‘There are some things which need to be discussed, and if you’ve any love for your daughter, you will let me in. Or we can all do this outside, if that is your preference.’
Mr Quincy looked about to refuse, but then carefully thought on what had been said, and nodded, stepping aside.
As he entered, Thorn vaguely noted how nicely Reeves had done up the cottage—simply, but tastefully, so that it felt homely, and lived-in, rather than a mere vacant space. He wondered too, as he stepped in the comfortably sized sitting room, with its plush chairs, and watercolours, flooded by afternoon sun despite lace curtains, who had lived here, or why it was kept thus; merely for visiting guests, yet-to-arrive tenants, or some other purpose entirely.
He shook off those thoughts, and nodded instead to the ladies waiting, perched on those chairs, looking rather red-eyed and forlorn, though attempting cold and distant disdain at his appearance.
‘Mrs Quincy, Miss Quincy,’ he greeted, pondering sitting, but thinking better of it, and leaning on the windowsill instead.
Mr Quincy thought about his position too, and finally settledbetween his wife and daughter, a hand on both their shoulders in support.
‘Say whatever it is you’ve come to, and be done with it then,’ Quincy ordered, and Thorn realised…many things.
How much love and protection there is in this room; for one daughter, at least.
How lost they all are; caught in their own habits, their own ways, as I was for so long.
Yet they allowed me entry, so perhaps there is hope.
‘I am not typically a man of many words, nor can I claim to know much at all,’ Thorn began, the momentousness of his task, his responsibility and potential inadequacy, even his audience being family of one he loved dearly, hitting him more than it had before. And luckily so, for if he had fully realised it before, he might not have come at all.What does that say of me, I wonder?‘I like to think, that somewhere inside all of you, you know the truth of what I’m about to say, and so will accept it, and find some way to facilitate change. You’ve never loved Hypatia well, any of you.’ Protestations rose to their lips, but Thorn raised a warning hand. ‘I believe you love your daughter, and your sister, or at least, I hope so. And if you do, you cannot deny the truth. You have not loved her well, as a daughter, or a sister. Merely as your caretaker, your assistant, your chaperone, your housekeeper… I do not know what led to that, be it circumstance, or your own upbringing. However, as a son who was loved by his father, let me tell you how my heart broke when my wife told me she couldn’t recognise me being proud of her, for she’d never seen such a thing in the eyes of another close to her.’
The Quincys hung their heads, and gulped, and Epi frowned, taking either longer to understand, or examining her own experience through that lens.
‘Such wounds are not so easily repaired, deep as they are,’ Thorn continued, after having afforded them a moment. ‘And I do not know if they ever truly can be. I do know that she loves you, best she can, given your past. She doesn’t want to lose you, but she needs time, to find herself, to learn what she wishes to, and be free of you, and your demands and needs. She is your daughter, and your sister, but now, she is herself too, in her own right. My wife, a woman I admire, and love, and a countess of this realm. When she is ready, I believe she will reach out to you. In the meantime, you should refrain from imposing yourselves on her, in any manner. And as for my last piece of advice, don’t do to Iphigenia what you did to Hypatia. Don’t sacrifice her at the altar of your ambitions, and self-involvement.’
Waiting, in case they had anything to say, Thorn watched them; watched guilt, indignation, regret, sadness, resignation, and incomprehension, appear in all of them, like a prism in light. Finally, believing nothing more would be said, he straightened, and made to leave.
‘We don’t…know what to do without her,’ Mrs Quincy said, as quiet and frightened as a bird, and he turned back, offering as much sympathy as he could. ‘London…that is, we are lost without her.’
‘Perhaps you should try Bath, or Tunbridge Wells,’ Thorn suggested gently. ‘I’ve heard they’re very popular, and I might also suggest the seaside. Some time, in new settings, with new people, might be just the ticket. You’ve money, and one daughter married to an earl, no matter how low of an earl I might be in Society’s eyes. I believe, in time, you’ll find a place to suit you all.’
‘You don’t deserve her any more than we do,’ Mr Quincy said, not harshly, not cruelly, yet it struck truer for that very reason. ‘And she certainly deserves better than this life.’
‘I know,’ Thorn said simply. ‘Every moment I have with her is a gift I do not take lightly. As for the life she deserves… I seekonly to facilitate the one she wants. Her freedom is, and will always be her own.’
‘Not if you chain her with love, after such a lack as you say she felt in our house,’ Epi chimed in, showing a rare amount of brilliance and understanding; or perhaps only one he hadn’t expected, knowing her not at all.
The latter, I fear.
‘Your carriage will be here in the morning,’ Thorn said, swallowing the lump lodged in his throat. ‘Dinner and breakfast will be brought to you, and if you require anything else, do advise whoever brings them to you. Mr Quincy, Mrs Quincy, Miss Quincy, good day, and safe travels to wherever you decide to go.’
With that, Thorn left, making his way back to Gadmin Hall, with even less of a spring in his step as he’d had previously.
He might’ve been more pleased with how the day had turned out; especially considering how it had taken a turn with the appearance of so many unexpected, and unwanted—but needed—guests. He might’ve felt good at having threads tied off, if not neatly, then simply. He might’ve felt more grateful to Fate, or God, or whatever powers, that he felt the weight lifting from having said what little he had to Helen, having Malek back in his life, and even knowing that the Quincys hadheardall he’d said to them.
In many ways, he was pleased, grateful,better. However, Epi—Iphigenia’s words—had mightily stuck in his craw. For he knew how dangerous his love could be to Hypatia, and all she’d found so far having left her family home for this one. Perhaps it was why he’d not been able to declare his love; not only because he feared she might not share it, or love him only for she knew no one else to love thusly, but because he didn’t want to chain her to him. Stop her looking elsewhere, for someone, for something, for another life, more opportunities; anything shewished. The world was hers; she deserved it all and more, and making her feel any sense of duty towards him, or his feelings, would be risking her making the same choices she’d been taught to by the Quincys.
He needed her, so very much, to be himself, to breathe, to get up in the morning, and be happy, but he’d always known, she didn’t need him.
As. She. Shouldn’t.
Telling her he loved her, it risked endangering her openness to allelselife had to offer. It risked—
‘Where have you been?’ Hypatia asked, spotting him as he traversed the stable-yard, in which she was unhooking one of the horses from the cart. ‘I thought you’d be with Malek at the forge.’
‘I was, earlier,’ Thorn said, smiling away his thoughts softly, and focusing instead on his wife, and how beautiful she was, and lovely, and how he wouldn’t ever do anything to chain her to any life.Nor myself.‘He liked it, and will stay, that is if you don’t mind.’
‘Of course not,’ she smiled, eyes narrowing, as if she knew something was amiss.
