Chapter 18 #2
Refusing to fidget, Frederick would not admit that the gentleman’s concerns hadn’t forced the issue as much as Frederick’s own. “I wrote to her that very evening to tell her in no uncertain terms that our courtship is ended. I haven’t seen her since.”
Though Frederick suspected the gentleman felt more than he showed, Mr. Keats was not known for effusiveness, yet at that confession, his brows rose, and his eyes widened. For anyone else, that would warrant a label of “mild surprise.” On Mr. Keats, it looked positively faint.
“My daughter hasn’t mentioned a word of it,” he replied. “This morning, she was speaking as though you and she would attend the Solstice Festival together.”
With nothing to do but shrug it away, Frederick said, “I’ve given her no reason to believe that. Quite the contrary, in fact.”
Mr. Keats’s expression darkened. “Then clearly, she is digging in her heels, Mr. Voss. It is up to you to disabuse her of that notion and ensure that she accepts the truth.”
“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 never wished 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.