January 13th, 1891 - August's House

August kept a small enough staff that it was easy enough to ensure the house was empty for the afternoon. Mrs. A sent the maid over to Elsbeth's house to get Elsbeth's measurements, which would surely take forever; she told the cook he could have the afternoon off as August was going to the club for dinner (he hated this, but the sacrifice was necessary); the nanny was taking Lysander to see Thom's children; and Mrs. A, the housekeeper, already knew everything about August and could stay as late as she wished. She also made and set out tea before the time that Freya was set to arrive.

August was nervous; speaking with her in private was a very different situation than speaking to her in public, and this whole situation with the baby - his baby - was complicated. But - he was here for her, today, and that was what mattered.

She arrived via the floo, having never been to his house before, and August stood and smiled at her immediately. Her stomach was rounder than it had been a few weeks ago - he supposed that was how it was, with infants - but she was glowing, and he felt warmer in her presence, right away. "Freya," August said, "It's good to see you where we can actually talk again."

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Freya Selwyn Melody Crouch

  

Planning a rendezvous with her lover — the first since her pregnancy became known — was stressful, to say the least. Freya checked and rechecked Daniel's schedule, reassuring herself countless times that he wouldn't be home to notice her absence. And, if he did, she had an excuse crafted of tea with a friend. He had no reason to suspect anything was amiss, none that she could tell anyway. Unless he knew that he was infertile, which given how optimistic he was in the summer about children, seemed unlikely. It would've been incredibly cruel of him to have hidden such knowledge, anyway.

Determined not to think further on her husband, Freya discreetly floo'd to August's, her eyes locking on his in an instant. A broad smile crossed her face as she stepped from the fireplace towards him. "It is," she confirmed brightly. Converse and simply just be. It was all she'd wanted for months now.

Would it be weird to embrace him? She didn't know, but Merlin she yearned to. "Thank you, for this. I know it's ... difficult."

  

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August had been trying to keep his mental distance from this pregnancy, to the extent that he could; he couldn't get too attached when they had not spoken at all about what this pregnancy would mean. This idea, the idea of maintaining distance, went out the window as soon as he saw her - his heart leapt into his throat when they made eye contact.

"Of course," August said. He took a few steps forward, and very tentatively wrapped his free arm around her in an embrace. For a moment he just had a silly thought that he was much taller than her and would their son be short or tall?

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Oh, thank Merlin

With August effectively answering her dilemma, Freya sank into his embrace. Her stomach, while round and certainly protruding, wasn't so large yet that she couldn't comfortably face him and wrap both arms around his torso. She shut her eyes tight, not even thinking to notice their height difference or where on his chest her head rested. (After all, Daniel was taller and she somehow made that work.) It was such a relief to be there with him that she was no longer a bundle of fidgeting nerves. She was just Freya, a woman in love with the wrong man.

The embrace could only last so long, though, and with great reluctance she took a halfstep back. Close enough to still be improperly positioned, but far enough that she could look up at him without it being awkward. Such was to be their permanent state of being: so close but so far all at once.

"You're well?" She questioned, unable to avoid checking in on him despite it being such a bland question.

  

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"I'm well," August affirmed. He gestured with one hand for her to sit down on the couch with him; the longer they were both standing, the more he felt as if she was going to flee any moment. "How are you? How's the baby?" She had to be - five or so months along now, by August's reckoning, since it was his baby. Lyra had been fairly miserable for much of her pregnancy but that had been exacerbated by several nightmarish circumstances - so, he really had no idea how Freya ought to be doing now.

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Now that they had touched once, Freya felt compelled to keep their same closeness. She sat besides him on the couch with their knees brushing. "I'm well," she smiled. "The baby is well, too. The first few months were tiring, but I seem to have passed now." Freya reached for his hand to hold. "He moves all the time now, too."

  

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August squeezed her hand. "I'm glad you're feeling better," he said, because the important thing was that she felt well as time progressed. Her second statement stuck in his head, and he mulled it over for a moment, until the impulse carried him over and he had to follow through on it.

"Can I - feel? Him moving?" he asked. It wasn't good to think about her child as his child because he could never be very involved, but he wanted to feel him, when he could.

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set by Bree

Freya grinned. Daniel, while excited for the baby, found the process strange. He didn't like to discuss the changes in her body or her fears (which didn't seem as plentiful while she was sitting here with him).

"They're still hard to feel from the outside. We can try...it just might not feel like much yet." Not to mention her layers of dress would make it that much more difficult. At least she wasn't tied into a corset today. Taking the hand she was holding, Freya led him to rest his palm low on her stomach where she was currently feeling the faint movements of stretching limbs.

  

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"I'd like to try," August said, smiling as she took his hand. She was right, it didn't feel like much - he wasn't actually sure he could feel it at all. "What does he feel like for you?" he asked, keeping his hand where it was for now.

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set by Bree

Briefly, Freya considered asking if he'd like to go lay down so that he could better feel the kicks. That was, however, too forward a question and she wasn't sure if he'd like see her undressed again or not. Even if it was for something as innocent as feeling his child.

She kept her hand warmly over his. "Almost like someone is nudging me, I guess. Throughout the night it almost feels like he's dancing."

  

August smiled, although he still could not feel. "Is it odd that I am charmed by that?" he said, because he was. When Lyra had been pregnant they'd been half-worried that the baby would die - among everything else - so there had been less time for talk of dancing.

"Have you thought about names at all?" he asked.

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She laughed. "Not at all. Dancing the night away was something I looked forward to most when I was a debutante." Then, she married Daniel and all hopes of dancing more than a single dance with him vanished. And August, well that cane wouldn't help anyone dance.

Names were complicated, for if she had her way Freya would consider August's input alone. But, for all intents and purposes this would be Daniel's child. And Daniel had to agree. "None have seemed fitting, yet. Nothing odd, of course. Not after plants or music or anything like that. Outside of those conditions, though, I haven't found any."

  

"Lysander's parents looked at Shakespeare," August said, the lie hanging oddly in his mouth. He was used to maintaining the pretense of distance in his relationship with Lysander with almost everyone, even those who may have hazarded a guess otherwise - it was easier for Lysander if he would get to exist in society without people knowing he was a bastard. "I'm not sure Daniel would tolerate that, but I do find literature to be helpful."

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"August..." Freya murmured, trying to gauge her way through what she wished to say. She had guessed long ago that Lysander was his son, had even alluded to it once without comment from him. But, now, when it was just them, what harm could come from revealing their truths? Both of their truths.

Then, sense rang true and she immediately knew better than to approach either subject. Especially as one would prove fatal to her.

Clearing her throat, Freya shifted her expression back into a smile. "What works would you choose? Given the opportunity?"

  

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He half-expected her to call him on it, but she didn't, and August settled into the ease of their previous interactions. It was too short a leap, from is Lysander your son to who's his mother?, and August did not exactly have an abundance of public flirting to fall back on, especially with Lysander's middle name.

"I like Voltaire but he's very French," August said, "I was fond of Bellamy's Looking Backward, though, and there's always Tolstoy or if you want something comedic, there's the H.M.S. Pinafore."

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Daniel had read Looking Backward at one point, Freya believed, as the novel was on their shelves. The story told left her deeply unsettled and anxious, as she too likely contributed the atrocities of class differences. She was but a wife of limited means, though. Her powers were restricted by the vow and her obligations.

Frowning some, Freya looked down to her stomach and quietly wished her child to inherit a better world.

"Julian doesn't fit right, I don't think." She commented. "What name would you choose from the others? If you could."

  

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