Brushing him aside, Judith smiled. “I cannot help but twit you when faced with such stubbornness.”
“It is not stubbornness,” Martin said with a sigh, placing the cup down with a rattle of china. “I do not have the strength for it.”
“You would feel better if you left your study. Sleeping at your desk and keeping yourself locked away all day is not helping matters.”
His gaze drifted to the far wall. “Sleeping here is better than returning to an empty bedchamber.”
Clasping her hands in her lap, Judith considered the situation and decided a strong hand was best. This was precisely the reason Martin had written to her in the first place. “Your children need you. They are desperate for your attention, and if you let them, they can help you find happiness again. Even amidst heartache, there is hope if you seek it out.”
Martin nodded but leaned back in his armchair, ignoring the tea and food until Judith cleared her throat and gave him another pointed look. A faint smile eased up the corner of his lips, and he did as bidden, taking a bite of cake and sip of tea.
“I know what it is to lose those you love, Martin, but you cannot allow it to ruin you,” said Judith, leaning forward to perch on the edge of her seat. “Your children need you. Please, come with us. They need to see their papa.”
Dropping his head, Martin sucked in a deep breath before straightening again to meet her gaze. “You are a godsend, Judith. You realize that, don’t you? I would be lost without you. If we weather this storm, it will be your doing.”
Judith’s throat tightened, and she swallowed past the lump. “You will weather it, Martin, if you try.”
He stared at the teacup for a moment before nodding and downing it in one gulp, and then he rose to his feet and rang for his valet. The next moment, Martin was out the door, leaving Judith to slouch into the chair with a sigh.
Judith Delmonte was a useful sort. Many called her a godsend, and she found contentment in that pronouncement. Surely, a life spent in service to those around her was a good life to live. And it was.
Yet when all was said and done, Judith was left alone in the silence and emptiness.
Chapter 32
With a quick tug, Silas straightened Griffith’s jacket. The lad looked quite dapper in his suit, even if the sleeve showed far too much wear and tear from all the things he wiped on it. Of course, Helen was the picture of perfection, standing there with her skirts laying just so, the ribbon in her hair tied in the same immaculate manner her mama had always insisted upon. He examined Leah’s gown and wondered how anyone was supposed to keep a child her age looking presentable when dressed in such light colors. But Nurse Johnson managed it with relative success, and surely, he could do the same.
Straightening, he examined his children all lined up in a row and wondered if he ought to have his head examined. It was difficult enough to manage them at home while Miss Delmonte was gone, and their nursemaid was on her half-day off. To tackle a fair was a bit of lunacy. But fortune favors the bold, as they were wont to say. Surely, it would favor him.
Silas rubbed his hands together. “Are you ready for a diverting afternoon out with your papa?”
Leah and Griffith bounced on their toes, and even Helen tensed as though anxious to throw in with her siblings, though she hid it behind a demure smile.
“Are you certain about this?”
Turning, Silas found his eldest standing in the doorway, the lad’s hands tucked into his pockets. “Together, I am certain we can manage.”
Felix came to stand beside his siblings, and Silas clapped a hand on his shoulder, surprised at how much higher it was since the last time he’d seen him. The cuffs of the lad’s jacket and trousers hung a touch too high, and Silas wondered if he ought to take his son to his tailor next week. He doubted a twelve-year-old cared about such things, but perhaps Felix might enjoy the opportunity to choose his wardrobe as Silas had.
“What is it?” asked Felix with raised brows.
Silas felt as though he hadn’t stopped grinning since the stagecoach dropped him off two nights previous. “I am just so pleased you are home at last.”
Felix’s cheeks reddened, and he rubbed at the back of his head. Crouching down, he took his youngest sister by the hand and left the parlor in search of the carriage with the rest of the family trailing after him. The children bounced about the coach, their enthusiasm barely contained by the doors and windows, and Silas wondered yet again if he might’ve made a mistake. But when they arrived at the fairgrounds, such worries faded as the thrill of the entertainment swept him into the fray.
The town of Penwick could not boast as fine attractions as London, but the fair made a good show of it. Stalls filled with food and sweets of every kind mingled with craftsmen selling their wares. Bunting hung over the walkways like a web of rainbows. The sounds of the crowds, the vendors hawking their wares, and street musicians filled the air. Acrobats and performers wove through the chaos, drawing cries of delight as they enticed the more generous of spirit to give up their coins.
The children were in alt, hurrying from thing to thing and dragging their poor caretakers about as the hours stretched on. Occasional squabbles broke out as they couldn’t decide between watching a man with trained dogs or a puppet show, but with Felix’s aid, Silas was able to keep the children in hand. Mostly. Silas caught Felix’s gaze and sent him a silent thank you, for the lad was as good as gold with Griffith, who followed his elder brother with all the heartfelt worship his young heart could muster.
Counting out some coins, Silas handed them over and retrieved a few custard fritters for the children. Helen slanted him a sideways look and did not partake of the offering, though her siblings gobbled them down.
“There is nothing wrong with having a sweet from time to time,” said Silas, offering her a lemon pastille.
“It will ruin our dinners,” said Helen with a sniff. That sound and her tone were so very like Deborah that Silas had to fight the impulse to scowl.
“I am well aware of how much they are eating, Helen, and it is far less than you fear,” he said, though his tone was tarter than intended.
Helen stiffened, crossing her arms with a frown. “You are going to make them sick.”
