The Last Dress from Paris(86)
“Your urine test shows a surprisingly high level of pregnancy hormones for this early stage. Consider it confirmed,” he adds definitively.
Alice’s ears seem to pop and fill with water. She can see the doctor’s mouth moving through a huge congratulatory smile, but she can’t hear a word he’s saying.
It’s Antoine’s beautiful face Alice can see imprinted on her eyelids, where the fantasy of delivering this sweet news to him is already taking shape. They’re both laughing, he’s starting to cry, throwing his arms around her, lifting her, spinning her round and round until she has to tell him to stop, both of them euphoric, like this is everything they ever wanted. A gift that will unite them conclusively. No one in this world will be able to stand between them now.
“I wanted to personally deliver the news myself to ensure there are no leaks.” The doctor’s words pull Alice back into the room. “There will obviously be a press announcement in due course, and I didn’t want to risk anything getting out before you and Monsieur Ainsley are absolutely ready to talk about it. You’ll naturally want to get beyond the first twelve weeks, of course, but you are slight, Madame Ainsley, and you will start to show much sooner than you think. As I say, it’s very early days, but by my estimation, your due date is early August.”
Alice’s hands move protectively to her belly. “Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate your taking the time to come here today.” Her words feel robotic, delivered automatically without thought. She’s thinking only of the magic being created inside of her. How she must protect it. She watches the back of the doctor’s head as Anne escorts him from her bedroom, glancing back over her shoulder to check that it’s okay to leave Alice alone for a few minutes.
As the door closes behind them, Alice can feel her breath quicken. The mention of Albert’s name has released a toxic cloud of worry into the room. He can have no part of this. It’s not his baby, at least of that she can be absolutely certain. But his silence over the past few days since her letter to Antoine went missing has been menacing. She’s been too afraid to risk contacting Antoine, fearful any warning she might attempt would simply provide the final piece of evidence Albert needs.
Is she right? Has Albert deliberately distanced himself, removed himself from the residence more? Is he avoiding her? Giving her no chance to gauge his next move? She looks at her belly, lacing her fingers across it. Does she seem swollen? The last measurements Anne took certainly suggest so. Did she realize? Are people already looking at her and guessing there will be an announcement soon? Why hadn’t she noticed the differences herself? It suddenly seems so obvious.
Anne returns and takes a seat next to Alice on the bed. “Are you okay, Alice? My goodness. I know this is a lot to take in, but what on earth are you going to do?”
Alice looks at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”
“What will you say to Albert?”
“The baby isn’t his.” Alice doesn’t want to talk about Albert. This moment should not be about him.
“Do you know that for sure?” A flicker of embarrassment crosses Anne’s face as she perhaps realizes what an impertinent question this is, even between two women whose relationship has deepened well beyond a professional one.
“For a very long time, Albert hasn’t been interested in me. That part of our relationship, like many others, died when we arrived in Paris. It is simply not possible for this to be his baby.”
“Okay. If you are sure the baby is Antoine’s, how do you feel about that? What will you do? Albert will have to be told something, won’t he? He’ll know as well as you that it can’t be his.” Alice can forgive Anne’s focus on the immediate practicalities because her thoughts and feelings aren’t clouded by the same soaring emotion that is exploding inside of her.
“I don’t have any of those answers.” The incontrovertible bluntness of the situation lands. “This is not what I had planned. There will be no way of explaining this to Albert that will end well. But, Anne . . . next summer I will be holding Antoine’s baby in my arms. I have a new life growing within me—the most unexpected and beautiful gift I could have been given. I have to nurture it and protect it at all costs.” Alice stops abruptly when she sees that Anne’s eyes have silently filled with tears and her chin has dropped toward her chest. She rises from the bed looking for a distraction, but Alice pulls her back down again.
“I am so sorry, Anne, please forgive me. I wasn’t thinking at all. Oh, Anne, that was so insensitive. Upsetting you is the very last thing I want to do.” Alice lifts her hand to Anne’s face and gently brushes a fresh tear away.
“It’s okay, really. I thought it would get easier, that’s all. But it never does. Every time a friend or relative tells me she is pregnant, as hard as I try, I just can’t keep the tears in. I am happy for you, Alice, please don’t think I’m not. But I’m also worried, about how Albert will react and whether Antoine has any idea of what you’ll soon be telling him.”
Alice drops her voice. “I’ll arrange to see him as soon as possible.” She walks purposefully across the room and lifts the handset on the small desk in her bedroom. She lets it ring several times before accepting defeat and pulling a small notepad from the desk drawer. She hurriedly scrawls a few lines and then seals the note in an envelope.