‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you. But you needn’t be. I have made peace with it, and I am glad to start afresh here. As for a return to London, Thorn has duties and responsibilities there now, as do I, I suppose, however I’ll admit, it’s not something we’ve discussed in great length yet. There’s been so much to do here…and in truth, I am not eager to return. I like it too much here.’
‘Aye, ’tis a good place, this.’
‘Yes—’
‘Ma! Look what Niamh and I found!’ Theo cried, coming in, hands cradled around something that neither she nor Delia could see, yet which made Delia’s eyes go wide with dread nonetheless, as Niamh trailed behind him, looking like she’d just found treasure.
And so she had, they discovered as they found a beautiful toad in Theo’s hands—a toad which promptly escaped, and so ensued a merry chase around the hall, ending only just as other guests began to arrive. Any further conversation with Delia was curbed, which Hypatia regretted somewhat. She might’ve liked to try and gain some wisdom, about life, and marriage, and the world. Perhaps in time, she might, over a lovely cup of tea; under the shade of Delia’s fruit trees.
For now, she would greet her guests, and see them fed and watered and having a jolly time, and when Thorn appeared, he would help her, and they too would have a lovely evening, and all would be well.
I have decided life here can only be well; even at its worst.
Thorn did appear in the end, entering the hall with Mr Reeves, and a small brace of other tenants, looking much more jovial, and in good spirits, though to Hypatia’s eyes, shadows and a certain stiffness prevailed amongst the smiles, laughter, and general air of bonhomie. She said nothing of it, however, merely smiled, as he did, and went on about having a wonderful evening.
This evening, the surprise I have planned, hopefully those will clear the cobwebs of his mind; or at least afford us a proper chance to talk, as we haven’t in some time, and which I find I sorely miss.
In any case, Hypatia—and from what she could see, Thorn, who was sat at the other head of their very long and pleasantlyanimated table—did go on to have a very pleasant evening. Drinks flowed, the roasted hogs appeared to complement the myriads of other dishes they’d managed to prepare—everything from warm lentils to salads of cress and cucumber, to fire-caramelised apples and pears—and more drinks appeared and were passed around. Children ran amok and played at knights and kings, Truffél and Lamb appeared, and made generally polite requests for scraps. There was laughter, and good conversation—ranging from local news to the true effect the Corn Laws had had, and how they hoped a repeal would pass—and there was warmth and gaiety such as Hypatia had never known. Acceptance, andlife, such as she’d never felt before.
As the puddings disappeared, along with the harsher spirits, a pleasant dimming swept over them all, at least until the songs began, accompanied by a flute someone produced from a pocket. Though some gotmoderatelyribald and jolly, neither did they completely extinguish the pleasant settledness in the hall, which Hypatia revelled in, leaning on her hand, smiling without end.
Delia finished a lovely duet with her husband—a song of summer loves and spring children—and Hypatia smiled all the more, clapping along with everyone else.
‘Your turn now, mistress!’ Fred shouted from halfway down the table, waking Hypatia from her pleasant reverie.
She was about to try and refuse, and even began to wave his suggestion away, when cups banged against the table, and other voices joined in, saying: ‘Yes, my lady, a song!’, ‘Tradition, Lady Gadmin!’, and so Hypatia chuckled, relenting. She’d never been overly talented at the exercise, but neither had she ever been told on the few occasions she’d tried her hand at it, that she was no good at all. Besides, hesitating, holding back…that was old Hypatia. Not Gadmin Hall Hypatia.
Rising, she tried to think of her best choice, and it wasn’t until she met Thorn’s gaze across the table, both magnetic and somehow sorrowful, that she decided.
‘There once was a girl who lived by the shore,
And made castles and kingdoms of shells and sand,
Dreaming of horizons and homes not known but longed for,
Calling to the waves to sweep her to those dreamed of lands.
Oh take me, sea maidens and beasts, she would call,
Take me to see those I’ve yet to meet,
Oh take me, oh take me, I’ll wait till nightfall,
Take me, Poseidon, so I ye entreat.
But the gods and sirens and waves left her there,
For years till the girl turned to woman,
And the shores of castles of shells and sand remained bare.
She lived her years, neither mother nor maid, growing wan.
In dreams she’d still sing: take me, sea maidens,
Take me to see those I’ve yet to meet,
