“Short of crushing her heart, I don’t know what I can do—”
“Then crush it,” said Mr. Keats in a sharp tone, his eyes narrowing. “Whatever pain she may feel now, it will be infinitely better than finding herself trapped in poverty with a passel of children you cannot afford to feed. I will not allow her such misery, young man, and I expect you to ensure that she has the future she deserves.”
With that, Mr. Keats turned on his heel and strode away with all the certainty of one who expected obedience. Those words reverberated long after he was gone, silencing all other sounds until everything in the churchyard quieted as if the world itself recoiled from that command.
Frederick drew in a ragged breath, his lungs faltering as Thea’s face rose unbidden in his mind. The warmth of her laughter, the fierce glint in her eyes when she argued her point. Writing that note had taken all his strength, and the thought of dimming the delicate sunlight that shone from her soul crushed what little remained of his heart.
To be cold and cruel? How could a man do that to the woman he loved? Yet Frederick knew he must.
When he finally turned toward the lychgate, his steps were slow and measured, his shoulders tight beneath the weight of a choice he had to make as his feet plodded a path he neverwished to take. Mr. Moulton stood in the lane, his expression carefully schooled, though a faint furrow marked his brow. When Frederick approached, the solicitor straightened but did not speak as the two men fell into step, their soft treads filling the space where words might have been.
But the solicitor cast a glance his way before turning his gaze ahead once more. “I gather things in the churchyard did not go as well as they did in the vestry.”
Frederick did not answer, his jaw tightening in place of words.
Mr. Moulton hesitated, his hands clasped loosely behind his back as they walked. “Forgive me if I overstep, but I advise you not to surrender all hope of a future with Miss Keats. The path ahead will certainly be difficult, but I have every confidence you will sort it out and build a comfortable life.”
“You were eavesdropping?” asked Frederick in a flat tone as his gaze fixed on the ground at his feet.
“It isn’t difficult to discern what a father would say and do in this situation.”
Pausing, Frederick faced the fellow with a gimlet eye. “And you would advise me to ignore his wishes and drag his daughter into poverty?”
“Firstly, your options may be limited, but I have every confidence you will make the best of them. Secondly, I cannot overstate how important it is to have someone at your side to help you overcome your circumstances, and it is clear your family will not do so.”
Drawing in a deep breath, Mr. Moulton shifted in place as he gathered his words. “I do not mean to minimize Mr. Keats’s concerns—as a father, I would feel the same—but life is difficult enough without having to face it alone. You are bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders, and a good wife can help you as no other person can.”
“So, I ought to sacrifice Thea’s future to prop up mine?” asked Frederick.
“If you think you can spare her heartache and pain, then you are a fool, and you haven’t struck me as one, Mr. Voss,” said Mr. Moulton with a hard look. “Trying to shield her will only hurt you both.”
And with that parting advice, Mr. Moulton strode down the lane, eager to start his journey home, and Frederick watched the man’s retreating figure until it disappeared around the bend, though the fellow’s words lingered, stubborn and bright, like sparks from a fire floating on the breeze. They whispered of hopes that he’d done his best to bury, and for one fragile moment, he allowed himself to picture Thea beside him, laughter spilling into the dim light of their small home, her smile unbowed by the narrowing of their world.
The image caught him off guard, sharp and sweet all at once, and his breath stuttered in his chest. But the sweetness curdled as quickly as it came as more images flooded his mind: Thea’s hands cracked and bleeding from the laundry, her back bowed as she scrubbed, her gowns tattered and torn.
Turning away, Frederick’s gaze dropped to the dirt at his feet as the wind kicked up little eddies that swirled and tumbled along the cobblestones. Mr. Moulton’s words had been kind and well-meant, but they did not alter the truth.
One way or another, Frederick had to make her understand.
Chapter 19
“This is ridiculous,” grumbled Thea, her arms folded across her chest as she stared out at the village green, which looked precisely the same as all the other festivities they’d had of late. It was as though the world were trapped in a repetitive cycle of bunting, games, and food.
Long tables groaned beneath the weight of bread and pies, the cider and ale gleaming amber in the light, and garlands of wildflowers looped between poles (their petals already beginning to wilt) while children darted through the crowds with wreaths sitting askew upon their heads, their cries blasting through the air like the sharp peals of church bells, as though this were the very first of such festivities to grace their village.
The scent of crushed grass mingled with roasting meat and the faint sweetness of mead, carried on a soft summer breeze that stirred the flags and skirts alike. The men were loud with cheer, their voices booming over the music, while the women clustered in groups, trading gossip as though it were currency.
It was much the same as every village festivity before it. The only difference was that the weather had finally decided to afford them proper English clouds rather than the golden light and brilliant sapphire sky that had plagued them of late.
“You were correct, Mina. We have far too many of these celebrations—”
Her cousin straightened, sending her a quizzical glance. “I do not believe I said that.”
Thea motioned toward the revelers. “The Spring Market, May Day, the Feast Day, and then theSolstice?” Lips curling at that final word, she added, “And only our silly village and pretentious baronet insist on calling it such. It is Midsummer throughout the country, but dear Sir Thomas insists that using the Latin name is far more elegant, and everyone is so eager to please the fellow. What nonsense!”
Forcing her hand into the crook of her cousin’s arm (though Thea made it difficult to do so), Mina gave her a sympathetic smile, and without a word of objection, she allowed Thea to rant and rave, pouring all that vitriol upon this undeserving head.
“I apologize,” said Thea with a sigh.
