"Are they still soft? The horses?"
"Still soft."
"Can I come see them again? You said I could. At your house, that is what you said."
"I did say that, and I meant it." Frederick’s voice was gentle. "You're welcome at the manor any time. Just ask for me at the door; I'll make sure everyone knows to expect you."
Molly's face lit up with a joy so pure it made Lydia's heart ache.
"Really? You mean it? Can I really come?"
"Really. I mean it. You can really come."
"Even though I'm just…" Molly stopped, suddenly uncertain. "Even though I'm not elegant?"
"I'm not elegant either. Not really. I just have a larger house." Frederick leaned down to meet her eyes. "Being elegant isn't about houses or clothes or how much money you have. It'sabout how you treat people. And you, Miss Molly, are one of the most elegant people I've ever met."
Molly giggled, a bright, delighted sound, and ran off to share the news with her friends. Within moments, she was surrounded by a cluster of children, all of whom were looking at Frederick with expressions of wonder and excitement.
"You've done it now," Thomas said dryly. "You'll have every child in the village at your door by week's end."
"Would that be so terrible?"
"For you? Probably not. For Boggins? Potentially catastrophic."
Frederick laughed; a genuine laugh, surprised out of him by the image of his fastidious valet confronted with an army of grubby village children.
"He'll adapt," he said. "He always does."
***
They walked home through the darkened village, the three of them, under a sky thick with stars. The autumn air was cold, properly cold now, with the bite of winter approaching, but Lydia barely noticed. Her whole body felt warm, suffused with the particular glow that came from an evening gone better than expected.
"That was..." Frederick searched for the right word.
"Terrifying?" Thomas suggested.
"I was going to say wonderful."
"Those aren't mutually exclusive."
"No. They're not." Frederick’s voice was thoughtful. "I've attended hundreds of social events in my life. Balls, dinners, receptions, house parties. I've made small talk with princes and debated policy with cabinet ministers. And I've never, not once, felt the way I felt tonight."
"How did you feel?"
"Like I was actually there. Present, I mean. Not just going through the motions, saying the things I was supposed to say, or being the person I was supposed to be." He stopped walking and turned to face Lydia. "It was like the first time I came to the forge. The first time I actually made something with my own hands. Except instead of making a hook, I was making... connections. Real connections with real people."
"Most people learn to do that in childhood," Thomas observed.
"Most people aren't raised in a manor by a father who considered emotion a character flaw." Frederick’s voice was without bitterness; just stating a fact. "I'm making up for lost time."
They resumed walking, passing the darkened windows of sleeping cottages, the shuttered storefronts of businesses closed for the night. The village was quiet, peaceful, wrapped in the particular silence of rural England after dark.
At the gate of the blacksmith's cottage, they paused.
"Thank you," Frederick said. "Both of you. For tonight. For everything."
"Don't thank us yet," Thomas replied. "Tonight was just the beginning. The hard part's still ahead."
