Chapter Five
The dining room at Somerton was neither large nor grand, but tonight it felt perfectly sized—cozy and bright, with the candlelight glinting off polished silver and gentle laughter reaching into every corner of the room.
It was only the four of them: Matthew, Sarah, Grace, and Oliver. There were no formal airs or audience to perform for, though Oliver did enough performing to amuse an entire royal court.
Grace picked at her roast lamb with mild disinterest, half-listening as Sarah enthusiastically detailed the lawn party scheduled for the following afternoon at the neighboring Rutherford estate.
“I do hope they’ll set up the archery targets,” Sarah said, her face alight.
“It has been ages since I had the chance.”
“I believe there is also croquet,” Matthew added with an amused smile. “Which should prove ample opportunity for bloodshed.” Sarah laughed, and Grace couldn’t help but smile as well.
“I expect you will find the company pleasant.” Matthew went on. “The Rutherfords always manage to draw quite a crowd. Plenty of eligible young ladies, or so I am told.” He cast a sly glance down the table at Oliver. “A veritable buffet for the summer’s most notorious flirt.”
Oliver set his fork down with exaggerated offense. “I am wounded, Fenwick—but not at all surprised.”
Grace sipped her wine, attempting to hide her amusement behind the rim of her glass. “Actually,” she said, setting the cup down with deliberate grace. “Lord Blackburn will not be entertaining the attentions of any young ladies this summer.”
The room went still. Even Oliver seemed momentarily robbed of speech, which for him, was nothing short of a miracle. Finally, Matthew found his voice. “I beg your pardon?”
Grace shrugged as though she hadn’t just set fire to the very foundation of Lord Blackburn’s carefully curated reputation. “It is part of our truce.”
“Your truce?” Matthew echoed, glancing helplessly at Sarah. She only shook her head, clearly just as bewildered. Oliver lifted his wine glass to his lips, looking like he very much wished he could disappear inside of it.
Grace straightened in her chair, savoring, for once, the distinct pleasure of holding the upper hand between the two of them. “Oliver has agreed not to engage in idle flirtations for the duration of his stay at Somerton.”
Matthew laughed out loud and leaned back in his chair with an enormous grin. “Good heavens, Gracie. Did you make him sign that in blood?” Sarah’s eyes sparkled as she glanced between the two of them. “Did you truly agree to that?”
“There was considerable pressure,” Oliver said solemnly. “Threats, blackmail, possibly poison.” Sarah and Matthew laughed as Oliver turned and smiled wickedly in Grace’s direction.
“You know, Lady Rockwell, if I must reform my wicked ways, perhaps I should turn my attentions towards…”
Grace leveled him with her gaze, causing Oliver to falter mid-sentence. He feigned a cough and cleared his throat reaching for his glass. “Towards improving my lawn game strategy.”
Matthew was now nearly doubled over with laughter. Sarah, who was much more contained than her husband, raised her glass in a toast. “I think it is simply inspired.” She said in absolute delight. “It is about time someone attempted to domesticate this wild creature.”
“Domesticate!?” Oliver looked at them all, appalled. “I am a free spirit! An untamed stallion.”
“A stallion?” Grace snorted. “You are a house cat with expensive taste.” Matthew, who had just managed to compose himself, choked on his wine. Sarah covered her mouth, laughing too hard to speak.
Oliver clutched his chest as if wounded. “How dare you, ma’dam. I am feral and majestic.”
“Feral, I believe.” Grace turned back to her plate, plucking a potato in her mouth with triumph. Oliver turned to Matthew for support. “Are you going to allow this slander?”
Matthew wiped the tears from his eyes, finally managing to return to a normal rhythm of breathing. “Oh, I am thoroughly enjoying this.”
Oliver bowed his head over his plate and mumbled, “You are all monsters.”
The laughter and conversation settled into something warmer, and for the first time in a long while, Grace found herself relaxing and her smile lighter.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had let herself laugh like this.
Sarah leaned back in her chair with a soft smile. “This is almost pleasant.”
Grace felt herself go still. The words hit her harder than they should have.
Was it pleasant that they were able to sit in the glow of the candlelight, trading jests and laughter like nothing was missing inside of them?
She shifted slightly in her chair, the familiar prickle of discomfort rising along her spine.
Pleasant meant softening. Pleasant meant letting go.
In that brief moment, when Grace had laughed without the weight of her grief, she had almost felt like herself again—and somehow that hurt more than anything else.
Across the table, Oliver had caught the slight change in her posture. His eyes were locked on hers, and for a moment, she was afraid he was going to press her like he had done that morning. Instead, he expertly shifted the conversation in the opposite direction.
“Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully. “I should bring my own croquet mallet tomorrow. I daresay none of theirs will be properly weighted, and a man must have standards after all.” Matthew chuckled. “You will need more than a weighted mallet if Sarah plans to play. She cheats.”
Sarah gasped, swatting Matthew playfully on the arm. “I do not!” As the laughter swelled again, Grace allowed herself a small smile. She looked up to see Oliver watching her again, his eyes full of an understanding that she couldn’t quite comprehend.
She wasn’t entirely sure she trusted him, but for the sake of Sarah and Matthew, she would do her best to tolerate him.
The fire had burned low in the hearth, casting a soft amber hue across the sitting area of Grace’s room.
She curled beneath a light blanket on the window seat, the glass fogged slightly where her breath brushed against it.
The moon had just peaked its way over the treetops, bathing the pond below in silver.
She should have been asleep, but her thoughts were restless things flitting from candlelit laughter around the dinner table, to the empty space beside her where Benjamin used to be, to a white handkerchief tucked away in the drawer of her writing desk.
She looked up as the door to her room creaked open, and Sarah peeked her head inside. “I hope I am not intruding.”
Grace gave her a weary smile, “If you were worried about that, you might have tried knocking.”
Sarah laughed softly as she stepped inside, carrying two cups of tea. “I thought you might be awake.” She settled herself into the armchair beside Grace, offering her a tea. “You left dinner rather quickly.”
Grace cradled the teacup in her hands, the warmth reaching into places that had long felt numb. “I just needed a moment.” Sarah nodded in understanding.
Sometimes it was easy to forget that the hollow grief Grace felt deep in her bones wasn’t only hers to bear. Sarah had lost her brother that night. While the ache in their hearts took different forms, the weight of it was the same.
“Dinner was quite nice,” Sarah said gently, attempting to bring a bit of light back into the room. Grace didn’t answer. It had been nice—and that was the problem.
Sarah took a sip of her tea, then lowered the cup, a knowing grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “If I am being quite honest, when I saw you smiling at Oliver, I thought I had stumbled into a stranger's dining room.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “I was mildly amused.”
“You were laughing.”
“Briefly.”
Sarah arched a brow, “It was a whole string of laughs, nearly a symphony. Do not try to downplay it. I was there.”
Grace huffed softly, aiming for indifference but failing to hide the amusement in her voice. “He is ridiculous.”
“He is infuriating,” Sarah admitted with a chuckle. “But he is also not the worst company when he behaves.”
Grace shook her head, "That is a generous assessment.” She turned her attention to the tea leaves floating in her cup, her thoughts drifting back to that morning at the pond.
For one fleeting moment, she had thought she had seen a crack in his dramatic facade—a flicker of humanity and brokenness, but as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.
She didn’t know exactly what to make of Oliver Blackburn, but something inside of her couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew her far better than she wanted him to.
“You know,” Sarah’s voice pulled Grace from her thoughts, “I told Matthew earlier that it feels as though we are getting a head start on parenthood.”
Grace furrowed her brow, unsure where Sarah was taking this. “I beg your pardon?” Sarah took another sip of her tea, looking far too amused with herself. “Watching you and Oliver bicker is what I imagine raising twins would be like.”
Grace shook her head, but she couldn’t hold back her laughter. Sarah smiled as she reached over to squeeze Grace’s hand. “There it is again. I have missed that sound.”
Grace’s laughter faded into a sigh. “It’s easier when I forget.” She said softly. “When I am not thinking about him.” Sarah’s face softened as she tightened her grip on Grace’s hand. “No one expects you to forget, Grace.”
Grace turned to look out the window, her eyes flickering up to the sky.
Benjamin loved the stars. He had always said they were heaven’s jewels.
She used to gaze up at them and marvel at their beauty, but now she was jealous of them.
Envious that they seemed to shine a little brighter, because the light Benjamin had brought to her life was now living among them.
“Sometimes, it feels wrong to laugh.”
“It’s not wrong, Grace. It’s healing.”
“I am not ready to heal.” Grace tensed when the words came out sharper than she had meant them to, but Sarah just nodded silently.
Grace knew she meant well, but it was easier to heal when you still had the person you loved standing by your side to help you through it. They sat in the uncomfortable silence until their tea had long gone cold, and raindrops started tapping against the windowpane.
“I do not know who I am becoming.” Grace finally broke the silence. “I do not recognize her.”
Sarah gave her a soft smile, “That’s alright. You will find who you once were again.” Grace managed to return the smile, but the heaviness refused to lift from her chest.