Chapter Text
Gladys stood on the deck of the ship, watching the New York skyline vanish into the distance. It was a bittersweet feeling. She knew now, in the way you can only truly know something after you’ve done it, that she could come back to America and visit if she wanted to. But somehow it hadn’t been coming home. At the same time, she didn’t feel as if she was heading home now. It was as if things were shifting around her, leaving New York firmly the home of her past and Sidmouth the home of her future.
Her hand rested gently against her stomach. Her future. Their future, hers and Hector’s and the baby’s. She hoped it was a boy, of course, for no other reason than to secure the inheritance — a tradition she found silly, but understood she had to honor. But even if it was a girl, she’d be happy. After all, she was sure they’d have more children.
“We can always visit again,” Hector’s voice said from behind her, mirroring her earlier thoughts. She turned and found him smiling at her with that boyish smile he’d worn practically non-stop since she’d told him the news. “Perhaps in nine months time?”
She laughed. “I suspect we should wait a little longer before we travel,” she noted, “but around then, yes. Perhaps.”
He laid his hand on the railing and looked back toward New York. His smile didn’t fade, but he looked a bit pensive. “Darling, there’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”
“Yes?” she asked, her own smile dimming a bit in confusion. He didn’t seem unhappy, exactly, but she honestly couldn’t think of any reason for his slight change in attitude.
“As you know, we English love our traditions,” he explained, his tone taking on a wry edge at what he knew were considered to be his country’s foibles. “And individual families each create their own. In my family, in order to avoid an over abundance of Jameses and Henries and such, we have a tradition of naming our first born sons after the duchess’s father.”
“So if the baby’s a boy, he will be named George?” Gladys blinked. She’d always assumed she would name her first born son after her father, but hearing it said… “I’d have thought there would already be a fair number of Georges about. Won’t it be repetitive?”
“Yes, well, the tradition isn’t fool proof,” Hector agreed, caught between amusement and chagrin. “However, that’s not what I wanted to say. What I wanted to say is that I know this visit with your family didn’t go quite as you’d hoped, and while I hope things will go better in the future…well. If you would like to break with tradition, I will not fight you. That is all.”
“I see.” Gladys thought a moment, then nodded, smiling again, although it was more from gratitude for his thoughtfulness than any joy. “Yes, I see.” If she was honest, what had really kept the visit from feeling like home was her father’s distance. Larry had stayed at his club, true, but he’d made time to see her. Her father? There had been times she’d sworn he’d been actively avoiding her. It was as if he couldn’t bear to see her happy. “Thank you. I will think about it.”