Sleep. That was all she needed. Maybe she could feign illness. It would be easy enough in her condition. She crept up the stairs, the loose, sodden hem of her nightgown nearly tripping her. “Scarlett, is that you?” Her mother’s voice sounded from the bottom of the stairs. She turned, grasping hold of the handrail. “It’s me—” “Good heavens, what happened to you?” Her mother raced up the stairs and grasped hold of her. “You must stop this nonsense. Visiting his grave when so pregnant, even in the middle of such a storm!” She grabbed her daughter’s waist and helped her up the stairs. “You must stop, Scarlett. He wouldn’t want you to risk your health and the child’s.” Tears stung her eyes, and Scarlett looked away. What was she doing? How could she be so irresponsible? She was a mother now; she should act like one. She should tell the truth. “You are right. It won’t happen again. It’s just that, I met someone and I was delayed, and then it started pouring rain.”
