CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
Sebastian pulled back to look at her, his expression fierce. "Listen to me. There is nothing wrong with you. Sometimes these things take time. Sometimes they don't happen at all. Neither outcome means you're broken."
"Easy for you to say. You're not the one everyone blames."
"They don't blame you."
"They do. They just do it politely." Harriet wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, furious at her own tears. "Even my mother. She doesn't say it, but I can see it in her eyes. The worry. The disappointment."
"Your mother loves you."
"I know she does. That's what makes it worse." Harriet leaned against him again, too tired to hold herself upright. "I just want it to stop. The questions, the looks, the constant pressure. I want to go somewhere where no one knows us, where no one cares whether we have children or not."
Sebastian was quiet for a moment. Then: "All right."
"All right what?"
"We'll go."
Harriet lifted her head. "What?"
"We'll leave London. Tomorrow, if you wish," Sebastian's expression was perfectly serious.
"The Season can continue without us. I don't care about any of it, the balls, the dinners, the endless parade of social obligations. I care about you."
"We can't just leave in the middle of the Season. People will talk."
"People are already talking. Let them talk about our absence instead of your supposed failings." His hand cupped her face, thumb brushing away a stray tear. "Where would you like to go? Scotland? The coast? The Continent?"
"I don't know. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere beautiful." Harriet closed her eyes, imagining it. "Somewhere I can breathe."
"The Lake District," Sebastian said. "Mountains. Lakes. Wordsworth country. We could rent a cottage for a month. Walk. Read. Remember why we like each other."
"We like each other?"
"On good days."
A laugh escaped her, small and watery, but real. The first real laugh in weeks.
"Yes," she said. "The Lake District. Let's go."
***
Her mother called the next morning.
Harriet was still in her dressing gown, directing the maids in their packing, when the butler announced that Lady Fordshire had arrived. She considered pretending to be indisposed, but her mother would simply wait. Lady Fordshire had never been deterred by a closed door in her life.
"Send her up," Harriet said, and braced herself.
Lady Fordshire swept into the sitting room with the particular energy of a woman on a mission. She was dressed impeccably, as always, her silver-streaked dark hair arranged in an elegant style that Harriet had never quite been able to replicate. At sixty-two, she remained formidable.
"You're leaving," Lady Fordshire said, without preamble. "In the middle of the Season. I had the news from Lady Thornton this morning, who had it from her daughter, who apparently heard it from one of your servants."
"Good morning to you too, Mama."
"Don't be glib. What's happening, Harriet? Is something wrong? Are you ill?"
"I'm not ill." Harriet gestured for her mother to sit. "I'm tired. There's a difference."
"Tired of what?"
"Of everything. Of London. Of balls and dinners and people who have opinions about my marriage." Harriet sat across from her mother, too weary to stand on ceremony. "Sebastian and I are going to the Lake District for a month. Possibly longer."
Lady Fordshire's expression shifted from concern to something more complicated. "I see."
"Do you?"
"I think so." Her mother was quiet for a moment. "Last night was difficult?"
"Last night was unbearable. But it wasn't just last night.
It's been building for months." Harriet looked at her hands, unable to meet her mother's eyes.
"Everyone has something to say. Everyone has advice.
Rest more, worry less, try this physician, have you considered that perhaps you're too thin, too anxious, too something.
And underneath it all is the assumption that I'm failing. That I'm not doing my duty as a wife."
"Harriet…"
"I know you don't mean to add to it, Mama. But even you…" Harriet's voice cracked.
"Even you look at me differently now. I can see the questions you don't ask. The worry you try to hide."
Lady Fordshire was silent for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was softer than Harriet expected.
"You're right. I have been worried. But not because I think you're failing.
" She leaned forward, reaching for Harriet's hands.
"I worry because I see you suffering. I worry because I know how much this weighs on you.
And yes, I've mentioned physicians and treatments, because I wanted to help.
But I realise now that I was only adding to your burden. "
Harriet blinked back tears. "Mama…"
"I am not disappointed in you. I could never be disappointed in you." Lady Fordshire's grip tightened. "You are my daughter. My brilliant, stubborn, extraordinary daughter. And whether you have children or not, you will always be enough. Do you understand me?"
The tears spilled over. Harriet couldn't stop them.
"I just wanted to give you grandchildren," she whispered. "I wanted to give Sebastian an heir. I wanted to do the one thing that everyone expects, the one thing that should be simple…"
"Nothing about life is simple, darling. And expectations are chains we wrap around ourselves." Lady Fordshire moved to sit beside her daughter, pulling her into an embrace. "I don't need grandchildren to be happy. I need you to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted."
They held each other for a long moment, mother and daughter, while the morning light streamed through the windows and the sounds of packing continued in the distance.
"Go to the Lake District," Lady Fordshire said, finally pulling back. "Rest. Breathe. Remember what matters." She touched Harriet's face, her expression tender. "And stop trying so hard. Sometimes the things we want most only come when we stop chasing them."
Harriet nodded, unable to speak.
"I love you, darling."
"I love you too, Mama."
Lady Fordshire rose to leave, then paused at the door. "And Harriet? If anyone asks where you've gone, I shall tell them you're on an extended tour of the northern estates. Very dull. Nothing worth gossiping about."
"Thank you."
"That's what mothers are for."
***
The encounter with Lady Davies happened that afternoon, at Harriet's final call before their departure.
She had gone to say goodbye to Lady Thornton, one of the few society women she genuinely liked, and had nearly made it back to her carriage when a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.
"Lady Vane! Leaving so soon? But the Season has barely begun."
Harriet turned to find Lady Davies approaching, her smile as bright and false as costume jewelry. She was accompanied by two other women, their expressions matching shades of malicious curiosity.
"Lady Davies. How delightful."
"I heard you're taking the waters in the north." Lady Davies's tone dripped with false sympathy. "Such a shame. Though I suppose it's wise to seek treatment for... difficulties."
"I'm seeking rest, not treatment."
"Of course. Rest can be so restorative." Lady Davies exchanged a glance with her companions. "Though I've heard that some problems can't be fixed, no matter how much rest one takes. Some women simply aren't... built for motherhood."
The words landed like a slap. Harriet felt the blood drain from her face, then rush back in a flood of fury.
"How fortunate that you've never faced such difficulties," she said, her voice ice-cold. "I'm sure your husband is deeply satisfied with his choice."
Lady Davies's smile faltered. "I beg your pardon?"
"I merely meant that Lord Davies must be so pleased to have secured an heir so quickly.
After his previous disappointment, it must be a tremendous relief.
" Harriet let her gaze drift over Lady Davies's figure with deliberate assessment.
"One does hope the child takes after his mother. In looks, if nothing else."
The implication hung in the air: Davies may have an heir, but he doesn't have your love. He settled for second best, and everyone knows it.
Lady Davies's face went white, then red. Her companions shifted uncomfortably.
"You…" Lady Davies began.
"Do give my regards to Lord Davies," Harriet interrupted. "I'm sure he thinks of me often."
She turned and walked away, her heart pounding, her hands trembling slightly. It was petty. It was beneath her. And it felt glorious.
Sebastian was waiting in the carriage. He took one look at her face and raised an eyebrow.
"What happened?"
"I may have implied that Lady Davies's child looks nothing like her husband."
"Did you?"
"And that Davies settled for her after I rejected him."
Sebastian's lips twitched. "How unfortunate for Lady Davies."
"Terribly unfortunate."
"Will this cause problems?"
"Almost certainly." Harriet leaned back against the seat, suddenly exhausted again. "But I find I don't particularly care."
"Then neither do I." Sebastian knocked on the roof of the carriage, signaling the driver to proceed. "To the Lake District?"
"To the Lake District."
***
The cottage was perfect.
It sat on a gentle slope above Windermere, surrounded by gardens gone slightly wild and ancient oaks that filtered the light into something green and gold.
The building itself was stone, covered in climbing roses that wouldn't bloom for another month, with windows that looked out over the lake and the mountains beyond.
Sebastian watched Harriet step out of the carriage and breathe, really breathe for the first time in months. Her shoulders dropped. Her face softened. The tight, guarded expression she had worn through all of London simply... dissolved.
"Oh," she said quietly. "It's beautiful."
"I hoped you'd like it."
"I more than like it. I may never leave."
"The owner might object."
"Then we'll buy it. I'm sure it's for sale. Everything is for sale if you offer enough money."