February 1818

There were times in which one could be cognizant that one's perspective on a situation was at once both absurd and entirely sensible. As Lucy watched her dearest friend retch violently into a chamber pot, she held back pangs of envy even as she held back her friend's thick, plaited hair.

Lucy did not normally desire to toss up her breakfast, of course, but Emma's uneasy stomach was in fact an unmistakable sign that she was expecting her first child. Envy, as it happened, was an unfamiliar and awkward-fitting cloak for Lucy. She flushed with shame for the feeling, grateful Emma could not see her face and, as dear friends are capable, divine her thoughts.

No matter how much one envied the situation of another person, Lucy reminded herself while handing her friend the damp cloth she held at the ready, one should always be conscious that no situation was entirely free of difficulty. Certainly, this wisdom applied most fittingly at the present. Just as dismal circumstances often held silver linings, so did the sunniest of situations possess the occasional black cloud. Were these black linings?

Perhaps.

Emma was recently married, and to a duke, no less. She was deeply in love with her husband, she was the mistress of a stately manor, and she had recently learned she was expecting the first of likely many children from her marriage.

She was also violently ill on a daily basis, and the illness had not subsided as her pregnancy progressed.

Black linings.

Lucy, by contrast, was unmarried with no prospects and no connections other than the recent elevation of her childhood friend to the rank of duchess. The plans she was currently making for her future meant she would likely never know motherhood. She did, however, feel quite well at the present. She'd only moments ago been contemplating her delicious morning repast. Breakfast at the vicarage with her parents was usually quite simple: strong tea, toast, a boiled egg. The elaborate meals served at the London residence of the Duke and Duchess of Worley had proven one of the great delights of the visit.

Silver linings.

It was as simple as that. She was ashamed to have experienced even a moment of jealousy. For all of Emma's happiness today, she had paid dearly for it, suffering the loss of her parents and the shame of society for a broken engagement. Lucy had never before compared her friend's circumstances, good or bad, to her own situation.

She should feel nothing but joy for her friend's expectant state and empathy for her present discomfort. And she did feel all of those things, but there was a tiny seed of a sinful voice that whispered, This will never be me.

She studiously ignored it.

"Oh, Lucy," Emma croaked. "I am so sorry." She rocked back on her heels and exhaled heavily.

"Do not apologize again," Lucy chided, taking back the cloth. "I shall be horribly offended if you believe we are not dear enough to witness the contents of each other's stomachs."

Emma grimaced toward the metal pot. "Will you help me to bed, Lucy?"

Lucy assisted Emma in rising to her feet and supported her as she walked unsteadily to the stately four-poster bed. Still holding Emma with one arm, Lucy used her free hand to pull back the delicately embroidered coverlet and plump the soft pillow in preparation for her friend.

"You are such a sport to care for me this way," Emma said with a sigh as she lowered herself into the spot Lucy had prepared. "I fear I am building a debt I shall never repay."

"Nonsense." Lucy helped Emma the rest of the way into bed and pulled the coverlet up to her gently rounded middle, smiling as she did so. "It's the reason I'm here, isn't it?" Emma rolled onto her side and drew up her knees. "It was supposed to be a ruse. When I invited you to come, I knew you wouldn't agree unless you thought there was some greater purpose to your visit. I never truly expected to need so much help. I just wanted your company. The sickness was supposed to have ended weeks ago."

Lucy stepped back and stood, arms crossed, assessing her patient. "You are not as sly as you might think. I knew you were planning more for a companion than a nursemaid, but you will accept both graciously or I shall feel horribly manipulated."

Emma placed one hand on her stomach while she sucked in and expelled heavily a deep breath of air. "I daresay it's beginning to pass now." She took two more similarly deep breaths, as though testing this declaration, then rolled gently onto her back again, keeping her knees in their bent position. "Would you mind propping me up a bit? I seem to do better that way than lying flat."

Lucy obliged her. "Take care for your stubbornness, Emma. There is no need to push yourself to recover instantly."

Emma flashed Lucy a wide-eyed look of innocent confusion.

Lucy responded with a chiding grimace. "Do not pretend you've no idea what I'm about."

"Oh, be fair, Lucy, you're no less stubborn and independent than I," Emma said, beginning to regain her color as though by force of will.

"But I am not the one applying that trait to defy a present ill state," Lucy said, pulling the bell to have the soiled pot removed. "I've had no less than three letters from your sister-in-law insisting that I be particularly vigilant for your overdeveloped sense of independence."

Emma's eyes lifted heavenward. "It's lovely of Charlotte to be concerned, but she's just as mule headed as the two of us. She says she detests London so much, she will not come until I've provided a niece or nephew to visit, even though we have seen neither her nor Hugh since their wedding."

"With or without a visit, she has very strong opinions on the attention and care you are to receive and I will be quite unable to face her if I fail," Lucy said with a teasing smile.

"You are a tyrannical caregiver, Lucy, and I love you for it. I'm certain I shall be well by dinner. I was reckless to choose cake at tea. I've had a very tenuous relationship with sweet things of any kind. They always look so appealing, but are absolutely certain to turn my stomach of late." She released a wistful sigh. "It really is a wretched tease. I have never craved sweet things before. Now I want them more than ever, but am not allowed to partake without dire consequence."

"It is cruel, isn't it?" Lucy asked, taking a seat in the small chair nearest Emma's bed. "I promise you, once you have delivered this child into the world, you shall have all the cakes and sweet things you desire. For now, I shall kindly request your cook help you avoid temptation."

Emma reached out and placed a warm hand over Lucy's. "I am fortunate in my choice of caregiver, it would seem, even if it was not my intention that you should be called into service."

Lucy clasped her hands in her lap and spoke firmly. "I'm glad you think so, as I've made a decision, Emma, and I will need your help."

Emma's hands paused in the motion of smoothing her coverlet over her lap and she peered at Lucy. "What sort of decision?"

Lucy straightened her shoulders and fortified herself against Emma's disapproval. "A decision about my future," she said, with what she hoped was a convincingly decisive dip of her chin.

"You were always one for making plans, Lucy, so I cannot say I am surprised, but I will caution you, with myself as an example. You cannot always plan what your future will...