Lucy laughed softly, shaking her head. “Dorothy, I promise. I’ve learned that rash decisions do more harm than good. This time, I am being deliberate. Thoughtful. Strategic.”
Dorothy studied her for a long moment, her brow furrowed as if weighing Lucy’s words against every previous escapade. Finally, she nodded. “Very well. But remember, you are not alone in this. If you need help, anything, no matter how small, you write to me, you send a message, you find me. You must not try to handle this entirely on your own.”
Lucy’s lips curved in a small, determined smile. “I understand. I won’t. But I need to see this through, Dorothy. I have to succeed, so I will do this the right way.”
Dorothy’s expression softened, and she pulled Lucy into a tight embrace. “I worry for you, Lucy. You throw yourself into these situations with such abandon, but you must remember to care for yourself as well.”
Lucy returned the hug with equal force, feeling the warmth and trust in her cousin’s gesture. It was exactly what she needed. Dorothy’s worry only fueled her resolve. She pulled back slightly, resting her hands on Dorothy’s shoulders. “I will make this work. I will find him a wife. I will do it properly.”
Dorothy sighed, her lips twitching as if a small smile threatened to emerge. “Then I shall hold you to it.”
Lucy straightened, letting the embrace end. Dorothy’s faith in her became an armor, one that made her even more hell-bent on succeeding in the impossible task before her.
“Good morning, Miss Crampton. This is Daniel Clawridge, my youngest brother. He wanted to meet you.”
Lucy had taken refuge in the library that morning with the determination of someone seeking answers from leather-bound volumes rather than people. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, catching dust motes in the air as she scanned the shelves, one finger trailing along the spines while her mind worked furiously.
She had reached for a volume when she sensed a presence behind her.
“Daniel, you say?” she managed to respond.
Anthony stood there, upright and solemn in the way only boys who believed themselves men could manage. Beside him hovered a smaller figure, half-hidden behind his brother’s arm, dark curls slightly rumpled as though he had debated whether or not to come and nearly fled at the last moment.
Lucy blinked once, then smiled.
Anthony nodded. “Yes, Miss Crampton. I hope we are not disturbing you.”
“Not at all,” Lucy replied, though she glanced briefly at the book still in her hand, wondering how long she had been so deeply absorbed as to miss footsteps entirely. “I was only acquainting myself with the shelves.”
Daniel peeked out then, eyes large and observant, fixed somewhere between Lucy’s face and the hem of her gown. He did not speak, only offered a small, hesitant nod.
Lucy lowered herself a little, so they were closer to eye level. “I am very pleased to meet you, Daniel. My name is Lucy Crampton. You both can call me Lucy.”
Daniel studied her for a long moment, then glanced up at Anthony, as if seeking approval, before nodding again. His fingers twisted in the fabric of his sleeve.
“He does not talk much,” Anthony explained, lowering his voice, “but he listens. He likes animals. Horses, especially, and dogs. He says dogs understand more than people.”
Lucy’s smile softened. “I think he may be right.”
Daniel’s gaze flickered back to her at that.
Lucy straightened then, the awkwardness settling into something gentler. Morning had clearly begun without ceremony at Langridge. No grand announcements, no rigid formality, only silent corridors. She suspected this was how the house revealed itself—slowly and only to those willing to look.
“Well,” she said lightly, folding her hands together, “I am glad you both found me. I was just beginning my day.”
Anthony relaxed a little at her ease. “Shall we sit?” he asked, lowering himself to sit on the carpet near the tall window.
Lucy followed them down, smoothing her skirts as she sat cross-legged on the rug, the morning light spilling across the floor in pale squares. “You say Daniel is a good listener?” she asked. “I am fond of good listeners.”
Anthony’s gaze flicked to the book she had been holding moments earlier. “What were you looking for?” he asked. “You looked rather determined.”
“I was,” Lucy admitted, lifting the slim volume from beside her. “Though I am not certain this library wished to cooperate with me.” She turned the book so they could see the worn leather binding. “I was hoping to find Aesop’s Fables or perhaps Evenings at Home. Something with stories that teach without sounding as though they are teaching.”
Anthony’s brows rose. “Father prefers histories. That’s mostly what I read.”
“I have noticed,” Lucy said, her mouth twitching. “But histories are heavy things for the morning. Fables are kinder. They leave room for thought.” She glanced at Daniel. “And for animals.”
At that, Daniel’s eyes lit unmistakably.
