I don’t.
All I care is that I find, when once such congratulations would have tasted of bitter ash, now, were I to be obliged to offer them, it would not be so.
‘We are waiting until I am further established, which shouldn’t be long, God willing,’ Frank said, with a spot of bitterness that spoke of a contentious and oft-debated consensus.
I. Don’t. Care.
‘God willing,’ Thorn agreed, feeling an odd sense of closure, and liberation.
Not quite forgiveness yet, but a sense, that like the rest, Frank, Helen, their history, any resentment, his tools, this place, it was all to be left in the past.
So he could say,God willing you and Helen be married soon, and mean it.
‘Good luck, Thorn,’ Frank said, nodding. ‘I am sorry it ended as it did, but I do wish you all the best in your life.’
He turned to leave, and just as he passed the threshold, Thorn spoke, a truth flooding into his heart with the finality of the moment.
‘I wish you and Helen the best,’ he said, and Frank stopped, but didn’t turn. ‘I don’t think I can truly say I have forgiven you, though I hope someday I might. However, I bear neither of you ill will, and I see now…many things I mightn’t had you not made the choices you did.’
Frank seemed to ponder whether or not to respond, until finally, he gave one final nod, and disappeared into the bright day.
Not long after Malek reappeared, and though there wasn’t much else for Thorn to do, his business—personal and professional—all tidied and closed so that he could begin anew, they found little bits to do together, be it tea, or tidying some final projects, and even discussing when the tiles on the roof would need repairing. Having thus not wasted, but well-spent the afternoon, Thorn bid Malek a final farewell, gave one last glance to the seaside village below the hill he’d dwelled on his entire life, mounted his horse, and set his course to Kent.
To Gadmin Hall, to his new self, to his new life, and for perhaps the first time since he’d come to learn of his supposed good fortune, he was rather excited and eager to see all his future would bring.
And in truth, I am rather curious and eager to meet my wife again, and know her better.
Chapter Five
‘Henry, is there anything I should know about our bailiff Mr Warren?’ Hypatia asked, as nonchalantly as possible, as the footman poured her more tea. Despite her having told him she could do it very well herself, and all they had witnessed her doing these past days, it seemed both he and Mr Langton refused to forget she was a countess, the lady of the house, and therefore insisted some ceremony was required. On occasion, at least.
It wasn’t that she minded terribly. In fact, it was rather nice in its heartfelt nature, and particularly considering all the three of them had achieved together since her arrival, she found their solicitude supremely touching.
Henry paused, then realising he couldn’t remain thus lest her cup literally overflow with the best of what scraps of tea their pantry held, he straightened and returned to the sideboard to busy himself. Hypatia waited, sipping her tea, munching on her toast and eggs, which lacked salt and butter as those too were scarce—in fact the larders and pantries were rather lacking, though not to the point of being unable to make do, which was a blessing—knowing that silence was in most instances the best extractor of secrets.
She waited some more then, her eyes turning to the newly cleaned windows—all intact in here thankfully—and the gorgeous, breezy sunshine-filled day outside.
‘Why do you ask, my lady?’ Henry finally said, still, from what she could tell, examining the wood-panelled walls and pretending there was more to be done despite her small, and un-extravagant breakfast needs.
‘Why match my question with a question, Henry? After all we’ve been through recently, I thought we’d quite gotten the measure of each other, and established some trust.’
Hypatia turned in her seat, raising her brow, and searing the back of Henry’s head with a meaningful glare he surely felt, for he sighed heavily, his shoulders bowing inwards.
‘He’s a clever man, knows his business well. Knows how to make himself indispensable, and appreciated by those required, and advantageous.’
‘Neither category do I apparently fall into, as Mr Warren has been so inevitably detained these past days, unable to even call and meet the new Countess of Gadmin. Not that I find myself truly regretful of such a slight.’
Indeed, she wasn’t.
It had given her if not ample, then sufficient opportunity to get an objective measure of the man, his skills, abilities, as well as a summation of the work he’d done for the estate. Henry’s words, diplomatic as they were, did however confirm the suspicions she harboured having spent what waking hours she hadn’t on getting the house into somewhat of a liveable state and studying up on the rearing of swine, on sorting through the mess that were the account books and ledgers which had been left here—though presumably Warren had the most recent ones in his possession.
Though I suspect they will tell the very same tale—or perhaps an even more fantastical one, for he’ll have had time to prepare them for the new master.
Yes, she rather suspected such preparations were what had been occupying Mr Warren since news of her and Thorn’simminent return here had come; what had prevented him from ingratiating himself with whom he likely suspected was the new, silly little countess.
He must’ve breathed much easier knowing Thorn wouldn’t arrive for a few more days…
And perhaps she should wait for her husband before she did what she was about to, however, Thorn had still not returned, and though she didn’ttrulydoubt he would at all, he had made her lady of the house, and she would not shirk her responsibilities.
