Hypatia took it all under consideration, just as she took everything those they hired and spoke to in the following days offered. She and Thorn visited the remainder of their lands andtenants, and with help from them, along with Danny and Fred, soon they had not quite afullroster of workers, but very nearly. Langton’s niece Mary arrived from Tonbridge, with her young daughter Niamh, an adorable little sprout with a penchant for helping Langton in the kitchen, and a mop of blond curls Hypatia knew many would envy. Mary took charge of the house without hesitation nor question, apparently determined to prove her worth and skill despite her young charge, who others might not have welcomed so easily; however, as the saying went—not that Hypatia liked it in the least, the saying, that is—beggars could not afford to be choosers. And though Thorn and Hypatia weren’t beggars yet, they were having to work extremely hard to ensure what funds they had were invested best they could be, be it in the farm, or the house.
So they did, making plans for each and both, working off their lists to deal with the most urgent matters—the roof, proper tools and equipment, more books to learn their new trade, workers, food—and also ensure they had some measure of security if they failed most spectacularly in their endeavours. They set aside some portion of funds in reserve to merely garner interest, another small portion to engage the solicitors to handle the Warren situation, and Thorn insistently set up an allowance for Hypatia, also paying back her five pounds already spent; a frugal life did not mean severely limited financial freedom for her, or so he vowed. They set aside some money in their minds for those matters less pressing—a new coach, some additional furnishings for the house, etc.—but otherwise, every penny was accounted for in accordance with the plans they’d agreed on.
It was a strange thing, though it grew less strange and disconcerting every day, to make planswithsomeone—or manysomeonesdepending on the conversation. To be part of this partnership, working towards a common, and meaningful goal. Hypatia tried not to think too hard on it, merely to enjoy it,and being heard, respected, and looked after, and indeed, the amount of work meant she had little time to do so. However, some moments, like at breakfast, when she and Thorn—and sometimes Henry or Mary—would discuss their plans for the day, it would strike her, the loveliness of the change. The ease of it; the relief and joy of it. No more did she have to run a household, care for others, manage everything, with unspoken demand yet without being seen lest they feel somehow less. No longer did she have to squash her own thoughts, and opinions, lest she be ridiculed, or dismissed. And she would thank whatever fate or sprite of luck had seen her sit in that garden the night of the party, and take a chance on Thorn.
One thing which turned out to be an urgent investment—according to Mary, and many others—was new clothes. Neither Thorn nor Hypatia’s wardrobes were suitable for being seen about various towns, markets, or even church—the latter a continual debate, as Hypatia preferred not to go, Thorn cared little, his faith in his words,personal, yet both knowing it was part of their newly acquired station. There was also a return to London in their eventual future, Mary had pointed out, though one look at each other, and Hypatia and Thorn had silently agreed to put that out of their minds for now. They would need face that eventuality at some point in future, but for now, the consensus was that Gadmin Hall was the priority. Hypatia knew why she didn’t want to think of London, after they’d only just got here; she liked Kent too much. This place, who she was here; who she was with Thorn, and getting to know him without any pressure or curious eyes. She wondered if he felt at all the same, and made a note to ask him sometime, if she found the courage.
But yes, new clothes were non-negotiable, even for their country life, particularly not since their old ones worsened with each day of work, regardless of Henry digging up more pieces from who-knew-where for them to use. Despite alittleexcitement at the prospect of getting new garments that she would’ve chosen, Hypatia was quite minded to just ask Mary—a talented seamstress according to a begrudging Langton, and less begrudging Henry—to do the work, or to merely do it herself, however, she was dutifully reminded that patronage of local businesses was an important part of being Countess of Gadmin.
So here she and Thorn were, in Sandham, the closest village-almost-town which had a draper-cum-haberdashery-cum-tailor-and-dressmaker. It was a charming little place, not as busy as one near a rail station, soon-to-come rail station, or on the main road. However, it was on one of the more travelled roads traversing the countryside, and boasted therefore a small but respectable inn, a variety of shops to serve the local populace—a grocer, a butcher, a baker, the clothier, an ironmonger, and so on—and some bright little cottages and homes, set around and below from the small green and Gothic-style church.
Having finished their sartorial business atWilson’s—covering the Mister Wilson, the Mrs Wilson, and their assistants, the Mssrs Wilson—which had taken far longer than Hypatia would’ve liked, though not nearly as long as they’d planned for, which was a pleasant surprise, Thorn and Hypatia wandered about Sandham, trying to get their bearings, and in a way, she supposed, introduce themselves to their new neighbours.
It had been a move made like so many, she realised, since Thorn’s arrival, in concert but without need for consultation beyond a glance.
‘Are you pleased with your choices?’ Thorn asked, as he led the way towards the green.
‘Yes, thank you. At least I will be if Mrs Wilson heeds my orders, and manages to deliver them without any of the ribbons, lace, bows, or other unnecessary adornments she was so set on convincing me I needed.’
‘Well I don’t know, I thought the pink flowered lace for instance, would’ve been just the thing to bring out the grapes on that extraordinary bonnet she had you try on.’
Hypatia glanced at him, to find him just as serious as his tone suggested; all except for the tiniest hint of a dimple above the left corner of his mouth.
‘You think you’re amusing, don’t you?’ Hypatia chuckled, tugging and pulling his arm gently, teasing the smile and jest from him until finally he laughed heartily. ‘Actually, come to think of it, that bonnet would’ve looked most fetching had I worn it whilst you sported that waistcoat Mr Wilson proclaimed the height of fashion—remind me, was the colour seaweed, or pickle?’
‘Well now wemustgo back for that bonnet, for I’ll have you know when you weren’t paying attention, I ordered that waistcoat, with embroidered pigs too.’
Thorn wiggled his eyebrows, and Hypatia laughed this time, drawing the looks of the few passersby, though perhaps that was merely the general curiosity they’d faced since arriving in Sandham, that reserved fornewcomers.
She didn’t have long to ponder it though, for in a trice, Thorn had stopped them, swinging Hypatia around so they faced each other, standing indecently closely, his hand sliding down her arm to take her hand as he so seemed to like to, and which she didn’t mind for that very reason.
Not that she was averse to touch, only as she was discovering—having not truly had a proper opportunity before—though she liked her husband’s touch in certain situations, she had no need of it as he did in other lesssensualmoments.
‘I am glad you will have clothes that you like,’ he said, gentleness washing away any jest, and warming her heart. ‘If we achieve nothing more than that in all of this, I’ll be glad of that. And admittedly, I will be rather…excited to see you in that gownwith thesuperblydropped shoulders,’ he said, tantalisingly marking the invisible collar line over her current one. ‘And that dark puce will be an excellent colour for you.’ Hypatia wrinkled her nose, stifling a grin, and he sighed. ‘It waspuce, wasn’t it? Ruined my attempt at seduction.’
‘Was that what you were trying to do?’
‘You asking that doesn’t bode well for my answer.’
‘I suppose not,’ she grinned, letting her enthusiasm for his attempt, and indeed, any further engagement in any manner of seduction or bedsport, shine in her eyes.
They hadn’t had occasion to…continue where they’d left off so to speak, work being what it was, and their exhaustion creeping in further with every passing day, only she needed him to know, the days since their last encounter had only served to increase her own enticement.
As they had his—at least as far as she could tell from the smouldering gazes he’d sometimes throw her across a barn, or field, or table. Even at times whilst they were covered in muck and other things best left unsaid, such as when she’d slipped and tumbled into a pile of it, and he’d laughed until she’d tried out her skills at tossing handfuls in his direction. They’d both ended up worse for wear, though laughing, and still, his gaze had been smouldering, which she supposed said something of their rather exciting compatibility.
A compatibility whose longevity she didn’t know—just as she didn’t know what their married life in general would hold once life assumed a more gentle, less hardy pace—but which she wished to enjoy whilst she could. The rest, the future, could wait to be discovered and adapted to in time; no use fretting over it.
Though I doubt adapting to not having Thorn in my life someday will be as easy as adapting to having him in it.
‘Soon,’ she promised with a smile, tapping his lapel, and moving them onwards. ‘When we’ve more than a couple hoursto shut our eyes, and perhaps enjoyed proper baths, and then there’s the question of your current nighttime companion. Of whose health and nomenclature I haven’t inquired.’
‘He is growing apace,’ Thorn told her, an affectionate smile on his face as they circled the green slowly. ‘The doctor said to keep on as we had been, and I was thinking I might see if he would like to come with me tomorrow, when we bring out the next group to the woods. He seems very curious, staring out the window at every chance, though I don’t think he knows quite what to make of the goats.’
‘Ah yes, of course. He’d be able to see them now they’re trimming the back gardens. I think you should bring him tomorrow. Langton for one will be glad to have him out of the kitchen, he keeps finding the runt rooting around the pantries and even found him in the cellar this morning.’
‘He has good instincts already, and actually, I’ve been thinking… Truffél would be a good name.’
‘As in the French?Truffle?’
