27th September, 1891 — The Darrow House, Swallowbury

He had given her yesterday. Yesterday, to rest.

So he had largely left her to her own devices as well, not wanting to dwell too gloomily on her injuries (– as good as self-inflicted, in his opinion; she ought to have had some regard for her own safety, in a disaster –) and too exhausted from his own experience of the storm to rehash the events at the Sanditon. And today he had gone to work as usual, though he had been distracted all day, and once he had arrived home that evening, he stepped out of the fireplace into the sitting room and did little more than scrutinise her where she sat.

“How –” Evander worried his lip with his teeth for a moment; shook his head, reconsidered; finally began again with the question that had been gnawing at him the most, if not the one he had first intended. “What on earth were you thinking?”

---

Caroline Darrow
Charity Lloyd feel free to cameo/eavesdrop/interrupt at any point if you like <3

  

---

Caroline hadn't wanted to leave her rooms. She had spent all day yesterday curled in the bed unable to hide the truth of what had happened from herself. Evander hadn't even checked in on her. He'd kept to his own room and then today he'd gone to work like nothing had happened. It was only at Hope's urging that Caroline had gotten out of bed this afternoon. Hope had drawn a bath and brushed her hair. Had coiled the locks up and picked out a dress and shoes. It was Hope who had urged her to sit in the sitting room and read until Evander came back, insisting she needed some normalicy.

So she sat on the couch a book in hand, staring listlessly at it, trying not to remember this weekend, the storm, Sanditon.

There was no hello when Evander flooed into the sitting room. He almost seemed worried, starting to say one thing but pausing then. Then his words hit her slamming into her like the tree branch that had pummeled her into a wall at the Sanditon.

Hurt welled up in her . Those were the first words he had spoken to her since the healer had left. The tone, the accustation, it made Caroline want to crumble to cry. She hadn't even had a chance to tell him the good news before it had happened. He only knew because of the healer, because of her own foolish actions. She wouldn't cry, she had done enough of that already. So she straightened her spine and looked right at those accusing eyes of his. "I thought I was helping." Her voice was strong, but there was hurt in it that she couldn't disguise and her voice was rough from the tears. But she couldn't let Nimiane out into that night, Nimiane didn't have magic to protect herself .

  

It hurt to look at her, somehow.

“And exactly how did you imagine you were qualified to help?” Evander retorted, brows knitted and voice cracking slightly in disbelief. The answer to that was obvious: Caroline wasn’t. She was not remotely qualified to run about saving people in freakish hurricanes. She did not deal professionally with catastrophes or violent storms, nor have any experience in rescuing people; she was a former debutante with no real practical or magical skills, who had no doubt simply read too many adventure stories as a girl. She had been foolish and reckless and put herself in harm’s way, thoughtlessly, and now they were both here because of it.

Was it a real loss if he hadn’t even known until it was already gone? No. No, it wasn’t. There could not be the absence of something he hadn’t made space for in his head yet. Just squandered potential, he supposed, if he had to define it. And she hadn’t told him, so. So. All the same, he couldn’t – couldn’t keep looking at her. Jaw clenched, Evander turned sideways and forced himself to check the measure of the Floo powder on the mantle instead, just to give himself something mindless to do. He pulled off the lid, carefully brushed a few grains back in from the rim of the pot. Half empty. How much longer would that last?

---

  

---

"I have to qualified to help my sister?" Caroline's eyes widen and anger surged through her. The first real emotion besides sorrow since she had lost their baby. She let it fuel her as she stood up glaring at him. "Would I have to be qualified to help Alfred, or Zelda, or God forbid - Charity?" The words sprang at him with coiled fury and disbelief. Not that the bloody man even looked at her - oh no, apparently doing minial tasks that were her own duties was much more important that his wife. She didn't even bother to guard the emotions on her face - he wasn't looking at her. And truthfully she was too raw and emotionally bloodied to be bothered. Every ounce of anger, disappoint, sorrow, and frustrated shown clearly on her face despite that she held herself with the posture of a queen.

  

Caroline had flung that retort at him with manifest bitterness; Evander’s fingers tensed around the Floo powder pot as she threw his remaining relatives in his face, as if it were the beneficiary of her rescue attempts in question; as if his duty as guardian to Charity meant she supposed he didn’t have the capacity to care about anyone else’s safety, never mind that Charity hadn’t even been there. “No, but almost getting yourself killed is no help to anyone,” he corrected, already irritated.

Surely she could see that? Surely she regretted her actions? Maybe it was useless to ask today: of course she was still too emotional about it all. He could sense it in the static of the room, even without looking; her anger, the upset. And he was – angry, too, but it wouldn’t do to release it all so violently. He tapped the side of the pot to loose a clump of green powder from where it was stuck, and let his eyes dart up briefly, realising that she had sprung to her feet.

“You should sit,” Evander added stiffly. She wasn’t well. He didn’t know whether he meant this as an attempt to change the subject or not.

---

The following 1 user Likes Evander Darrow's post:1 user Likes Evander Darrow's post
   Zelda Darrow

---

Caroline's teeth clenched, she knew that fact very well. Knew that he had always been protective of her - almost too protective. But Caroline wasn't one to sit by and let a family member get hurt because she wasn't willing to help. "Of course it isn't." She tried to reign in her temper, to pull it back, reeling it in. She had always been so calm, always said the right thing. Her emotions had been inconsistent in the past weeks with her realization, but this - this wild thing fighting at her was new. She wanted to embrace it as much as she was scared of it. "But I couldn't just let her go out there." Her voice broke on the last words, the decision between herself and her sister in law had seemed so simple then. But now, when she knew the full loss she would suffer.... Caroline didn't know which pain would have been worse, and if she even admitted that it was the child she would never hold in her arms, then the guilt set in tenfold.

Finally he looked at her not more than a glance though. Caroline didn't fight him, it wasn't worth it. Not when he was so angry with her, she could tell in the clench of his jaw, his avoidance. Instead she sank back down onto the couch.

She had known it was foolishness to leave the ballroom, but Nimiane had never weathered a hurricane and Caroline had. Boston was hit with one almost every summer. Besides, when Nimiane had left it had only been a bit windy, the storm had only begun to hit when Caroline had left to bring Nimiane back. But then the storm had hit faster and with more force than Caroline had ever seen before.

The following 1 user Likes Caroline Darrow's post:1 user Likes Caroline Darrow's post
   Zelda Darrow

In truth, Evander understood the stupidity of it, the temptation she was now trying to justify – he had felt it too, had been determined to retrieve her knowing she was out there, hadn’t he? But at least – and this was where they so clearly differed – he recognised it as stupidity. He worried that she thought it noble, thought it brave. And if that was the way she saw it, or if she were to do something thoughtless and dangerous like that again, then – then, he was worried about her. And he was worried about them.

Perhaps on that train of thought, Evander had almost expected her to refuse the instruction, to deliberately choose not to listen to him. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to stomach that, not today – fortunately for them both, Caroline had done as he asked, and sat back down.

He knew this, because as he turned the Floo Powder pot around in his grasp listlessly – as though the cool ceramic against his palms could be a balm for his frustration – he looked over at her again. Properly, this time: a full examination. She looked exhausted, still. And she – she looked exactly the same, even though the wayward tree branch had had such an impact. He wouldn’t have known, though, if the healer hadn’t said. He wouldn’t have known any of it; maybe that would have been preferable. Now he just felt – cursed, again.

He managed to look Caroline over entirely, until he met her gaze; and then there was just too much conflicting emotion in her eyes to quite bear, another storm he daren’t face; so instead, standing halfway across the room, Evander kept his eyes lowered, focused on her hands, and picked idly at the pot still in his.

“Well, I – I won’t lecture you now,” he said, which felt easier than asking how she was. (He said, as if he hadn’t started on lecturing her already; as if that didn’t just make it sound like he meant to pick it up again later.)

---

The following 1 user Likes Evander Darrow's post:1 user Likes Evander Darrow's post
   J. Alfred Darrow

---

Finally, finally, Evander looked at her. Not at her face, but at her. It reminded her of his look at her as her family had greeted her from the shipwreck, it carried the weight of his worry, his protectiveness. When his eyes met her's she saw the same look in his eye as she had that day standing next to the dock as the wind whipped around her. It cut through the folds of her anger and grief and left her feeling exhausted and heartbroken. His anger was his worry, she reminded herself at that gaze even as his eyes left her's and focused on her lap where her hands folded gently in front of those two secret areas, the one for him and the one for their child.

Had she not known her husband, had not been reminded of his deep worry for her, she might have scoffed at those words. But instead she found herself admitting in a small voice to him, "I wasn't looking for trouble." But how to tell him the rest? How to admit to him the very thing she didn't wish to put into words. She longed to stand up and go to him, to touch him, but he needed a moment - a moment without them throwing furious words back and forth at each other before she tried to touch him.

  

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.

---

  

---

His words were more gentle than Caroline had expected and for a moment it seemed as if the storm perhaps had passed and only the lingering dampness remained in a sad reminder. He stepped toward her and then again. And then he stopped, his eyes on her hands - her stomach, she realized as his question pushed her.

She swallowed at his tone, That tone, she was learning, was a tone that held his on disappointments - flat and emotionless. As emotionless as her's was rounded by emotions. But she kept her gaze on his face. "Yes." The word felt dry and rough on her lips. "I suspected. as much ... but I wanted to be sure before I told you." She hadn't wanted to get his hopes up, or really, even her own hopes. But each day that had passed it had become more and more clear to her.

The following 1 user Likes Caroline Darrow's post:1 user Likes Caroline Darrow's post
   Evander Darrow

“Oh,” Evander said, because it was all he could muster. She had suspected, then. Even if he had dared keep his eyes on her face, he could hardly tell how she felt about it – or had felt about it, upon her first realisation – and they had not yet really talked firmly of it. Children were, he supposed, an inevitability of marriage: his mind had been on raising Charity, first and foremost, but now that he had envisioned it, it made perfect sense that he and Caroline should have their own children too.

If it ever happened again after this, that was. Evander took one more step towards her couch and then wavered again. He had actually meant to ask her how she was today – whether she had seen any improvement – but he did not think he had the stomach for any more bad news.

Instead he leant over, just close enough to pat her shoulder with his hand; it was a brief gesture, and left small flecks of Floo powder on her dress as he stepped back again, his eyes already moving to the door. “Well,” he murmured, and he meant this in comfort, however it might sound: “No matter now.”

---

The following 1 user Likes Evander Darrow's post:1 user Likes Evander Darrow's post
   Sisse Thompsett

---

That one word didn't feel like a condemnation, after all she had been merely trying to protect him and perhaps he understood that. Her opinion on this firmed the moment he stepped forward again. Then he paused and she braced herself for more of that nothingness, her eyes searching his face for a hint. But again he stepped forward, his hand resting gently on her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. Funny, how she could feel reassured in just one gesture. This too would pass, it told her.

She reached up to squeeze his hand, but already the warm pressure was gone and he was speaking.

It mattered quite a lot, in Caroline's opinion. But had she not known Evander she might have taken it as a horrid disregard of it all. The British, after all, were so very stingy with their emotions - why Evander hadn't even told her he loved her. She knew he did, or at least she very strongly suspected that they loved each other, but he had not yet said it. And not wanting to overreach or embarass herself she hadn't said as much either. But a baby should change that between them. Or so she thought. But now there was no baby to change it for them. Only the realization that her husband did not actually mean his words to cut her.

His gaze was on the door and she was willing to guess he too needed some time. Caroline gave him a wavering smile, "Go, get washed up. I think I'll just read some." Likely she'd just stare at the page blindly, but she felt she knew her husband's moods enough to know when she needed to sacrifice her desire to be near him in favor of time on his own.

The following 1 user Likes Caroline Darrow's post:1 user Likes Caroline Darrow's post
   Evander Darrow

He felt the slightest bit guilty for leaving her alone, but the atmosphere in the room felt too stifling to bear; and Caroline, if she had wanted his company, was surely forthright enough to have said so directly.

If she wanted to read instead, that was perfectly fine. Evander could only take that as good news, that she was well enough to have left her bedroom and to have spoken to him, and if leaving her alone to recover was paying off, he would continue to do it unswervingly. So he paused in the door and merely nodded gently. “Alright,” he said, suddenly and belatedly a little sorry for snapping at her, before.

---

  

---