Chapter 25
Cecily sat curled in the small chair near the hearth, a book open in her lap, though she had not turned a page in some time. Her eyes drifted over the words without taking them in.
It had been a good week. Rosamund’s visit had filled the house with laughter and easy conversation, and Cecily felt warmth rise in her chest at the memory of their walks along the lane, their shared smiles over the children’s progress, and the way her sister’s presence had made everything feel lighter.
Cecily smirked to herself as she realized she had seen more of Weatherby in the past week than in all the weeks before, and she knew perfectly well that it was no accident.
The children had come so far with their lessons. Their hands moved with more confidence, their notes were clearer, and their eagerness was unmistakable. Each day had passed smoothly.
She had not seen Lady Viola at all. Not once, which did not upset her.
If anything, she was grateful for the distance.
The house felt calmer without the sharp glances and clipped remarks.
Even Mrs. Bracknell had eased her scrutiny, though Cecily still felt the weight of her watchful eye from time to time.
Cecily had no desire to seek either of them out.
Tobias had kept his word. He had given her space, never pressing or intruding. Yet he had been kind and always respectful. There had been small, quiet moments that lingered with her now.
Her gaze drifted to the small flower resting on the table beside her. A simple wild bloom, pressed between the pages of her book earlier that morning. She picked it up, turning it gently between her fingers. It made her smile.
She remembered the morning he had found it. They had crossed paths before the household had stirred, both seeking a bit of air before the day began. Tobias had looked tired, the strain of the mine disaster still pressing on him, but he had softened when he saw her.
They had walked together along the edge of the gardens, speaking little, letting the quiet do the work. He had paused to brush dew from a cluster of wildflowers and handed one to her with a small, unguarded smile. It had been a brief moment, but it had stayed with her.
Rosamund had left two days ago, and the house felt different without her. Cecily felt the absence keenly, though she was glad her sister had returned home safely.
Her feelings for Tobias were no longer something she tried to ignore.
They were tender, steady, and growing every day.
She knew he had been busy with meetings, decisions, and other responsibilities she could only guess at.
Although he had been pulled in every direction, he had still found time for small kindnesses.
Cecily leaned down to settle the last coal into place, brushing a bit of ash from her sleeve as the fire gave a gentle glow. She had just reached for the screen when a firm knock sounded on her door.
She straightened at once and walked over to open it. “Yes?”
Weatherby stood just over the threshold, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Miss Marwood,” he said, his tone more formal and serious than his countenance would suggest. “If you would come with me, please.”
She blinked, surprised. “Is something needed?”
“My Lord has asked for you in the piano room.”
At this hour? she thought.
She briefly checked her appearance in the mirror and then followed him into the corridor.
Surely he has not ordered a second lesson. The children have been doing so well. They practiced their duet today, and they sounded beautiful. Amabel held the tempo, and they are ready for the recital.
They reached the music room before she could settle her thoughts. Weatherby opened the door and stepped aside.
Candles flickered softly around the room, their warm light catching on the polished wood and casting gentle shadows across the walls. As Cecily entered, she saw the earl standing near the piano, dressed even more finely than he usually was in the evenings.
His coat was cut to perfection, the deep fabric catching the candlelight, and his cravat was tied with a precision that suggested deliberate care rather than habit. His posture was straight and formal, his expression unreadable. He looked as though he had been waiting for her for some time.
“Miss Marwood,” he said, dipping his head.
“My Lord,” she replied, returning the nod.
“Thank you for coming.”
Cecily nodded, confused.
He took a deep breath. “I wish to speak with you about the recital.”
She felt some of the tension in her shoulders ease, knowing the children were ready, though she still couldn’t quite make sense of the extra candles and his unusually fine dress. “Of course,” she said.
He glanced over to the door and gave a brief nod.
To her surprise, Amabel and Julian entered the room, both dressed in their finest. Amabel’s hair had been brushed until it shone, gathered neatly with a pale ribbon that matched the soft blue of her gown.
Julian wore a dark coat that had clearly been pressed for the occasion, his curls smoothed as best as anyone could manage, though one stubborn lock still fell over his forehead.
Their faces were bright with barely contained excitement, a kind of giddy pride that made their steps quick and light as they crossed the room. They smiled at her, then approached the piano, settling onto the bench with a flourish before beginning to play.
The melody rose at once, confident and bright. Cecily tilted her head in confusion, as it was a piece she had never taught them in that form. She moved closer, her eyes widening as the notes unfolded with surprising assurance.
Julian led with a steady right hand, and Amabel supported him with a soft, careful harmony.
It took Cecily several measures to understand what she was hearing.
This is ours. This is the first piece we worked on together.
It wasn’t the halting version they had struggled through in the beginning. It wasn’t the timid, uneven attempt she remembered guiding note by note. This was shaped, polished, and full of pride and intention, a clear picture of how much of an impact she had on them.
Cecily’s heart lifted in surprise. She had not heard them play with such assurance before, and the realization that they had practiced without her knowledge left her both touched and bewildered.
She moved closer, listening intently, trying to understand how they had shaped the familiar notes into something new.
Her throat tightened. “You two,” she whispered, her voice warm with pride. “Just listen to what you’ve made.”
Before either child could answer, Tobias said softly, “It is because of you that they can do this.”
Cecily turned toward him, startled by the quiet warmth in his voice. He held her gaze for a moment, and then he sank to one knee.
She froze.
No … no. He cannot be.
But he was. As she approached, hardly believing her own eyes, he took a ring from his pocket.
The children continued playing, the tempo slightly increasing with their excitement.
He looked up at her, his voice low and steady.
“You have opened my heart, Cecily. Years of grief and guilt turned me to stone, but you have undone it with nothing more than your gentle kindness. You have brought laughter and brightness back into this house. You have been a light for my niece and nephew when they needed it most. You have made everything here better … and more bearable.”
Cecily’s breath caught in her chest as her heart fluttered and tears filled her eyes.
“I want to be different,” he said. “I want to open this house and unleash all of the secrets that have gathered here through so many years of silence. And I want you at my side as I do so.”
The music swelled behind them, beautifully imperfect.
“Will you marry me?”
Cecily could not speak.
This life is not mine, she thought. I do not belong among nobility. I do not belong in this house. There is too much pain between the Fairbournes and my own family. There is too much history and too much loss. How could I ever fit in here? How could I ever be enough?
The children continued to play as she stood in silence, the bright and steady melody a stark contrast with her swirling thoughts. She looked down at him, her pulse jumping at the look on his face.
He is looking at me as if none of that matters. He is looking at me as though I am already part of his home, as if he trusts me. As if he needs me.
Her doubts slipped away one by one as she met his eyes.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I will marry you.”
Tobias rose and drew her into his arms. Julian and Amabel burst into delighted laughter, and the music stopped as they eagerly clapped for her.
The children climbed down from the piano bench and ran over to embrace them as well.
Cecily held everyone close for a moment longer before she drew back, brushing her hand over Amabel’s hair.
“Thank you for the beautiful music. When have you two been practicing that version of the piece?” she asked, still trying to understand how they had managed it without her noticing.
Amabel’s eyes brightened. “Every time you went for a walk,” she said.
Julian nodded eagerly. “Or when you were busy with something. We practiced very quietly.” His voice carried that same giddy triumph he’d worn since the last note faded.
He tried to stand a little taller as he spoke, but a sudden, wide yawn overtook him.
Cecily blinked, then glanced toward the clock on the mantel. The hour was far later than she had realized.
“It is late,” she said softly. “You two should be in bed.”
Julian puffed his chest out again. “We stayed awake for the surprise.”
“And it was a very fine surprise,” Tobias said, warmth threading through his voice. “You performed beautifully, but even musicians must sleep.”
At that moment, Weatherby appeared in the doorway as if sensing he was needed. The children hurried to him, whispering excitedly to one another. He gave Cecily a delighted smile before turning and escorting the children upstairs.
The room fell comfortably silent.