A Brooding Beauty by Jillian Eaton

losing her scarf half an hour ago when she had fallen into a snow bank, her frown was clearly visible. “We have talked about this, haven’t we? More times than I can count! The man is an absolute scoundrel and you are lucky to be rid of him. We all agree.” By ‘all’ she meant, of course, herself, Margaret, and Josephine.
    The four women fancied themselves the best of friends and had seen each through thick and thin since they met attending the same boarding school. They all would have been at Catherine’s side in a show of unanimous support had they been able, but Margaret had a touch of the flu and Josephine was on her honeymoon. Just married four days past, she had been whisked off to the coast of France by her new husband, Lord Traverson Gates, and would not be back until the end of the month.
    “I know,” Catherine sighed. She tilted her head back to study the skeletal branches that stretched above them, clacking and hissing in the wind. The sun was near to setting and the dropping temperature caused a shiver to race down her spine. “Are you ready to turn back yet? It is getting quite cold.”
    Grace stopped so suddenly her right foot flew out from under her and had it not been for Catherine reaching out to grab her flailing arm, she would have flipped top over tea kettle. Too used to her clumsiness to become flustered, she snickered under her breath and squeezed Catherine’s arm through her thick red cloak. “What would I do without you? Come along, let’s get you inside before you turn into an icicle. There is the cutest little tea shop right not too far off. Twinings , I believe it is called, after the owner Matthew Twining. Not terribly original, is it? And a bit conceited, if you ask me. Why, if I ever opened a small bookstore I would never call it ‘Graces’. Could you imagine what people would say? If I ever meet Mr. Twining you can be certain…”
    Catherine listened with half an ear as her friend rambled on. When they reached the small tea ship with its cheerfully decorated windows and cozy fire crackling away in the corner she followed Grace inside, pausing only to stamp her feet to get the excess snow off her boots and circulation back into her toes.
    The shop was filled nearly to the brim with people who had also wanted to escape the cold, but they managed to find a small table near the fireplace that was unoccupied. Grace rushed around the side of the table to take Catherine’s cloak and hovered over her like an anxious mother hen as Catherine gripped the arms of the chair and readied herself to sit down.
    “Do you need help?” Grace asked, fluttering her hands anxiously in the air.
    “No, no, I am fine. It just… takes a bit… there.” Catherine sighed in relief as she plopped rather unceremoniously into her chair. Automatically her gloved hands curved around her burgeoning belly and a smile bloomed across her face as she felt a small answering kick. “The cold weather makes her feisty,” she murmured, more to herself than to Grace, but her friend possessed the ears of a fox and did not hesitate to respond.
    “You should be lying in bed eating scones, not walking about in the snow,” she scolded, wagging her finger.
    “I am healthy as a horse,” Catherine replied succinctly. “And only five months along. I refuse to lock myself away simply because I am expecting a child.” 
    “You needn’t be so dramatic,” said Grace with a quick roll of her eyes. “It is called confinement, and it is practiced by every pregnant woman in England and beyond.”
    “Except by those who have to work for their living, yet they somehow manage to have perfectly healthy babies without spending weeks inside their bedrooms.”
    “A somewhat valid point,” Grace said grudgingly, but there was a fond light in her eyes as her gaze dropped to Catherine’s stomach, now faintly outlined beneath the empire waistline of her walking dress.
    Catherine had discovered she was pregnant shortly after