Chapter Twenty-One
‘Such a lovely garden,’ Helen said tentatively, as though she might be struck by a thunderbolt—or indeed, one of their other guests—for daring to disrupt the suffocating and tense silence which had carried out here from the receiving room.
Hypatia was grateful to her however, for daring to initiate small talk which would tide them through until they could discover precisely the reason for all these unexpected guests.
Beyond that gratitude, Hypatia wasn’t entirely sure how she felt.
Utterly disbelieving of these coincidental arrivals, knowing they were nothing but that, yet still wondering if she had injured some sprite of luck in the past, and he’d thus sought to reward her with ill-timed arrivals of hers and Thorn’s past lives.
Disoriented, shocked, lost; all and yet none seemed to cover the wide array of emotions brewing and knotting together inside, made worse from the calming, restorative, and extraordinary day she’d spent with Thorn at the seaside.
From all their days with few exceptions since they’d begun their new life here, really.
From him standing up to them all just now, by rearranging potential sleeping arrangements, and taking her hand, and…
Everything.
In terms of her own family, the greatest emotion was wary.
They wouldn’t have come without a reason—which could be said of anyone, really, but which in this case meant they wanted something from her, and she doubted it was money, and she had truly nothing left to give them, or so she felt.
She was entirely Hypatia now, not Patty, and so there was a measure of gratitude in her heart for at least that certainty, that strength.
As regarded Malek, Thorn’s old apprentice, she was actually somewhat excited; he seemed a nice fellow, had kind eyes, and Thorn had spoken so highly of him, whatever he wanted, she felt it would enrich all of their lives somehow.
Finally, as regarded Helen, Thorn’s former love, well, perhaps that was the most complex of all.
Some part of her wanted to be angry, to throw her bodily from this house for her sheer presumption; especially since she was an exceptionally beautiful woman, fineness and grace woven into every perfect line, thick, ruly brown hair, and rather sweet smile.
Yet another part of Hypatia was immensely curious.
To know if she was here for the obvious reason—to try and win Thorn back, as she’d heard no rejection of her maiden name, but then again that meant nothing at all—or something else.
She was curious whether Thorn would be amenable—she tried to see how he felt now, but couldn’t spy anything beyond upset.
They’d spoken of her, and he seemed to have moved past it, but Hypatia knew close to a decade of love was not so easily swept away, even with betrayal and a new life.
She and Thorn might get along mightily in many respects; however, love was not part of their agreement, of their marriage—unless it was solely defined by respect, like, mutual appreciation, kindness, tenderness, sweetness, joy, and so on—and even from the first, she’d accepted that someday, he might leave her to find such wonder elsewhere.
Though I find now, I had begun to dream of more time together. Not solely as partners, but as husband and wife.
So yes, complex.
‘Thank you, Miss Linnaman,’ Hypatia said graciously, patently refusing to look at anyone but her, and be as polite and kind as she could. ‘It still needs much work, but we are pleased with what we’ve achieved, and we have everything we need.’
Hypatia recognised the harumph she heard as her mother’s but ignored it, and thankfully so did Helen.
‘Yes, what a delightful vegetable patch you have, and such herbs and wildflowers as I’ve never seen. I expect this was once an exceptional apothecary garden.’
‘We suspect so, given the history of the house—’
‘Ah!’ Epi cried, leaping from her seat, as they all turned to hear in alarm.
A snort and a bleat quickly followed, and while Epi gained some distance from the table in fear and disgust—her mother rising to comfort and protect her dramatically—the rest of them leaned over to spy what had caused such alarm, and found Truffél and Lamb.
Which might’ve been an adorable visit, had the two not been far from babes anymore; Truffél weighing about three and a half stone now, and Lamb being the size of a small sheepdog.
‘Truffél, Lamb, come here,’ Hypatia ordered, rising, and working hard not to be amused. ‘Don’t fret, Epi, they are well trained. Go find Danny,’ she told them, which they seemed to ponder for a moment, before deciding to obey—though not without greeting their master first.
Hypatia glanced at Thorn, who appeared to also be working hard not to be amused.
‘You heard your lady,’ he told them after a pat, and taste of his cake. ‘Out.’
With another bleat and snort, they were off, trotting through the garden to do as told.
‘That’s quite impressive,’ Helen offered with an unsure smile. ‘They are very…sweet.’
‘This is a madhouse, Hypatia!’ her mother shouted, still shielding Epi as if Truffél and Lamb were about to return at any moment, and devour them whole. ‘An absolute disgrace! How can you even think to receive guests in such conditions?’
‘I wasn’t thinking to receive any.’
‘Do not speak to your mother thus!’ her father exclaimed indignantly, joining the fray, and rising to reprimand her.
She might’ve rolled her eyes, had she not been so…
disappointed, and sad, and returned instantly to the young girl who’d only wanted their approval, their attention, their support, and their love.
It cut through her more than the anger and distance she’d felt from them all these years, surprising her by its hurt.
I thought I had moved forward, but it appears hope I thought I had long abandoned lived on still.
‘She is entirely correct, this place is a disgrace! A house in disrepair, no furniture, nothing but chipped crockery and a pigpen for a garden! Have you any idea how hard it has been for us, to have your sister find an acceptable match, to show our faces in Society, when all they will speak of is our daughter, the pig farmer? And that writing weasel at the Londoner’s Chronicle seems incapable of letting all the infamy die out as a gentleman might?
That isn’t even to speak of your supposed household!
Your housekeeper is unwed with a child, I’m quite certain that cook of yours spent some time in prison, and that footman shouldn’t even be called that—’
‘Enough!’ Thorn declared, rising to his feet, not shouting, but not quiet either.
‘You will not speak one more word against any of my household, and that includes your daughter.’ Hypatia looked over at him, a bright, sparking and irrefutably powerful Ares, her heart full of gratitude, and something else, for him doing what he was.
His eyes were on her father, a brow raised in challenge, but he held out his hand to her, and she took it, feeling better at once.
‘Why precisely is it you are here?’ Thorn asked, simply, but leaving no room for polite divagations and excuses.
‘All of you, let’s out with it, for I’m tired of this supposed civilised nonsense.
Everyone, sit down, and have out with precisely why it is you have come to Gadmin Hall so we can be done with it, and move on with our lives. ’
Anyone standing was too afraid to disobey, or too shocked by the uncouth bluntness perhaps, and anyone sitting was too caught to flee, so they all returned to the table, and sat, and sipped tea, and played with forks and pieces of cake, and Thorn pulled his chair closer to hers, and set their linked hands on his thigh, waiting.
‘Who’s first?’ he asked.
‘I came to ask if there might be need of a smith in these parts,’ Malek said quietly after a very long, tortuous moment, when everyone had stared, glared, and looked intently at each other, as if to prompt another to go first. ‘I don’t wish to be ungrateful, after all you’ve done for me, after what you entrusted me with, but I could not find my place without you.
The work was good, but in truth, you were my only friend, and perhaps that isn’t reason enough to leave what you’d gifted me behind, but I did, and now I am here, asking for more.
Though I can pay my way, I sold the forge, and took what I could with me. ’
Hypatia glanced at Thorn, spotting a mix of disappointment, sadness at the loss of what he and his father had built, yet heartfelt understanding. When he turned to her, she nodded in response to his unspoken question, tightening her hold on him.
‘It so happens my wife gifted me a forge,’ Thorn told Malek. ‘And there is need of a smith in these parts, and beyond. We can speak of details later, but you are welcome to stay.’
‘Thank you,’ Malek said, bowing his head. ‘Both of you.’
Thorn and Hypatia both smiled, taking a moment to acknowledge this new chapter, for all of them, before Thorn turned to the rest of them.
‘Next?’
Thorn’s gaze alternated between her family, and Helen; while she alternated between wishing her family would speak first, so that she would never hear what Helen had to say, and that the latter would do so, and put an end to her torment.
‘It has been months since we had any word of our daughter,’ her father said imperiously, while her mother and Epi looked anywhere but at anyone. ‘We were naturally concerned, and couldn’t wait another day before ensuring her well-being.’
Thorn raised a disbelieving brow, and waited.
The crickets and bees in the garden entertained them for those long minutes, growing louder and louder, as if sharing the table’s anticipation.