Chapter 18 #3
Euphemia pressed her lips together very hard, a sudden, helpless giggle bubbling up against her will. The sheer, terrifying absurdity of it broke the remaining tension in her chest, and she had to bury her face slightly in her hands to stifle the sound.
Nathaniel watched her, the shadow in his eyes finally lifting as a smile softened his face.
“Forgive me,” she said, from behind her hands. “I should not laugh. It is not... it is not funny.”
“It is a little funny,” he said.
Euphemia lowered her hands, her cheeks still slightly flushed from the unexpected light-heartedness.
“I suppose I am only relieved to find there was some absurdity in it. Though, I must admit, it makes me worry a little about us.” She looked down at the sheets, her voice softening.
“We have had our own shares of disagreement already. I should hate for us to become a house where air is rationed.”
Nathaniel shook his head instantly, shifting slightly closer on the mattress to ensure she was listening. “You must understand that it is entirely different, Euphemia. I know that we too tend to bicker, and we have had our arguments, but it does not belong in the same realm.”
“Does it not?” she asked quietly, raising her eyes to meet his.
“No,” he said. “With Eleanor, it was enmity. We did not like each other. We did not share the same thoughts, the same values, or the same ideas about anything that mattered. We had been put in the same house and told to produce an heir, and we had failed at the only thing that might have given us a common purpose, so we argued out of resentment. About everything. About nothing.”
He paused, his expression softening into something remarkably gentle as he looked at her.
“What you and I do, when we argue, there is a point to it. There is something we are both trying to say, and we say it, and at the end of it something has been resolved or at least understood. It is a conversation. A difficult one sometimes, but a conversation. Do not ever mistake our friction for what happened with Eleanor.”
“I understand,” Euphemia said softly, a sense of relief loosening the tight knot that had lived in her chest for weeks. “Thank you for telling me, Nathaniel.”
He offered her a nod, the remaining tension finally draining from his posture. “Now that we have settled that, there is another matter. Your good friend, the duchess of Carrowell sent us an invitation.
“Emily?” Euphemia asked, sitting up.
Nathaniel nodded. “She is hosting an evening gathering at the end of the week. If you are feeling well enough by then, I thought perhaps we could attend together.”
Euphemia’s eyes brightened slightly. “I would like that very much. I am certain I shall be perfectly recovered by then.”
“We shall see what the physician says,” Nathaniel replied. “For now, you must rest.”
He stood up from the edge of the mattress, smoothing down his shirt, and turned to make his way toward the door.
“Nathaniel?” she called out to him.
He paused, turning back to look at her with his hand resting on the doorframe.
Euphemia swallowed, gathering her courage before the lingering distance between them could settle back into the room.
“I know that recently... we have not been speaking much. It has felt as though a little bit of distance has grown between us, and I do not want that. I truly believed we were becoming very good friends.” She offered him a tentative smile.
“I had hoped we would be at the stage of our friendship where we might sit and discuss our favorite books, or simply find pleasure in each other’s company.
I just want to know... are we all right? Is everything fine between us?”
Nathaniel stood entirely still for a long moment. He let his hand drop from the doorframe and took a step back into the room.
“I am sorry, Euphemia,” he said. “I must admit that work has been incredibly overwhelming of late. I have drowned myself in it entirely because there is a great deal I wish to achieve right now, and this happens to be the perfect window for it. My duties have taken up most of my time, but you are entirely right. I can make time, and I have simply failed to do so.” He paused, looking at her with a warmth that felt entirely real.
“I am sorry. When you are feeling a little better, perhaps I could take you through the library and show you my favorite volumes.”
A soft smile broke across her face. “I should like that above all things.”
“Rest now,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on her for a second longer. “I shall check in on you again later this evening.”
With a final nod, he slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Euphemia sank back into her pillows, a peaceful warmth settling over her. The fears that had driven her to a collapse felt distant now, entirely resolved by their conversation.
She closed her eyes, letting a deep, healing sleep pull her under, feeling better than she had in weeks as she harbored the desperate hope that this new understanding between them would truly last this time.