All she got for her effort was grunts and a few ripe curses.
Sinjun grabbed Gray’s Chinese vase and brought it down on both Douglas’s back and her husband’s arm.
Gray’s Chinese vase from Macao was shattered. He stared at the shards that were scattered over half the study floor. He watched Douglas and Colin roll away from each other and slowly rise, panting like men who had run all the way from Bath to London.
“Damn you both,” Sinjun yelled at them. “Listen to
me. I’m not going to die. Can your small brains understand that? I have no intention of dying. Listen to me, Colin: I will not die.”
Gray called out to Quincy, who was plastered against the wall beside the door, “Quincy, bring more brandy. I see I’ve only got half a bottle here.” He turned back to Sinjun. “Now, while Quincy drags himself slowly out of hearing distance, tell me, Sinjun, where are Philip and Dahling?”
“They’re at Douglas’s town house. Oh, I see.” Sinjun waited until Quincy had closed the door after himself. Quick as a snake, she turned on her brother and her husband, who were looking at each other with a combination of embarrassment and wariness. She said over her shoulder, “Gray, don’t listen to this since it isn’t your problem. That’s right. Drink your brandy—you need it, particularly with the gentlemen here enacting such a fine melodrama for you. Now, Douglas, Colin, I have no plans to die birthing our son or daughter. I’m healthier than I’ve ever been in my life.”
Colin opened his mouth, but Sinjun just raised her hand. “No, no more out of you. Very well, I’ll tell you the truth. I haven’t gotten pregnant simply because I wasn’t ready to, Colin. But three months ago I decided that both Philip and Dahling needed a little brother or sister. They both came to me and requested that I consider it. I did. Thus, when I was ready, I became pregnant. There’s nothing more to it than that.”
“A woman doesn’t determine when she does or when she doesn’t get pregnant,” Douglas shouted at her. “Are you an idiot?”
“Leave her alone, Douglas. She’s my wife. I’ll deal with her. What the hell was that fine bit of nonsense? You decided?”
Sinjun walked to her husband, laid her palm lightly against his cheek, and smiled up at him. “I’m going to give you a beautiful son or daughter. I fully intend to be the mother. And then I’ll become a grandmother. You and I will become eccentric old curmudgeons together. We will lose our teeth together. We’ll help each other totter up the stairs every night. Nothing will happen to either of us, Colin. All right?”
He couldn’t answer. He just stared down at her.
“I’m not lying, Colin. I’m not.”
Colin just nodded, then very slowly, very carefully, drew her against him. He buried his face in her hair.
Douglas looked on, then said to no one in particular, “I can’t imagine any sister of mine not having her teeth.”
“You know,” Gray said now, “I have an excellent physician friend who lives just two hours from London, near Bury St. Edmunds. His name is Paul Branyon and he recently married the late earl of Strafford’s widow, Lady Ann. He’s an excellent man and an excellent doctor. I will write him and he and Ann will come to London. He’ll examine Sinjun. He’ll tell both of you the truth. Sinjun is very likely going to be just fine. Paul will reassure all of you and then you, Douglas, and you, Colin, won’t have to try to break each other’s heads anymore in my study, and your wife won’t have to break any more of my belongings to split you two apart.”
Sinjun twisted about in her husband’s arms. “Oh, Gray, the vase? I’m so sorry—I didn’t think.”
“If you will let Paul Branyon examine you, then I will forgive you for breaking the vase.”
“Oh, all right,” Sinjun said.
“Good,” Douglas said. “I’ll feel better once I’ve got some of your excellent brandy down my gullet.”
Calm restored, brandy served, Sinjun patted and forced to sit down on Gray’s big comfortable wing chair, Colin standing over her to press her back down if she chanced to move, Douglas said, “Now, why don’t you tell us, Gray, why this girl named Jack stole one of your horses and was riding toward Bath when you caught her? And stayed with her for four days? Alone?”
“Actually, the great-aunts call her Mad Jack, a small jest, I suppose, amongst the three of them. Well, what she did—stealing Durban, riding not south like she intended but rather due west, then getting ill—well, it is rather mad, so I suppose she deserves the nickname. Now, the answers to many of the other questions still elude me, Douglas.”
“Not for long they can’t,” Douglas said, grim around the mouth. “Jesus, Gray, you’ve done it this time. There’s no hope for you now.”
“I know,” Gray said, and sighed as he poured more of his fine smuggled French brandy into the men’s glasses. He raised an eyebrow toward Sinjun, who shook her head. He gave them a grin and hoisted his glass, saying, “Douglas, you made it sound like a fatal illness. Very well. To my demise. Douglas is right,” he continued to Colin and Sinjun. “I’m not long for my shackleless life. Yes, it’s all over and I don’t even know who the chit is. She does, however, have excellent taste in horseflesh. She went right to Durban, who’s got the best blood of all of my horses.”
“I didn’t know Sinjun, either,” Colin said. “Douglas certainly didn’t know Alexandra. But that’s not the point. There’s no reason for you to throw yourself into the well. No one else knows about her except us. We won’t tell anybody.”
“Not a single soul,” Sinjun said.
Gray sighed. “Thank you. But all my friends know that I was missing. For at least four days.”
Douglas said, “But they don’t know why. None of them knows a thing about Jack. Jack could simply disappear. There’s no problem.” But he was frowning, obviously arguing with himself.
“She did tell me her name is Winifrede,” Gray said. “That curls the toes, doesn’t it?”
Douglas said, “Possibly, but that’s not to the point. All women’s names are the same in the dark.”