Author's Note: Thank you so much for continuing to read this story! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. I am, as ever, very grateful for your votes and comments. Just to let you know, we're doing a small time-jump here, of about two and a half months. You all are very bright though, so I'm sure you would have noticed it even if I hadn't mentioned it :)
Despite Mary's fears, the baby was not lost. She would not know for certain that the child yet lived until the baby quickened; that would be a few months hence. Yet by December, the physician was confident that she was at a lowered risk of miscarriage. In fact, he even approved of Mary's plan to make an announcement to the kingdom.
"I know just the occasion!" James declared.
He was sitting in bed beside her as snow fell in soft flakes outside the window. Mary was still dressed simply, sans corset, on account of the physician's visit, and she was resting in bed. Though her ill feelings had abated, she did not mind the chance to be close to James, his hand resting affectionately on her middle.
"I wait with bated breath, my lord," Mary said with a smile.
"The Christmas ball."
He gave a decisive nod, then continued stroking her belly. As yet, the little swell was still quite small; no one but the two of them with their private knowledge could possibly notice it. Well, and of course, Sarah knew of it.
"It is perfect." Mary leaned in to kiss him sweetly. "There could be no better time to celebrate the miracle of life."
"Mary," James continued, taking one of her hands, "I have been thinking, as well, that it is time for both of us to return to St. James'."
Though she schooled her features and let no expression escape them which might betray her feelings, Mary swallowed. She had feared returning to St. James' for a few reasons. The first was that she did not wish to lose the baby there, where her shame would be compounded by having so many people close by. The second was that it had been quite lovely to be here with James, for there were very few other people here besides servants, and they had almost been able to set it up as a sort of love-nest.
"I must confess," she said, trying to smile as she stroked his chest softly, "that I have rather liked having you to myself."
She comforted herself, however, that James had left off his philandering with Catherine Sedley because he wanted God to bless them with a son. Now that she was with child, she expected that James would remain faithful out of that same fearful reverence for God - if only so that the babe might live to be born.
James pressed a kiss to her brow. "I have enjoyed it as well, my love. But now that your pregnancy is more settled, shall we not share our joy with others?"
Given the religious and political sentiments in the court, Mary was not so sure of that. On the contrary, she was quite certain that many of the smug Protestants, who were just waiting for James to die so they could put one of their own on the throne, would froth at the mouth when they heard the news.
"It may serve, at least, to silence the Fitzroy nonsense for a time," Mary murmured.
James' eyebrows lifted. "You know of that?"
Mary caught herself, remembering that she was not, apparently, supposed to know about that; she was not supposed to have any place here other than the production of heirs. When that had proved impossible for over a decade, however, what was she expected to do?
"Yes, my love; it was mentioned to me in passing," she said, endeavoring to keep her tone light.
James' lips pursed for a moment. "You need not concern yourself with that, my dear."
What else would one call conceiving, carrying, and birthing an heir?
"I shall not fret," she assured him. She had reasons beyond James' wildest imaginings to believe that his place on the throne would now be quite secure.
--
Christmas was, by far, Sarah's favorite time of year.
She knew that she had no reason to be particularly fond of it, for the festive time of year only meant more work for her. With a variety of seasonal gatherings, including feasts, balls, and illustrious visitors, the queen would need to be dressed and coiffed with great care. She would change into two or three fine gowns every day, all of which would have to be laundered and starched, and would need touch-ups to her hair and cosmetics. It was, to be sure, an exhausting time for a servant of the queen.
Despite all of that, the joy of the season invigorated Sarah. In the last week, she had not only started to feel like herself again; she felt even more energized than before somehow. Perhaps she had grown so accustomed to feeling ill that once those feelings subsided, she felt like a new woman.
Hearing that the king and queen would be returning to Whitehall only increased her sense of giddy delight, for there, she would be reunited once more with Philip and Bess. Yes, being surrounded by many more servants would make it more difficult to conceal her pregnancy, which was not something she'd had to think of much while at Whitehall. She knew that if she was discovered to be with child, shame and ridicule would follow her mercilessly, for no one could know the complete truth - that she was still pure before God, and married in His sight. It had been painfully difficult to keep the secret of her marriage from Bess, but so it must be, if they were going to have any hope of fulfilling the queen's plan and eventually living the life of which they dreamed. Yet in her giddiness, she hardly cared who was ashamed of her.
On some of the last few Sundays, she had not felt up to the journey to St. James'; she had only written to Philip as best she could, and the queen had been kind enough to send a messenger with it on some pretense. On this day, however, she felt enlivened and refreshed, not the least of which was because she was finally going to see Philip for the first time in three weeks. She did not think she had ever gone so long without seeing him.
She drew her cloak more closely around her shoulders. Wearing a cloak, she had felt bold enough to wear no corset, for her figure would be quite hidden by the loose fabric, and wearing a corset was growing increasingly uncomfortable. She hurried through the courtyards to the streets, where she hailed a carriage. The cold was bitter indeed, but she was warmed inwardly by the prospect of seeing her beloved. Besides, there was something enchanting about the light snowfall.
The carriage was a small expense, yet at this time, she was soon to have nearly four hundred pounds stowed safely away in a little secret spot in her room. She would have to find a place to hide it better when she returned to St. James'. And though she wanted to save up the money as much as possible, she had decided the expense was worth it, for the roads were icy, and she did not want to take any unnecessary risks.
When the carriage arrived at St. James' Palace, she hurried inside as quickly as she could do so safely. The snow was still softly falling. Inside, however, the palace felt rather like a furnace inside the warm red bricks, at least in the crowded servants' quarters.
As ever, she had turned up just in time for lunch, which was quite fortuitous, as her appetite had returned with a vengeance and she nearly always felt famished. Though her eyes lingered longingly on the plates of victuals laid out on the long dining table, her gaze snapped up instantly when she heard Bess' voice.
"Sarah!" Bess cried, abandoning her plate to push towards her. "Sarah, it's so good to see you! It feels like it's been ages."
"Oh, Bess, I've missed you," Sarah breathed, closing her eyes for a moment as Bess gave her a hug that was uncomfortably tight. Sarah pulled back in haste, praying Bess had noticed nothing unusual.
"Are you alright?" Bess asked.
"Oh, yes; only it's been very busy at Whitehall," Sarah managed to reply. She gave Bess a small smile. "You'll understand soon, Bess - perhaps at Christmas."
Though Bess looked at her inquisitively, she said only, "I'm just glad you're here," and Sarah loved her ever the more for it.
"Sit, eat," Sarah insisted. "I'm going to get a plate if I can."
Bess nodded. "I'll save a place for you."
Thankfully, Sarah was able to get her food without any trouble, given that she had worked so long in the palace and the cook recognized her. She felt rather too certain that she would have made trouble had she been kept from the food.
On the way back from the kitchen to where Bess was sitting, she caught sight of Philip. His eyebrows rose for a moment and he opened his mouth to speak to her, but then he closed his mouth again, a question in his eyes.
She glanced down the bench meaningfully towards where Bess was sitting, hoping he would understand. His only indication was to incline his head slightly, and then she slipped back through the crowd.
Now that her stomach felt able to tolerate food again, she ate faster than was ladylike, in part out of hunger, and in part out of her longing for Philip.
As soon as she finished her meal, she set her plate in the wash-bin then made her way towards their usual meeting place. On the Sabbath, they had come to count on the laundering room being left undisturbed.
Walking down the corridor, she soon heard footsteps behind her. There was no whistling this time, and she found that she rather missed it.
A moment after she veered into the laundering room, the door opened again, and Philip swiftly closed it once more behind him.
"I've been worried about you," he began before Sarah could speak.
"I've missed you," she replied, looping her arms lightly around his neck. She stretched up to kiss him. "I am sorry for worrying you. The last weeks were difficult, but I am quite well now." She kissed him again as if to prove it.
"The babe?" Philip asked softly.
"Yes. Her Majesty assured me that feeling ill is a sign that the pregnancy is progressing well, believe it or not. It really wasn't so bad, except for the very beginning and then last month."
Sarah drew back a step and took his hand, then guided his fingers to her belly. Though day by day, she did not notice much difference, she had to admit that it did feel like there was a little paunch there - especially after eating her fill.
As he felt the tiny swell, Philip's eyes widened.
"I feel like I've eaten a great Christmas feast already," Sarah said with a little laugh. She glanced up at his face, and saw a smile ghost across it, then disappear.
"Philip," she said softly. "Are you alright?"
He tried to smile again, but it did not reach his eyes. Gently, Sarah reached up to hold his face between her hands.
"I have to tell you something," she remembered. "I waited as long as I could to tell you, but I think you might as well know now, as it will be revealed quite soon: the queen is with child."
Philip's brows furrowed for a moment, and he looked at her with something akin to suspicion.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean she's pregnant, Philip, really; just as I am," Sarah said. "Not in the pretend sort of way so that she can pass off our child as hers."
"D'you mean--" He looked breathless with excitement.
"It could be a boy," Sarah finished, smiling tremulously. "And this little one could be ours."
Philip exhaled shakily and pressed a quick, firm kiss to her lips.
"It's a miracle," he murmured.
"It is." Sarah wrapped her arms around him again. "Come, let's be happy, love," she whispered. "After all, it's almost Christmas."