Chapter Ten
‘Have we any milk, Langton?’ Thorn asked, likely looking as harried as he felt, given how the cook was regarding him, as he stood in the kitchen’s doorway, darkness but for the moonlight behind him, his coat bundled in his arms like a babe, which wasn’t too far from the truth of his current predicament.
‘Having said that, I’ve no idea if cow’s milk is appropriate given the situation. ’
‘And what situation might that be, milord?’
This one, Thorn said silently, his eyes communicating the loss at which he was, as he pulled back a corner of his coat, to reveal a tiny pink snout.
The things I do for my wife.
‘Ah,’ Langton said, ushering Thorn in, and pulling the chair closest to the fire away from the table so he could sit.
‘I’m no expert on the rearin’ of pigs, but I’d think cow’s milk is as good as their mum’s, though in the little ones it can give them some…
upset. Not sure what else to give ’im as I expect he won’t take to the teat? ’
‘Afraid not,’ Thorn said, shaking his head. ‘We found him beside a dead sow, she must’ve passed since the feed this morning, and the others had been taken under wing by another, but this little runt refused to go anywhere.’
Langton nodded sagely, and sadly, for no matter how much one knew about the rearing of pigs, it didn’t take an expert of any sort to know runts, particularly those who refused to adapt, didn’t stand a great chance in this world.
‘I’ll get a beaker and warm some milk for ye.’
‘Thank you, Langton.’
Thorn sighed, his day—all of it, from joy, to desire, to laughter, to work, to confusion, to desperation, catching up with him as the fire warmed him from a chill he’d not felt till now.
Glancing down at the tiny creature in his arms, he wondered if he was cut out for any of this really.
Being a farmer, holding a life such as this in his hands, knowing the likelihood of preserving it was slim; being responsible for so many lives lord of this manor as he was, husband to his wife as he was.
When it had been merely an intangible idea—this life—even as he’d stood in the House of Lords and gone to balls and all the rest, it hadn’t felt quite so daunting.
When he’d been alone, unable to imagine what it would be like to take all this duty and responsibility on, in a sense, it had been easier.
Now, as he lived it all, he couldn’t help but bloody wonder if he was good enough, strong enough, capable enough. Enough, really.
He wondered if he was cut out for this life, for marriage, for—
‘Here you go, milord,’ Langton said gently, setting a beaker of warm milk on the table.
Thorn took it up, shifting so he could tempt the tiny mite to drink some; he may not know much about rearing babes of any kind, but he’d seen enough mothers of all species feeding their young to know the basics.
‘Ye hungry yourself?’
‘I am, though I’ll wait for Hypatia, she shan’t be long, I think. She was closing up for the night, but insisted I not wait to take care of this one. We managed to check on them all, and catalogue about half. Though until the veterinarian comes, who knows if the numbers will stand.’
‘I’ve a pie in the oven, a nice bit of salt beef in it Ian dug up from somewhere b’fore he left, though best not to ask where. It’ll keep till the missus—her ladyship—has come back.’
‘Thank you, Langton.’
‘The vet will be by tomorrow in the afternoon, and Danny an’ Fred will be ’ere in the morn to await your orders.’
‘Excellent,’ he nodded, distracted by the piglet he held opening its eyes with a curious snort, before rooting at the beaker. ‘There you are…’
‘Her ladyship seems to know quite a lot about them critters, if she’ll tell me what’s best for it, I can see if I can find what’s needed.’
‘She very well might, Langton, however, I have taken charge of this one’s care. Her ladyship shall not be burdened with it.’
Langton said nothing, but somehow Thorn heard the smile nonetheless.
It bolstered him somewhat, in his conviction that his choice had been the right one.
When he and Hypatia had found the mite, tucked away in a corner by its mother, he’d known the choice they faced.
End its life then and there, or try to save it.
And he’d seen it in Hypatia’s eyes, not a lack of courage in the face of mercy, but a hope that the life could be saved, and he’d also known that she’d taken care of enough, of too many, throughout her life already; she shouldn’t have to tend to one more.
Not if he could ease that burden, take that responsibility for her.
So he’d swaddled the thing, and promised her he would do what he could.
So I shall.
His attention was stolen then by the runt, who had summarily finished his milk, and was rooting for more. Raising the beaker, Thorn signalled to Langton, who obliged, and so the creature resumed his meal.
‘I suppose I should find you a name,’ Thorn commented, as the little thing revived with every drop of milk, and warmth, and comfort.
‘Not if ye intend to have ’im serve ’is purpose, my lord.’
‘As much as I should say I do, so as not to waste a penny of this investment as I suppose he should be considered, I’ve the oddest feeling that this one… If he survives this, I fear I’ll not send him to become bacon.’
Langton chuckled, and moved about, attending to something or other, whilst Thorn continued staring at his new charge, who quickly finished his second beaker and summarily drowsed back to a comfortable slumber.
‘I think I’ll have to get to know you first,’ he told the runt. ‘Before I name you. You cannot go through life with a name which won’t suit you.’
‘If only all this world were as wise,’ came Hypatia’s voice, and Thorn turned to find her as he’d been, standing at the kitchen door, the night framing her, the glow of the kitchen beckoning her in.
Despite any untidiness about her, she glowed, with vitality, and that same energy that had captured his attention in the garden.
Made perhaps even more magnetic by the memories floating behind his eyes, of having seen her, tasted her, and felt her come undone; a delicacy he couldn’t wait to experience again, if she would allow it.
‘Unfortunately not all are so lucky as to be bestowed names which fit their character,’ she shrugged, coming in, and closing the door, Thorn’s eyes following, and realising as he did, that Langton had disappeared.
‘Maybe it’s just that some have their personality change along the way. Though I’ll admit, much too often it is I suspect a lack of care and attention which sees children bestowed with unsuitable names.’
‘Or a need to fulfil some societal requirement, like naming your firstborn after your great-grandfather, though the poor thing is the farthest from a Hilary one could ever be.’
‘There’s pie in the oven, according to Langton,’ Thorn told her with a smile, and she nodded, washing up, before dotting about the kitchen to see them served with steaming hot salt beef pie within minutes. ‘Thank you.’
‘We shall have to thank Langton,’ she said between mouthfuls. ‘This is most excellent.’
‘Agreed.’
‘Would you like me to take him so you can eat easier?’ Hypatia offered, nodding towards the runt snoring in his arms.
I didn’t know pigs snored.
‘Not unless you wish to hold him, I can manage with the one hand.’
‘Very well.’ They both took a deep breath, settling into the comfortable silence and atmosphere, the food doing its work to restore them. ‘Why did your parents call you Thorn?’
‘Are you asking whether they suspected my character from an early age meant I should become the thorn in either or both of their sides?’ he jested, and she chuckled.
He felt again, the pleasure it was to make her smile, laugh; to just…be near her.
You are tired, man.
‘As my father told it, my mother’s ancestors were Danes. And took the family name because they either lived by a thorny hedge, or a tower. She died in childbirth, so my father sought to carry her legacy on with my name, alongside his.’
One legacy I never truly knew, the other I was forced to leave behind; both of which I fear only the names remain.
It wasn’t true, he knew, all his father’s lessons, love, the memories shared of his mother, Thorn’s own character, forged as surely as anything tangible by his father’s hand, all of it and more, was his true legacy, and remained with him, to be upheld and honoured.
Still, some days, grief stole reality, to make itself more potent and powerful.
‘I’m sorry, Thorn.’
‘It’s all right,’ he reassured her, though it wasn’t, and wouldn’t ever be. ‘At least I didn’t feel her loss, only the lack. Not to say my father didn’t try his best.’
‘I’m sure he was a good man, for you are.’
Thorn nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat, before swallowing some more pie, and ale that Hypatia had served them.
‘He was. Did everything he could so that I would never feel the lack, though I wonder if it is possible not to, past a certain age. He was a simple man, hard-working. I think… Maybe in some ways, I wanted him to know, I was grateful for all he gave me. Appreciated the magnitude of it, rather than merely taking it as my due. And that’s why I worked hard to grow our custom.
To better myself, my skills, my words, so that I could show him… I don’t know.’
‘That it would be in good hands. That he’d been a good father, to raise such a son.’
‘Something like that. I’m sorry that your parents, your family, aren’t…well, that you aren’t close,’ he said after a while, and Hypatia gave him one of her now familiar sad, but shrug-like smiles.
‘They aren’t terrible people,’ she told him, pushing away her plate, sitting back, and cradling her ale on her lap.
‘They never struck me, or mistreated me, and though in many ways they left me to my own devices, they never ignored me, acted as though I did not even exist. Money, success, it changes people. Especially those who know what life can be like without them, which was my parents’ case.
Though I’ll admit, I don’t… Some days I think my parents never wanted to be parents, they merely did what was ordained and dictated, hoping for an added layer of security.
When I was young, very young, barely out of the nursery, I remember imagining I had parents like in the storybooks.
Not the cruel ones who sent their children into dark forests to be eaten by witches, but the kind ones who sent armies to find their beloved offspring.
I don’t remember them ever feeling like…
my parents. More like adults I lived with.
I was given the best of everything, but never their…
full interest. Perhaps they were disappointed, that I wasn’t all they’d hoped to further their advancement in the world, or perhaps they didn’t know how to be parents if not as their own had been.
Given that my father was one of seven, working by the time he was four, and that my mother worked the looms, like her mother before her, until my father made his fortune…
It was different for me, than it was for them.
Either way, before long they started talking about the day I would take care of them, good girl that I was, and that day came soon enough though I don’t think they saw it as having arrived.
Then my sister came along, I was so excited at first, believing… ’
‘You would have a friend. Someone.’
‘Yes. And I took care of her when she was little, and it was good, and lovely, and then I think my parents saw when she was about five or so that perhaps she could be something else, or more to them than I could, and that was that. We grew apart as they spoiled her, and prepared her for another life, but I still don’t think…
Much as they doted on her, I don’t think they were ever parents to her either.
She just learned to be what they wished her to as I did.
It isn’t that they are cruel, just…careless, in many ways. ’
With a sniff, Hypatia shook her head, shaking off the thoughts, before sipping her ale; but he held onto them, onto this other piece she showed him, not lightly, he knew.
‘At least your parents did you a kindness, with your name,’ Thorn offered with a gentle smile. ‘I cannot think of one more aptly named for such as your namesake.’
‘You’re kind, Thorn, though that is a mighty legacy to live up to. I did fare better than my sister, admittedly.’
‘Epi?’
‘A bastardisation of Iphigenia. Daughter of King Agamemnon, doomed to be sacrificed to Artemis. Though in some tales, the goddess saves her after demanding her life.’
‘Maybe your sister will learn to write a better ending, and find a way to save herself from a fate I wager you fear for her. As you did.’
‘Maybe,’ Hypatia nodded. ‘I should get ready for bed.’
‘I didn’t mean to—’
‘I know, Thorn,’ she reassured him, before rising, and clearing their plates. ‘I just realised it’s time for bed. It was a long day, and shall be another tomorrow.’
Coming back around to face him, she glanced down at the piglet in his arms.
‘I think he’s all the company I’ll be having this evening,’ Thorn admitted, letting his intense disappointment at that show, unabashedly. ‘I daren’t leave him alone for the night.’
Hypatia nodded, and made to leave, though she stopped at the edge of the three stairs leading up into the corridor.
‘Regarding our earlier conversation, Thorn, when your new companion is ready to be left alone at night,’ she said, looking him square in the eye, without hesitation or bashfulness.
‘As I said that night in the gardens, I shouldn’t mind enjoying your company.
Given this afternoon’s…taste, I think we might prove to be rather good bedfellows. ’
He might’ve said something, but his mind had gone completely blank; he could only grin, which made Hypatia smile broadly and teasingly before she disappeared, and well, he supposed that was good enough.
‘Now then, you,’ he said to the tiny thing in his arms. ‘I’d suggest you get well and on your own feet sharpish.
For as much as I’m sure I can find time to enjoy my wife elsewhere, I find I’ve the mighty desire to do so in a proper bed, so that we might languish and lounge and please each other like the newly minted lord and lady we are. ’
One day perhaps, I’ll feel less odd at calling myself that.
One day I’ll feel less odd about many things.