A Heart for the Taking (54 page)

Fair Horizons

Late Spring 1775

Look, how my ring encompasseth thy finger,

Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;

Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.

William Shakespeare,

King Richard III

T
he storm, Letty thought uneasily, reminded her a little too vividly of the terrible storm that had raged the night that Chance had been born. The wind was howling and the rain pounding fiercely against the house, and her gaze slid worriedly to Fancy. Fancy had been in labor since yesterday afternoon, and as Letty watched her, the young woman groaned softly on the big bed as another contraction hit her. Please, Letty prayed fervently, please let this birthing be normal. Please let nothing go wrong.

Her glance met Ellen’s, and seeing the girl’s anxious features, Letty pushed aside her own fears and memories and said softly, “Do not fret, dear. Having a baby takes time.”

“I know,” Ellen said quickly, “and Fancy has not been in labor overly long. It is just that the baby is very early, is it not? I thought it was not due for weeks yet.”

Letty smiled. “Babies decide when they arrive, and I am very much afraid that they do not look at calendars.”

The contraction having passed, Fancy muttered, “Early or not, I just wish affairs would move more swiftly. It seems that I have been lying here struggling for days, and so far I have nothing to show for it.”

Letty chuckled, and after wringing out a cloth where it lay
in a bowl of cool water, she tenderly wiped the signs of perspiration from Fancy’s temples. “I know it seems like a long time, dear, but it is just twenty-fours ago that your water broke. You young people are just so impatient.”

There was no sting in Letty’s words, and despite her great discomfort, Fancy smiled at her. In the months that had passed since Chance’s parentage had been revealed, Fancy and her in-laws had become very close, and she had decided some time ago that she could not have wished for a kinder or more understanding mother-in-law.

It had been a tumultuous several months that they had endured together, the news of Chance’s true identity and the events surrounding the night of his birth rocking the society in which the Walkers moved. Of course, the family stood firm, but there were those who whispered that Sam was merely attempting to foist off his bastard on them and that Letty was a fool for condoning it. But those people were few, and most believed Sam’s version of what had happened. The fact that Constance was
not
universally liked made it easier for everyone to accept that she was quite capable of such a wicked act. Of course, there would always be those who were firmly convinced that the Walkers were pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes, but for the most part, Chance had been warmly received as Sam and Letty’s legitimate son.

Jonathan’s shocking murder tended to cloud the issue, and there was a great deal of speculation all that winter about the coincidence of Jonathan’s death and the revelation of Chance’s parentage. The pity felt for Constance upon the murder of her only son helped temper some of the public disgust with her ugly deed, but it was felt by all to be a good thing that she had decided to live quietly in England.

There was no mystery about who had murdered Jonathan; the open safe, the missing gold, and the disappearance of his valet, Simmons, made it obvious what must have occurred.

Sam had offered a huge reward for his capture, but Simmons seemed to have vanished into thin air. Privately
Chance thought that the fellow had done them all a favor, but he kept that opinion to himself.

Not surprisingly, being acknowledged as the Walker heir had caused a huge upheaval in Chance’s and Fancy’s lives. There was no question of them continuing to live at Devil’s Own; Chance was now the Walker of Walker Ridge. With a certain amount of regret, in November they had bade their first home good-bye and had moved into the elegant house they now shared with Sam and Letty.

It had been a wise move; there was much that Chance had to learn as the man who would one day control the Walker fortune. With Jonathan gone, it was necessary for him to quickly grasp the reins of the immense Walker empire. As the months passed, more and more Sam relied upon his son to handle the family affairs.

Devil’s Own had not been abandoned. Hugh and Ellen had married at Christmas and eagerly accepted Chance’s offer to run the plantation and the horse-breeding operation until such time as Hugh would take over his own father’s estates, an event they all hoped would be a long time in the future.

The news that Fancy was to have a child had delighted Chance and thrilled the prospective grandparents. Fancy found herself coddled and cosseted by her husband and his parents to the extent that she was hardly allowed to lift a finger to help herself. And despite her laughing protests that they were all spoiling her, the loving trio simply ignored her and continued to do just that.

The past several months had proved to be a turbulent time not only for Chance and Fancy, but for all of the British colonies. The scent of war permeated the air everywhere. In March of this year, the firebrand Patrick Henry, at St. John’s Church in Richmond, had declared, “Give me liberty or give me death.” Four weeks later the British had fired upon the Minutemen at Lexington in Massachusetts. Virginia’s governor, Lord Dunmore, fearful of the hotheaded young rebels, had fled, leaving the Virginians in charge of their own fate. The Continental Congress was to meet in Philadelphia in the
summer, and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that war with England was imminent.

At Walker Ridge they were insulated somewhat from the furor, but no one could be unaware of what was happening. As Fancy’s time neared, the coming baby pushed the momentous events taking place in Williamsburg, Boston, and other parts of the Colonies into the background.

That the baby had decided to come several weeks ahead of schedule had alarmed Chance and Sam, but smiling serenely, Letty had pushed them from the room and told them, as she had Ellen, “Babies come when they are ready.”

She was not feeling quite so serene now. Watching as another contraction ripped through Fancy, she bit her lip. Had she been overconfident? Was something wrong? She thought not. The pregnancy had progressed normally, and Fancy was young and strong; despite all their scoldings, she had continued to walk at least a mile every day, even with her hugely swollen belly and equally swollen feet.

Everything should go just fine, Letty told herself firmly. And the storm was just a coincidence.
Not
an omen.

Just then Fancy gave a sharp gasp, and leaning over to check the progress, Letty exclaimed with as much relief as excitement, “Oh, push, dear. The head is there. Push!”

Ellen rushed to the door and flung it wide, motioning to Chance, who had been pacing anxiously up and down the long hallway. Smiling at him, she said, “The baby is coming.”

Chance had not liked being banished from the birthing room, and only Fancy’s promise that she would have Ellen bring him in when the baby was finally ready to make its appearance had placated him. Sam, his expression worried, yet full of anticipation, stood uncertainly in the doorway, yearning to enter but not wanting to intrude at this most intimate time.

Sam might have remained there indefinitely, but Fancy suddenly gave a powerful push, and with a loud, heartfelt groan, her child was born. Scooping up the squalling bundle, Letty cried, “Oh, Sam, ’tis a boy! Come see!”

Sam needed no further urging, and as Letty laid the newborn babe in Fancy’s outstretched arms, Sam was hovering just behind Chance’s shoulder. After staring wonderingly at the baby, Sam met Letty’s eyes. “Our grandson,” he murmured reverently, hardly daring to believe the miracle.

“And our son,” Chance said proudly, his eyes resting caressingly on Fancy’s tired features.

Fancy stared in bemusement at the tiny, wrinkled face. Her son. She and Chance had created a new life, this wonderful, wonderful child she held in her arms. Her heart blossomed with fierce emotion. She had thought that she could love no other person as strongly as she did Chance, but she realized that she had been wrong; this small bit of humanity engendered a love as lasting and as powerful as the emotion she shared with her husband.

Almost hesitantly Chance asked, “May I hold him?”

Watching the extreme tenderness with which Chance lifted his son, Fancy smiled. Chance would be a good father.

With the parents’ permission, the newborn was eventually passed into the eager, trembling arms of his grandparents, and as she watched the elderly couple marvel at his perfect form, Fancy’s eyes stung. They had missed so very much, but if God was kind, they would be allowed to gain much of what they had lost because of Constance’s greed.

Happy that the birth was over, Fancy was simply enjoying the aftermath, watching Chance as he stared at his son, who once more lay in her arms, and then staring in wonderment herself at the miracle they had made.

A cramp made her frown, and seeing her expression, Letty said calmly, “No doubt it is the afterbirth.”

Fancy nodded, but when she experienced another one, harder and stronger, her eyes widened. “I do not think so,” she muttered, hurriedly passing the baby to Chance. A third wave of pain clawed through her, making her body arch.

The next minutes were confused and frantic as Fancy strained and pushed, the pain washing savagely through her.

“Bless the Lord,” Letty suddenly exclaimed. “There is another one. ’Tis
twins.”

And indeed it was. Less than twenty minutes after his brother had been born, Fancy brought forth her second child, a boy as strong and perfect as the first—and just as loud, his indignant wails ringing through the room.

When the excitement had died down and her two sons were lying in her arms, Fancy stared in complete bemusement at the two bundles. “Twins,” she said slowly, her disbelief evident in her tone. “Who could have imagined it?”

“Well, dear,” Letty said proudly, “twins do run in Chance’s family. I suppose we should have considered the possibility.”

That Sam and Letty were overjoyed with having not one but two healthy grandsons was evident, and watching the way they hovered over them, Fancy suspected it was a good thing that there were two of them; one would have been
im
possibly
spoiled, while two just might manage to be
merely
spoiled. Her eyes met Chance’s, and seeing the twinkle in those dark blue depths, she knew he was thinking much the same thing.

“What are you going to name them?” Letty asked.

A wicked smile on his lips, Chance murmured, “Considering my name, and my skill at gambling, I think that something on the order of ‘Lucky’ and ‘Ace’ or”—and the wicked sparkle in his gaze grew more pronounced—“ ‘Ace’ and ‘Deuce.’ ”

The ladies looked scandalized, and hugging her children tighter to her, Fancy said firmly, “Absolutely not. They shall have normal, sensible names.” Fixing her grinning husband with a stern glance, she said, “We had already decided upon ‘Andrew’ if a boy, and that is what our firstborn shall be called.” She dropped a kiss on the newly named Andrew’s downy head. Smiling at her second son, she thought a moment and then said, “And you, sweetheart, shall be named Samuel.” She looked challengingly over at her husband. “Do you object?”

Chance shook his head. “No. Those are fine names, I just think that Luck—” He stopped, the expression on his wife’s
face making him laugh. “Duchess, if you could see yourself! You look like an enraged tigress defending her young.”

“I
am
defending my young,” Fancy replied spiritedly. “From their father. Lucky and Ace! What sorts of names are those?”

Three weeks later, on a fine May day in the rose garden at Walker Ridge, Andrew and Samuel were duly baptized by a traveling preacher. Watching as her two sons were carried away to the house by their doting grandparents, Fancy knew that while she may have won the battle, she had lost the war. Both Sam and Chance continually referred to the boys as Lucky and Ace, and she had even caught herself occasionally thinking of them with those names. She sighed. Chance could be very determined about some things. At least, she consoled herself, their
legal
names were respectable.

Hearing her sigh, Chance, who had been walking beside her, looked down at her and asked, “Something the matter, sweetheart?”

She smiled ruefully up at him. “I have decided that you are a determined man. Devious, too.”

“Where you are concerned I am indeed determined,
very
determined,” he admitted, his mouth a little grim.

She pinched him lightly on the arm. “I was not referring to me, you wretched creature. I was referring to the underhanded manner in which you have gotten your own way in the matter of our children’s names.”

“I had much rather talk about you,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms, “and how much I adore you.”

At his words and the touch of his mouth at the corner of her lips, Fancy promptly forgot about her sons and their vexing names. Melting into Chance’s possessive arms, she gave herself up to the joy of loving and being loved by him.