Chapter Six
Thomas returned to the south beds just after midday.
Eliza noticed before she saw him. The garden shifted when he entered it, sound settling into a familiar cadence. The snip of shears resumed with the same unhurried rhythm she had known for years. Not quick or careful. Simply sure.
She did not turn at once.
She was seated on the low stone wall bordering the herb plot, gloves folded beside her, her attention ostensibly on the neat rows of winter rosemary and thyme. The air had warmed slightly. The dampness lingered, but the bite had eased.
Thomas worked for several minutes without speaking. He did not announce himself. He never had. He gathered cuttings, tested the give of a cane, adjusted his stance when the ground softened beneath his boot. The work absorbed him, as it always did, until it did not.
Only when the basket at his feet was nearly full did he glance her way.
“My lady.”
His voice was as it always was. Respectful. Unaffected. Free of surprise.
Eliza inclined her head. “Mr. Grey.”
He returned to his work, as though her presence required no more acknowledgment than that.
She watched him then, openly. The line of his shoulders as he bent to the task.
The careful economy of his movements. He had changed since she last saw him, not in any way she could name, but in the quiet confidence of long-settled competence.
As though years of careful distance had settled into him so completely that Hartleigh itself now carried the shape of it.
“You were sent to the north boundary,” she said.
“Yes.” He tested the edge of the shears with his thumb. “The storm brought down a limb. Took part of the paling with it.”
“Is it repaired?”
“By now.” He glanced up briefly. “The ground will need watching. It softened more than I like.”
“I’m sure you’ll see to it.”
He met her gaze then, something like a smile touching his mouth. “I always do.”
Silence returned, easy and unforced.
Eliza found herself breathing more deeply than she had all morning. She had not realized how much effort she’d been expending until the effort was no longer required.
“You’ve been away longer than usual,” she said.
“Yes.”
No apology followed. No justification.
She accepted it without comment. This, too, was familiar.
Thomas moved to the next bush, kneeling to inspect a cluster of new growth. He adjusted a tie, loosened another. His hands were sure. He did not rush.
“The roses took the cut well,” Eliza observed.
“They did.” He paused, considering. “They’ve been tended properly in my absence.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
“As would I.”
She smiled faintly.
A bird lifted from the hedge nearby, its wings a brief flutter against the quiet. The house loomed beyond the garden, present but distant, its windows reflecting the muted sky. From where they stood, it looked almost benign.
Eliza rose from the wall and stepped closer, stopping at a respectful distance. She had stood beside him many times before, pointing out a branch, asking after a planting, remarking on the season’s progress. There was nothing new in the arrangement.
Only in the awareness.
“You’ve settled back in, then,” she said.
He straightened. “It’s good to be home.”
The word landed gently. Not a claim. A fact.
“Yes,” she agreed. “It is.”
They stood together for a moment, both looking at the same stretch of earth. No one interrupted them. No one summoned her. The house did not intrude.
At last, Thomas reached for the basket. “If you’ll excuse me, my lady. I’ve more to finish before the light goes.”
“Of course.”
He hesitated, just briefly, then added, “It’s good to see you again.”
The simplicity of it caught her off guard. Not because it was unexpected, but because it asked nothing of her in return.
“And you,” she replied.
He inclined his head and returned to his work, moving down the row with the same steady purpose as before.
Eliza remained where she was, watching him until the moment felt complete. Not because she wished to be seen, but because she did not need to hide.
When she finally turned away, she did so without hurry.
For the first time since her return, Hartleigh felt less like a place under observation and more like ground she could stand on without bracing herself.
And that stayed with her as she walked back toward the house.