He dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. He was very glad she was Clarissa. She did not rush into speech. She had always been the same. She had always listened. She had never said much afterward. She had never lectured or advised or even given an opinion most of the time. Her silence had always brought him infinite comfort. The comfort of acceptance for the person he was—a not very pleasant person when he was a boy, according to most people who knew him.
“Thank you,” she said at last, and he turned his face toward her.
“It is a foolish story,” he said.
“You know it is anything but foolish,” she told him. “And so you came back home.”
“And so I came home,” he said. And for some strange reason he felt close to tears.
“And you are a happy man,” she said.
He laughed softly. “Making a home of rented rooms above a smithy?” he said. “Earning a modest living as a carpenter? How could I possibly be happy?”
She smiled at him. And oh, that smile. He wondered if she had ever realized the power of it. It was not her social smile, charming and genuine as that was. It did not involve sparkling eyes or a flashing of teeth, only a curving of her lips and a softening of her whole facial expression and something from within that beamed from her eyes and wrapped about the recipient like a woolly blanket or a warm hug. It was a smile intended for that person alone.
Ah, he had missed it. For more than half his lifetime.
“If I do not stand soon,” she said, “I may never be able to stand again.”
He jumped to his feet and held out his hands to help her up. She both laughed and groaned as she stood, clinging tightly to his hands.
“Oh, Matthew,” she said. “We are no longer young.”
“Thank goodness,” he said. He far preferred the age he was now. He preferred her the age she was now too, with all the poise and dignity the years had given her to add to the vibrancy she had always had.
She smiled at his comment. Their hands were still clasped between them. And he could see the sudden awareness arrest herexpression. He released his hold on her and bent to pick up and fold the blanket while she shook her skirt and smoothed out the creases.
“Shall we continue on our way?” he said, pointing to the downward and upward undulations of the road ahead, which would eventually take them down to the park and back to the house along the northern path.
“Yes,” she said. “It would be as far to go back as it will be to continue.”
“A long way, in other words,” he said. He felt suddenly guilty. Even with the lengthy tea break they had taken, this was a long walk. He ought not to have ridiculed her idea of bringing a gig. But they had no choice now but to trudge onward. Unless…
She raised the bright parasol over her head and gave it a twirl.
If they had brought a gig, of course, they would have no choice but to keep to the roadway. But since they were on foot…
From the bottom of the next dip, the drop down to Sir Ifor’s land was almost sheer. But on the Ravenswood side it was a far more gradual slope. It also appeared to be all grass with just a few protruding stones. He stopped and moved closer to the edge to peer downward.
“No,” she said firmly before he could voice his thoughts.
“It would be relatively easy to go down here,” he said. “We would cut off a huge corner and at least half a mile of our journey. Probably more like a whole mile.”
“No,” she said again.
He turned his head to grin at her. “It would be exhilarating,” he said. “It would be like being children again. And it is really quite safe. There are even a few large flat stones in conveniently strategic places upon which to rest. I will help you. You are not a coward, are you?”
“You are doing what you always used to do,” she said, narrowingher eyes. “You are goading me into doing what I know is madness and what is entirely against my will and better judgment. It is how you got me to climb trees.”
“Did you ever fall?” he asked.
“Utterly irrelevant to the present situation,” she said.
He held out one hand toward her. “Come and see,” he said.
She shook her head, exhaled with audible exasperation, and came to stand beside him, though she did not take his hand. “I suppose you do not remember,” she said, “that I am afraid of heights.”
“All the more reason to get down from this one by the quickest, easiest route, then,” he said. “Look at it, Clarissa. There are no difficult obstacles, like sheer cliffs, for example, and there is no dangerously steep part of the slope. We seem to be high up only because we are up rather than down. From down there it will look like nothing at all. Shall we find out?”
