Caroline had sat, as he had asked, so Evander consciously set down the Floo powder pot on the mantelpiece again. She had her hands clasped; his felt slack and empty at his sides, so he wound them together in front of him, just for something to do. And what she said was not quite an apology, not quite an admission of guilt – he wasn’t sure he was looking for either, but he felt as though he needed something to bridge the gap between them – but it was regret, and they both felt that.

“I know,” he said, in quiet agreement. For a moment, Evander felt certain they were finished with the discussion; he approached her by a step or two; found himself almost content enough to sit down, too, in this quiet misery. But then another question sprang to mind. “But I suppose you knew,” he asked flatly, “about...?” he jerked his chin towards her, her hands shielding her abdomen.

It had been a blow to them both at the news, but Evander had some suspicion that she had not been as shocked as he. So perhaps she had known she was with child already, long before the accident – and that made it worse if she had chosen to go out after her sister-in-law, knowingly, but this wasn’t even about that anymore – it was just that she must have known, and had not so much as mentioned it to him. It would not have lessened the pain now, but at least he would not have utterly blindsided.

One would suppose that her being pregnant might have merited a conversation.

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