Perhaps Prentice would have approached this discussion differently had he realised. But then the human imagination could be very limited.
It was that thought that sparked the idea.
It came to him like a bolt out of the blue. The very simplest of solutions. A way that he could live with George paying for the repairs Blackfriars needed without feeling like a parasite.
And perhaps a way for them to be together.
Theo would give it to him.
He would give Blackfriars to George.
On the journey back home, Norris drove in silence, plainly rather disgruntled at how the day had turned out, and Theo was perfectly happy with that. He felt almost giddy, his mind swiftly turning over his new idea. How it would work, what he would say to George to persuade him to agree.
Surely he would agree? The more Theo thought about it, the more sense it made. George would see that too, wouldn’t he? Theo felt oddly sure his uncle would approve. When he'd left Blackfriars to Theo, it had not been in hopes that Theo would sell the place and leave every person Stephen had cared for, most especially the man he had devoted his life to, to fend for themselves. He had wanted someone steady to care for this place.
Theo wanted that too. And there was no one more suited to such a role than George.
Of course, George had other responsibilities. He would not be able to devote all his time to this tiny corner of Wales—probably not even very much of it—but Theo could. He could be George’s steward. He could dedicate himself to learning how to care for this place and returning it to the thriving little estate it had once been.
And best of all—George could visit. And when he did, they could be together, if only for a little time.
Would George want that as much as Theo wanted it? Could it be enough for him?
Could it be enough for Theo? Living here as a steward, only seeing George occasionally?
When he tried out the idea in his mind, he felt curiously unconcerned by the prospect of no longer owning Blackfriars. He had cared about that once, but that was when he’d viewed the place as nothing more than a way to get easy money. He didn’t see it like that now; he couldn’t imagine selling it off the way he’d once planned to. And it wasn’t as though he had a child to leave it to.
Not seeing George very often… that was admittedly more troubling. It was, however, better than the alternative, which was not seeing him at all. And when George did come to Blackfriars, they could be together fully, as his uncle and Martin had once been, with no barriers between them.
Would George want that?
Theo was very glad when Norris pulled up his buggy outside the house and Theo was finally able to escape.
As he headed towards the kitchen door, he was consumed with eagerness to talk to George, to apologise for his stupidity the night before and lay out his new plan.
There is a way we can compromise on this. I will let you pay for the repairs as you want, but in return, you must take the title deeds. All I ask is to stay on as your steward.
Was that too… practical? Should he start instead with his feelings for George? But perhaps that would be unfair? Perhaps it would put pressure on him?
Even as he worried over these questions, there was a part of him that found his own anxiety absurd. Theo knew George. He trusted George to listen to him, to hear him out before making up his mind.
As he approached the kitchen door, it was to find Tom sitting on the back step, sharpening a knife with slow, deliberate movements.
“Ho, Tom!” he called as he neared. The lad looked up, eyes bright. “Is Mrs. Ford in?”
“Yes, sir,” the boy answered politely. “Do you want me to fetch her?”
“No, that’s all right,” Theo said. “I’ll find her soon enough.” And with that, he opened the back door and entered the house.
The kitchen was empty. He passed through it, then poked his head into the parlour, then the dining room, both of which were empty too.
George was probably still out. Knowing him, he’d have his coat off, and his shirtsleeves rolled up, working alongside Morgan and the labourers.
A pang of longing pierced Theo’s chest, and the oddest thought came to him. When he passed from this life, he wanted his last memory to be that perfect, unsullied one of his youth: watching George on the cricket field, bathed in sunlight.
That memory was pure happiness. Innocent in a way that had felt lost to him until these last weeks. Had he ever, in all his life, been as happy as he had these last weeks?
No. Not ever.
