A knock broke her thoughts.
“Come in,” she said, turning.
Mrs. Bainbridge entered with a quiet grace, carrying a tray. “Tea,” she said. “I took this from Mrs. Aldridge, just outside your door.” She set it on the small table by the chaise. “And company if you want it.”
Mary-Ann offered her a tired smile. “Thank you. I think I do.”
They sat together on the chaise, the porcelain clinking of teacups the only sound for a long moment. Mrs. Bainbridge passed her the cup as if it might offer answers. Mary-Ann wrapped her fingers around the warm cup to keep from fidgeting, but didn’t drink. Her eyes remained fixed on the window, following the curl of white foam as waves met the shore below the cliffs.
A breeze stirred the hem of the curtain, and for the briefest moment, she remembered the feel of Quinton’s greatcoat beneath her fingers, the rough wool warmed by his body, the scent of sea salt clinging to him even then. Her gaze drifted tothe gulls wheeling above the distant sea. Her thoughts swirled like the tides, memories, what-ifs, and unspoken questions.
Mrs. Bainbridge did not push. She did not pry. She simply waited, offering presence rather than pressure.
“He’s changed,” Mary-Ann said softly. She didn’t mean it as a complaint, only as a statement of fact.
“Of course he has,” Mrs. Bainbridge replied gently. “You have, too.”
Mary-Ann looked down at her tea. “He’s… quieter but steadier somehow. Still tender. Still clever. But there is something locked away. Something I can’t reach”
“Some men return shattered,” Mrs. Bainbridge said gently. “Others return reshaped, hardened in places, softened in others. It sounds as though Captain Hollingsworth is still very much himself, just with more to carry than before.”
Mary-Ann didn’t speak for a long while. “I don’t know how to feel. I should be furious. I waited so long… and then I stopped. I had to. There were days I told myself I was foolish for waiting and that I had wasted too much time already. When I stopped looking… I felt guilty. But also… I felt lighter. And now I regret that I didn’t do more. Instead, I gave up. I let myself move on. And now…”
“And now your heart is remembering what your mind tried to forget.”
Mary-Ann’s lips parted, but she said nothing.
Mrs. Bainbridge’s voice softened. “When I lost my husband, I told myself it was enough to survive. But surviving isn’t living. It’s only now, with Barrington, that I remember what it means to feel… awake.”
Mary-Ann turned to her, eyes searching. “What do you think I should do?”
Mrs. Bainbridge stirred her tea slowly. “I think…” She paused, choosing her words. “I think you owe it to yourself tobe certain. To ask the questions you’re afraid to ask. If what you have with Mr. Wilkinson is built on comfort and convenience, then perhaps it isn’t what your heart truly needs.”
Mary-Ann looked away, her voice a murmur. “He’s been so patient. So kind. Steady. Dependable.”
“That speaks well of him,” Mrs. Bainbridge said. “But kindness is not love. And patience is not passion.”
Mary-Ann blinked, the words settling over her like the hush of a turning page, quiet, but full of meaning.
“You once told me Quinton made everything seem sharper. Like the world stood still when he looked at you. Do you still feel that, even after everything?”
Mary-Ann hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yes. I didn’t expect to. But yes.”
“Then you have your answer. Not all of it, perhaps. But enough to begin.” She gave Mary-Ann a faint smile. “The rest will come. If it’s meant to.”
A silence stretched between them. Then Mary-Ann exhaled, long and slow.
“I’m glad he’s alive and safe,” she whispered. “Even if I haven’t figured out what that means.”
She had asked, in the drawing room.Where had he been?But his answers had only deepened the silence.
Part of her still ached to know more. What he had seen. What had broken in him. There was something in the spaces between his words that unsettled her more than anything he’d said aloud.
How did one rebuild a bridge that had vanished beneath the sea?
Mrs. Bainbridge reached over and gently squeezed her hand.
They didn’t speak again. Not right away.
