January 2nd, 1889 — Wellingtonshire; Ophelia's bedroom; evening

There had been rumors circulating about her for months, and Ophelia, being who she was, could not help but be aware of them. She had dismissed them at first as a feeble attempt to discredit her, since she was obviously doing too well for herself and people were jealous. The more they persisted, though, the more the rumors nagged at her. The thing to do, she decided, was to prove them all wrong. She needed to get pregnant so that everyone would know how delightfully, blissfully happy she and Mr. Devine were in their marriage, and that would shut them all up.

The trouble was, she didn't know how to do that. Not, at any rate, if what they were doing already wasn't sufficient. She hadn't ever gotten The Talk from anyone, since by the time she was married there was no one to give it to her except Armando, and that probably would have lead them both to dying of embarrassment. Her husband had had to show her (and in at least one instance, explicitly tell her when she didn't catch on) what he wanted, but luckily all of that awkwardness had been left behind in the honeymoon. Their marital routine had become just that — routine. And yet... as they approached the end of 1888 and there was still no sign of a pregnancy, Ophelia had to wonder if there was something she was missing.

Painful as it would be to talk about, she didn't see any other way around it. She couldn't just remain childless indefinitely, and if she hadn't picked up on whatever secret she needed by now, it seemed unlikely she was going to without asking explicitly. She'd made it her New Year's resolution, so when her husband visited her bedroom for the first time in 1889, she steeled herself for what was certain to be an awkward conversation.

"Is there — something else we should be doing?" she asked, perched nervously on the edge of her bed. Hopefully if there was something — particularly something that she was meant to be doing and hadn't been — he wouldn't be too angry with her for the delay.

  

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Roberto tried his best not to pay heed to rumors which had reached even his ears. He did not appreciate people disparaging his wife. There were many couples that did not bear children within the first few years of their marriage. He also worried about how it might be effecting his darling wife. He was quite happy with his wife and that was all that really mattered to him at the current moment. He wanted children certainly but he was also quite content with how they were.

Coming into his wifes bedroom, he knew what she was likely talking about considering the current gossip surrounding them. "Not much else I can think of. It's pretty straight forward but sometimes it takes a bit of time for some people," Roberto assured. There were also fertility type things, probably, but he wasn't willing to potentially risk his wifes health - or worse, her life - with untested and hospital endorsed potions. "I've been told that stress can also be a factor. Maybe we should go on a small getaway."

  

It just takes time was not what she wanted to hear. As mortifying as it would have been to discover that she had been doing something wrong, or missing a step, at least that would be something she could fix. Just waiting, on the other hand, and having nothing to respond to the rumors with in the meantime, seemed quite unbearable. His last sentence, though, made her brighten considerably.

"A getaway?" she asked with a smile. "Somewhere abroad?" She hadn't done any traveling since her honeymoon. She had always imagined once she was married she would have leisure to travel whenever she liked (since, to her mind, Armando had been the primary force preventing her from doing so before), but during their first year of marriage that hadn't been the case. Between the social season and the Quidditch season, very little of the year was left when they were not engaged in the British Isles, and of course there had been the unpleasantness with the fog to contend with this year, too. Ophelia could travel on her own, she supposed, after the social season but before the Quiddditch Cup, but why would she want to? She wanted to be with her husband, particularly during the Christmas season.

  

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"If it eases your mind, we could see a midwife or a healer. Either are bound to know much more about the inner workings of a woman's body than I," Roberto chuckled, comfortable enough with his wife to be jokingly self-deprecating about his own lack of knowledge when it came to womenly things. It wasn't like he had cause to know.

"Yes. When I was on the path towards intending to court you, we once had a conversation about how you had never travelled. I thought then that I would love to sweep you away to lands you had never seen," Roberto stated. Life and it's little instances had gotten in the way of that but Roberto had every intention of following through on it. "Is there anywhere in particular that you would fancy going to?"

  

"I'd go anywhere with you," Ophelia answered. It was a sentimental response, but a truthful one. She loved spending time with her husband, even when they were confined to the British Isles and Ireland. She had spent so much time thinking of all of the places that she wanted to travel to that she didn't think anywhere in the world could prove a disappointment. Aside from the trip she'd won with Witch Weekly, she'd never been outside the country, but she'd grown up on her father's stories from around the world, mostly featuring the exotic creatures he'd gone there to study, handle, or treat.

"Maybe Africa," she said with a dreamy smile. Her father had been to Africa many times — Egypt, Morocco, the jungle of the Congo, the Sahara desert. It seemed more exotic than anywhere in Europe. She hadn't been to Africa yet, either, and she had been to Asia and Europe during her Witch Weekly tour. She liked the idea of being able to seem significantly more well-traveled than she was by claiming a wide breadth of places she'd holidayed.

"And — maybe seeing a midwife wouldn't be a bad idea," she added tentatively. In case there was something the matter with her. It would be better to find out sooner rather than later, wouldn't it?

  

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"An African tour could be quite pleasant," Roberto said in agreement, willing to take his wife anywhere that she might want to go. And who knew? Maybe the reason his wife had not conceived was simply down to all the pressure a wife could sometimes feel. "We can go as soon as the Quidditch season ends," he said thoughtfully.

"Tell me when you are ready for that and we'll  get it all arranged," Roberto said, not wanting his wife to feel like he just saw her as an incubator or something. Far from it. He loved his wife dearly.

  

"I'll look through my date book," Ophelia agreed pleasantly. "Though I don't think there's anything I won't be able to move." February was a dreary time for social events, anyway. There might be something to do around St. Valentine's Day, but those always seemed to be geared towards the unmarried — and they had a history of involving some magical shenanigans from persons unknown. Whether the charms came from hosts trying to play Cupid and help their guests along in the romance department or from tricksters looking to stir up scandal, Ophelia had no desire to find herself their victim. The letters she had exchanged with Mr. Bixby during the Amortentia letter period were mortifying enough — and, mercifully, she had had the sense not to act on any of the feelings created by the charm, just as Mr. Bixby had been at least honorable enough not to insist on doing so.

"Thank you," Ophelia said, nestling up against her husband. It wasn't merely a response to the offered trip to Africa, but for everything — for being understanding and patience despite her inability so far to conceive, for the little things he did every day, for being the man of her dreams.

  

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