𝙪𝙣𝙗𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙙
twenty-three. — to my right worshipful mother!
SHE HAD SUSPECTED it for awhile now. The symptoms had been mild at first, mild enough to ignore, but after some time, she could no longer turn a blind eye.
First, it had been her distaste for certain foodstuffs — dishes she could no longer stomach, meats she could not look at without feeling revulsion, and even desserts which had suddenly become far too sweet for her. Second, was the nausea, which at first she had attributed to a stomach bug, but which now plagued her every morning of every day. And then, most embarrassing of all, was the issue of her dresses, the busts of which had to be let out to fit her. That could be related to her growing figure, as Eliza had said, but Melissa knew — no one grew that fast.
Still, even with all of that, she was reluctant to consider the very real possibilities that were presented. Looking back on it, she did not know why — she was a Woodville, after all, and the women in her family had always been fertile, maternally related or paternal. Perhaps it was because she was so young, perhaps because it was all so soon. But, she realized, whatever the case, it no longer mattered.
That final nail in the plywood, for Melissa herself, at least, had been the absence of her monthly courses. She had missed three of them, had a chest full of clean linen pads to prove it, and she had absolutely no idea what to do.
Sure, she watched her sister carry little Lizzie, but she had not been an active part of caring for her. Furthermore, she could not remember any of her mother's pregnancies, and their soured relationship had Melissa doubting Jacquetta would be of any help. As Richie had written in one of his many prolific letters, their mother was "too far up her queenship's arse to be of any use to the rest of us." So that left the duchess with very little options on who to consult, who to trust.
"If I call on a midwife, then everyone will know within the hour." She thought to herself, frustrated. "But if I do not, then I cannot know for sure."
Laying her hand upon the smooth, cold glass of her bedchamber window, the red-head watched as her husband dismounted his horse. He had gone for a ride with one of his close associates; Sir Robert Brackenbury, who had arrived from his estates at Saleby just three days ago. Richard was thrilled to host him, and seeing him to be a rather quiet, warm man, matching her husband in temperament, Melissa had been happy to accommodate him, happy to meet yet another one of the gruff, loyal northerners her duke so prized. Together with Francis Lovell and a tentative Harry Stafford (who was still wary around any and all Woodvilles), they seemed to make up the cornerstones of Richard's friendship group.
"Would he want a child so soon?" She wondered desperately, watching him and Brackenbury joke around playfully. Her palms went to cradle her lower abdomen, where a slight bump had formed, made invisible by folds of heavy fabric. "If it is indeed a babe that I carry, I must know. I must make sure, so that I do not recklessly put it in danger."
Knowing that she would regret it immensely if she were to miscarry, Melissa sighed heavily and went to sit behind her desk. There was nothing for it. She needed advice, and there was only one reliable place left to get it. Pulling out a roll of paper, a quill, and an inkwell, she began writing.
To my right worshipful mother Cecylle, Dowager Duchess of York...
THE LETTER WRITTEN, Melissa had their swiftest messenger carry it to Baynard's Castle in London, where her mother-in-law was based. That finished, she resolved to put the matter out of her head until she got a response, which was rather easier said than done. Settling household accounts and ordering foodstuffs for the kitchen were somewhat blissful tasks in their monotony, but even those usually reliable chores could not distract her from her little problem. So distracted was she, that even her little sister had noticed something was off.
"Lissa?" Catherine began, three days after the missive had been sent.
Melissa looked up, very nearly avoiding stabbing her finger with needlepoint again.
"Hmm?"
"Is everything alright?"
Copper brows furrowed. "Yes, of course. Why would they not be?"
"I just--" Cate hesitated, before placing the handkerchief she was embroidering down. "You seem a little distracted?"
"I am perfectly fine." Melissa insisted. "Somewhat busy, but fine."
"But you have been feeling ill, too." The little blonde countered. "Lily saw you heaving after dinner last night, and was worried something her father had cooked was not to your liking?"
"No, the food was good, Cate. I have just been overexerting myself, is all. I simply need to rest."
"Are you sure?" Her little sister continued to probe.
"I am positive." The duchess nodded. "Tell your friend not to worry. If Richard or I had any complaints, we would voice them out loud."
Cate nodded unhappily, picking her embroidery back up. Behind her, the elder two of Melissa's ladies exchanged looks. They had noticed their mistress' dilemma, but had not known how to approach her about it. It seemed she was not as unaware of her condition as they had thought her to be.
"Madame..." Eliza hesitated. "Have you considered consulting the--"
"I have considered all there is to be considered, Eliza." Melissa snapped. "And I would appreciate it very much if everyone would stop pestering me about it."
The lady drew back quickly, bowing her head. "Of course, Your Grace. I apologize if I have overstepped."
The duchess sighed all of a sudden and stood up, blinking as her vision blackened for a split second. She shook her head and faced her lady-in-waiting again.
"You have not overstepped. I recognize your concern, but you have nothing to worry about. I have it all under control."
"Very good, madame." Eliza nodded.
Just then, Anne walked in, a piece of paper in hand.
"A letter, Your Grace." She called out. "From London."
Melissa took it from her eagerly, dismissing the ladies with a wave of her hand. After they had left, Cate still positioned on a chaise, doing her embroidery, the duchess sat back down and broke the red seal of York.
To Melyssa, Duchess of Gloucester, of Sudeley Castle in Gloucestershire be this letter take.
To mine well-beloved daughter, I greet thee well, and I have received a letter from thee writ at London, the IX day of May, which I have well-read and understood.
I receive thy suspicions with great hope and joy, for nothing can provide as much happiness unto mine person as yet another grandchild. I do comprehend thy misgivings and hesitance, for it cannot be easy to decipher as a young girl with an absent mother, but I also write to provide mine reassurances.
As this letter makes its way to Gloucester, I pack my belongings and make my way to thy homestead. So, to that end, I ask of thee to make ready for me quarters, in which I may lodge, as I support thee in this new journey. Fear not, my daughter, for thee shalt not lounge in a mother's absence for much longer.
For now, I write no more, but Jesu keep you. Writ at London, the IX day of May, in great haste.
Per your mother, Cecylle of the House Neville, Dowager Duchess of York
"OH, DEAR," MELISSA sighed, putting the letter down once she had finished reading.
"What is it?" Cate looked up.
"I believe Richard might be a tad bit cross with me in the next few days."
"Why?"
The duchess laughed, feeling slightly ironic as she threw the paper amongst the burning embers of the fireplace. She had been trying to hide her possible pregnancy from outsiders, but had — in drawing Duchess Cecily away from London (a feat few had been able to accomplish, ever since her son had taken the throne) — likely alerted everyone in the capital to it. In fact, she would not be surprised if rumors were already flying. There would be very few reasons why the king's mother would be willing to budge from her premiere place at court, after all.
"Has something happened?" Cate reiterated.
"Nothing terrible." Melissa laughed again. "Unless, of course, you constitute Duchess Cecily's descent on Gloucester as a terrible thing."
After a moment's silence, Cate — who was still spooked by the king's formidable mother — exclaimed, "That is a terrible thing!"
"Well, I suppose I ought to go break the news to Richard." The red-head sighed.
"Good luck," her sister giggled unsympathetically, continuing on her task of embroidery.
Melissa tsked, swiping at her playfully. "Go find your friend, you little brat. No staying in my rooms when I am gone."
"Oh, fine." The blonde huffed.
The sisters left the chambers together, the remnants of Duchess Cecily's letter burning in the flames. As they did so, Melissa agonized over what she had done, wondering if, perhaps, she should not have asked her mother-in-law for help after all, knowing that Cecily was coming not only to help her, but to send the rest of her son's court into a scurry of gossip as well.
If only Melissa had known that this was only the tipping point for the chaos the baby inside of her would one day cause, she surely would not have worried herself so much.
"SWEETHEART?" RICHARD RAISED an eyebrow, watching his wife lingering in the doorway. "Is all well?"
Melissa attempted a smile, her fingers almost unconsciously fiddling with her wedding band.
"Yes ... but, do you have some time? I believe there are things we must discuss."
He nodded, pushing his chair back so she could slide into his lap, as she always did when they were alone. She took the cue and did as expected, pecking his cheek in the process.
"What is it?" Richard inquired softly, his hand reaching up to brush a few of his wife's red curls behind her ear.
"I wonder if you have noticed some things about me..." she began, seeming unsure of herself.
"Things?" The duke probed, having a feeling as to where this was going.
"I have not been feeling well." She clarified. "And you have noticed, I think."
"I have," he admitted. "I was actually going to ask you tonight, whether you would like to fetch a physician from London, if the ones here are not to your satisfaction."
"No, they are fine!" Melissa hurried to reassure him. "I just ... this is not a matter for a physician."
Richard cocked his head curiously. "No?"
"No." His redheaded wife confirmed. "More, I think, the business of a midwife."
He froze, blinking in shock. "A midwife?"
Trying to assess his reaction, Melissa nodded nervously.
"Yes. I have not consulted any yet, of course, but I believe you should know that based on my suspicions, I am almost certain that I am with child. And you should not be surprised, as you did marry a Woodville, and I did warn you early on that we are exceptionally fertile. So, if you are displeased--"
"Melissa." He cut her off.
"Richard." She inhaled, trying to get a hold of herself.
"I am not displeased." He told her gently.
"You-- you are not?"
"No," he sighed, his hand gently coming to rest atop her abdomen, where he thought he could feel a slight swell. "I have not been a father before, of course, and I did not expect to become one so soon, but I am the farthest thing away from displeased, sweetheart."
"Oh," Melissa sighed in relief. "Oh."
"Were you truly that nervous to tell me?" He wondered.
"Just a little." His wife laughed. "I am afraid that in my anxiety, I might have made a mess of things, though."
His lips quirked. "What do you mean?"
"I ... I wrote to your mother." She winced, as his eyes widened in alarm. "And, I believe, she is heading our way right now."
"M-my mother?" Richard stammered. "Why did you write to my mother!?"
"I panicked!" Melissa cried defensively. "I did not know what to do!"
"Oh, bugger." The blue-eyed duke huffed, slumping down in his chair. "We are never getting rid of her now. Especially not once she confirms you to be with child."
"Surely she will have to leave at some point?" The red-head opined. "London's court is too precious for her to stay here forever."
"You do not know my mother." He grumbled. "She has eyes and ears everywhere. I would not be surprised if she could clone herself too, to make sure she is able to be in two places at once. No, we are stuck with her forever."
Melissa winced, even as her husband seemed to shake the gloom off of himself.
"Oh, well. No matter. Better my mother than yours."
The duchess' eyes widened, snorting in an unladylike manner.
"I will not even grace that with an answer."
"You do not have to." The duke smirked. "Because we both know you agree."
"Piss off, Richard." She narrowed her eyes.
"Now, now," he grinned playfully. "Is that any way to talk to the father of your child?"
The retort on the tip of her tongue died at that.
"The father of my child..."
"Mhm," he tapped her nose with his finger. "I hope you are ready for some hell. Sons of York have never been easy on their mothers."
"And what if it is a daughter of York?" Melissa challenged him.
Richard smirked her. "Well, then may God have mercy on you, because she certainly will not."
a.n. melissa is officially pregnant! my baby is having a baby 😭😭 they grow up so fast!
i know i keep saying this, but i can't believe we're at this point already! it seems like yesterday when these two were blushing at each other in the westminster gardens, and now they're having a baby!!!
what do you think the child's name will be? i've already decided, but it should be fun to see you guys guess 😁😁 a little hint: i've already kinda given it away in a past chapter without outright stating it. if you look back, you should be able to figure it out.
in any case, we're gonna be spending a couple of chapters on melissa's first pregnancy, before we go on to the time skip. it's a bit hard mediating between that and story detail, considering we do jump three years forward, so i'll have to see how to deal with that.
for now, though, i look forward to seeing your baby name guesses.
bisous 😙 and have a good day/night!