“A tradesman’s wife shan’t need to scrub and clean,” said Mrs. Brinn with a frown. “Most have a maid-of-all-work at the very least.”
“We are starting with nothing, so it may be some years before we are established enough to afford it. And there are skills I shall need even when life is comfortable, such as sewing a gown.”
Mrs. Brinn’s brows shot upward. “You do not know how to sew?”
“My training is wholly in fancywork. I can embroider anything you set before me, but I have never once attempted to make clothes,” said Thea, sighing to herself. “And as you said, every choice is a gamble, so I would rather learn more than necessary than find myself unprepared.”
Leaning back in her seat, Mrs. Brinn’s expression softened as her gaze grew thoughtful as she studied the lady before her.
“Well then,” she said in a contemplative voice. “We’ll begin with the fire. After that, mending and cooking. Washing is a beast, so we’d best give it some time before we attempt it.”
As Mrs. Brinn spoke of kindling and ash, dough and hearths, Thea found herself leaning forward. Here was something tangible for her to do. A task to complete.
Learning a few chores was a small thing. Insignificant, perhaps. Yet the heaviness that had settled over her in recent weeks thinned as Thea’s resolve coalesced and strengthened, and a quiet energy unfurled in her chest—something bright and restless that ushered in a tingling anticipation that made her wish to roll up her sleeves that very instant.
Thea’s fingers itched to be useful, to do something more than sit idly by while others decide her fate. The uncertainty of the future remained, but it no longer pressed so sharply upon her. For the first time in too long, the path ahead did not feel like a burden to be endured, but a challenge to be met.
Frederick. Her parents. They all believed this was their decision to make, but it was Thea’s future at stake, and she wouldn’t allow others to choose for her.
Chapter 33
It was the sort of golden morning where the air hummed with the promise of warmth and sunshine whilst the dew lay thick upon the grass and trees, and the bright call of the skylark and lowing of the sheep rang across the hills. A faint breeze cleared the mists from the fields of wheat, and their heavy heads bobbed, flashing hints of green that still clung to the base of the ripening stalk.
The sun crept over the rise, gilding the brick face of Dunsby Hall, yet the light did little to chase the heaviness that clung to the mortar. The house stood solemn and still amid the bright fields, the quiet enveloping it like a funeral shroud as the tall chimneys reached into the morning sky like gravestones.
The death of a dynasty. The end of a legacy.
Thea stood at the edge of the drive, her gaze tracing the familiar lines of the house. She had known this place her whole life, had walked its terraces and corridors as freely as her own, and yet in the stillness of this morning, it felt altered. Not diminished but rather subdued, as though the house felt the weight of memory pressing into every beam and brick, mourning the lost future it was meant to have.
Drawing in a slow breath that was thick with the scent of dew and growing things, Thea made her way down the gravel driveand up the front steps. The great oak doors loomed ahead, and before she could lift her hand to the knocker, a servant greeted her.
“Good morning, William,” she said. “I am here to see Miss Voss.”
The footman bobbed a head in acknowledgement and stepped back to allow her in, which Thea took as a good sign despite the fact that the Vosses had avoided her presence of late. As she crossed the threshold, the cool air of the entry met her with its all too familiar scent, and she felt for one strange moment as though she were walking into a memory rather than a home.
To one side sat several trunks, neatly stacked and awaiting their mistress’s carriage, and despite knowing what was to come, the sight struck Thea to the core. Each piece was carefully arranged and perfectly ordered, ready for their grand farewell. Though the servants likely did the majority of the work, she could well imagine Phoebe standing there, directing the packing with her emotions safely tucked out of sight as she oversaw what needed to be done.
Thea’s throat tightened, her hand resting atop the nearest piece for a quiet moment before embracing the strength Phoebe would wish her to have. The choice had been made, and it was time to get on with it; regrets cast a pall over even the loveliest of days, and this day was anything but.
Taking the familiar route, Thea climbed the stairs, both disappointed and grateful that Frederick was nowhere to be seen: today was not about them.
A quiet rap on the door, and Thea slipped inside to see the bride at her dressing table, her back straight and her face turned to the mirror, though her gaze was fixed on something far beyond it, her fingers absently fiddling with a hairpin. The morning light pooled across the polished wood surface,scattering across the array of accouterments required to make her look her finest on that most important of days.
Phoebe did not glance up when the door opened, and for a long breath, Thea simply watched her friend, uncertain what to say or do.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” whispered Phoebe, her eyes finally focusing on Thea’s reflection. “I was so beastly to you the last time we spoke.”
“And I was afraid you would turn me away again,” she replied, punctuating it with a sad smile. “I didn’t know if you would wish for me to attend, but I knew I had to try. You are one of my dearest friends.”
“I haven’t been much of one of late.” Phoebe’s lips trembled as she gave a pitiful smile.
“I can say the same of myself.” Thea’s throat tightened. It felt as though there were a great many things of which she needed to apologize—including her efforts to force her friends together and ignoring their own preferences. “I have been so focused on my own desires and future that I have neglected you when you needed me most.”
Phoebe’s smile wobbled a little more as she turned in her seat to face Thea directly. “Life has been wretched for us both of late, hasn’t it?”
Crossing the room, Thea reached out a hand, and Phoebe took it, the tears gathering quickly as she was pulled to her feet and into Thea’s arms.
“Thank you for coming,” whispered Phoebe.
