She couldn’t know. He...couldn’t hear the words.
‘All I mean,’ Mrs Ffoulkes said pointedly, after a moment, ‘is that I understand.’
Liam nodded, grateful.
‘And trade, ha! That would’ve sent him into a right fit.’
The woman laughed, and he found a smile appearing on his own lips at the thought.
‘Well, you always were more like your mother, you and Miss Reid. Thank God for that, too. She’d have been proud of you.’
‘I barely remember her,’ Liam said quietly, surprising them all.
‘Good woman she were...kind heart. Were she that told the Earl to let me stay.’
She smiled, and all at once his father’s generous gesture made sense.
‘’Tis easier, to remember the worst. But no matter how it hurts, you must remember the good. Take it from someone who tried not to.’
The room fell silent for a moment. Only it was a thick, warm silence. Not one of regret, of loss, but of shared remembrance.
‘What was he like?’ Rebecca asked after a moment, studying her tea. ‘Your husband?’
‘The most handsome man,’ Mrs Ffoulkes replied, with a cheeky smile and a glint in her eye. ‘Right rascal, but a good man. Hardworking and gentle.’
She glanced meaningfully at Liam, who might have reddened at the overt comparison, had that been something he did.
‘I remember the first time I saw him, at the summer fair in Liveston. He was there with some friends, all dressed up to sell his father’s livestock. He were a farmer,’ she said conspiratorially, and Rebecca smiled. ‘I was there with my friend Cecilia, and she went over to talk to a friend of his, and all I saw was him. His smile...warmed my heart. He came over and asked me to the dance that night. Gave me daisies when I went, and every day after that.’
‘He sounds like a charmer.’ Rebecca grinned.
‘Aye, he was—though not as much as the one Cecilia was after,’ Mrs Ffoulkes said pensively. ‘He was a slick one. Nearly married him, she did, but there was some trouble with another lass. Lucky escape, I think. She ended up with the vicar.’
Mrs Ffoulkes stopped, and turned to face Rebecca squarely. She studied the housekeeper carefully for a long, uncomfortable moment.
‘That’s who you remind me of,’ she said triumphantly. ‘Couldn’t think of it till now, but, yes, you look rather like him.’
Liam glanced at Rebecca and frowned. She was frozen, and what looked like fear had darkened her eyes.
‘Merrickson, yes, that was the name. Grain farmers, they were. Any relation?’
‘No,’ she breathed, unconvincingly.
‘Mrs Hardwicke, are you quite all right?’ Liam asked, concerned. The woman had paled, and he might have sworn her hand trembled ever so slightly as she set down her cup. ‘Are you unwell?’
‘What’s the matter, child?’
‘N-nothing,’ Rebecca stuttered, rising. ‘I’ve just recalled that I have some urgent matters to deal with back at the house.’
‘I’ll walk you,’ Liam offered, rising as well.
‘No, please, no need to trouble yourself,’ she said hastily, throwing on her coat and already making for the door. ‘Lovely to see you, Mrs Ffoulkes. Thank you for the tea.’
With that, Rebecca disappeared, leaving both Liam and Mrs Ffoulkes staring at the door, confused as to what had happened.
Liam remained at Mrs Ffoulkes’s for a while after Rebecca had gone, speaking with the old woman of nothing and of everything. Of the land, of her life, of his own, and most importantly, of what he had missed. Which had been so much. Too much. Not that he hadn’t already realised that. Only, today it felt different.
As Mrs Ffoulkes gave him her own recounting of the area’s history for the past ten years, Liam had felt more a spectator than ever, and less guilty than ever. For though things had been difficult, life had gone on.
