Should I pray for a boy or a girl? He will want a boy of course, and I do yearn for a boy that looks just like his father. Then again, a tiny, delicate girl would be nice too. I know enough of this family now to realize that any girl will be protected fiercely. But a boy....I shake my head. God will decide the matter.

Hopefully, Etienne will send a letter soon. He promised to let me know by messenger that he had arrived safely with Edward. As soon as that message arrives, I shall send a return one with my news. The thought firm in my mind, I pull a purple dress from my trunk and, feeling whimsical, add a pink surcoat over it instead of the matching purple one. I do not bother braiding my hair before leaving the chamber.

Hours later, when my guests are up and about, Jocelyn comes into the solar where I spend much of my time. Her face is a little puffy, but there is a radiant glow to her skin, the glow of a pregnant woman. I wonder if I am glowing as well. No one but Sarah has said anything.

Jocelyn sits in a chair and shifts the pillows about behind her before opening the bag she carried in with her. A piece of fabric and a bundle of thread is brought out, Jocelyn laying the fabric on her belly and separating a roll of red from the bundle. The bag falls from the arm of the chair, Jocelyn peering at it, then her belly, and mumbling, "It can just stay down there."

"You have taken up sewing?" I ask with raised brows, watching her take the needle from the fabric and thread it. She is concentrating hard, tongue caught between her teeth and eyes nearly crossed as she stabs the thread at the needle eye. When the needle is finally threaded, she gives an exaggerated sigh of relief, wiping her hand over her forehead.

"Not willingly, I assure you." Jocelyn unfolds the cloth, showing me the delicate floral pattern she has been working on. The stitches are not neat or even. It looks like a child's attempt. She flashes a quick, impudent grin at me.

I snort. "Who are you trying to fool with those stitches?" I know for a fact that she is adequate with a needle and thread, though hates the task and considers it a chore. Jocelyn would much rather design clothes than sew them.

"Roland. He thinks I am hopeless at embroidery. We sit and sew together, Will's bright idea. Will seems to think I am some delicate little thing of late. My inept sewing has taken Roland's mind off of..." She stops, pulls the cloth back and knots the thread. "I tell him about my dress ideas and he tries them. The last project he made was a dress for Kate. It was a simple design, something I thought Kate would like. She actually tried to give it back to us. I had to do some fast talking to get her to accept the gift."

"You are devious, Jocelyn." She took Will's plan to keep her still and devised a way to keep Roland from thinking so much of me. Yes, I am aware of just how much he cared for me.

"I have to be something, do I not? I design nothing sensational, just practical and give Roland the little extra encouragement to pursue his gift. He is a tailor at heart, Christiana, not a squire."

"You hear no argument from me on that, do you? But he is a squire. Will's squire." I sit back in my chair.

She sobers, takes a stitch on the cloth. "I know. Not everyone can change their stars or wants to. Will has told me that. I cannot ignore Roland's gift though. It would be criminal to do so."

"You do not have to ignore it, just do not push him. Promise you will not push."

She shrugs. "I suppose."

"Jocelyn."

"Oh fine." Setting the embroidery on the chair arm, she leans forward a little, hands rubbing at her lower back. "I promise." A grimace crosses her face. "This baby has not stopped rolling over since I woke. If he is not kicking one way, he is kicking another."

I take a couple slow stitches. "I am pregnant too." The words slip out before I can stop them. I glance at her, my joy tugging at me.

Her eyes go wide and she pauses in her digging at her back muscles. "No. How far?"

I jab the needle in the fabric and toss it onto the table beside me, readjusting into a more comfortable position in the chair, my legs tucked beneath me. "Three or four months. I did not even realize until Sarah asked how Etienne reacted. She said she was surprised he had not ordered a celebration."

She grins at me. "You did not notice? Christiana!"

"I have been rather busy --" I attempt an explanation, Jocelyn cutting me off with a laugh.

"No excuse. There is no excuse for not noticing what is happening in your own body. And he did not notice either?" She stops, grin fading slightly, questioning turn to her brow. "Is there a reason he would not have noticed?"

I nod. "Things have been....There was a letter I did not send that explained that. I ended up sending the invitation instead."

She drops the needlework to the floor, with no care for the loose needle that will likely be lost among the rushes. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yes and no. I've looked back many times on the incident I wrote of and I think I may have misunderstood what was really happening. The man who was involved is gone now and before the army left, Germaine warned me not to let the man approach me if he returns here while they are gone. He said Etienne was protecting me, though it may not have seemed that way."

Jocelyn shakes her head, tucking her hair behind her ears. "What on earth are you talking about? What man? What happened?"

I have missed her concern. I have missed the attention she gives in conversation. Our brief time in the galley at the first Tournament only served to strengthen my pangs of loneliness. I draw in a deep breath. "I went riding one day. Mother was busy --"

"Mother?" She queries, holding a hand up to stop me.

"Patrice. It slipped out one day right before she left and she started crying she was so happy."

"That is wonderful, Christiana. I am happy you feel comfortable enough with her to call her such. Your own mother was poor at her role." As we speak, she is constantly shifting in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position.

"Anyway, Etienne wants me to always ride with another person, so I took one of the knights who was not busy. Lydia was with Adele. She does not like riding and Adele will not go out for long, so I needed an escort. Einon was there and I had him go with me. Well," I shift also, crossing one leg over the other and swinging it. "Etienne came into the stable when we returned and while he was looking right at me, his face tightened, that angry look he gets, and he hit Einon. Broke his jaw. Einon was not very far from me when he did it. I thought he was going to hit me."

"You wrote that Adhemar...your husband," she amends, "does not hit women."

"And so he does not. I ran and he followed and...hours later we had a discussion in the hall with the entire house watching us." I finger the sleeve of my dress. "I have never seen so much emotion from him before. It was like he had let go of all those barriers and let himself feel. I put the letter I had written to you in the fire and wrote the invitation instead." I shrug. "He has been wearing himself out training and not coming to me as often as he did. That is why he would not have noticed. Two whole weeks went by without him touching me once. It was almost like before we married."

"But this was all settled before he left, yes?"

"Mostly. I wish I had known my state earlier. Perhaps he would not have left for war."

"Perhaps." Jocelyn clears her throat. "Have you considered that he could be...." She sighs, makes frustrated noises as she thinks, and finally goes on. "Could he love you at all?"

I stare at her. It is always a possibility I suppose. "I do not know."

"I have been thinking since Tournament and I have begun to wonder if he has changed. He was so gentle with you at Banquet, so courteous."

"He was courteous to you in the galley a year ago."

"Courteous in the caring fashion, as a man is to a woman he cares for. Not polite courtesy, Christiana. He looks at you as though you are the only woman in the world."

I give a short laugh. "I wish."

Jocelyn studies me, her gaze strangely intense. "You truly love him."

"He is my husband."

"The two do not usually go hand in hand. Sometimes, but not usually." She sits up straighter. "Enough. If you are happy, then I am happy for you. If he makes you happy, I am glad, for I would have you happy."

And so that ended our conversation on the matter. The visit is a good one. I have let Kate talk with our own blacksmith, seeing no problem in it, though I am certain Etienne would have some choice words to say on it were he here. The man was hesitant to listen until he learned she was the maker of that famous light armor. Now Kate is welcome at his forge any time. Adele has taken a liking for Kate also, spending her time following her about. Kate is good with her, not behaving -- as many people do -- as though it is a chore to speak to a grown woman like she is a child. Which Adele is mentally. I still hope to discover what happened to Adele to cause her condition.

Will spends his time studying Etienne's house and way of running it, training in the mornings with the garrison left here. He seems to be enjoying himself, though he has not said one way or the other. Wat is the vocal one. He teases Jocelyn and makes eyes at Kate, then slips into the kitchen to annoy the kitchen staff. Any annoyance on their part is pretend, for Wat is adored by the women there. They all love a man who can eat. And Wat certainly can eat. Will has been known to remark that if Wat did not eat constantly, we would need to bury him, for his gluttonous eating is who he is.

Three weeks have flown by without a letter from Etienne and I am becoming worried, though Richard, whom Etienne left behind, assures me word will come in due time. I am crossing the hall to discuss the days chores with the maids, when I hear Richard's voice calling me.

"My Lady! My Lady!" His urgency and distress are obvious as he runs to me. "You must come see this!"

I nod and follow him out into the large courtyard and up the inner stair along the wall that surrounds the manor, emerging onto the catwalk that the guards use to patrol the walls. A gasp escapes me as I see what has him so worked up. An army is coming towards us, but I am certain it is not a friendly one. I see smoke rising from fires set on the edge of Etienne's lands. My heart aches for the people out there. This army has been well-timed. We are low on guards. Etienne took most with him when he left. Thankfully though, our larder is still well stocked and the well is within the walls.

"Do you know what to do?" I recall seeing the gate closed and mentally kick myself at the question. Etienne has trained his men well in all areas of his concern. His military attitude will be our best asset here. Even with few men we stand a chance of holding off the invaders just because of the training he drilled into them.

Richard nods. "Yes, my Lady."

I look to my left and right on the catwalk. The men gathered are nodding their heads. I recognize each one and remember a few of their names. Alain. Mason. Stephen. Brys. Royce. Some youthful, some older. There is little in the way of fear on the older faces. They weathered an attack when Etienne's father was alive. This house has faced attack before and not been taken. These men will die if they must to keep this family, and all those inside the walls, safe. It is their duty and duty is something I well understand.

"Then do what you must. I will inform our guests of the company approaching."

I leave them to their work. Fear of the future makes my hands tremble. If this army succeeds in overtaking us, what will happen to me and my child? What will happen when Etienne returns and finds and ruined home? No. Do not think like that. These walls will hold. And you will see Etienne again.