‘Are things not going well with Frank?’
‘It is…difficult,’ she sighed. ‘But it feels so strange speaking to you of all people about this…’
‘Who else have you to speak of it with just now?’
Another sigh, and Helen relented fully; when Hypatia glanced over again, as they turned onto another lane, she found the woman somewhat deflated, and resigned.
‘We are both affected by the loss of Thorn, by our own guilt at our actions. And things… Well, in many ways, nothing much has changed from how it was with Thorn, and so I find myself looking to the past, wondering if I made choices for the wrong reasons, or asked for too much.’
‘I asked Thorn about you. He regrets, or regretted, I’m not certain, how he treated you. You should know that. He told me, he only realised recently, that he’d never truly spoken to you, asked what you wanted, workedwithyou, to achieve and obtain what both or either of you wanted. He made excuses in many ways to preserve things as they were, since he found them to be just fine. What you and Frank did injured him, but he admitted he had his own large part to play in your relationship not being all it might’ve been before. I probably shouldn’t be sharing this with you, but I’m not sure Thorn ever will, and I feel as you’ve the right to hear it.’
‘Sometimes it is up to others who understand us better than we do ourselves, to speak our truths to those who need it. So thank you.’
Slowing the cart to a halt in a small verge, Hypatia stopped, and turned to Helen, admiring her perspicacity, and appreciating her words fully.
‘Do you love Frank?’
‘Yes,’ Helen admitted quietly, shame marring her joy. ‘He loves me, fulfils me in ways…’
‘Thorn never could.’ Helen nodded, and so did Hypatia, taking a deep breath.
‘I don’t seek to excuse myself, but I don’t think I would’ve done what I did had I not, much as I regret it.’
‘Then you should fight for what you have, and be honest with Frank in ways you and Thorn never were. Be clear about what you want, and when, and how, and if he cannot give you that, and you cannot give him what he wishes for, then perhaps, love isn’t enough.’
‘You’re very wise, my lady.’
‘Am I?’ Hypatia shrugged, and got them moving again. ‘If you say so.’
‘You’re quite…odd, if you don’t mind me saying,’ Helen chuckled, and Hypatia shook her head. ‘But I see you and Thorn, you suit in ways we never could’ve. You’ve done him good, I see the change in him, and he is happy.’
‘We are doing well with the house, and the farm, and things are looking up.’
‘You, make him happy. He loves you very much, and all I can say is that I am happy for you both.’
Hypatia smiled non-committally, not bothering to refute the woman’s assessment, particularly since she didn’t want to debate its veracity.
That Thorn was happy, that she was, was undeniable, and yes, they contributed to each other’s happiness, and liked each other, and cared for each other deeply, but as for love, romantic love as Helen suggested, and Hypatia being the predominant source of Thorn’s happiness… It simply couldn’t be true. For many reasons, including and not limited to the fact that Hypatia couldn’t…couldn’t bear the weight of that. The responsibility, the weight, of holding another’s happiness, it was too much. There was a difference, between care, and sacrifice, and duty, and twisting oneself into what the other needed, and knowing that one wrong word or move or choice could mar another’s joy or damn their soul to torment. It was wrong, and couldn’t last, and to hold such power over someone like that, it was madness, and irresponsible, and terrifying, and so it couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be love, because Thorn himself had said what could happen to one who loved—so many had over the millennia since man’s existence—and that was the cost, and neither of them wanted it, and they barely knew each other, and it didn’t feel like whisky, and so many other reasons.
Patently ignoring that Thorn might very well be a predominant source of her happiness and joy, and without him, she wouldn’t quite have so much of it, or that she’d not twisted herself into anything but herself for him, Hypatia drove them on into Sandham.
‘Are you sure you won’t return to Gadmin Hall for dinner?’ she asked Helen, having introduced her to Mrs Jennings, whose room she would be taking for the night, and explained the best way to get back to Essex. ‘You are welcome, I am sure there will be plenty of food.’
‘I don’t think that is the best idea,’ Helen said graciously. ‘But thank you.’
‘Well, then, I suppose this is goodbye. I wish you all the best. I hope things work out for you and Frank, and perhaps, someday, Thorn will bring me to visit, and we can all meet again.’
‘I would like that, my lady. And thank you, for everything.’
‘You are welcome. I’m glad you came.’
‘So am I.’
‘Good day, then, Helen.’
‘Good day, my lady.’
With a smile, the two parted, and Hypatia got back on her cart, and drove it all the way home, taking her time, as the solitude was just what she needed to return to herself.
