CHAPTER ELEVEN #2
"Now I understand that accepting help isn't weakness. It's just... different." She reached across and took his hand, her fingers intertwining with his. "You didn't save me because you thought I couldn't save myself. You saved me because you loved me. That's different."
Sebastian turned her hand over in his, tracing the lines of her palm with his thumb. "I would have helped regardless. Even if you never loved me back. You know that."
"I know. That's what makes it different." Harriet leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, her lips warm against his skin. "Come on. We have two hours before we need to be sensible and financial. I want to show you the library."
"You showed me the library yesterday."
"I showed you the main collection. I haven't shown you where I used to hide as a child.
" Her smile turned mischievous, a glimpse of the girl she must have been before grief had hardened her.
"There's a window seat behind the mythology section.
I spent half my childhood there, reading things I probably shouldn't have. "
"Things you shouldn't have?"
"Richard smuggled me novels. Mama would have been horrified." Harriet tugged him to his feet. "Come. I'll tell you all about my misspent youth."
Sebastian followed, because he would follow her anywhere, and because the prospect of learning more about her, the girl she had been, the woman she had become, was irresistible.
He began to perceive that his affection for Harriet was no solitary vow, but a perpetual discovery of her worth. Every day brought new facets, new depths, and new reasons to marvel at his impossible good fortune.
He intended to spend the rest of his life discovering them all.
***
The library at Fordshire Park was smaller than the one at Thornwood, but it possessed a warmth that Sebastian's grander collection lacked.
The shelves were worn from decades of use, the spines faded from hands that had pulled them down and put them back a thousand times.
There were comfortable chairs positioned near windows, their cushions bearing the permanent impressions of readers long gone.
The air smelled of old paper and leather and something floral, lavender, perhaps, from sachets tucked between the volumes.
"This was my sanctuary," Harriet said, leading him past the main reading area to a corner near the back. "When everything was too much, the expectations, the social obligations, Mama's endless planning…I would come here and disappear."
She pushed aside a heavy curtain to reveal a window seat built into an alcove, just large enough for one person to curl up with a book. The window looked out over the gardens, and Sebastian could imagine a young Harriet tucked into this space, lost in whatever world her reading had opened up.
"It's perfect," he said quietly.
"It was my favourite place in the whole house.
" Harriet settled onto the window seat, drawing her knees up in a gesture that made her look very young.
"Richard found me here once. I was thirteen, crying over something, I don't even remember what now.
Some slight from one of Mama's friends, probably.
He climbed in next to me, which was ridiculous because he was already too tall for the space, and he just..
. sat with me. Didn't say anything. Didn't try to fix it. Just sat."
"He was good at that," Sebastian said quietly. "Being present without demanding anything."
"He was. He was good at a lot of things.
" Harriet's voice was wistful but not heavy.
The grief was still there, Sebastian knew, but it had softened into something more bearable.
"He would have been happy about this. Us, I mean.
He always said we were too similar not to either love each other or kill each other. "
"He said that?"
"Multiple times. Usually after we'd had a particularly vicious argument at some social function." Harriet smiled at the memory. "He was convinced you were in love with me years before you knew it yourself."
"I knew it." Sebastian leaned against the bookshelf, watching her. "I just didn't think anything would come of it."
"And now?"
"Now I think Richard was right about most things. Including us."
Harriet reached behind her and pulled out a slim volume that had been tucked into the corner of the window seat. "This was my hiding spot for the things I didn't want Mama to find. Poetry, mostly. And this."
She handed him the book. It was a novel, one of the sensational Gothic ones that had been popular a decade ago, full of mysterious castles and romantic excess. The cover was worn from repeated reading, the spine cracked, and the pages soft with use.
"Richard gave it to me for my fifteenth birthday," Harriet said. "Mama would have had an apoplexy if she'd known. The hero is a reformed rake who falls desperately in love with a woman who initially despises him. Very scandalous."
Sebastian opened the cover and found an inscription in Richard's familiar handwriting: For Harry, who deserves her own epic romance. Don't tell Mother. E
"Harry?" Sebastian asked, smiling.
"His nickname for me. I pretended to hate it." Harriet's expression suggested she had not, in fact, hated it at all. "He was the only one allowed to use it."
"I'll remember that."
"See that you do." She took the book back, handling it with the careful reverence of a treasured memory.
"I used to read this and think it was all nonsense.
Reformed rakes, desperate love, grand gestures.
Real life wasn't like that, I told myself.
Real life was practical and disappointing and nothing like novels. "
"And now?"
"Now I'm wedded to a man who waited seven years for me and spent that time annotating my terrible poetry." Harriet looked up at him with an expression that made his breath catch. "It turns out real life can be exactly like novels. You just have to find the right person to write the story with."
Sebastian crossed to the window seat and crouched down so their eyes were level. "Harriet Vane, that is the most romantic thing you've ever said to me."
"Don't become accustomed to it."
"Too late."
He kissed her, soft and slow, and she melted into him the way she always did now as though the barriers between them had finally, fully dissolved. When they broke apart, she was smiling.
"We should probably go be responsible," she said. "Mr. Thornton will be here soon."
"Must we?"
"Unfortunately." She stood, tucking the novel back into its hiding place. "But afterward, I have more of the house to show you. Including the attic where Richard and I used to play pirates."
"You played pirates?"
"We were fearsome. I was always the captain." Harriet took his hand and led him toward the door. "Richard was my first mate. He complained constantly about the hierarchy, but he never actually mutinied."
"A loyal man."
"The best." She squeezed his fingers. "Until you."
Sebastian didn't trust himself to speak. He simply held her hand and followed her out of the library, his heart so full it ached.
***
Mr. Thornton arrived at precisely eleven on the hour.
"Lady Fordshire. Lady Vane. Lord Vane." He inclined his head to each of them in turn as he entered the study. "Thank you for making time for this review."
“We thank you for coming all this way for us,” Lady Fordshire said, gesturing for him to take a seat at the large desk that dominated the room.
“Pray, inform us of the present state of our affairs.”
The solicitor opened his portfolio and began arranging papers with methodical precision.
Sebastian watched with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.
He had transferred the funds weeks ago, had received confirmations from each creditor, but he had not yet seen the full picture of how those payments had affected the estate.
"I am pleased to report," Mr. Thornton began, "that the Fordshire estate is now entirely free of debt. All outstanding obligations have been settled in full, including the rather substantial sum owed to Lord Davies."
Sebastian felt Harriet's hand tighten on his. He covered it with his own, a silent reassurance.
"How did Davies receive the payment?" he asked. He had half-expected the man to refuse it out of spite, to find some way to continue tormenting the family that had rejected him.
"With ill grace, I'm afraid." Mr. Thornton's tone conveyed exactly what he thought of such behaviour.
"His solicitors initially attempted to delay acceptance, citing various technical objections that were, frankly, spurious.
They questioned the transfer method, raised concerns about the source of funds, and even suggested that the payment might be contested on grounds of undue influence. "
"Undue influence?" Harriet's voice was sharp. "What does that mean?"
"Lord Davies's representatives implied that Lord Vane might have pressured the family into accepting his assistance.
" Mr. Thornton's expression suggested he found this theory as ridiculous as it sounded.
"However, once it became clear that we would not be deterred and that pursuing such claims would only embarrass Lord Davies publicly, they relented.
I received final confirmation of the settlement three days ago. "
He produced a letter from his portfolio and handed it to Sebastian. The handwriting was unfamiliar, Davies’s solicitor, presumably, but the message was clear: all debts discharged, no further claims pending, the matter concluded.
Sebastian felt a weight lift from his shoulders that he hadn't realised he'd been carrying.
"There was also this," Mr. Thornton added, producing a second letter. "Addressed to Lady Vane. It arrived with the settlement confirmation."
Harriet took the letter with evident reluctance, as though it might bite her. Sebastian watched her break the seal and scan the contents, her expression shifting from wariness to something that might have been amusement.