“That hardly sounds like a problem.”
Emily blinked at her. “It is not?”
“Why should it be?” Margaret asked.
Lady Fairleigh studied Emily for a moment, then Nathaniel.
“You suggested a tutor?”
“Yes.”
Emily looked between them cautiously.
“You truly would not mind?”
Margaret exchanged a brief glance with her mother. Lady Fairleigh surprised everyone by speaking first.
“My dear,” she said gently, “after everything this family has been through recently, I believe we can afford to encourage a harmless fascination with science.”
Emily looked almost stunned. Margaret reached over and nudged the small pile of leaves Emily had collected.
“If you are curious enough to ask questions,” she said, “then you should be allowed to learn the answers.”
Nathaniel nodded in quiet agreement. Emily’s face slowly brightened, the cautious disbelief giving way to genuine excitement.
“Well,” Poppy said, leaning back in her chair with exaggerated seriousness, “this is how it begins. First a tutor, then Emily turns Ravensmere into a laboratory and we are all forced to participate in experiments.”
Nathaniel glanced toward her calmly.
“I assure you participation will remain voluntary.”
“Good,” Poppy replied, reaching for another pastry. “Because I refuse to be dissolved and dissected for the sake of my dear sister's education.”
The table erupted into laughter. Emily looked down at the flower in her hand again, turning it thoughtfully between her fingers as if seeing it with entirely new possibilities. Across the table, Margaret caught Nathaniel watching the scene with quiet satisfaction. She reached for his hand beneath the edge of the table.
And this time, he did not hesitate to hold it.
The house had grown quiet by the time Margaret returned to their chamber. Night had settled fully over Ravensmere. The last lamps in the corridors had been dimmed, and the distantsounds of servants finishing their evening tasks had faded into the steady stillness of the estate.
Margaret stood before the dressing table, slowly removing the pins from her hair. The curls fell loose over her shoulders one by one, but her thoughts were not on the familiar routine. She watched her reflection carefully in the mirror, gathering her courage in the same quiet way she had done so many times in the past months.
Behind her, Nathaniel moved about the room with easy familiarity. He had removed his coat and loosened his cravat, pausing briefly at the small table where a few papers from the estate still lay waiting for him. For a moment, Margaret wondered whether she should wait until morning.
But the thought had lived inside her all day, growing larger each hour until silence felt impossible. She set the final pin down and turned toward him.
“Nathaniel?”
He looked up immediately.
“Yes?”
Margaret folded her hands together lightly.
“May we talk for a moment?”
Nathaniel’s posture shifted almost imperceptibly. The memory of the afternoon returned to him at once. He had expected this conversation sooner or later, though he had not known when she might raise it. His gaze flicked briefly toward the chair beside the bed as if preparing for a discussion that might require patience.
“Of course,” he said calmly.
