‘Our winner today, demonstrating true character, excellence of breeding, and the full potential in all characteristics, notably that sunnily sandy coat is Wyn, of Dashdown Estate!’
Hypatia’s heart fell, though she tried to tell herself it was nothing, and they still had a chance. Thorn held her tighter to him despite the growing heat, whilst the same process was repeated again.
‘All right, Clyde,’ she whispered. ‘It’s all up to you now, we believe in you.’
‘Moving on to the gents now! Our meritorious mention is a striking example from Berkshire,’ the presenter called, and Hypatia would not lose hope until the final name was said.Come on, Clyde…‘Alfie, from Kithrow Manor!’
The cheers, the handshaking, the applause, and the lead-out.
‘Come on, Clyde,’ Thorn muttered, and Hypatia felt something change then inside her, though she had neither the time, nor the mind to study it.
Later. For now, COME ON, CLYDE!
‘Our winner today, the undisputed favourite of our judges, and a real treat to see as we’ve not quite had such a specimen in years…’
‘Come on, Clyde…’
‘This beast of a boar, Clyde from Gadmin Hall! What a spectacular first entry from this farm!’
It wasn’t until hundreds of eyes turned to them expectantly, and she saw him up there, gorgeous, wonderful Clyde, that Hypatia felt the impact, and the truth of their win.
Turning to Thorn disbelieving, she watched as the realisation washed over him too, though shock kept them still for instants, or minutes—she certainly didn’t know—and then tears were falling, and he was holding her in a tight embrace, rocking her, as hands patted their backs, and encouraged them up.
‘Go on,’ Thorn whispered, urging her up, and she shook her head.
‘Together.’
Hesitating for some reason she would ask him about later, he took a moment before nodding, and letting her drag him up.
It was a blur as they repeated the actions of the others—shaking hands, taking a bow, receiving a little ribbon to show their accomplishment—before leading Clyde, good, excellent boy that he was, back down and to the holding pens. Danny was waiting for them, and they embraced and shook his hand, congratulations flying around like shards of gold. Others came too—farmers, buyers, and so on—to chat, to congratulate, to share in the revelry, and Hypatia lost herself in that until it was time for Clyde to be taken away for the auction.
Knowing she likely wouldn’t get the chance again, she knelt down, and hugged Clyde tightly.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered to him. ‘You will not be forgotten, wherever your journey takes you from here.’
He snorted in her ear, and she laughed, tears streaming again as she released him, and watched him go.
‘I’ll go, if you don’t wish to,’ Thorn offered, slipping his hand into hers. ‘Why don’t you take Danny, get something to drink to celebrate. I’ll bring news when it’s done.’
‘Yes, perhaps that’s better,’ she said, wondering when her heart had become too sore to watch what Belinda and Clyde’s fates would be. ‘We’ll meet you by those Italian puppeteers.’
Thorn threw her a smile, and nodded, before disappearing towards the auction tent.
As she did, she had the queerest feeling that it was a presage of some sort, before reminding herself that she believed in no such things, and she was just overwhelmed, and so she and Danny went to find some delicious cider, and wait for Thorn by the puppeteers.
Chapter Twenty-Four
If Thorn hadn’t believed in order, in design, in fate, in life making right, and prompting choices and changes in direction as he did, he might’ve been more surprised to find the letter he did, waiting for him when they returned from their victorious and intoxicating escapade to the fair. Only he did believe in such things, and so he wasn’t surprised; he knew full well it was time, and that he’d held out as long as he’d been able to.
What a way to end one chapter, and begin another, he thought to himself in fact, when he’d finished reading it, and set it back down on the old, battered desk they’d found some weeks ago, and put to good use in many various ways since.
Clyde had fetched top price, beyond anything Thorn had dared hope for, and Belinda had also fared nicely. The connections they’d made at the fair, many thanks to Clyde’s win, and both of their acceptable entries, as well as rumours from the various markets and buyers they’d sold to thus far, had promised—and in some cases already delivered—new clients and opportunities. Their bet—Hypatia’s idea—had paid off with the success they’d both dreamt of, and it had been an exceptional few days away from home, to truly enjoy himself with Hypatia, and spoil her, and be near her, and see…
All he had. Including and not limited to the unfettered joy and pride he’d seen in her when Clyde had won, sharing thatmoment with her, seeing just how she spoke and dealt with all those staunch and sometimes stubborn buyers and farmers again, how perfectly extraordinary she was. It was a time, like that they’d spent at the seaside, that he would keep close, and remember forever.
However now, it is time to set her free in truth.
It was something, a time he’d felt approaching since her family’s visit. Every day, as they toiled and laughed and shared pleasure and toiled and spoke and lived, he’d felt it nearing. Felt the truth of her sister’s words; known that to continue on together, would stifle her. His love would stifle her, limit her, as her family’s need of her had stifled her, trapped her. Perhaps it already had; perhaps in many ways she’d lost herself to her duty to their marriage, something she’d feared of love from the start. Since she’d come here, every moment had been devoted to the farm, to this endeavour, and though he knew she enjoyed it, and found much of herself in all she learned and did, found friends, and freedom, and joy, it stole much of her choice. His needs, the needs of the title, of his role…they would continue to do so; and that was without even factoring in his love. Whereas if he walked away, and let her find whatever she was meant to, she would…
