To give Helen’s words their proper perspective, and cast them off, and not worry anymore that she or her husband had somehow fallen in love with each other. It had never been part of their agreement, and though she shouldn’t find it so terrifying at all, she certainly did, and so she rescinded an idea she’d toyed quietly with for some time since coming here, that perhaps it was worth the trouble, and that she might like to try it someday.
For I find now, it isn’t a prospect I delight in any longer.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘You should entertain more often,’ Malek said wryly, perking up from his otherwise silent spectatorship, once Hypatia had disappeared with Helen; and Thorn had had enough time to silently pray nothing might be said, or happen, to distress Hypatia. He might’ve handled this all better, given Helen the private audience she clearly wished for, and yet he found he had no regrets. ‘The strangest, yet most interesting afternoon I’ve had in a long while.’
‘You were always a worse hermit than me,’ Thorn pointed out, turning back to his once apprentice, now…whatever he would be.Friend and associate? Friend and…?‘I can only imagine you didn’t improve much after I left.’
‘I don’t know what you mean. I hosted dinners and balls, and bonfires, and garden parties every day and every night after you left.’ Thorn grinned, and Malek sighed, apology shimmering in his eyes. ‘Are you angry?’
‘With the Quincys, yes. With Helen…no. Unless she injures Hypatia. With you, no.’
‘I should’ve written before I made any decisions, consulted you, asked your opinion—’
‘I gave you the business, what you did with it was your decision. It is bittersweet, I will not lie, and yet, perhaps it was time. What my father built is not lost, and I understand thatnot everything works out in the manner we hope it to. Today is a prime example,’ Thorn grinned. ‘Basking after our outing, I was looking forward to ending the day with my wife in bed, but instead we came home to a houseful of guests, only one of which I was admittedly glad to see, though I’ll not regret saying that which needed to be to Helen.’
Malek smiled softly, and downed the remainder of his cold tea.
‘You should speak to them,’ he said quietly, gazing up onto the house’s facade. ‘Her family. I may not be an expert, and I know speaking of important matters is generally not your preferred activity, however from what little I saw, there is much to be said, and I don’t get the impression your wife will be heard were she to do it.’
Thorn nodded vaguely, knowing Malek was right; he’d already felt that impulse plucking the strings of his heart since their harried departure.
Were he to remain silent now, either they would attempt such a supposed rescue again, or an unbreachable gulf would grow between the Quincys and Hypatia, and knowing what little he did, remembering what she’d shared, he didn’t think that was something she truly wanted. He was just beginning to wonder if there wasn’t some veracity to her father’s words—that Hypatia would be better off elsewhere, that living as they were featured some absurdity and dishonour—but Malek interrupted him before he could fall too far down that path; one which he knew was the furthest from the truth as possible.
Our life is good. We are happy, and though much needs improvement, we are working on it. Together.
‘I like her,’ Malek said. ‘She is kind, and very clever.’
‘Far cleverer than I,’ Thorn agreed. ‘Far more everything than I might’ve hoped for.’
‘I am glad for you, that your marriage turned out to be one of love in the end.’
‘I don’t… I don’t know if she feels thus for me,’ Thorn admittedly quietly, realising he’d not really had anyone to speak to about this, his doubts, his questions. He might’ve spoken to any of the workers, or his staff, but it was too close to home. And in all honesty, Danny and Fred for one were some of the worst gossips, so that was the last thing he needed. ‘She… We care for each other, and I certainly love her more than I thought I ever could. But she is so strong, so independent, so…everything, which is wonderful, I don’t think she needs me enough to love me.’
‘You believe that a necessity?’
‘In my experience, yes.’
Malek made a non-committal noise, which Thorn was about to ask him to explain, but instead his once apprentice simply shrugged, and spoke again.
‘She gave you a forge.’
‘Yes, I suppose she did,’ Thorn agreed, wondering, hoping, if that meant what his heart thought it did as it leapt and bounded. ‘A forge which I should show you now, see if you like it. I’ve been using it of late, but it would suit you well, if you wish, though I’ll still come pester you now and then.’
‘It sounds perfect,’ Malek said, and the two rose. ‘If it is near friends again, that will be enough for me.’
Too touched to speak, Thorn merely nodded, and patted the lad on the back, and led him onwards. And as they walked towards the forge, he thought how strange again life was, to bring answers, to bring friendship, to bring resolution and forgiveness, precisely at the time when it was needed most.
Odd as today has been, I find it restores my faith in order, design, and fate.
Taking a deep breath, reminding himself why he was doing this—whohe was doing this for—Thorn stood up straight, trying to at once project confidence and appeasement, and knocked on the cottage door. It was a simple, small, but lovely place, surrounded by lovely fields and pastures, dotted with Reeves’ fluffy white flocks, adding to the pretty picture.
He waited, not overly long, before finally the door opened, Mr Quincy appearing on the other side, looking none too pleased at the visitor.
Well, now you know how that feels.
‘What are you doing here?’
