Thorn thought briefly of promising he would never do anything of the sort, yet he knew very well how cheap promises could be, and if it made Hypatia feel safer, more comfortable, he cared not one whit. In fact, he’d much rather she’d have kept her ten pounds, and perhaps taken his fortune too—if he’d had one—just to be certain.
I would pay any price for her freedom to always be hers. I will.
For now, however, he had to keep focused on the task, and important matters at hand.
‘I will pay you back.’
‘We are married, Thorn. You’ll see me taken care of in time, but for now, our resources must go to saving this place so we may live, and those loyal to this house may live. Unless you wish to take it all from here, in which case I understand.’
‘I… I don’t,’ he said quietly, feeling as though someone had come and hit the back of his head—and perhaps heart too—with a mighty rock.
He couldn’t quite comprehend all she said, and the simplicity with which she continuously proclaimed it, and perhaps that was his own past coming to play—be it in feeding his general distrust of people’s words and promises, or making him question why anyone would want to live such a life of drudgery as this if they had a choice—or perhaps it wasn’t.
Trust. Marriage. We. Not alone.
Perhaps it was simply that since the beginning of this ordeal, adventure, fever dream—whatever his new life was to be called—there had always been one certainty in Thorn’s mind. That he would be alone. The debts, the crumbling earldom, they were his to right, though they never should’ve been his to right. It was that same inexplicable sense of duty, to a stranger, to an old man who’d been alone, that had seen him do all he had until now, and he might’ve done it gladly, except now he saw he did not have to do it alone, and he was…
Grateful. Beyond measure or words, to this woman who sits by me now.
To boot, in the light of the afternoon sun, streaming through the diamond-pane windows, reflecting off the blanket of ivy outside, and the wood inside, Hypatia seemed to him then the most stunning creature he’d ever seen. He was finding her more fascinating, more beautiful by the minute, and something told him he should be wary of that, lest he mistake an offer of aid, partnership, their contract, for something else neither had any need nor desire for, because at the end of all this, they might be married, husband and wife, but they would never behusband and wife. Working towards a common goal now—a liveable home and income—did not negate their initial deal; which promised both of their freedoms.
All that notwithstanding, Thorn reasoned that he could very well allow himself to be fascinated by the glint of her freckles,and the lightness of the tips of her eyelashes, and the way the shadows around her throat moved when she breathed, and he—
‘I don’t want to do this alone, Hypatia, if you are willing to help,’ he said finally, clearing his throat, and downing his own tea. ‘It is only that I never expected anything but to be alone. When you agreed to marry me, I thought you’d want your own life.’
‘We agreed to be business partners,’ she said, a slight frown between her brows, and he swore he heard the tiniest little clink inside his mind; a cog setting itself into place, as he understood the mechanism of Hypatia just a little bit better. He breathed a little easier too, knowing they were in agreement still; of the same mind. ‘Perhaps some day I shall find a better occupation, something I wish to do with my life, however, for now, if this place should fall, we shall be destitute. And though I believe you would see me taken care of, if I can help, I will. This is my home now. So we shall make a plan, and be the best pig farmers this country has ever seen.’
‘Mayhaps we settle for the county in the first instance,’ he grinned, that notion ofwe, ofpartnership, of being less alone, ever more tantalising and foreign with every mention.
‘The county today,’ Hypatia agreed with a smile. ‘The country tomorrow.’
‘Very well then, my lady. As you bid it, so it shall be.’
And as they sat there, and began making plans,together, Thorn had the queerest sensation that whatever Hypatia were to bid him, he would see it done.
Rather than that being a terrifying prospect as it might be for some, he found it incredibly invigorating and reassuring.
Chapter Seven
‘So… Where do we go from here? That is unless today has been the proverbial feather to break the horse’s back for any of you, and you wish to leave, which would be understandable,’ Thorn said, glancing first at Henry and Langton, then at her, as if extending that offer to Hypatia too, which was absurd, because she thought they’d already discussed that this morning, and she’d made it clear she wasn’t going anywhere.
What is absurd is how it reassures you, being given that choice again. Always.
How it makes you appreciate and trust him all the more.
Even if his asking again was perhaps more to do with his continued doubts shewouldremain, which she supposed was akin to growing pains, as they got to know each other; she was certainly truly realising the scope of all there was left to learn of each other. Which was entirely normal, yet somehow surprising also, considering that from the first few minutes of their acquaintance, she felt as if she’d gotten the measure of the man; her husband.
However, the measure is only a small part of the full knowledge.
Indeed it was, and so far today she’d learned a great deal more of him than she’d known yesterday; as he likely knew more of her, or so she hoped. She felt she also saw Henry and Langtonwith better clarity, but then spending twelve hours tending to one hundred and three pigs and clearing as much as they could of at the very least one year’s worth of neglect, couldn’t fail to teach you more of anyone, as any adversity couldn’t.
They were far from finished. Today they’d only managed to return the pigs’ quarters to something further from squalor; to sort the animals and lodge them with others of similar condition, and hopefully, to reassure them that their worst days on this earth were past.
For all of them, it had taken strength beyond anything they’d required for a while—that much had been clear—to not retch, or cry, or exclaim in horror every second. To mourn or rage every time they turned a corner, opened a new pen, shifted some beasts, and found another mound of endless refuse, or the remnants of a lost swine. The struggle to remain focused on the task and to not be affected by what they found was in all their eyes, and shaking heads, as they moved along, pen by pen, inch by inch, their faces covered with scarves and cloths.
They’d broken only for water on occasion, and to light lamps once the sun had finally set, allowing themselves food and rest only now—a spot of cheese, bread, and cider, sitting at the worn but comforting oak slab of a table by the kitchen’s fire. They’d done what they could today, washed up best they could and discarded what old things Henry had dug up from somewhere—smock-frocks, boots and the like—though what they’d swum through still hung in the air, on their skin, and on their clothes. Hypatia—and she was sure the others shared the sentiment—might’ve sworn loyalty to any supernatural being in exchange for a proper warm bath; however, she knew that was not in the cards for tonight.
Perhaps tomorrow.
