Their life had continued on much as it had been progressing—sansvicious outbursts, or great misunderstandings. There had been moments of chafing, of annoyance, of things rising unexpectedly to the surface—frustration at not succeeding instantly at this wholesaving Gadmin Hallenterprise for instance—but Thorn and Hypatia had both learned to just say it outright. Sometimes to leave it, or the other for a day or night, but to return, with a cool head, and care of how to share. It was novel, and terrifying, yet restorative and comforting in ways Thorn had never experienced.
Their work generally continued apace, returns to market if not filling their coffers, then making more or less of a mark, depending on the day, somewhat in great thanks to Mr Fairchild, who had returned for hogs, and spread the word the meat and pigs were good. Neighbours continued to help and become friends; fields were planted or leased, new tenants found. Bits of furniture were bought for the house, repairs made to windows,doors, floors, and everything in between. A couple more workers joined them—a few lads for the farm, stables, and fields—and plans were made for the autumn. Reeves helped them make plans for a fair in late September in a nearby town—small, but of reputational prestige—and Thorn and Hypatia worked hard to get Belinda and Clyde both to exceptional weight and presentation without harming them. They were good animals, who only needed additional tending to show off their interior excellence.
Thorn, when he had a moment to spare, which wasn’t often, went to the forge, and made things which were needed on the farm, in the house, or merely for pleasure; like the other surprise he had for Hypatia. It restored him, cleared his mind, and reminded him, as she’d hoped, of who he was. As did, in many ways, all the time he spent with her, learning every detail, every facet of not only her body, but her mind and heart. Her intricacies—such as the way she always brushed her hair two hundred times, though it made her look like a poodle until after a night’s slumber—and her preferences, and her everything. He shored it all up, loving every detail, every morsel, just as he loved every bath they shared in the stream, every passionate kiss in the middle of the pasture, every night he lost himself within her; in every way possible. It showed him what kind of man he was, and wanted to be; reminded him his past, his hurts, his no longer useful ways of thinking were not all he was. But that he was kind, and passionate, and free, and hard-working, and could make Hypatia smile after a long day, and take care of others, and not be crushed by expectation or disappointment.
It taught him that he was a man who could, and wanted to, love again, with his whole heart, in a manner he’d never thought possible. Not selfishly, not demandingly, not with any aim but to be with another, and make them happy, and feel life coursing through their veins every second of every day. Itwasn’t at all like a good whisky; it was like coming home, and being in your favourite chair after a long absence. It was working to understand and learn another because you couldn’t be but fascinated, and needed to know who they were, that made you feel so yourself.
In many ways his love for her terrified him, for all that it might, could, hurt and change him if ever he lost her entirely; however, he worked every second to become the sort who loved unreservedly in spite of the fear. Who saw the possibilities of life even if love should be torn from them, for they’d have had the chance to experience it. It was far from easy, but he knew what fear, and anger, and insecurity could do, and he never wished to succumb to them so easily, so readily again. He knew his growing love had played a part in his earlier resentments, cruelty, and anger towards her; some part of him had been terrified of acknowledging his love, lest he accept how terrible a loss of Hypatia, or a wound, cut, or betrayal from her might be. Worse, perhaps, in its difference to that of Helen’s, just as his love was different; not that he liked comparing.
He hadn’t told Hypatia, of course. It wasn’t that he wasn’t communicating as he’d promised, it was that he wanted the time and space to do so properly. To do so without making demands. For whatever Hypatia might feel for him, and he knew she felt many things, though she guarded some closer than anyone might expect, he didn’t want her to feel the need to reciprocate, or say she did, to make him feel better. He knew how complex a subject love was for her. It would not mean that he was unworthy, and truly, he accepted that if she never loved him as he loved her, well, that would be just fine. He had enough love in him for them both to have a happy life, even if in time they became platonic friends. Hypatia was the most important thing to him, and their marriage meant something beyond a mere business deal; always had, but even more so now. In time, at theright place, in the right time, he would tell her so, tell her all of it, and see if perhaps, she might be ready to renegotiate the terms of their initial agreement.
Perhaps she might risk taking another chance with me.
So yes, the past month had been exceptionally simple, tedious, difficult, lovely, and special, and they’d all been working hard, therefore, this break was just the ticket; for Henry, Mary, Langton, and their maid, Finny, too, since Thorn had forbidden them to work.
I can only hope they follow the edict. As for us, it seems…
‘We’re here,’ Thorn said, grinning in anticipation as the carriage pulled to a halt, and Hypatia straightened eagerly.
‘And where precisely ishere, Lord Gadmin?’
‘The sea, Lady Gadmin,’ Thorn told her as Ian opened the door, bright sunshine flooding into the carriage and temporarily blinding them, until finally, their eyes adjusted.
Hypatia slid to the edge of her seat, and stared out, and oh, what he would’ve given to call upon that fictional painter again, to commission them to immortalise her face then, so full of wonder, astonishment, and fascination.
‘It’s…incredible,’ she breathed after a long moment. ‘I cannot find words, for it defies all those written about it these past millennia. And the air…so extraordinary,’ she grinned, taking a lungful of it, before turning back to him. ‘Thank you, Thorn.’
‘You’re welcome. Shall we?’
‘Yes, please!’
Not waiting for him, and barely taking Ian’s arm, she descended, unable to wait a second longer, and chuckling, Thorn followed, popping on his hat.
‘Enjoy your day, Ian,’ he told the man with a nod, watching his wife stand like a statue among the rest of the visitors, workers, and inhabitants making their way along the seafront. ‘We’ll see you outside the hotel in the morning.’
‘And you, my lord,’ Ian said, with a bow of the head, before jumping back up to his post, and setting off for his own adventures; funded by Thorn, but of which he needed to know nothing at all.
‘So, my lady,’ Thorn said, turning his attention back to his wife, and slipping her arm in his. ‘We have many choices to occupy our time—and we have a room nearby for the night. There is, as you can see, this delightful shingle beach. There are baths, I’m told, an arcade, some half-timbered houses, a fish market, more shopping, some fascinating boat launches, games, entertainment and walks of all sorts, and a castle. What would you like to do?’
‘Everything,’ she smiled, broader than he’d ever seen, her eyes alight with joy. ‘But first, I want to put my feet in the water.’
So, tugging him along, she set off to find a path to the sea, and Thorn had to mark this moment down too, as one of the happiest of his life.
In the end, they didn’t do everything. They wet their feet in the sea, Hypatia frolicking like a child, Thorn frolicking alongside her, to the amused and sometimes disapproving stares of others. Then, when the sea rose past the patches of comfortable sand, they went back and sat on the shingles, and watched the waves, the children, the other lovers, the fishermen.
When Thorn asked if she was hungry, or wished to go explore elsewhere, he saw enough hesitancy and lack of enthusiasm in Hypatia’s otherwise bright face, that he knew she didn’t. So he went off to find them food, obtaining a mix of sea produce from a fisherman’s hut further along, and they feasted on it right there, watching the waves, the children, the other lovers, and the fishermen.
They didn’t speak much either, which he didn’t find he minded at all. They didn’t need to talk today, or any day, to enjoy each other’s company, and share in something. Eventually, he rose again to fetch them some shaved ice, but beyond that, they didn’t move, until the sea began its descent again, at which point they went to soak their feet, wandering along the length of the shore, and back again. And they held hands, and swung their tied-together boots between them as one might a small child, and they watched the children, and the fishermen, and looked at the huts, and the castle on the cliff, and the other lovers, and the new buildings along the seafront, and watched the sunset.
Thorn, for one, found it to be perfect, and amended his earlier thought;thiswas the happiest he’d ever been.
Eventually, a chilly evening breeze, conspiring with exhaustion, drove them to seek the comfort of their hotel, so, somewhat reluctantly, they put their socks, stockings and boots back on, and made their way there, stopping for some hot buns full of crab on the way, which they devoured without delay or ceremony, before continuing on, weaving through visitors like themselves, and locals of all ages and dispositions, half admiring the architecture, half merely soaking in the atmosphere.
Finally, they arrived atThe Old Beech, and were brought up to their small, but delicately decorated room, overlooking the seafront, and which featured one specific amenity: a screen between two single beds.
‘I hope it’s all right,’ Thorn said, once the attendant showing them up had departed. ‘I couldn’t quite justify getting two rooms, but if you wish me to, I’m sure they’ll have something for me.’
‘This is perfect, Thorn,’ she reassured him with a grateful smile. ‘Thank you for thinking of this arrangement. For a perfect day.’
