“If he loves you and you love him, what reason do you have for not marrying? Are you concerned about his family’s acceptance of you?”
“That’s not the reason,” Emily said awkwardly.
“Well, let no fears of that cross your mind. I am a staunch defender of the right to choose one’s partner in life, and if you choose each other, then I will ensure no one stands in your way.”
Confessing that Emily had vowed never to marry at all, especially when she all but admitted she had fallen in love, felt ludicrous. Little-girl silly, as though she were a child ignorant of the way of the world, professing that she intended to ride a flying horse one day. So, instead, she said, “We have known each other little more than a week.”
“Ah. So you are worried about his constancy?”
“Either one party is inconstant, in which case the other must suffer, or they are devoted to the point of insanity, and should something happen to one, the other must lose their faculties and their will to live.” Emily shook her head and paced away from the mirror. “How can either possibility be worth the prospect of temporary happiness?”
Louisa’s hands dropped to her sides as she watched Emily, such an expression of sympathy on her face that it nearly broke Emily’s heart. “I see. Yes, that does seem particularly bleak. I’ll admit. But what if there was a third option?”
Emily pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to shelter her eyes, which felt like watering. “What would that be?”
“I have seen it myself.” Louisa came to sit on the bed, one hand wrapped around the ornate bedpost. “Moderation.”
“Love doesn’t know moderation.”
“Good love doesn’t obliterate its subjects. Here.” She patted the bed beside her. “Did you know I fell in love with Henry twice?”
Emily sank onto the bed, grateful for the excuse to sit before her knees gave out. “Oliver told me very little about you and Henry.”
“I thought we were ill-fated at first. We first fell in love when I was a girl and he a young man. He broke my heart and fled the country, and I was forced into marriage with another. Eight years later, after my husband died and Henry returned from war, we reunited and I fell in love with him again. Losing him the first time was a terrible blow, but I survived it. If I’d chosen, I could have remained angry and bitter, believing that love was ruinous, and I would have missed out on this life.” She smiled softly, and it was as though her entire face was illuminated from within. “We can never predict the future, and there is very little that is within our control, but if we are fortunate enough to fall in love with someone who loves us in return, and if there is nothing stopping us being together—then we should not let our lives be ruled by fear. If I lost Henry again, it would hurt, but I would survive. He is very dear to me, and I love him completely, but he is not my entire world. I have my painting, things that I love aside from him, and they would sustain me in the event of his passing.” She turned to face Emily, that small smile still on her face. “You could do worse than falling in love with a man who would take you halfway across the country in order to humble himself before the relatives he most looks up to.”
She could. She could do a lot worse.
If they were to marry, she would have a home that didn’t fall apart around her ears. She would have freedom, stability, security.
If Emily could just trust that loving Oliver would not ruin her—or perhaps instead come to terms with the fact that whatever she chose, she loved him now. If she lost him through her own stubbornness, it would break her own heart. There was no saving herself.
“What is standing in your way?” Louisa asked gently.
Isabella was the only remaining obstacle.
Isabella, who had run away with the very same man who had broken Emily’s heart, and who had bragged about it in a letter, thinking she had claimed a victory Emily had not.
Some of it may be attributed to ignorance and naivety and hurt, but Emily had been making excuses for Isabella’s behaviour for too long.
It had to stop.
If she could bring herself to marry Oliver and conquer her own fear of love, then why should she throw it away for Isabella’s sake when Isabella had done so little for her?
“I can’t marry him until I get Isabella back,” Emily said.
Louisa clapped her hands. “Then let us plan how that might come about.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Oliversquaredhisshouldersbefore entering Henry’s study. Any solution they came to about Isabella would have to be done with Emily present, but he needed to face his brother alone first.
They had some matters to lay to rest.
Jarringly, considering how different he felt from the man who had left this space not quite a month ago, the room looked identical to the way it had when he had last entered. Henry sat behind the desk, a pair of wire-framed spectacles on his nose, and open books before him. The bookcases were just as meticulously sorted as always, and although the room could not be strictly called tidy, there was order amongst the chaos.
How fitting.
At Oliver’s arrival, Henry removed his glasses and leant back in his chair, the expression in his stern blue eyes speculative.
