September 1890 - Whitby Residence

Merlin this was miserable. Sage had pushed her employment until the very last moment. Had hidden her changing figure as best she could, despite the nausea and the emotional mood swings, but she had reached a point where all she could do now as hide and it was just as awful as she'd known it would be. The only thing keeping her sane was attempting to help with the printshop bookkeeping. She'd always been pretty good with numbers, but her father needed a lesson in organization; something Sage was more than happy to provide.

She'd been at the desk in her room all afternoon and by the time she felt hungry her back ached a little and she needed to move around. The bump she was sporting was obvious by now and she could no longer hide it with carefully crafted outfits or even a charm. She was big enough that it was affecting her gait and that was the final straw. If she couldn't perform at her usual level at work, she was sunk.

Descending the stairs awkwardly, she made her way to the kitchen. It wasn't quite supper time yet, but Sage had learned not to ignore the hunger when it rose up; it would only leave her more queasy. Some tea and crackers would hold her. "Tess," she smiled at her older sister, surprised to find her there. One of the more unfortunate side effects of her current condition was the added level of stress she'd introduced into their already strapped family dynamic and it left her feeling guilty. Nobody had given her too much grief about it, thankfully, and all agreed with her plan to give the baby up, even if she wavered on it privately. "I didn't realize anyone else was home yet." She added as she went to put the kettle on the stove

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Tess Whitby

  

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“No one else but me,” Tess assured her, although she and their father hardly had far to go to be home, as it were. She was – she fancied they all were – conscious of giving Sage her own space, cooped up and cornered as she might feel the... worse things got.

As brave a face as Sage could possibly put on, Tess was worried about her. Everyone was, but she was the eldest; she was the closest thing they had left to a mother. (Well. Sage was now closer to motherhood than she had ever been, but that was no comfort at all.) Regardless. She felt responsible for making sure that Sage was really, truly, as far as it was possible to be, alright.

So – “How are you feeling?” she asked gently, tone low and gaze intent – by which she meant she wanted the truth, and Sage ought to know it. But, also, on a practical level – and because she had no intention of sitting still just because she’d left the printing rooms – Tess guessed: “Hungry?”

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"Caged, irritable, hungry." Sage confirmed, chuckling, figuring the unvarnished truth was the only way to go. It was her biggest concern, not to worry her family, but it was too late for that and she was not very good at hiding her emotions, unless she was at work. "They call it morning sickness, but it always extends past." In truth, the nausea was the worst in the morning and she had to force herself to eat something simple, like toast, to fend it off, but Merlin was it ever-present.

With the kettle on, Sage set about finding herself a snack. Just something bland to help take the edge of the riotous gurgle in her stomach. Sage put a hand to her growing bump at a most vicious kick to the ribs. "Yes, yes, I'm working on it." She mumbled to the child within, rubbing a hand over the little foot.

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Tess would not have settled for anything less than honesty, so she gave an approving look when her sister didn’t sugarcoat it. There were – certain positives to her sister’s predicament, compared to some girls she’d known or heard of, because Sage was a qualified mediwitch, she knew how important her health was, she had been trained to stay calm through stressful situations. If anyone could get through a pregnancy with her health and her sanity intact, Tess might have wagered on her.

However. Her brow furrowed when her sister spoke again – this time not directed at her, but to her bump. They had a plan of action here, if Sage ever wanted a chance of returning to work with her reputation intact – and it did not involve raising the child herself.

(Tess would have supported her in that if she had, but she spent too much of her life setting arguments against such injustice into type to wish the ramifications of it onto her sister.)

She didn’t know quite how to broach the subject, though, so – with all the nonchalance in tone she could muster, she asked, half-hoping Sage would catch her drift: “You’re... talking to it now?”

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Finding an apple and a little cheese, Sage got out a knife and cutting board so she could make a little snack plate. "It is still a baby, even if they aren't staying." Sage didn't want to tell Tess that she kept wavering on that decision, not when their current plan was obviously the best course of action. Winnie was very discreetly working on finding them an adoptive family, it would all come together and that would be the end of it.

It was just hard to think about when she could feel the child now.

It was sort of crushing her now, but she couldn't say that.

"Plus it's hard to ignore when there's a foot in my ribs." Sage said matter-of-factly as she sliced the apple and then reached for the loaf of bread to do the same. Being about halfway now, the baby felt like her only company at some points during the day, especially when they were active like this. "Do you want some?"

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“No, I’ll survive ‘til supper,” Tess said, waving away the question and the most straightforward element of their conversation. But she would make a start on supper now, or soon; the virtue of that was the privilege of cutting up a few extras to munch on whilst she cooked.

But before she could think of supper, she needed all of her energy to resist wanting to coddle her sister. Or lecture her. Perhaps in equal measure.

Because Sage was chafing against it – and fine, them was not so far a step, technically, but the more she talked about them the more she would envision them as a real individual, with a particular gender and colour hair and a personality, a whole imagined future stretching ahead of them. The baby would have a better future not being raised by its unmarried mother – and so would Sage, which mattered more to Tess than anything – but it was hard to be the one to remind her of it, when it was in her belly and making its presence very known.

“Alright,” Tess intoned, but even to her own ears she didn’t sound convinced by her sister’s matter-of-factness. She softened slightly. “Not too much longer now,” she reminded her, trying for reassuring, “and then you’ll have your life back. I promise.”

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Sage could only shrug when Tess said she was alright. With the apple and bread sliced, Sage spread a little butter on the bread and took a seat at the little kitchen table. It was much easier to ignore the pang in her chest when she wasn't looking at Tess. Tess who already worried too much, who had found Winnie and gotten her to help them be discreet about the whole thing. Tess who somehow probably held herself responsible for this. How did Sage explain to her sister that she wanted to keep the baby? It was ridiculous.

So when Tess said she would get her life back soon, all she could do was crumble a little. The tears came, hot and unbidden and Sage tried to stifle them to no avail. Damn this pregnancy making her far more emotional and susceptible to overreaction. Had Sage thought keeping the baby was an option, she would have spoken to Locke about it. Instead she had broken things off with him and chosen to go this route. He had the money, he already had children (out of wedlock, that should have been a clue!) but she had still gotten caught up in the gifts and the charm and in him and look where it had gotten her!

Holding up her hand when the sniffles became obvious, she wiped the tears from her face, frustrated with herself more than anything.

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   Tess Whitby

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Tess froze at that reaction, at her sister crumbling completely. Sage, who had been so adept at keeping herself busy, who had done so well to be so steady through it all; Sage who always seemed so matter-of-fact – was crying.

“Sage,” Tess intoned in horror, reaching out a hand across as if to squeeze her shoulder, though she was half-worried that outright sympathy might make her sister crack apart more. “What is it?” she said, urgent and anxious and sorry if it was something she had done; “What’s wrong? You’ve – been doing so well. You’ve been so brave.” Shit. Shit, Sage wasn’t coping as well as she’d thought.

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The tears kept spilling out, despite her best efforts to contain them. She swiped at them frantically, trying to stem the flow, swallowing back the ache in her chest. She was usually so good at keeping everything bottled up tight, or at least leaving the meltdowns to the quiet of her room when nobody else was around. It was already a big enough mess, there was no need to make it any worse.

"It's just—" Sage managed after a moment, "Not as cut and dry as I thought it would be." She had hoped that giving the baby up would be easy, so that she could get her life back, but the bigger she got and the more she felt the baby move, the more she wanted to keep the baby. "I know giving the baby up is best, it's just not..." Sage trailed off because she knew she couldn't really say what she wanted to say. It wasn't what she wanted anymore. It had to be the outcome, it had to be, but it was getting harder and harder to stick to that resolve.

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This was so much worse than she’d thought. And Tess thought she had been sufficiently worried? Observant enough? She’d been so entirely wrong.

And she didn’t have a handkerchief on hand to offer her – she patted down her pockets helplessly – so eventually Tess gave up and put her arms around her sister regardless, supposing she could wipe her eyes and snotty nose on her sleeves or her shoulder if it came to it. It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered, except – Sage didn’t want to give it up. And Tess had not done her very best to keep this quiet out of any moral qualm – she would support an unwed mother or a bastard child with her life, no question – but she had printed enough pamphlets on marriage and childbirth and those who broke the rules around it to know that that route was never easy for the woman. Not if Sage wanted to keep her career at the hospital after. Not if the father was a cad, or even still nosing around, or wanted the child for his own and shut Sage out. There were so many ways keeping the child would only break her sister’s heart in the long run.

And Sage had every right to be emotional. Tess just wasn’t sure she was thinking. “I can’t imagine how – hard it is,” Tess said eventually, haltingly, not wanting to start a fight. “And if that’s what you want, I – would never stop you. But,” her mouth twisted. She didn’t know how else to say it. I think it would be a mistake.

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Leaning into her sister gratefully, Sage tried to suck up the last of the tears. She hadn't meant to burden Tess with this, hadn't meant to ever burden Tess at all, and her sister had taken it all in stride so far. She was right though, it was hard. Harder than Sage would have ever cared to admit, but this little life she was growing deserved better than Sage could provide and she knew that. It just felt wrong somehow, even if she knew it was the right course of action. Tess obviously thought giving the baby up was the right choice too and the last thing Sage wanted was to make anyone else's lives more difficult by being selfish.

"I know, I know." It was a huge decision, everything was so muddied in the waters that all she could do was stick to the original plan. If she tried to stir things up and change what was happening, it would only make things worse. There was just too much at stake and it wasn't just her reputation on the line. If something got out and it affected the print shop or her own work, everything would unravel and she couldn't have that. Eventually she would come to terms with it, but just thought of it now might be her undoing.

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   Tess Whitby

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Sage might know, but Tess’ opinion was of no comfort to her. And this was, to some extent, a trial that her sister simply had to suffer through alone – but that thought hurt Tess more than anything. She was trying to be careful with her, wary of the delicate bump at her belly or the aching limbs she must have, but she couldn’t stop herself from squeezing a little tighter in the embrace, and running a hand up and down, mindlessly stroking Sage’s back.

When she spoke again, it was quiet, a murmur over Sage’s shoulder that she half-suspected her sister would ignore. But she had to ask it. “Are you ever going to tell me who the father is?” She wished she knew: if she knew, she could find a way to help. Or to finally convince Sage that he was obviously not to be trusted: that he might legally take that child from her forever, or ruin Sage in a moment if he liked.

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Sage sighed heavily. She would carry this burden alone for as long as she could and then she would hopefully give the child a better opportunity, a better life than she could have ever possibly provided. Better than Locke could have. Sage had no doubt that he would have taken the babe in and raised them, but he already had so much going on and she couldn't imagine having the child so close and yet so far away. This was the best outcome. Some couple would get the baby they always wanted and she could live with that. Sage had no doubts that the baby would be loved and well-cared for in a situation like this. Winnie had ensured a good match and she trusted the midwife implicitly.

"It's not important." Sage concluded. It shouldn't matter who the father was. Sage didn't need any more input on this matter. She had made up her mind, even if she was wavering on the decision. Locke would absolutely step up, but he shouldn't have to. She needed to rectify the situation with as few opinions as possible. "I can handle it." Despite her breakdown of willpower, Sage was not going to give up that information. Tess didn't need another thing to worry about.

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Tess didn’t let her go yet, but she stiffened slightly in their hug. In exasperation, maybe. Not important? It felt exceedingly important to know which fucking cad of a man Sage’s life had come close to being ruined over – how else would Tess be able to hold an eternal grudge against him, if Sage took accountability for his faults too, and kept his identity a secret?

She didn’t want to argue. Sage was in no state to be arguing. It was only this reminder to herself that stopped Tess from interrogating her any more. If Sage hadn’t told her yet, after months of knowing about the pregnancy, she doubted her sister would suddenly cave. But – “I wish you would let me handle it,” Tess joked, with a noise that was part muffled laugh and part muffled sob. There were things she couldn’t take on, and Sage was not going to let her handle the rest, she knew – but she would do anything for Sage, and she hoped her sister knew that. (And she would murder the man without blinking, if only she thought it would help.)

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Sage felt the change in her sister's embrace, freezing a little herself, but eased back into it when Tess didn't press any further. "It's not your mistake to handle." It was hers and hers alone. Well maybe not alone. Her relationship with Locke had been fun and easy and meant to be superfluous. It was her fault for catching feelings for him and letting her guard down. His fault for being so charming and attentive and easy to be around. They'd messed up though, hadn't been careful and now there was a consequence to deal with. Sage just had to deal with it a little longer than he did after she'd broken things off with him.

It had been the second hardest thing she'd done in regards to the situation. She'd known it couldn't last forever; she'd been impetuous and had gotten caught up in the little whirlwind romance and stopped thinking about how ridiculous she was being. Now she could see it, after the fact, how she'd fallen, despite knowing it was meant to just be casual fun. In spite of it all though, she still couldn't quite bring herself to regret it. None of this was easy, it could ruin her completely, but she still did not let the regret take hold.

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Sage was right, she had a point; and Tess couldn’t take it all from her shoulders even if she wanted to. But hopefully her sister would not keep holding onto it all alone – not if she ended up like this from trying to keep it to herself.

And it was as much as his fault as it was hers, so it seemed grossly unfair that Sage should have to suffer a hundred times more through it. “Well, I wish you’d let me handle him then,” she muttered, only half-joking. For one, she didn’t know who he was – didn’t even know how Sage had met him, or how long their thing had been going on, or how Sage felt about it. For two, she didn’t think Sage had even told him what was going on now – and maybe that was safer, after all. Best, Tess thought, that he left Sage alone, and didn’t make things any more complicated than it already was.

“But I believe in you. I know you’re going to be okay.”

Still, she would have liked to force him to deal with at least some of the fallout for his fuckup.

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