Alethea opened her mouth, but no easy answer came. Was she unhappy? She did not think so. She missed him, but she also could not forget the way he had looked at her when he spoke of children. As though he was already bracing himself for her disappointment.
"I…do not know," she admitted finally. The confession made her cheeks burn. "I think I only needed time to think."
"You have every right to that," Joyce's expression softened.
Daphne reached across the little table between them and laid a hand over hers.
"You needn't pretend with us," she said, her voice low. "We are your sisters. We only want to help."
Alethea tried to smile. It wobbled, but she held it.
"I know. And I am grateful. Believe me, please."
"If it is too soon to speak of it," Felicity hesitated. "we will not press you further."
"I would rather not explain everything," Alethea said quietly. "Some things ought to stay between a husband and wife."
"Very well." Felicity inclined her head, accepting that with reluctance.
They let the subject drift after that. Daphne poured more tea and coaxed her to take a slice of cake. But beneath it all, Alethea felt their concern bubbling. She tried to be grateful for it, but part of her wished she could simply disappear into the upholstery and be spared any more gentle questions.
A knock interrupted them, followed by the door creaking open.
"Mama?"
"Come in, love," Daphne looked over, her face brightening.
Two children sidled into the room. They paused by Daphne's chair, eyeing Alethea with undisguised curiosity.
"Would you like to meet your Aunt Alethea properly?" Daphne prompted.
Alethea's throat went tight. She managed a nod, her hands folded in her lap.
The young girl edged closer, studying her.
"You look sad, Aunt Alethea," she announced gravely.
"Don't say that," Daphne chided gently, but Alethea found herself smiling in spite of everything.
"It is quite all right," she said. She reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind the girl's ear. "I am only thinking a great deal. I suppose that is not good for you, either."
The little boy peered up at her, clutching a small toy to his chest. "Are you staying with us now?"
"For a little while," Alethea said softly.
The young girl considered this, then reached out and placed her small hand over Alethea's.
"You don't have to be sad," she said solemnly. "Mama says our house is very cheerful."
"I believe her," Alethea laughed then, though her eyes stung.
The children climbed up onto Daphne's lap, and soon the conversation turned to gentler things that did not involve her rather sad personal life.
As she watched Daphne interact with her children, she thought of Clara and Eleanor. And then like clockwork, her mind went to Oliver. How careful he was with the people he loved.
And she thought of how he had looked at her that night in the kitchen. He had told her that he loves her, but then had acted the opposite. It still did not make any sense to her.
The ache in her chest deepened.
