Chapter Twenty-Two #2
‘Perhaps you should try Bath, or Tunbridge Wells,’ Thorn suggested gently.
‘I’ve heard they’re very popular, and I might also suggest the seaside.
Some time, in new settings, with new people, might be just the ticket.
You’ve money, and one daughter married to an earl, no matter how low of an earl I might be in Society’s eyes.
I believe, in time, you’ll find a place to suit you all. ’
‘You don’t deserve her any more than we do,’ Mr Quincy said, not harshly, not cruelly, yet it struck truer for that very reason. ‘And she certainly deserves better than this life.’
‘I know,’ Thorn said simply. ‘Every moment I have with her is a gift I do not take lightly. As for the life she deserves… I seek only to facilitate the one she wants. Her freedom is, and will always be her own.’
‘Not if you chain her with love, after such a lack as you say she felt in our house,’ Epi chimed in, showing a rare amount of brilliance and understanding; or perhaps only one he hadn’t expected, knowing her not at all.
The latter, I fear.
‘Your carriage will be here in the morning,’ Thorn said, swallowing the lump lodged in his throat.
‘Dinner and breakfast will be brought to you, and if you require anything else, do advise whoever brings them to you. Mr Quincy, Mrs Quincy, Miss Quincy, good day, and safe travels to wherever you decide to go.’
With that, Thorn left, making his way back to Gadmin Hall, with even less of a spring in his step as he’d had previously.
He might’ve been more pleased with how the day had turned out; especially considering how it had taken a turn with the appearance of so many unexpected, and unwanted—but needed—guests.
He might’ve felt good at having threads tied off, if not neatly, then simply.
He might’ve felt more grateful to Fate, or God, or whatever powers, that he felt the weight lifting from having said what little he had to Helen, having Malek back in his life, and even knowing that the Quincys had heard all he’d said to them.
In many ways, he was pleased, grateful, better.
However, Epi—Iphigenia’s words—had mightily stuck in his craw.
For he knew how dangerous his love could be to Hypatia, and all she’d found so far having left her family home for this one.
Perhaps it was why he’d not been able to declare his love; not only because he feared she might not share it, or love him only for she knew no one else to love thusly, but because he didn’t want to chain her to him.
Stop her looking elsewhere, for someone, for something, for another life, more opportunities; anything she wished.
The world was hers; she deserved it all and more, and making her feel any sense of duty towards him, or his feelings, would be risking her making the same choices she’d been taught to by the Quincys.
He needed her, so very much, to be himself, to breathe, to get up in the morning, and be happy, but he’d always known, she didn’t need him.
As. She. Shouldn’t.
Telling her he loved her, it risked endangering her openness to all else life had to offer. It risked—
‘Where have you been?’ Hypatia asked, spotting him as he traversed the stable-yard, in which she was unhooking one of the horses from the cart. ‘I thought you’d be with Malek at the forge.’
‘I was, earlier,’ Thorn said, smiling away his thoughts softly, and focusing instead on his wife, and how beautiful she was, and lovely, and how he wouldn’t ever do anything to chain her to any life. Nor myself. ‘He liked it, and will stay, that is if you don’t mind.’
‘Of course not,’ she smiled, eyes narrowing, as if she knew something was amiss.
‘He’s offered to do a reasonable amount of work for us, in exchange for the place. We’ll speak of rent when he grows his business, and he knows I’ll still pop in and make a nuisance of myself whenever possible. He’ll be joining us for dinner, by the way.’
Hypatia nodded, and led the horse into the stable—which reminded him he had all these doors to repair at some point—gave him some food and water, and Thorn busied himself dragging the cart into its spot.
‘So, where were you, that you avoid telling me?’ Hypatia asked, emerging once again.
‘I went to speak with your family,’ he admitted, wondering if she would think him too forward, too presumptuous, too anything, but obviously knowing she had the right to know what had been said.
‘I…permitted myself to tell them some of what you did me. And advised them they should wait until you were ready to contact them again.’
Hypatia nodded, playing with her bottom lip between her teeth, her gaze moving to the woods, and pigs just visible beneath the semi-distant trees.
‘Are you angry with me, Hypatia?’
‘No,’ she chuckled softly, looking back at him, her eyes holding a softness he’d never seen before, but then, perhaps that was a trick of the light. ‘I just find it amusing, as I spoke to Helen, and mentioned some of what you told me. I thought you might be angry with me.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Sometimes I suppose we must slay each other’s demons. Or so Helen said, in a more gracious and elegant manner.’
‘I like your manner well enough,’ Thorn told her, crossing the distance dividing them, meaning what he said far beyond what his words suggested, which he hoped she felt, or heard with her heart.
‘You know, you’re always free to leave,’ he breathed.
‘Tomorrow, in ten years, twenty. Whatever you want, you need, it is yours. With my blessing.’
‘You’re free too,’ she told him, eyes narrowing, searching his for an explanation he couldn’t give.
He wanted to tell her he wasn’t, that she commanded him, that her happiness had become his chief concern, that he loved her, and that it terrified him more than he might have the strength for; that the possibility of loving her and being unworthy to do so, had perhaps been what had terrified him about her from the first. Instead, he leaned down, and told her what he could of that in the sweetest, most searching and relinquishing kiss he’d ever known.
Even if I wanted to, I could never be free of you, for you are part of me now, my love.
Though someday sooner than I wish, I fear I shall need to let you be free of me.
Before I no longer have the strength to do so.