Chapter Two #2
‘I admit, I gave no thought to such nonsense as the judgement and thoughts of others. There have been far more scandalous matches than mine, and if anything, one would think having a countess in the family would only ameliorate Epi’s chances.
She is clever, and determined, and she has you, Mother.
She will fare well enough. As for you and Father, you have plenty of people who can attend to you, or the funds to employ more should the need arise.
You are not abandoned. You are being left, as a bird leaves the nest. I thank you, for you have fed me, and clothed me, and taught me, and loved me to the best of your abilities.
However, I have been given the chance to make a choice as regards the path my life shall now take, and I have seized it.
Wish me well, or don’t, I care little. Though I hope we may part with civility, and less histrionics. ’
Thorn might’ve applauded. Commissioned a painter—if he knew where to find one, and how to do so—to immortalise this moment, and the fierceness of the woman at his side.
Yet at the same time, some part of him felt a twinge of sorrow for her, for having lived so long with such a family as she would say such things to—for he knew it wasn’t out of meanness, or spite, merely from a place of truth.
I wonder which is worse; to have a family such as hers, or to have had such a great, incomparable father as I did, only to lose him.
‘Well, Father? What shall it be? Civility and goodwill? Or shall I go fetch the Peelers and tell them you refuse to give what is owed to one of this kingdom’s earls?’ Hypatia asked in the ever-lengthening silence.
‘Let us be done with it, though you are no daughter of mine to behave in such a manner,’ Quincy finally sighed, throwing up his hands as behind him, his wife and daughter sniffled and cried and made much of the drama of the situation.
Civility and histrionics in the end, I see.
‘I should disavow you completely, for this ingratitude and insult.’
‘You are welcome to do so once today’s business is concluded, Father.’
Quincy shook his head, and grumbled as he stepped away from the women, and led the way to the study.
Thorn slipped his hand into Hypatia’s as they followed, giving not one last look to those left behind, and though she seemed not to note the gesture in any way, he thought he felt her relax, ever so slightly.
And though it meant nothing at all really—he was merely being human, and supportive of this new creature who in the eyes of the law and God, was his responsibility, something else he hadn’t entirely fathomed until now—it felt rather momentous indeed.
The arrangements with Mr Quincy completed—as much as they could be, the rest left to the solicitors and men of business to ensure everything was signed, sealed, and delivered to the appropriate financial institutions—Thorn and Hypatia left him in his study, and went up to her room to see her packed, and removed from this house which was increasingly unwelcoming with every minute.
He wasn’t entirely surprised to find that there was somewhat of a misnomer in calling it her room, for one glance at it told him it was anything but—the oversaturated pastels, patterns, and things, suggesting it had suffered the mark of either the mother, the sister, or some decorator with too much freedom, and not enough good sense.
The room wasn’t uncomfortable, tiny, relegated to the eaves, nor somehow marking of Hypatia’s status amongst her family as other—she wasn’t some little Cinder girl, banished to the fireplace—yet it was remarkably dismissive of who she was.
Which was something that Thorn naturally had no true idea of, considering he’d now spent perhaps a sum total of about four hours in her company, yet that even he, in their brief acquaintance, had a better idea of than her family.
Or so it seemed to him then.
It was all the queerer—purporting to know her better than her family—considering he couldn’t even purport to know her face well.
If forced to describe her, in the event of some ghastly catastrophe for instance, he wouldn’t have been able to give a proper description, and it wasn’t that he’d not deigned to look at her.
Only perhaps, that he’d not allowed himself to pay attention.
In the garden, when she’d emerged from the shadows into the lambent light of that ridiculous miniature square they’d found themselves in, he’d briefly noted that she was what could be called plain—not that he thought himself an Adonis by any right—but only because she wasn’t what one would call striking, though her presence was.
Her presence commanded attention, respect, heeding, and that night, yes, it had commanded desire.
Perhaps that was why he’d not allowed himself to truly study her in those few moments, having been slightly off-put by the sudden comfort and interest he felt in her regard; why he’d not allowed himself to pay too much attention all day today, even as they were married, lest he lose focus, or allow himself fancies that had no bearing on their current situation.
Or something of the sort.
Whatever the reasons not to pay Hypatia much attention, he lost sight of them then, as he stood there, just inside the threshold, and watched her go about her business, not a single movement wasted.
He could see the plainness others had quantified her with, though he would’ve termed it simplicity.
She was neither tall nor short; her head naturally reaching about his shoulders.
Neither thin nor overly abundant, but again, somewhere in between; strength denoting capability, and curves balancing them denoting nothing, though he couldn’t deny he had some response to them.
Her features and limbs were generally unnoteworthy, caught in the in-between of denominators as her figure was.
Her hair was noticeable by its colour, and refusal to be tamed; even the curls refusing in some manner to be fully quantified thus as they also refused to be bound into any version of a tamed coiffure.
There was a softness to her face, a roundness to her cheeks and chin, yet a fineness in the edges.
Her nose was somewhat crooked at its base, but it offset the longer front tooth on the opposite side, that was unnoticeable except when she smiled.
The thickness of her brows might’ve been unfashionable had her large round eyes—of a soft honey green he hadn’t noted until this morning, in the brightness of the church—not offset them, even despite one of them being ever so slightly smaller than the other.
There was a crookedness to her mouth, too, a general lack of symmetry, which couldn’t be noticed without study, but was felt upon first glance.
Yet contrary to many, who placed such value on symmetry, and apparent beauty, Thorn found it was in fact all these little details—flaws some might call them—that he’d not allowed himself to catalogue till now, and of which he knew there were many more, that composed the sum of Hypatia, and that was wherein precisely the beauty lay.
Where the charm lay.
‘Is there nothing I can do to help?’ Thorn asked finally, stirring from his study as Hypatia paused, frowning down into the open chest at the foot of the bed, hands on her hips.
‘No, thank you,’ she said, somewhat perplexed it seemed, still frowning.
‘Have you not enough room?’ He glanced in, noting the pile of clothes already put away as he advanced slowly, then peeked at the small collection of items—books and journals mostly—which had been set upon the bed in a neat pile. ‘Should I find another bag…?’
‘There is plenty of room.’
‘And that is the problem.’
Hypatia nodded, and Thorn dared get even closer. After all, she was his wife now.
Wife…why does the word drip so casually from my mind? So easily?
‘It isn’t that I lack belongings,’ she specified, those green-honey eyes meeting his, an openness in them he decided was particularly Hypatia.
‘I have what I need, and more than many. It’s only that looking at it all, gathering it all, I am struck by how little would remain to signify my time on this earth, and half of it wouldn’t quite signify it properly.
I am tempted to leave whatever I feel isn’t mine, however I would then be forced to travel without clothes, and merely a stack of books.
And I am aware of the fact we’ve no money for frivolities such as new garments. ’
We.
Thorn hadn’t been a we in a very long time.
He decided then, that he had missed it, and was reminded how much he liked it.
Though he still had one friend remaining, years of grief, loss, and betrayal, along with a natural penchant for solitude, had conspired to perhaps harden him to the company of others.
But whether it be with his father once, or with Helen, he’d liked approaching life’s everyday and grand moments with another.
Though he’d not looked on it all quite so fondly once upon a time, nor had he and Helen admittedly ever had such conversations as he was having now with Hypatia about money and frivolities.
But then much of that was his own fault; not that he could fully admit it quite then.
The point was, simply, that he liked being a we again, just as he liked Hypatia’s sensibility, as much if not more.
‘As tempting an image as that would present… I’m afraid I must ask you to make do.
Which reminds me…’ He sighed, massaging his forehead, as Hypatia quirked her head inquiringly.
‘With all the haste, I hadn’t the time to warn you, or perhaps I was reluctant to.
I must ask you to travel on alone to Gadmin Hall, and remain there a few days by yourself.
Well, I am told a cook and a footman remain, so not entirely alone.
I must to Essex, to settle my own affairs—I had not the time to do so after I was informed of the change in my circumstances, and can only afford to engage my solicitors for the bare minimum.
You’ll have the carriage,’ he added hastily, referring to the contraption they’d ridden in when coming here from church—one of the title’s last remaining assets, which, along with its semi-ancient driver, luckily had been in London with the previously departed earl upon his leaving his mortal coil.
Hypatia continued to but stare at him, her impressions on this change of plans unreadable.
‘It is not so fine as you are accustomed to, I know, but I have been promised it will make the journey back to Kent, at the very least. The house will be yours, to do with what you will whilst you are there, if you have a fancy to, or perhaps just enjoy your freedom, get to know the place…’
‘I will be fine, Thorn, thank you,’ she said gently, her hand finding its place on his forearm, and he breathed easier.
‘Very well then.’
A nod, and she took her hand back, before he could think to do anything silly, or sentimental, or unwanted, like take it up, and place a kiss upon it as a gentleman might.
Gathering up the pile waiting on the bed into her arms so that it seemed she carried the Leaning Tower of Pisa, she then stepped around him again, and summarily half-dropped, half-arranged it all into the trunk within mere seconds.
That done, she shut the lid, locked it tight, and even made to pick it up—though Thorn quickly intervened.
He might’ve called for a servant to assist, however, he had no need, and didn’t want to ask for anything further from this house.
And so, he picked up her trunk, and followed her back downstairs.
No one but a footman remained in the hall—all but the front door closed—and Thorn ground his teeth.
But then, as they made their way over the threshold, the footman cleared his throat, and glanced back meaningfully at the staircase.
Tucked in beside it, along the corridor, were what Thorn imagined was the entirety of the staff, who all sniffed and waved, and mouthed congratulations to Hypatia.
Mouthing thank you back at them, she smiled, nodded at the footman, and continued on her way, Thorn following behind.
As he secured the trunk, then handed her into the carriage, he glanced back at the house, if only to cement in his mind an image of the sort of house he never wished to create.
Looking a bit too far ahead there, Thorn. Right now you just need to ensure your house does not crumble, and sports a roof which can shelter this new wife of yours; this new being you’ve added to your life.
‘Drive on, Ian,’ he called, leaping up into the carriage himself, before slamming the door shut, and settling next to his wife, for a short time at least.
So the old retainer did, spiriting them away with as much haste as possible, and Hypatia turned to him, and smiled; an undecipherable smile he decided he liked very much.