Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“You have not once complained of the cold this morning,” Thomas had observed, as they returned home on their horses. “Nor of the early hour, nor of my company, which I confess is the most alarming symptom of all. Are you unwell, Edward?”
“I am in remarkably good health, thank you,” Edward scoffed.
“That is precisely what concerns me.” Thomas had guided his horse alongside Edward's, unwilling to let the matter drop.
“The last time I saw you in a mood such as this, you were drinking yourself insensible in my guest room and refusing to speak to your own wife. Now you cannot seem to stop speaking of her. I find the transformation rather dizzying.”
“Things change, Thomas.”
“Evidently.” Thomas had studied him a moment longer, his teasing giving way to something quieter.
“You were so certain, that morning, that loving her would only ruin her in the end. It was rather hard to forget, given how thoroughly it derailed my own peaceful household for the better part of a week.”
“I remember it as well.” Edward's gaze had drifted toward the horizon, towards the Ravencroft estate, and the woman he knew was waiting somewhere within it.
“I was wrong, I think. Or not entirely wrong – the grief might come regardless, whatever I do. But I understand now that keeping her at a distance will not spare either of us from that grief. It only guaranteed that we would lose each other twice over, for no good reason at all. Once when I die, and once again, needlessly, in all the years before it, spent apart out of my own cowardice.”
“And are you no longer afraid, then?” Thomas asked, more gently than his usual manner allowed.
“I am still afraid,” Edward admitted. “I suspect I always shall be, to some degree. But I have decided the fear is not worth what it costs me, if I allow it to govern everything else I might otherwise have. I would rather dwell on what I have – Phoebe, our child, whatever years I am given – than mourn a future I cannot control before it has even arrived.”
Thomas said nothing for a long moment, then something unusually solemn settling over his features.
“That,” he said finally, “Is very possibly the wisest thing I have ever heard you say, during the entirety of our friendship.
“Do not grow accustomed to it. I do not believe I will consistently share my thoughts like this,” Edward grumbled, tightening his grip on the reins of his horse.
“I would not dream of it.” Thomas nodded with a smile that was warmer than his teasing usually allowed.
Little else was said for the remainder of the ride, both men seemingly content to simply wallow in the silence, appreciative of the recent changes in their lives.
They soon arrived at Thomas’ estate and the man himself relayed the gist of their conversation in a light hearted manner to Phoebe, while Edward was occupied greeting the other ladies, with the particular satisfaction of a man who had watched his closest friend claw his way back from something dark and was determined to share his pride with everyone who mattered.
“He very nearly did not come home from my house that last time,” Thomas told her privately. “I have never seen a man so thoroughly convinced that his own happiness was a danger to someone else.”
“And now?”
“Now,” Thomas said, with visible satisfaction, “I asked him again this morning whether he still feared dying. Do you know what he told me?”
Phoebe shook her head, throat tight.
“He said he is still afraid. But he has decided he would rather spend whatever time remains to him dwelling on the good things – you, and the child, and whatever years he is given – than wasting what he has left in dread of what he might lose. I have known Edward for many years, since we were young boys, Your Grace, and I do not believe I have ever heard him speak so plainly of wanting to simply live.”
Phoebe did not have the chance to respond before Edward had crossed the room to her, his expression already softening the moment his eyes found her.
“There you are,” he spoke softly, as though the rest of the current party had ceased to exist.
He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles that lingered rather longer than would be considered polite and more so a clear display of affection.
“Edward, we are in company,” Phoebe murmured, though she made no effort to pull her hand away.
“My apologies. I forget myself around my wife.” He sighed, not looking in the slightest bit apologetic.
“How scandalous,” Nora observed, not bothering to hide her amusement. “Jane, is he always like this now?”
“Always,” Jane confirmed. “It is rather nauseating, and I could not be more delighted by it.”
Penelope leaned toward Phoebe with a conspiratorial smile. “You have thoroughly ruined him for the rest of society, you know. He used to be considered the most unattainable man.”
“I remain entirely unattainable to everyone but her,” Edward said, with such simple certainty that Phoebe felt the warmth of it settle somewhere deep in her chest.
He turned his attention fully to her then, studying her face with the particular intensity that still made her feel, after everything, faintly breathless. “I find I would like to take my wife home, if the company will forgive me for stealing her away so soon.”
There was a chorus of teasing protest, softened by genuine affection, and a promise extracted from Phoebe that she would return again sometime soon. Then Edward's hand found the small of her back, guiding her toward the waiting carriage with a care that had become as natural to him as breathing.
“We ought to attend the opera together, before the season ends,” he suggested once they were settled inside, his fingers laced loosely through hers. “I recall you once telling me you had always wished to see one properly, rather than simply reading of them in the papers.”
“I did say that.” She smiled, touched that he had remembered something so small, said so long ago that she had nearly forgotten it herself. “I would like that very much.”
“Then it is settled.” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips briefly to her palm. “I confess I have been giving a great deal of thought to all the things I ought to have given you long before now.”
She did not fully understand what he meant until they arrived home, and he led her – not toward the stairs, as she expected, but toward the smaller drawing room at the rear of the house, the one that overlooked the garden.
He opened the door and stepped aside to let her enter first. Phoebe started to walk in but stopped in the doorway, momentarily unable to speak.
A blanket had been spread across the floor before the hearth, and on it lay a spread of cold meats and cheeses and fruit, a bottle of wine beside two glasses, and candles set about the room casting a soft, golden glow that turned the ordinary space into something that felt enchanted.
“Edward.” Her voice came out unsteady as she approached the blanket. “What is all this?”
“I wished to give you something you have not yet had, in all the time we have been married.” He came to stand before her and took both her hands in his.
“A courtship. I am aware it is rather backward of me to offer one only now, after the wedding and the arrangement and everything that ought to have come first. But I find I do not much care for the order in which we have done things, so long as we arrive, eventually, at where we are meant to be.”
“I would not change the order of any of it,” Phoebe whispered. “Not truly. It brought us here.”
Edward smiled and he reached into his coat, withdrawing a small velvet box that he opened with hands that were, she noticed with quiet wonder, not entirely steady.
Inside sat a ring, with a single sapphire, deep and blue, set simply enough that it was clear it had been purposely chosen with great care.
“I realized I have never given you any gifts, nothing worthy of how special you are and I wanted you to have something chosen for this – for who we are now, and who I hope we will continue to become. I had it made to match your eyes, though I confess the jeweller assured me no stone could quite manage it.”
“Edward.” Tears blurred her vision, and she did not try to stop them. “It is beautiful.”
“Will you wear it?” His voice had gone rough.
“As a promise. Not for the sake of an heir, or a dukedom, or any of the reasons I told myself once mattered above all else – but simply because I love you, Phoebe, entirely and without condition, and I intend to spend whatever years I am given proving that to you, every single day.”
She held out her hand, and he slid the ring onto her finger, his fingers lingering against hers for a moment afterwards.
“I love you,” she told him, drawing him down to meet her lips. “I will love you for the rest of our lives, Edward. And I do not believe that love ends simply because a life does. I shall love you after, too, in whatever way a soul is permitted to love another once this world no longer holds them.”
His arms came around her, tight enough that she could feel the unsteady rhythm of his heart against her own, and when he kissed her again, she tasted salt, and knew it was not only her own tears between them.
“Then I am the most fortunate man alive,” he murmured against her hair, “However many years I am given to prove it.”
They settled down to eat the meal, eagerly sharing their excitement for the future ahead of them.
Eventually, they ended up pressed against each other, silently watching the flames in the fireplace die out slowly.
Phoebe slowly stirred from where she lay curled against his chest, and hummed slightly.
“Edward.”
“Mm?”
“I have been thinking,” she began softly, “That I should like very much to see the opera you promised me, sooner rather than later. Not because I am impatient – only because I find I no longer wish to postpone the things that make me happy, waiting for some more convenient season to enjoy them.”
He turned his head to look at her, something achingly fond in his expression. “Then we shall go this very week, if a suitable performance can be arranged. I meant what I said, Phoebe. I do not intend to let any more of our happiness wait on ceremony.”
“Good,” she said, settling back against him with a contented sigh. “Because I have found, this past year, that I am rather done with waiting for things I have already been fortunate enough to find.”