Chapter 12
“What is that?” Theodore looked up from his desk, frowning at the open window.
It was just before noon. He had completed his rounds of the estate, checked Phoebe’s room and then retired to his study. He was about to start on his second pot of coffee, when the oddest sound drifted through his window.
He strained his ears, trying to work out what it was. He heard voices, women’s voices he guessed and something else. Laughter. Why are there women laughing in the garden?
Theodore moved towards the window, his irritation growing. “The servants should know better than to behave like this.”
A delay to his work this morning would throw off the rest of the day, it would put his entire week out of sync. Disorder would invite chaos and even if it did not, he hated disruption.
“Found you!” The high, excited voice stopped him dead in his tracks.
That cannot be possible. He shook his head, feeling his heart press closer and harder to his chest. He knew that voice, though he had scarcely heard it in months, and never full of that degree of excitement.
In an instant, his irritation vanished. He crossed to the window in a single step, every muscle in him wound so tightly he felt like a spring ready to explode. The air around him was charged with anticipation as he peered into the gardens below his study.
He gripped the windowsill with white knuckles, blinking rapidly as he took in the scene. Phoebe was in the gardens with Mrs. Morton, Lucy and Harriet. Yet it was obvious that this was no lesson.
The women were running around, as was his niece. Even Mrs. Morton had joined in. What on Earth is this? What did Harriet think she was doing?
Harriet’s laughter echoed around the grounds, mingling with the birdsong and his niece’s delighted giggles. “I am going to get you.”
As he watched, he saw Phoebe push herself away from the tree, flinging herself out of Harriet’s reach, a smile so broad and shining on her face that it reminded him of the sun at high noon.
Yet as his niece tried to wriggle away from his wife, her foot snagged on something, sending her tumbling towards the ground.
“This has gone far enough,” Theodore muttered as he launched into action, striding from his study and taking the stairs two at a time in his rush towards the garden.
Fool. Contemptible fool. He had let his curiosity get the better of him, and now his niece would likely be hurt because of it. Discipline. Structure. That was what would keep her safe. Things he could control, not whatever this madness had been.
But her smile. A small voice inside him whispered even as he shoved it away. The sound of her laughter followed each of his steps, even as he pictured her little body tumbling towards the ground.
He burst into the garden, the blood in his body thundering through him so violently it made him sick. He blinked in the harsh sunlight even as he searched the area for a sign of his hurt niece.
As soon as he saw her, the cotton wool that had filled his chest vanished and air flowed more easily. Phoebe was back on her feet, apparently undeterred by the fall as she danced away from Harriet, using Lucy as a barrier between the two of them.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, and the smile on her face was no less broad than it had been when he had seen her from the window in his study. He took a step towards the women, searching Phoebe for some sign of cut or injury.
“Phoebe.” His words were a blanket that quelled the giggling and laughter like sand thrown onto a fire.
He barely noticed the Mortons' blanching faces, did not hear their greetings as they curtseyed to him. All he saw was his niece. As soon as she heard his voice, her eyes darted towards him, the smile on her face fading.
Are you hurt? “You have a stain on your dress.” He pointed to it. Is there a cut or bruise beneath it? “What are you doing out here?”
The smile vanished and she recoiled, looking away from him. He took a step towards her, even as he felt a dagger slide into his heart.
“We were playing Touch.” Harriet stood between them, a hand protectively on Phoebe’s shoulder.
“She is supposed to be studying.” Theodore turned his full attention to his wife.
“She is a child,” Harriet replied. “And you told me that she should be my priority. I am trying to fulfill that duty.”
“By inviting chaos and disorder?” Theodore pictured his niece falling again. “What were you thinking?”
“That children must be allowed to be children!” Harriet snapped, stepping towards him, her eyes blazing.
Her words startled several birds from the bushes and Theodore heard Mrs. Morton gasp. Harriet had not raised her voice, but she had not bothered to hide her irritation either. His eyes narrowed.
“Mrs. Morton, Lucy, kindly take Phoebe back into the house for lunch. I would like to speak with my husband alone.” There was no trace of a delicate wallflower in her voice; this was the tone of a woman who expected to be obeyed.
Theodore wished it did not impress him – he knew it should irritate him. He could feel the other women’s eyes on him, sense their hesitation.
“The duchess has given you an instruction.” Theodore turned to face the women. “You will heed it.”
The governess nodded, her eyes downcast as she gestured to Phoebe to join her and her daughter. Theodore noticed several leaves in the women’s hair and his frown deepened. Phoebe did not look up, nor did she look over her shoulder.
He turned to face Harriet and took a step closer to her. She did not back away. “Explain. Now.”
She lifted her chin towards him, her face sun-kissed and flushed with life. “I am your duchess, Theodore, not your staff.”
“Then you should behave like it.” His voice was harsh. “You are supposed to be a role model to Phoebe and yet in less than a day, you have her running around like a fishwife’s brat.”
Order. That is safety. Harriet’s eyes flashed and he saw white hot anger in them. “You mean I had her behaving like a child.”
He could still hear the giggles in his mind, but he shook his head. “She may be a child, but you are not. Three grown women running amok, shouting like fishwives and laughing so hard no one could even think to get any work done. If anyone had seen it, they would think you utterly mad.”
“Then I suppose it is lucky this is a private estate.” Harriet folded her arms over her chest.
“You know that it will not stop a determined trespasser. Demonstrably.” Theodore drew himself to his full height.
“And just what scandal do you think they would have seen? The new Duchess of Irondale playing with the ward of her estate? Oh great heavens above!” Harriet made a disgusted sound.
“You asked me to act as a mother to Phoebe, and when I do, you scold me? She was having fun! She was laughing. When was the last time she laughed?”
“If her happiness was the only measure of success, perhaps that would excuse your behavior.” Theodore heard Phoebe’s laughter in his head, remembered the way her foot had snagged on the root of the tree.
“But I have to think of her future. There are stains on her dress, and who knows what lies beneath?”
“Stains can be washed out.” Harriet’s brow furrowed.
“And if she had slipped and cracked her head on the ground? Would you be so cavalier then?” Theodore glared. “Or do you care so little for her safety that you think a few moments of laughter are more important than her life?”
Harriet’s eyes widened. “I would not do anything that would risk her life.”
“And yet you did.” Theodore countered, his voice cracked. “I saw her fall, Harriet.”
There was a long pause as Theodore looked in the direction of the tree.
Harriet’s voice was soft, yet it pulled his focus back to her as though he were a piece of iron drawn to a magnet.
“We all fall down sometimes, Theodore. And granted, sometimes we can be hurt, but we cannot live trying to avoid such things. It is not possible.”
Harriet’s eyes were like a summer’s meadow, full of warmth and kindness. “She is a child, not a porcelain doll.”
“She is my niece.” His words hung in the air between them.
He saw the fingers of her right hand flex, stopping a hair’s breadth from his own hand but not touching him.
“It will do her no good to be wrapped in cotton wool.” The gentleness of Harriet’s voice felt like a caress, yet her words cut at him like daggers, filling him with a sharp pain.
“You and I both want to keep Phoebe safe. And I think we both want to see her grow into the beautiful and confident young woman we know she can be. But if we spend our lives trying to keep her from being hurt, trying to bring structure and order to every element of her life, she will wilt. At best, she will be a shadow of a girl and at worst…”
Theodore could feel the warmth of her fingers, not resting against his but so close that the merest movement would bring them into contact.
Harriet continued. “Children need more than rules and routines. They need more than order and structure. They need to play, to laugh, to experience the world around them.”
“You know the world we live in Harriet, and we have a duty to make sure she can be a part of it.” He could feel the hardness around his heart shifting, could feel some part of him longing to give in.
He thought of his sister. He could not remember her laugh. Had it been like Phoebe’s? He could barely remember laughing himself.
Harriet’s knuckles brushed against his, her fingers closing around his own for the briefest of moments.
Yet the touch sent fire coursing through his body.
“All I am asking for is an hour a day. An hour where she can play and do something simply because she wants to. Not because it serves a purpose.”
Theodore clenched his jaw, but Harriet did not look away. She held his gaze, her lips pressed into a determined line. He could hear the question in her voice. It was not a command, but an entreaty.
He could not refuse her, even as he felt every bone in his body fill with cold. “Fine.”
Harriet exhaled, her warm breath tickling his skin. “Thank you.”
He hardened his heart. “One hour, Harriet. No more. And if her studies are affected or if it causes disruption to the staff, I will rescind my permission.”
“It will not.” Harriet canted her head towards him. “Perhaps you would feel less worried if you joined us on occasion?”
There was something in her voice that made him feel like he was being tested. It was as though she were a tight rope walker and he was the rope beneath her feet. His eyes went to her lips, drawn to the delicate but somehow challenging curve of her smile.
His heart soared as if desperate to meet that smile. Warmth spread over him and he realized that his right hand had moved as though to touch her face. He tore his gaze away, curling his fingers into a fist.
“That will not be necessary.” He did not look back as he turned on his heel and stalked towards the castle.