Chapter 17
Adrian worked meticulously in the near darkness. There was a single lantern hanging over his right shoulder, but his face was so close to his work that it blotted out the light so that the lantern felt all but pointless.
His hands were perfectly steady. His eyes narrowed for focus. Using a single cloth, he gently touched and patted the dried glue and resin, wiping it away so that it looked as if the crack that had once been startling and obvious was no more.
A sigh of relief as he finished, and he set the object down on the table.
And then, as Adrian always did when he finished fixing one of the many broken objects he found around the house, he simply looked at his work. Not with pride. Not with a sense of accomplishment. Rather, it was grim satisfaction, perhaps even a small hint of embarrassment.
This obsession of his was not something that he prided or cherished.
He knew it would never bring him true happiness.
Rather, it was a compulsion of his. And while Mr. Watley and others believed it was to do with his inability to allow imperfection into his home, only he knew that the reason ran far deeper than that.
For Adrian, it had always been about saving that which nobody else saw the need to save.
Better that these objects held no feelings, had no family and nobody to care for them, and would not be mourned if he somehow made things worse.
It was a way to make it appear as if he was doing some good, while able at the same time to tell himself that it made little difference to the world or anybody in it.
Nobody would know. Nobody would care. And nobody would thank him.
Perhaps my words to Lady Delacourt were truer than I realized…
Was it not enough to help others, while not wanting praise or gratitude? Why did good deeds always have to come with a need to brag and own them so that others would know what was done? Was the good deed not enough?
He sighed and shook his head at the thought, not wishing to go down that path. Better that he stuck with what he knew, fixing that which was both broken and which would be missed by no one if he somehow made it worse…
As to what he had just fixed? It was an old brooch that he had found at the bottom of a drawer just last week. He’d asked Mr. Watley about it, and while the valet could not say for certain, he hypothesized that it must have belonged to Adrian’s mother.
The brooch was a simple thing, which was likely why Adrian had never seen it before. But the jewel which sat at its center, a ruby no bigger than a fingernail, had been cracked down the middle. Not worthless, but not something to be worn and shown off. Thus, it was abandoned.
Adrian winced at that thought, but he could not say why.
Fixing it had been simple enough. The crack was filled delicately, and he had used a special mixture tinted with red to cover it so that one would need to look closely if they had a chance of seeing its flaw.
Such a simple thing to fix. But as is the way, most would rather toss it out than take the time…
What came next was always the same, and it always left a bitter taste in Adrian’s mouth.
Every piece that he fixed, every item that he mended, was still imperfect in a way, and he did not want the staff to know that he had gone out of his way to mend them.
Thus, they could not be displayed openly, which meant that they needed to be hidden.
He had a cupboard filled with such trinkets, and the brooch would join them…
Only, as Adrian scooped up the brooch, he was struck with a sense of wrongdoing. It did not seem right that his mother’s brooch was locked away. And when he looked closer at the brooch, noting the way it glowed like fire in his hand, he could not possibly condone hiding something so beautiful.
Imperfect, perhaps, but still deserving to be seen.
That was when an idea came to him. It was one that made him wince as if from pain, although he knew it was nerves that did it. His stomach churned, and his hand started to shake.
It was such a small thing, the idea that he had. But it felt hugely significant, something that would have been anathema to him just one week ago. And while the old version of himself fought gallantly, begging him to change his mind, Adrian pushed that side back.
He wanted to do this… he wanted to prove that he could.
So, with the brooch in hand, he hurried from his office and went to find Ophelia before he lost his nerves and changed his mind.
As he knew she would be, Ophelia was in the nursery with Harriet as she readied the baby for bed. She stood over the cot, making strange noises at which the baby giggled. Adrian stood in the doorway and watched her for a moment, a smile on his face, one that he was glad that she could not see.
How is it that she has not grown to hate me? To resent what has happened to her? She really is too good for this world… for me.
Despite how hard he had tried against it, Adrian found that he was slowly coming to enjoy married life. Or perhaps being content with it, was a better word to use? He liked that Ophelia relied on him and even needed him at times. And he liked that she no longer pushed against her.
What was more, he liked how it made him feel. He watched Ophelia a moment longer, his heart grew, and that smile remained on his lips. This is what it meant to be needed by others, to care for someone else. This was what it meant to have a purpose, which was something that Adrian had never known.
As Harriet stopped her giggling, Ophelia stood up straight, at which point Adrian announced himself by walking into the room.
She turned and smiled when she saw him coming. “You just missed her”
“Excuse me?”
She frowned. “You… you’re not here to see Harriet before she falls asleep?”
“Why would I be?” Adrian said before thinking. He saw Ophelia’s face drop, and he hurried to explain. “I mean… that is not… I did not mean it like that.”
Thankfully, Ophelia chuckled and shook her head. “In truth, it would have surprised me. A man can only come so far in such a short time.” She continued to smile, and while Adrian did not like to admit as such, her smile warmed him in ways he refused to consider.
“So, what are you here for?” she asked when Adrian said nothing. “To see me, I have to assume.”
“I…” Adrian blinked, almost forgetting what he had wanted to show Ophelia.
As she looked at him expectantly, as her glow and her smile washed over him, Adrian felt a sudden pang of doubt. He held the brooch in his hand by his side; it felt heavy and cumbersome, and he came to wonder if it was such a good idea that he had.
She is likely to think I am a fool. I certainly do.
“It is nothing,” he said quickly, moving to twist his hand and hide the brooch. “I was just passing by and –”
“What is that?” She pointed at his hand.
“Nothing.” He held it tight, using his spare hand to hide it further.
She frowned. “It does not look like nothing. And now that you are so clearly trying to hide it…” She laughed. “You’ve piqued my interest. Show me.”
He grimaced, his heart racing. “It is stupid…”
“I am not one to judge.”
“You do not have to… do not pretend to like it, if you do not.”
“Adrian, what are you talking about?” She looked at him simply, not judgment, no sense at all that she would look down on him.
It was a look that filled Adrian with confidence, and he realized then how stupid he was being. Of all the people in the world who might judge him, Ophelia was the last person to do so. She was too kind for that, too caring and good-hearted.
“I found this last week…” Slowly, he turned his hand to show her the brooch. Then, just as slowly, he lifted it up for her to see clearer. “A brooch with a crack down its center. I couldn’t very well leave. And once it was fixed, the idea of shoving it into a drawer felt wrong.”
She said nothing, staring at the brooch with an expression that was unreadable.
“It was my mother’s,” he said quickly, nerves wrecking him. “At least I believe it to be. Now that it is fixed, I thought you might wish to have it. It is not much, a broken brooch…” He chuckled awkwardly. “But I felt that I should ask, nonetheless.”
Still, she said nothing.
Her brow was furrowed as she stared at the brooch in his hand. Her lips were pressed together. It was dark in the nursery, so Adrian could not see her eyes as clearly as he might have liked. The longer she stared, too, the longer that silence stretched on for, the more nervous he became.
“You do not want it.” He snatched his hand back. “I shouldn’t have –”
“No!” She reached out as if to grab his hand.
“I… I was just…” She looked at him finally and found his eyes.
Despite the dark and the confusion, Adrian saw in those eyes something truly astounding.
He saw… is that hope? Disbelief? As if she is seeing me for the first time.
“It’s beautiful, Adrian.” Her voice was low.
“You like it?” His voice cracked.
She reached out and gently opened his palm, exposing the brooch. As she did, she held his eyes, as if she wanted to confirm that he watched as she plucked it from his hand. And her touch, as gentle as it was, sent a pulse through Adrian’s arm and up his body that almost made him gasp.
“I love it,” she said as she took it. She spoke of the brooch, but it was as if she meant something else. “And that you thought to gift it to me…” A smile then, subtle, but felt throughout the room. “Truly, you have no idea what this means.”
“It is not such a big thing,” he dismissed.
“It is,” she said. “I will remember this. Know that I will.”
Adrian had no idea what to say. He stood perhaps two feet from Ophelia, unable to look away from her as if to do so might end him.
And she looked at him as if she felt the same way.
Again, a look as if she were seeing him for the first time.
More than that, though, it was that she liked what she saw.
Adrian’s chest tightened. His throat turned dry. His eyes flicked from Ophelia’s eyes to her lips on instinct, not meaning to. But she caught her breath when she did, even leaned in a little.
Does she… do I want to… are we…
The room felt small suddenly. The air felt heavy. A tension that was weighted sat between them, begging to be broken. Adrian knew what it meant… he knew what was on Ophelia’s mind… he knew what he wanted to do. But could he do it? Had he come that far?
“Ophelia…” He choked out, his hand slowly lifting to her face. “I…” Thoughts of this past week flashed through his mind’s eyes, confirming that this was right. He had not wanted it. He had not sought it. But it was happening… and it was time that Adrian accepted it.
“Yes?” she asked, still looking into his eyes.
He licked his lips. His hand reached for her face. His fingers brushed her skin, about to take hold and pull her forward when –
Suddenly, a cry so vicious, so high-pitched, ripped from the cot, and Adrian lurched back as if he had been slapped across the face.
Harriet was awake, and the timing could not have been worse.
Or better…
“Oh, Harriet!” Ophelia spun about, her movements quick and awkward. “I… what is wrong?” She faced the cot purposefully, her back to Adrian in a way that suggested she wasn’t going to turn around. “Come here,” she cooed as she reached into the bed.
The moment was broken; Adrian had come back into himself, and because he had, he suddenly realized how dangerous this was… what had almost happened… and what it meant.
He stumbled back, turned away, and strode for the door.
“Good night, Ophelia,” he said over the crying child. “I will see you…” He did not finish his sentence, around the door and striding down the hallway as if fleeing the noise of the crying baby.
It was only once he was alone, able to sit with his thoughts and catch his breath, that Adrian reckoned fully with what he had nearly done. On the surface, it might have seemed right, something to be celebrated and cherished. But as it was Adrian, typically, such revelations were not found.
Rather, he felt disgusted with himself. He felt betrayal. Most of all, he felt untold amounts of guilt. That was not him, nor would it ever be, and to trick Ophelia into thinking otherwise… I truly am the worst of people.
So it was that as Adrian made for his room that he came to a decision, one he promised to keep no matter the circumstances. What had just nearly happened could not happen again. Not for his sake, but for Ophelia’s.
She was, after all, who mattered most to him.