Chapter One #3
She had also pondered marrying—as she was agreeing to now—a few times.
However, she’d never met anyone remotely interested in her or her thousand pounds worthy of the risk—only of her father’s predictable refusal—and she might’ve looked further afield, perhaps for love, except really, she had better things to do.
With her skills and education, she might’ve also found employment, as a governess or a teacher or something of the sort—however that she had never tried, for it would have been too easy for her family to come fetch her, and drag her back.
Were they truly so desperate… That she couldn’t know for certain, but she wagered they might be, after a time, indispensable as she apparently was to them all.
As for more permanent choices—such as entering the nunnery or becoming a missionary or so on—well, one had to believe in the Almighty, and the cause, and she did not. Therefore that was that.
So yes, in the end, she’d contented herself with her lot.
Hoping that some other opportunity or chance might cross her path in time.
Her existence not terrible, not happy, but known, and therefore endurable.
A slow erosion, of will, of want, of hope; one which might’ve very well eroded her to the last grains of herself, made her too well accustomed to endurable and known comforts to ever leave them, had it not been for this man.
This chance, the one she had been waiting for; perhaps the last and only she would ever have.
Well timed too, for if her family had her way, her sister would be wed and birthing her own brood within the year—God and everyone willing save Hypatia—and then where would Hypatia be?
Either covered in the dirty linens of babes or tending to Mother and Father.
Or both.
Therefore, Hypatia was now choosing to take a chance on a man she’d met twelve minutes ago, rather than accept that fate, or any such.
Choosing to leap into the unknown, rather than facing another untold number of decades catering to her family’s every whim, every dictate, every supposed need; a known future which would only get worse as her parents aged ever more, and her sister grew her own family.
Hypatia would be expected to serve and care for them all, as she’d always done, and that was not something she was prepared to do.
Some might view it as duty, or honour, to care for one’s family thus.
And in many cases, it was. In this case however, it was neither of those things, and to boot, love was lacking from the equation too.
For in her experience, love, duty, familial obligation, could all be eroded away, like the self, by a lack of agency and freedom.
Love, in her opinion, was a choice; one couldn’t therefore love, if no choice to do so freely was given.
Once perhaps, she had loved them all, her sister Epi most of all, before diverging paths and purposes divided them; once perhaps, she might’ve given them a second thought in all this, however not now.
Not tonight. She had to think about herself, not everyone else for once; they would fare well enough without her.
If not, well…she did not wish them ill, but neither could she set herself aside again because they expected her to.
So here she was, making the first choice she’d made truly, entirely, and without reserve for herself; the first choice thus she’d perhaps ever made in her life.
If an Essex smith can become an earl, perhaps I can become…someone entirely of my own.
‘Should we…shake on it?’ Thorn said, startling her from her little self-indulgent moment of reverie and marked solemnity.
She thought of him thus instinctually—Thorn—as that was how he’d just introduced himself, and they were to be married if all went according to this spontaneous plan, so she supposed some familiarity was allowed, and would foster a good partnership.
Pushing any doubts or fears aside that he might rescind his offer once he fully saw her—not that anyone had before, and besides, she had told him of her plainness, and that didn’t seem to factor into this transaction, money for freedom—she rose, and stepped away from her shadowed nook to meet him as he rounded the ridiculous miniature fountain standing between them.
Extending her hand, she watched for any sign of shock, displeasure, or disappointment, but found nothing but a reassuring smile, and continued sparkling in his gaze.
‘I suppose we should discuss some details,’ he said, wrapping his hand around hers, and she smiled, not just because he continued to prove himself ieminently clever and practical, but because he had a good handshake.
Strong, and sure; warm but not despicably wet as some were wont to be, and overall she noted that her body felt at ease in his presence.
It had from the moment he’d appeared along the path, bursting into her bubble of respite and peace, hence why she’d indulged in conversation as opposed to sinking further into the shadows, and making herself discreetly scarce, which would’ve been her typical modus operandi.
Something which should be said, was that her instinctual lack of wariness of him, had absolutely nothing at all to do with his objective, and striking, handsomeness—nor did her agreeing to these marriage plans.
Hypatia might’ve been called many things by various persons of varying levels of acquaintance, however, a fool who trusted a pretty face would’ve never been one of them.
However, yes, objectively, he was handsome.
Square-jawed, with symmetrical but finely honed features.
Long, straight, somewhat blunt nose. Thick, mostly straight, but also gently arched brows, over slightly hooded, downturned eyes, of a sparkling cerulean blue, visible even in the gloom of the dusky garden.
A wide mouth, with the perfect little dip in the upper lip, which itself was that little bit smaller than the lower—though both the right balance between full and narrow to follow the symmetry of the other features.
All that topped off with non-noticeable ears, a mostly tamed mop of semi-curled, semi-straight thick hair, and a thick, solidness of figure that demonstrated the strength required for his previous occupation, though she suspected the broader-than-average shoulders, and towering height he worked to diminish by curving inwards slightly, were inherited from his forebears.
Overall, he had the air and energy of a pastorally perfect and quintessential British son; mixed in with a charming rogue, and potential of a rather endearing pup, the latter mainly due to those downturned eyes which looked entirely capable of mischief and pity-inducement.
This was all reinforced somehow, by his fine, but not exceptional, evening dress, which both suited him, yet didn’t in the least.
In all honesty, this handsomeness didn’t hurt—in her decision to marry him—it was rather like choosing one painting or ornament over another for one knew one could bear to look at it for years on end.
However, it was primarily her instinctual ease which, along with desperation, was one of the main reasons she was going along with this seemingly impetuous and foolhardy plan.
‘We should,’ she agreed, releasing his hand. ‘There will be no time to meet again, I think, and all my correspondence is read.’
He frowned at that, a line appearing perpendicular to his right eyebrow.
‘That will present a problem, as we’ll need to agree on a time and date, once I’ve obtained a licence, if I in fact manage to do so.’
‘I trust you to.’
Thorn’s frown deepened—two lines against either brow tipping inwards to form an almost triangle, and Hypatia understood the gesture, for inwardly, she frowned too.
There is time to think on all that later, along with everything you haven’t given yourself time to consider.
The vows have not been spoken; you have not fully cast your bets yet.
‘Have you ever written with lemon?’ she asked, choosing to abide by her own declarations, though something inside her knew her bets had been fully cast the moment she first opened her mouth in Thorn’s presence.
‘Aye, I did, as a boy,’ he chuckled, nodding his head. ‘’Twas mostly maps; I pretended I was some great spy that would defeat Napoleon.’
Hypatia grinned, once again caught off-guard by the sparkling of his gaze, and the piece he offered somewhat unknowingly, and unpretentiously, of himself.
‘You could write, pretending this time to be some matron or other I met tonight, whom I promised to give my stain banishing formulas to,’ she suggested after a moment, their smiles not dimming, but reminded of the semi-urgency of the situation.
‘Write the time, date, and place we are to be wed in between the lines, and I shall respond accordingly to confirm receipt.’
‘You have stain banishing formulas?’
‘Developed over many years,’ she nodded.
‘How eminently useful.’
‘I suppose I might’ve listed that in my favour earlier, as an offset to my lacking five hundred pounds in desired dowry.’
‘With the money it might save in garments, I suppose so.’
They stared at each other, smiling softly for a few moments which seemed to stretch longer than that, the sounds of the party trickling towards them on the growing and cooling breeze.
‘I shall do as you direct, then, I need only your address.’ Hypatia gave it to him, and he nodded, before sharing his own temporary one. ‘You will manage to slip away when the time comes?’
‘I will manage. You will find us witnesses and any other necessaries?’
‘I will. Should I plan for you to return to your home after the ceremony?’
‘As much as I would like to say no, if only to avoid further issue, it would be advisable that I return, tell of the news, and collect what little I must.’
‘Very well then.’
‘May I kiss you?’