‘You took a chance, marrying me. The fate which scares you is therefore already impossible.’
‘What scares you most, Thorn?’ she asked, turning back to him, her heart still smarting from the reassurance and hope of his words.
‘You.’
Uncertainty filled her heart, drowning out the rest, as she felt both the wound of his honesty, and the skipping of her heart at his confession.
Knowing she would not be able to untangle thewholetruth of his meaning, nor have the mind nor heart to face whatever it might be, she nodded, and left to find the comfort of her own bed.
I think perhaps I should fear you too, husband.
Chapter Eight
Though Thorn wasn’t unaccustomed to hard work, nor what many would consider inhospitable and gruelling hours, he found that first day at Gadmin Hall had had rather more of an impact on his far from delicate constitution than expected. He might’ve blamed the diminished hours of sleep he’d been afforded—perhaps three or four, by the time he’d settled into bed, only to be woken by Henry just before dawn—except he’d slept profoundly, and dreamlessly, and had many such a short night before, and never been the worse for wear.
Likely it was just the magnitude of his life’s upheaval which was finally impacting him; not aided in the least by the magnitude of the work still ahead, the mounting distraction of confusing inklings resembling feelings towards his wife, and his own apparent new propensity for late-night confessions such as that which he’d made last night. It was naught but the truth, and he’d been attempting to match Hypatia’s honesty with his own, to continue their partnership as it had begun—with such stark and unreserved, refreshing candour—however, he felt somehow he’d injured her, and at the same time, revealed something of himself he’d not had the time to fully consider, or digest.
Which was that Hypatia was rapidly becoming a strong and unalienable presence and necessity in his life, as though she’d always been there, even while he continued to discovernew facets and aspects of this stranger he’d agreed to share something of a life with. And her becoming such a strong and unalienable, such a natural and vital presence, was rather unsettling for a man who’d been content his whole life to be as independent as one could be.
Yes, he’d loved Helen, and sought to bring her into his life; however, her betrayal had forced him to face the fact that he’d neverneededher in his life. It wasn’t that he’d thought their life together would just be him, continuing as before, with Helen as some accessory, however, he’d never quite felt Helen’s presence as he did Hypatia’s—but again, that was likely down to the circumstances of everything, and Hypatia was terribly clever and headstrong, and hard-working, and merely interesting on the whole. As for anyone else in his life, well, beyond his father, Frank, then Malek, well, it was as he’d said. He’d not really sought to create ties with anyone. Before the betrayal, he’d been busy, work consuming most of his days, and well, he’d felt he hadenoughin his life. Few friends, but good ones. And perhaps, yes, there was a sense… He knew what loss could do; how it could transform someone. He’d seen it with his father; with himself, after the betrayal. He’d become someone angry, and resentful, and he hadn’t liked himself. All that compounded so that he’d had neither the heart nor need to go seeking out more people to bring into his life.
So really, it was only the fact he’d been alone some time now, along with the circumstances of everything, that was unsettling him slightly, and not that he feared he was beginning to need Hypatia, nor terrified of what it might be like to find himself alone yet again, or worse, betrayed again.
Right. Only the circumstances.
Really, he was according far too much thought to this generally, even regardless of all that needed to be done in order to ensure any and all of them here at Gadmin Hall couldeat tomorrow. If Hypatia could appear at breakfast, looking unbothered, annoyingly bright anden forme, ready for the day ahead in the best of her few gowns—a horrid creation whose colour fell somewhere between old mustard and eels—well then, he could carry on with his day, and life, without preoccupation. So he had, enjoying breakfast with her before readying themselves to set off on their explorations of Gadmin Hall’s estate.
Hypatia had had the foresight—though he didn’t want to think ofwhenshe’d had the time—to prepare a list of parcels, farms, and areas to be visited, in order of priority, with what the ledgers and records indicated they should find at each place. As he’d followed her out to the horses, sliding on his hat which he felt gave himsomewhatof the air of a country gentleman—if only because he’d chosen to pair it with the best of his everyday attire that he’d once worn to visit gentlemen’s houses for work—he’d wondered again what might’ve become of him if he’d chosen anyone other than Hypatia for a wife, or found no one at all, but as soon as the morning’s dew-strewn breeze had hit his face, he’d dismissed such thoughts as the sort ofpreoccupationswhich he’d previously sworn off.
That dismissal had stood fast most of the morning thus far, as they’d been quite busy indeed, muddling through the mess they found—untidy fields, parcels not where they were meant to be or long sold, mistrusting tenants not so happy to meet them, and fields or pastures being used by mysterious parties yet to be discovered—a mess worse than they’d hoped for, though admittedly, thosepreoccupationscrept through with every efficient note, conversation, or plan Hypatia made, leading the charge. Much like last evening, at times she would take the lead without question or hesitation, and at others, she would seem to remember herself, and that he was meant, according to society and certain beliefs, to be her lord and master, so shewould wait, and he would nod and smile, and silently entreat her to continue on her productive and merry way. Then they would be off again, in companionable silence as they explored their lands, and enjoyed the pleasant breeze and sunshine, and the preoccupations would be dismissed for a while longer.
Now, as they came upon another tenant farm the preoccupations and gratitude crept in again, as Hypatia dismounted, and led the charge searching for the inhabitants amidst a dilapidated assortment of middling-sized stone buildings, among which fussed some chickens and a mongrel, and the tinkling of goats’ bells could be heard.
‘Hello?’ Hypatia called, as both of them searched for more human signs of life. ‘Is anyone about?’
‘They might be in the fields like the first,’ Thorn offered, and Hypatia nodded. ‘Then again perhaps not,’ he added, when a flash of something to his right caught his eye, and he turned to find a young lad of about ten staring at them, a bucket of water in his hand. ‘Good morning.’
The boy narrowed his eyes, and Hypatia turned to examine him too.
‘Hello. I’m Hy—the Countess of Gadmin and this is my husband, the earl. Are your parents or whomever is in charge of this farm around, please?’
‘Maaaaaaaaa!’ the boy called, and Thorn smiled to himself, as Hypatia quirked her head, studying the lad as though a curiosity. ‘Maaaaaaa!’
‘Why are you shoutin’ down the yard, Theo?’ sounded another voice from behind. ‘Have you got that water or—?’
Whirling around, they found a tiny wren of a woman, covered in flour, eyes as wide as Theo’s.
‘Good day, Mrs Hampton is it?’ Hypatia smiled, heading for the woman, hand outstretched. ‘I’m Lady Gadmin, it’s a pleasureto meet you, and this is my husband. We were wondering if we could have a word with you and Mr Hampton?’
The wren blinked, took Hypatia’s hand to shake it, then realised halfway through doing itwhatshe was doing, then tried to correct and curtsey, so that it ended up looking like some formal court greeting—or so Thorn imagined one might—albeit with floured hands and muddy shoes.
‘Of course, my lady. Theo, get yer father. Lord Gadmin, my lady, if you’d follow me, I can offer you some tea, and I’ve a rhubarb tart if you’d like, or biscuits.’
‘That sounds lovely, thank you,’ Hypatia said, a smile in her voice, as she and Thorn followed Mrs Hampton towards the cottage, set a little ways from the main farm buildings.
It was a sweet little home, surrounded by a small wildflower garden, larger planted areas for vegetables, and a few pear and apple trees.
‘’Tis not really fit for company,’ Mrs Hampton hesitated, ushering them through the untidy, but clean space, littered with clothes, tools, and the occasional decorative piece such as an embroidered verse or some such. ‘I’ll have to have ye in the kitchen, we’ve set up my brother and his lad in the front room.’
