‘LikeHellit cannot be undone,’ her father spluttered, and though Thorn hadn’t expected jolly celebration to meet their news—particularly after Hypatia’s predictions—he had expected slightly more restraint from a man who, for all intents and purposes, was attempting to do as many feared, and infiltrate the highest rungs of Society, with money, and an advantageous marriage for his youngest. ‘Why, I should hail a Peeler right now, and have this one taken in for fraud, and theft, money-grabbing opportunist—’
‘Do calm yourself, and desist, Father,’ Hypatia ordered, in such a tone which could not be disobeyed, resting her hand on Thorn’s forearm, to stop his intervention, undeniably obvious for the step he’d taken towards Quincy. Thorn obeyed, as her father did, knowing this was her battle. ‘You shall not call the Peelers. We shall settle this like the civilised people we purport to be. You will take Thorn to your study. You will make the arrangements pertaining to my marriage. I will pack my things. And then I will bid you all farewell, wish you well, and leave this house.’
‘Actually, if I may, I’d like to make one small amendment to that plan,’ Thorn said. Hypatia turned back to him, and he mether eyes briefly, offering a small reassuring smile. She nodded. ‘We shall all meet in the study together. Then I shall help my wife pack her things, and we shall bid you farewell, wish you well, and leave this house.’
He felt an odd jolt at saying the wordwifeso casually—he supposed it was just a lack of habit, as was hearing the wordshusbandandThornleave Hypatia’s mouth. Somehow, none of those words, nor even the promises and vows they’d spoken to each other in the brightly simple, yet solemn church this morning, had given him any manner of jolt. Any manner of doubt, or fear. The circumstances of his previous life and prior relationship had meant he’d always wondered rather a lot about marriage. Felt, if not fear, then slight trepidation at the thought of it; pondered the finality and seriousness of it. Normal, he supposed, when one was so close as he’d been then, to the possibility becoming reality. He’d wondered, if he was a man up to the task. The duty, the commitment. A man to be a good husband. And he’d had his doubts, and felt that trepidation, and honestly thought, particularly these past months when marriage had become necessity rather than possibility, that when and if the day came, he’d feel some manner of nerves. Some manner of that same trepidation.
However, this morning, he’d felt supremely calm, and, well,certain.
Likely because this was all just business, a contract, and he was marrying a woman who, by all accounts, was like-minded and level-headed.
Or perhaps it just all happened so bloody fast I haven’t had time to be nervous.
‘Do we mean so little then to you?’ Mrs Quincy finally chimed in, and Thorn blinked, focusing on her. She looked less as if she were about to faint over the arm of the settee, and more like she might succumb to insincere tears—as did the daughter currentlyclutching her hand. ‘That you would throw your lot in with such a man, and abandon us so callously? Abandon your father and I? Abandon dear Epi, to traverse the rest of the season, and her eventual marriage, all by herself? Abandon us all to face the consequences andtalkof this most inadvisable match you have made? Did you even think of how this might affect her chances? Ours?’
‘I admit, I gave no thought to such nonsense as the judgement and thoughts of others. There have been far more scandalous matches than mine, and if anything, one would think having a countess in the family would only ameliorate Epi’s chances. She is clever, and determined, and she has you, Mother. She will fare well enough. As for you and Father, you have plenty of people who can attend to you, or the funds to employ more should the need arise. You are not abandoned. You are being left, as a bird leaves the nest. I thank you, for you have fed me, and clothed me, and taught me, and loved me to the best of your abilities. However, I have been given the chance to make a choice as regards the path my life shall now take, and I have seized it. Wish me well, or don’t, I care little. Though I hope we may part with civility, and less histrionics.’
Thorn might’ve applauded. Commissioned a painter—if he knew where to find one, and how to do so—to immortalise this moment, and the fierceness of the woman at his side.
Yet at the same time, some part of him felt a twinge of sorrow for her, for having lived so long with such a family as she would say such things to—for he knew it wasn’t out of meanness, or spite, merely from a place of truth.
I wonder which is worse; to have a family such as hers, or to have had such a great, incomparable father as I did, only to lose him.
‘Well, Father? What shall it be? Civility and goodwill? Or shall I go fetch the Peelers and tell them you refuse to give whatis owed to one of this kingdom’s earls?’ Hypatia asked in the ever-lengthening silence.
‘Let us be done with it, though you are no daughter of mine to behave in such a manner,’ Quincy finally sighed, throwing up his hands as behind him, his wife and daughter sniffled and cried and made much of the drama of the situation.Civilityandhistrionics in the end, I see.‘I should disavow you completely, for this ingratitude and insult.’
‘You are welcome to do so once today’s business is concluded, Father.’
Quincy shook his head, and grumbled as he stepped away from the women, and led the way to the study.
Thorn slipped his hand into Hypatia’s as they followed, giving not one last look to those left behind, and though she seemed not to note the gesture in any way, he thought he felt her relax, ever so slightly.
And though it meant nothing at all really—he was merely being human, and supportive of this new creature who in the eyes of the law and God, was his responsibility, something else he hadn’t entirely fathomed until now—it felt rather momentous indeed.
The arrangements with Mr Quincy completed—as much as they could be, the rest left to the solicitors and men of business to ensure everything was signed, sealed, and delivered to the appropriate financial institutions—Thorn and Hypatia left him in his study, and went up to her room to see her packed, and removed from this house which was increasingly unwelcoming with every minute.
He wasn’t entirely surprised to find that there was somewhat of a misnomer in calling itherroom, for one glance at it told him it was anything but—the oversaturated pastels, patterns, andthings, suggesting it had suffered the mark of either the mother, the sister, or some decorator with too much freedom, and not enough good sense. The room wasn’t uncomfortable, tiny, relegated to the eaves, nor somehow marking of Hypatia’s status amongst her family asother—she wasn’t some little Cinder girl, banished to the fireplace—yet it was remarkably dismissive of who she was. Which was something that Thorn naturally had no true idea of, considering he’d now spent perhaps a sum total of about four hours in her company, yet that even he, in their brief acquaintance, had a better idea of than her family.
Or so it seemed to him then.
It was all the queerer—purporting to know her better than her family—considering he couldn’t even purport to know her face well. If forced to describe her, in the event of some ghastly catastrophe for instance, he wouldn’t have been able to give a proper description, and it wasn’t that he’d not deigned to look at her. Only perhaps, that he’d not allowed himself topay attention.
In the garden, when she’d emerged from the shadows into the lambent light of that ridiculous miniature square they’d found themselves in, he’d briefly noted that she was whatcouldbe called plain—not that he thought himself an Adonis by any right—but only because she wasn’t what one would callstriking, though her presence was. Her presence commanded attention, respect, heeding, and that night, yes, it had commanded desire.
Perhaps that was why he’d not allowed himself to truly study her in those few moments, having been slightly off-put by the sudden comfort and interest he felt in her regard; why he’d not allowed himself to pay too much attention all day today, even as they were married, lest he lose focus, or allow himself fancies that had no bearing on their current situation.
Or something of the sort.
Whatever the reasons not to pay Hypatia much attention, he lost sight of them then, as he stood there, just inside the threshold, and watched her go about her business, not a single movement wasted.
He could see the plainness others had quantified her with, though he would’ve termed it simplicity. She was neither tall nor short; her head naturally reaching about his shoulders. Neither thin nor overly abundant, but again, somewhere in between; strength denoting capability, and curves balancing them denoting nothing, though he couldn’t deny he hadsomeresponse to them. Her features and limbs were generally unnoteworthy, caught in the in-between of denominators as her figure was. Her hair was noticeable by its colour, and refusal to be tamed; even the curls refusing in some manner to be fully quantified thus as they also refused to be bound into any version of a tamed coiffure.
There was a softness to her face, a roundness to her cheeks and chin, yet a fineness in the edges. Her nose was somewhat crooked at its base, but it offset the longer front tooth on the opposite side, that was unnoticeable except when she smiled. The thickness of her brows might’ve been unfashionable had her large round eyes—of a soft honey green he hadn’t noted until this morning, in the brightness of the church—not offset them, even despite one of them being ever so slightly smaller than the other. There was a crookedness to her mouth, too, a general lack of symmetry, which couldn’t be noticed without study, but was felt upon first glance. Yet contrary to many, who placed such value on symmetry, and apparent beauty, Thorn found it was in fact all these little details—flawssome might call them—that he’d not allowed himself to catalogue till now, and of which he knew there were many more, that composed the sum of Hypatia, and that was wherein precisely the beauty lay.
Where the charm lay.
‘Is there nothing I can do to help?’ Thorn asked finally, stirring from his study as Hypatia paused, frowning down into the open chest at the foot of the bed, hands on her hips.
