“That surprises me,” she said. “But I, um…thought she was lovely.”
Freddie mimed a chattering mouth with her hand, and Rosemary hit her.
“I’m taking Marigold into town after breakfast,” William said. “We’ll ride in.”
“And I’ll go, too,” Finn said resolutely. “It will be a fine day for a ride.”
“And I’ll go, too,” Freddie said.
“No,” Finn and William said in unison.
“What’s the problem?” Freddie asked.
“We’re likely going to see Hestia afterward,” Finn said, “and you’ve made it clear you are no fan of her.”
“Well,” Freddie said, taking a long sip of her coffee, “in that case…”
Marigold’s gaze drifted to the window as this small family drama played out. It was another beautiful day full of sunshine. She looked forward to riding her horse fast through fields, but at the same time, that longing was paired with such absolute drowsiness and comfort. She didn’t want to leave the table just yet.
But she did want to get Finn alone before she left–maybe to apologize for what happened, or thank him for comforting her–acknowledging it would be best, she decided.
That influx of emotion had been unexpected. She was so comfortable when she first fell asleep. Was it a bad dream? What was that about? she asked herself.
She had a feeling that all of the sadness she should have been feeling years ago would now be bubbling up when she least expected it. Well, that was ok. It was better than feeling numb, she decided.
They laughed and lingered over their breakfast, Marigold feeling the sun creeping through the window she sat next to, the beams kissing her arms and face with light warmth. Freddie soon combed Marigold’s hair while she drank her coffee, and at length Julieanne, who only got to sleep in a few days a week, came down from her luxurious slumber to join them.
It was nearly an hour past noon when they dispersed, the gossip having been picked over and over, and by that time all of the tension of Marigold’s night-time hours had evaporated into what would be, for her, a pleasant memory. Marigold imagined, however, that it would be more complex for Finn.
They left the rambling house, and William trotted off to get the horses ready. Marigold touched Finn’s arm. He flinched slightly, but she was determined. She drew closer and put her hands up.
“I am sorry…I was so distraught.”
Finn turned towards her sharply, and then, unexpectedly, caressed her cheek.
“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I was worried you’d left. I know it might be…awkward…”
“No,” Marigold said, taking his hand from her cheek and then releasing it. “I’m glad you were there. It must have been alarming for you, though. But I did enjoy your comfort,” she said. “What ultimately happened–I mean, sleeping in your bed, with you–that was agreeable to me–though it would not be agreeable to your fiancée.”
Finn’s mouth dropped open; he looked dumbstruck. His reaction made Marigold realize that she had been too blunt. But she couldn’t help smiling.
“You know, I used to say exactly what I thought,” she said. “I remember that now. Before everything happened, I was always putting my foot in my mouth, laughing it off and then moving on. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. If you like, we can pretend that nothing happened. That’s probably what you were expecting.”
Marigold opened her mouth to say more, then thought better of it. William was arriving with the horses.
“What are you two conspiring about?” William asked.
“I had a bad dream last night,” Marigold said. “I asked Finn if he could hear me mumbling through the walls–a habit of mine–but luckily I didn’t disturb him.”
Marigold mounted Charger with an ease that clearly impressed William. A smile played about her lips. Was she an impressive woman? Marigold supposed that she once was, and could still be.
And Marigold was no fool–though she would never say this to another, for fear of being told she was overconfident–Marigold knew that both men had a certain shine for her. Perhaps it was because she was good looking, or perhaps it was simply because she was a new face in a small town. She had at least inspired the curiosity of two men who were, she thought, rather attractive.
When they rode out, Marigold felt herself coming alive. She galloped and smiled into the sunshine. She felt her hair and her frock flowing behind her–she felt the wind like a spirit–and she went faster and faster, galloping through the fields toward the roads.
Here she was, off to piece together some puzzle that was uniquelyhers.It made her feel solid. She felt joy in having a body, in hunger and desire and in travel, in deciding to go to a place and doing it herself. She had left the men behind her, slowing down only when she had reached the road and racing would have been inconvenient to other travellers. William caught up to her first.
“I don’t think I could have caught up with you if I tried,” he said.
