Chapter Four
With immense pleasure, I take it upon myself to announce the blessed union of Thorn William Ackerman, Earl of Gadmin, and Miss Hypatia Quincy, of the most enterprising Quincys previously of Birmingham, now Mayfair.
Given that no attachment was previously noted nor rumoured, this writer can only hope that these dizzyingly rapid nuptials, and quickest of departures to the country signifies the match to be one of most passionate and fateful love.
One would very much despair otherwise to believe their new favourite earl was so very desperate to see his situation improved; there is quite enough nobility to behave thusly.
Two mornings after Hypatia’s arrival at Gadmin Hall—not that Thorn would know—and some one hundred and thirty or so miles away, Thorn was busying himself saying goodbye to his former life, his former home, his former everything, with a haste that was remarkable even to him.
It wasn’t alacrity, excitement driving him, but a sense of duty, of needing it to be done, lest the melancholy and strange sense of loss take too strong a hold; particularly given that he was a man who’d never had an affinity for any of the above throughout his life.
Only he supposed he was allowed a little of the stuff—be it excitement or melancholy—for it wasn’t every day that one was plucked from a pleasant life of work and simplicity, and thrust into a world he’d not even dreamed of, complete with a wife, title, and responsibilities beyond anything he’d ever thought to imagine he might bear the burden of.
It wasn’t every day that one was obliged to relinquish the trade they’d been taught by their father; to leave behind the final pieces of that father, of that legacy he’d worked so hard to be worthy of, uphold and honour, and abandon much of what they’d been to become another altogether.
And Thorn might’ve allowed himself a little of the stuff—excitement or melancholy—before he’d arrived back here, only he’d not really had the opportunity, considering how quickly everything had happened.
In the end, he supposed, perhaps it was better that he was taking these little moments for himself now, as he said fare thee well to his previous life, and didn’t have to concern himself with anyone including his new wife discovering him indulging in such uncharacteristic emotional indulgences.
Which included too—it must be said—wondering often what his new wife was up to, and how she was adjusting to her new life.
Though I know her not, I think Hypatia rather adjustable, so she’s probably faring better than I…
A slash of guilt struck him again at having left her as he had, perhaps he might’ve—
‘Think that’s everything, Thorn,’ Malek, his once apprentice, now successor as local smith to the high and low of this corner of the world, said, offering out a crate full of tools and other assorted trade-related items.
Thorn eyed the box, then the young man, whose eagerness had always appeared so tightly contained within his boxy, short frame and features.
From what little Malek had shared over the years, he was an orphan, who’d stowed away, then worked on a variety of ships and conveyances from his native Morocco all the way to Cape Horn, before arriving in, then wandering southern England for a time, doing odd jobs.
Thorn had found him in Ipswich when he was about fourteen or so, seen his sharpness and hard-working nature, and, seeking an apprentice, asked him what he thought of such a profession.
Malek had said he rather liked the idea, and wanted something more stable than a life at sea, and so, Thorn had taken him on.
Beyond those few details, Thorn knew little of the lad, not for lack of asking in the first few years, but Malek found as much use in sharing and dwelling in the past as Thorn did, and so he’d let it lie about three years into their acquaintance—some five years ago now.
And now, at the end of our acquaintance in all likelihood, is not the time to ask.
‘You keep them,’ Thorn said, only realising the inanity of having asked Malek to help him collect all he had then. ‘You remained an apprentice past the years you should’ve only because you wished to. Now…this is all yours.’
‘But they’re your father’s.’
‘They were. And they were mine, and I am leaving the trade, so now they’re yours.’
He didn’t say that Malek was probably the closest he’d ever come to having a child, to passing on the legacy which had been passed to him, but perhaps it was in his voice, for Malek stared at him with wide misty eyes, before nodding solemnly.
‘Thank you.’
‘Just put them to good use.’
Malek nodded, then turned and set the crate down on a work bench.
‘Is there nothing you’ll take then?’
‘No… I don’t think there is,’ Thorn said on a half-chuckle, half-sigh, looking around the dusky forge. ‘I’ve taken my clothes and papers from the cottage, beyond that… I suppose there’s nothing I’ll be needing. Even the clothes, I take them only for I’ve nothing else.’
Much like my wife. What a pair we make—
‘So it’s true then. You’re leaving for good,’ said another voice, and both Thorn and Malek turned to the open doors on their left, in the midst of which stood Thorn’s former best friend, Frank; as ever the opposite to Thorn, dark where the latter was fair, short and lean where Thorn was tall and thick.
Water, powerful, treacherous, and sly to Thorn’s stone; determined, patient, and unyielding.
‘I’ll um…go do something,’ Malek muttered, almost inaudibly and Thorn might’ve laughed had he not been so busy clenching his teeth.
And fists, and every muscle and possible limb in his body.
He’d thought, somehow, it might have lessened, the wound.
But then, it had been quite a while since he’d had to face either Frank, or his former sweetheart, Helen, who’d left him for the enterprising and ambitious Frank when he’d set off on his ventures of trade and speculation, both finding a poor, simple, life in the country stifling.
In the end, they hadn’t made it very far in the past couple years; however, that was neither here nor there.
It wasn’t that Thorn begrudged either of them their ambitions, their desire for a life beyond the one they’d lived and shared here for so long; it was the betrayal, really, that he had difficulty forgiving.
It was the fact that Thorn had had to discover them in flagrante delicto before either of them deigned to inform him that the future they’d all imagined living together would never come to pass.
That friendships and relationships were broken, and that that was that.
And perhaps what smarted most was that Thorn had been content with his own life, aspirations, and future, until he’d allowed their discarding of him in the name of more, to make him feel as though he weren’t enough.
That he too should want and aspire to more than merely a good life, which he hadn’t ever really, not even when he’d been bestowed a title, and been raised up in the world.
It was that wound which had perhaps festered most of all since everything had shattered two or so years ago.
That wound which made forgiveness difficult, and which had meant Thorn’s change in circumstance had had one great silver lining: that he would not be forced to spy Frank and Helen as often as he might’ve dwelling here for the remainder of his days; a prospect he’d not ever relished.
Though, in fairness to his character, he’d not even once thought of his raising to an earldom as sweet revenge; wondered if Helen regretted her choice after hearing the news, so perhaps there was a measure of forgiveness in his heart after all.
‘What are you doing here, Frank?’ Thorn asked, sighing, hoping it might release some of the tension inside him, which it did, for a few seconds; until Frank dared to step in further.
Thorn glared at him and Frank nodded sadly.
‘Heard you were back. I thought… I hate how we left things, Thorn. We were brothers once, and—’
‘Your choices led us here, Frank. Yours and Helen’s. You were both content for the past years to leave things as they were, and now you wish me to believe there is nothing more driving your need for reparation?’
‘If you’re implying I’m here because of anything beyond profound regret, my lord, then you’re sorely mistaken.
I’ve not been content these past years, and I know it is my fault things ended so grievously, however, yes, now that you are leaving, and I’ve no idea when I might see you again, I thought I might chance repairing our bond to some degree.
’ Thorn sighed, shaking his head, and turning away to stare at everything and nothing.
‘Will you at least accept my congratulations on your marriage? Believe me when I say I wish you and your new wife a wonderful life, and I was glad to see you’d found such joy so quickly? ’
For a split second, Thorn considered admitting the truth: that contrary to Jack the Cat’s fantastical and ill-advised wishes—and why the man continued to be so interested in his life was baffling and disturbing to say the least—it was in fact necessity, desperation, and not love which had seen him married.
That had he the choice, he likely never would have married; after all, he’d had his reservations before the betrayal, but after, the idea of committing to another who might show they had no loyalty or love until it was too late, held no appeal whatsoever.
He considered telling Frank that though in future there might be some measure of joy to be found in his life, for now, he couldn’t truly say he had such stuff in his heart.
However, such confessions would be too close to something friends might say, to seek advice or blessings, and as they weren’t friends, he wouldn’t say anything such; he would merely say whatever might get Frank out of his life for good, so he could be back on his merry way, to his aforementioned wife.
‘Thank you,’ Thorn said, only half begrudgingly. ‘I would offer you congratulations as well, however as I’ve heard it, you and Helen remain unmarried.’
Though I don’t care.
I don’t.
All I care is that I find, when once such congratulations would have tasted of bitter ash, now, were I to be obliged to offer them, it would not be so.
‘We are waiting until I am further established, which shouldn’t be long, God willing,’ Frank said, with a spot of bitterness that spoke of a contentious and oft-debated consensus.
I. Don’t. Care.
‘God willing,’ Thorn agreed, feeling an odd sense of closure, and liberation.
Not quite forgiveness yet, but a sense, that like the rest, Frank, Helen, their history, any resentment, his tools, this place, it was all to be left in the past.
So he could say, God willing you and Helen be married soon, and mean it.
‘Good luck, Thorn,’ Frank said, nodding. ‘I am sorry it ended as it did, but I do wish you all the best in your life.’
He turned to leave, and just as he passed the threshold, Thorn spoke, a truth flooding into his heart with the finality of the moment.
‘I wish you and Helen the best,’ he said, and Frank stopped, but didn’t turn. ‘I don’t think I can truly say I have forgiven you, though I hope someday I might. However, I bear neither of you ill will, and I see now…many things I mightn’t had you not made the choices you did.’
Frank seemed to ponder whether or not to respond, until finally, he gave one final nod, and disappeared into the bright day.
Not long after Malek reappeared, and though there wasn’t much else for Thorn to do, his business—personal and professional—all tidied and closed so that he could begin anew, they found little bits to do together, be it tea, or tidying some final projects, and even discussing when the tiles on the roof would need repairing.
Having thus not wasted, but well-spent the afternoon, Thorn bid Malek a final farewell, gave one last glance to the seaside village below the hill he’d dwelled on his entire life, mounted his horse, and set his course to Kent.
To Gadmin Hall, to his new self, to his new life, and for perhaps the first time since he’d come to learn of his supposed good fortune, he was rather excited and eager to see all his future would bring.
And in truth, I am rather curious and eager to meet my wife again, and know her better.