“The willow branches. Willow trees look like they are crying.”
Matteo suddenly understood her actions a while ago.A touch of softness in my stony fiancée. How oddly charming.
“You are wiping the tears away.”
Helena nodded sheepishly.
“I started doing that when I was nine, and it just became a tradition of sorts for me.”
“You miss it. Beecham Park.”
Helena nodded.
“Yes. It is where I spent most of my life, save these past six years, and those only during the London season.”
Matteo could imagine Helena in her country home; he could see her relaxed and unburdened. He imagined that the rigidity of her London schedule did not carry over to the country. To be sure, it was Chastity’s social calendar that most demanded time from Helena’s own schedule.
He imagined her in his side of the country; he imagined her walking the grounds of Valen Castle. Perhaps he could take her to see Stonehead Mount. That would be a day’s outing, it would—what was he doing? He had already lectured himself aboutwanting more, so why could he not stay mindful of that warning? Why was it so difficult?
Pulling his thoughts back to the present, he looked ahead as he continued the conversation.
“How very fortunate young ladies are that they are not required to leave their homes and go to university instead.”
“Fortunate, do you call it?”
“To some degree, yes. Oxford, or any other of the universities, is not always what they are painted out to be.”
“How so?”
“Well, there is the homesickness, for one thing.”
Yes, despite the fact that he was not really happy at Valen Castle, he had missed it, and extremely so in his first year. Had it not been for Peter’s friendship at the beginning, Matteo did not know how he would have gotten past his first year in Oxford. Though he was the son of a duke, he was also an awkward young man, unsure of himself and his worth. His friendship with Peter had served as a strong foothold for him to grow as a young man.
“Did you miss Valen Castle when you left it? I imagine your leaving must not have been easy for your parents, especially you being their only child.”
“It was easy enough for them. They hardly saw me anyway. I daresay it was my tutors who missed me.” Matteo’s attempt at levity did not get the result that he had hoped, for Helena’s eyes studied him.
“I am sorry.” She took his hand and squeezed it.
“Whatever for?” He smiled at her.
“I know what it is to have absent parents, Matteo.” Helena’s serious gaze never left his face. “Though mine are still alive, I can count with my fingers the number of times I see them. It has been like that for so long that I cannot recall any other way.”
So they were similar in that way. He had assumed that she had been given the responsibility of her sisters because of her experience being out in society. He had no idea that it had been that way for far longer. In answer, he squeezed her hand back.
“Go on,” Helena said, smiling. “Tell me more about Oxford.”
Matteo nodded, eager to lighten the mood again.
“Though there was, of course, academic study—mainly weekly sessions with fellows—Oxford was more for building social connections with peers and making sure that the sons of the gentry came out as polished gentlemen.”
“I do not see what is so bad about that that you should say ladies are fortunate not to attend university,” Helena said unconvinced.
“Imagine this, young men in a lax environment, with not much academic pressure, and surrounded by much tomfoolery.”
Helena still looked unconvinced.
“Youth can be cruel, too, Helena. The things that young men come up with… well, I shall not go into detail.”
