Chapter Twenty-Five
Goodbyes—at least ones of this magnitude—were foreign things to Hypatia; but then she supposed much, like love, was.
There was a sense in her, that despite her thirty-some-odd years on this earth, despite all she’d learned and become, she was still so very inexperienced when it came to all that being alive, and being human, encompassed.
One thing her time on this earth had taught her, however, was that sometimes, one had to rely on the advice, and expertise of those who had experience in certain matters—be it sowing seeds, rearing pigs, or love.
So despite the fact that she was a mess inside, her heart aching beyond anything she’d known before; despite the fact that she didn’t understand how someone could say they loved you in one breath, and then were leaving you in the next, the fact of the matter remained as it had from their very first meeting: she trusted Thorn.
She’d trusted him from the first, and learned every day since to trust him more, until she trusted him with everything she was, and so if he said it was best that he left, she would believe him.
Yesterday, last night, had been so strange there weren’t really words for it.
It was as if she had become discorporate, and gone through the motions of living and breathing and doing by rote, rather than with any sort of awareness.
She might’ve better prepared for this, the goodbye, had she been able to think on it at all, but she’d been too shocked, too discombobulated, to do anything but what she normally did.
Even last night, sharing perhaps her last time with Thorn, she might’ve used that to say and express all she couldn’t with words—that she would miss him, that she would mourn what they’d been, that she wanted him to stay, that she was angry with him—or even found some way to make an occasion of it.
Instead, she’d just been with him, and tried to catalogue every detail again, and let every ounce of passion in her flesh express itself, and that was that.
And now it is too late.
‘You’ll write, as soon as you arrive,’ she reminded Thorn, as he passed his last few things to Ian, to be stored in what little bags he brought with him, riding as he was.
‘I promise,’ he smiled gently, turning back to her, the pale pink, cerulean, and dusky lavender notes of dawn framing him as if in a watercolour, making him appear some great god of the dawn, or fae, or mythical hero, off to never return.
But he will, I will see him again, even if it doesn’t feel thus just now.
‘And you’ll send news, and let me know if anything is needed. ’
Hypatia nodded, breathing mindfully, because if not she would stop, as he drew closer, until they were toe-to-toe, and she wanted to cry, and wanted to chain him here, but perhaps this was best for them all.
He says so, so I must trust him.
‘Safe travels, my lord,’ Henry said from behind her, and Thorn threw him a smile.
‘Remember, ye’re best off at the western bridges today,’ Langton added.
‘Thank you, I’ll remember that.’
‘Bye, lord!’ Niamh cried.
‘Goodbye, poppet.’
‘You’ll be missed, my lord,’ Mary said softly, and he bowed his head.
‘Until we meet again, my friend,’ Malek chimed in.
‘Well, there’s nothing for it,’ Thorn sighed after a long look at them all, and nod to Malek.
‘I must be going if I’m to get there at a decent hour, and enjoy the road.
You all look after yourselves, and I’ll look forward to seeing you when I can.
’ Another smile, sad, though Thorn tried to make it seem otherwise, and his gaze turned back to her. ‘Hypatia… Dash it.’
Sliding his arm around her waist as he had that first time, he pulled her in, and kissed her with as much passion and ceremony as the moment deserved, and she’d not known how to muster, while she clung to him, long as she could.
But all too soon, he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead on hers, his sad, dark grey eyes sparkless and heart-wrenching today.
‘Goodbye, Thorn,’ she breathed.
‘Goodbye, Hypatia.’
With that, he turned away, jaw clenched, shoulders tight, and threw himself up on his horse.
Only then did he, and the rest of them notice the gathered band of workers a few paces away on the path to the farm, and she saw him fight as much emotion as she did, before he waved, and was off, trotting down the drive.
A mournful silence fell over them all as they stood there, watching him go, until there was nothing more to watch. Still, Hypatia remained, as the others left, hands gently falling on her shoulder, or upper arm in comfort.
‘We’re all fools,’ Henry said, startling her, having believed everyone long gone. ‘When it comes to love, at least. It’s a pity there’s so much written about it.’
‘Why so?’ she dared to ask, ever so quietly, still staring at the empty drive, bathed in light hazy pastels.
‘Gives us too many grand things to live up to. Like being noble, and selfless, and thinking what we feel can’t surely be it. Rather than just being swept away by something incredible.’
Hypatia nodded absent-mindedly, and heard Henry’s footsteps, along with the creak of the door.
The bloody broken door they’d fixed, and painted, so that it would be whole again.
Pink and lavender turned to orange and bright blue, as the sun rose, and so did the haze before her.
There was so much to do, and she should be doing it, yet she couldn’t find the will to do it.
This all felt too much. She’d known she would miss him, of course she would, especially given the abrupt nature of this departure, though she’d known one day he might, and of course she still felt too much, from everything, really—these past months, this leaving business, the future she’d dared to let herself imagine and was now not even in ruins, but in ashes, there, in the wake of Thorn’s trail on the drive which still needed repairs—and…
She was startled again, this time when a rather large object collided with her side, and by object, she meant snout.
‘That hurt, and will leave a mark, Truffél,’ she chided, looking down at the offending party.
She didn’t know where Lamb was, but she was glad she hadn’t been assaulted by the two of them. Truffél looked up at her forlornly, then down the drive, as if even he knew what had passed.
‘He’s gone,’ she told him. ‘I don’t know when and if he’ll be back, or if he’ll ever see you again. I hope he took the time to say goodbye, for if not that would be very poor form.’
Snort. Truffél looked back at her, then at the drive.
‘He’s gone, Truffél. Gone. Not coming back.’
Snort. Truffél repeated the exercise of looking up at her, then down the drive.
‘What? I’m not going after him. I have to trust him. He says it’s best.’
Snort.
‘I don’t quite understand it either, you know. But I don’t understand a lot of things.’ Tears pricked her eyes, and Truffél nudged her again. ‘You’re only a pig, you don’t understand much either, but less than me, I think.’
Snort, look, nudge.
‘I have to let him go too, so he can find happiness some other way. I can’t be responsible for his. I can’t carry that weight. Even he said so. I’ve never been in love, and I don’t know how to…’
Snort.
‘It’s best to leave it thus, before one or both of us gets hurt even worse. He said he’d be limiting me, and I’d be limiting him, because I…love him too.’
That last snort Truffél sounded very much resembled a finally!
And in all fairness, she understood the sentiment, for she finally saw what she’d been unable to distinguish until now: love for Thorn had lived in her heart for a very long time.
It had lived in her heart at the fair. When her parents had come; and the others.
It had lived in her heart that morning in their hotel by the sea; before then too.
How far back it had been part of her, she couldn’t see, not precisely, except it didn’t matter.
What mattered was how it lifted, supported, enthralled, and comforted her.
All while she hadn’t recognised it, unable to even had she wished to, for she’d never known it, and feared it, and relied in many ways on what it should feel and look like, just as Henry said.
Hypatia let out a long sigh, and looked down the drive, as the all-knowing pig had.
‘Fine. I will go after him. I’ve no idea what I’m going to say, or how I’m going to find him—it would be just my luck he took some roundabout way Ian told him of to London—but I will try.’
Turning, she launched herself at the door, and opened it, intending to start giving orders about preparing bags, and horses, and for the farm, and work to be done, but instead she nearly slid into Mary, who was waiting patiently, a bag in hand.
‘Just whistle, my lady, and Ian will bring your horse round. We’ll mind everything, just bring his lordship back, and we’ll get you seen off to London all proper in a few days. Just in case, there’s enough for a day or two in your bag, and coin for the tolls.’
‘Thank you, Mary.’
‘My pleasure.’
Turning on her heels, Hypatia hurried back outside, whistling, and waiting only moments before Ian popped out, a bright smile on his face as he handed her the horse.
‘I sent him down Ditchrow Lane, my lady,’ the old man grinned.
‘If he kept pace as how he left, he’ll be halfway down it, and will need turn back as there’s a felled oak I forgot to tell him about, and no way to get into the fields and woods beside.
Shame that. Old mind of mine isn’t what it used to be,’ he winked.
‘You’re the best man ever to live, Ian Farrow,’ she grinned, kissing his cheek, before securing her bag, and jumping into the saddle.
And then, without a moment more to lose, she was off.
I am not done with you, Thorn Ackerman.