Chapter 21
“Bad news, I am afraid.” Harriet’s father sighed as he strode into the drawing room, his eyes widening when he realized that his wife was not alone.
Harriet saw her father’s cheeks redden as he swept into a low bow and hastily stood up to embrace him. She and Theodore had decided to pay her parents a visit before they returned to the countryside.
Her mother had mentioned that she had kept some things from Harriet’s childhood and wondered if Phoebe might like them. It was two days since she had kissed Theodore beneath the stars at Catherine’s London home.
They had not kissed again since that night.
Several times, Harriet had turned, feeling as though Theodore was watching her, but whenever she looked, he was absorbed in some other task.
Occasionally, they would catch one another’s eyes and several million butterflies would burst to life in her stomach, but Theodore would look away, shifting before she could say anything.
He was not avoiding her, not exactly. Nor was he as cold as he had been, but there was something there. Once or twice, Harriet nearly asked him about it, but she lost her nerve.
What if he says it was a mistake?
The thought turned her stomach and with difficulty, she pulled her attention back to the present.
“I did not realize we had guests. I was not expecting you until this afternoon.” Her father released her and Harriet returned to the present.
“We arrived early, Lord Devonmere.” Theodore inclined his head to her father. “My business concluded sooner than expected, and with Harriet so eager to see you both, I saw no reason to delay.”
“I see you have learned the first rule of marriage, Your Grace. A happy wife is the secret to a peaceful life.” Her father beamed at Theodore and then at her. “I will never object to a little more time with my daughter, and of course, you are family now too. You are just as welcome as she is.”
“Thank you.” Theodore clasped his hands behind his back. “You said you had bad news.”
Harriet saw her father’s smile falter. “Ah. It is nothing, not worth your notice. I would not have said anything if I had known we had company.”
He gestured for them all to sit down. Harriet frowned, she was not used to her father being silent about such things, but before she could ask, her mother said, “I take it your visit to the farm did not go well?”
Her father sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “The damage is far more extensive than I realized; I will have to move some things around to pay for the repairs. It will delay the project in the new world by some months, but that cannot be helped.
Theodore watched her Father with a curious expression, as though he were trying to piece together a puzzle.
Her father slapped on a bright smile, and waved a hand. “The repairs will happen one way or another, they will only be basic and no doubt I shall have to repeat the endeavor in another year or so, but such is life.”
“I would be happy to cover the cost of the best repairs money could buy –” Theodore said without hesitation. ”
Harriet nearly choked on her tea. Beside her, her mother gasped softly, a hand on her chest. She felt as though her heart had grown too big for her chest. She knew how much such repairs would likely cost, let alone additional improvements.
I know it is normal that a husband would help with the finances but this? It is too much.
Not even her father managed to hide his surprise. For a moment, he simply looked at Theodore, his face soft, as though he were looking at his own son. “That is a most kind and generous offer, Your Grace. Thank you. But it will not be necessary, I have everything in hand. I assure you.”
There was a beat of silence and Harriet watched as Theodore and her father looked at each other. “Of course. The offer is there if you change your mind, you need only ask.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Her father nodded towards him. “Tell me, do you like whisky? I have a fine bottle that I have been dying to share with someone. It is from a tiny distillery in Speyside.”
Harriet managed not to gasp. She looked at her mother and saw her surprise mirrored on her mother’s face. They both knew the bottle Lord Devonmere was talking about. It was one of his favorites and he rarely got it out with anyone but family or the oldest of his friends.
“I would be honored.” Theodore stood, his voice somber.
“Excellent.” Her father gestured towards his study. “I do not suppose you are a botanist by any chance?”
“Careful, Your Grace, if you get Lionel talking about flowers you will be here until tomorrow.” Her mother laughed. “Especially his hyacinths.”
“You should visit us in the summer to see the Queen of Night bloom,” Theodore said.
Harriet watched as her father’s eyes became as big as saucers, and bit back a giggle as he and Theodore walked away. She turned to face her mother who was watching the doorway with a fond smile. “He has taken quite the shine to your husband.”
“Apparently.” Harriet agreed. “I do not think I have ever known father to do that so quickly.”
“Few men would make such a generous offer without hesitation, much less for something that would serve no benefit to them.” Harriet’s mother slipped an arm through hers. “Especially someone with your husband’s reputation.”
“He is nothing like what the ton say. He is not the cold, unfeeling beast they make him out to be.” Harriet ran her hands across each other.
“He is kind and generous. He notices everything, and he is fiercely protective. He is considerate and caring, though he does not always know how to show it. But it is all there, especially if you know how to look.”
She turned to see her mother looking at her with a thoughtful expression. “There is more fire in you than I am used to.”
“I just… I hate that people say such unkind things about him when they simply do not know him.” Harriet shook her head. “He notices things that most other people do not. He sees so much.”
He sees me. The words tumbled around her head and she looked at her mother, and knew she did not have to say them aloud. She was not sure she could, even if she wanted to.
I would have noticed you. His words had felt like a physical touch. In that moment, the warmth of his body had mingled with her own, anchoring her to the moment, grounding her in the present. Unconsciously her fingertips went to her lips.
“I am glad that you have settled so well into this marriage. I worried, at first, but to see you like this… It makes me so proud to see you standing so tall, to see you so confident and happy. I do not think you have smiled so much in some time.” Her mother let go of Harriet’s arm, regarding her for a moment, before she opened the door to the nursery and went inside.
Harriet followed her in, taking in the familiar yellow walls and the small bookcases. The tables were made to be the height of a child. There was a smattering of other things in the room. Several old embroidery projects that Harriet had forgotten about, a few half-finished paintings.
“I had the footmen retrieve the toy chest from the attic.” Harriet’s mother lifted the lid. “And check for spiders.”
They both shuddered. “Thank you.”
“It seemed like the perfect gift for your ward.” Her mother began to rifle through the chest. “And it gives us the opportunity to chat a little. I have missed you, but it is a relief to see you so well.”
“I have missed you too. I am sorry I have not written more often.” Harriet squeezed her mother’s hand.
“You are married now, and by the sounds of it you have been rather busy.” Her mother waved her apology away. “It takes time to settle into the rhythm of things.”
“I feel like I am finally finding my feet. That we all are. Though I suppose we shall have to see how Phoebe is when we get back, she was not looking forward to us being away.” Harriet felt a pang of longing, and glanced at the clock.
Phoebe would be in lessons, Greek most likely. Harriet could picture her little face, daydreaming as she stared out of the windows. “I miss her so much.”
“The first trip will likely be the hardest, for you both. The first time we left you behind, I nearly turned the carriage around and cancelled the whole thing.” Her mother shook her head.
“Theodore and I took turn bolstering one another’s nerves.” Harriet admitted. “She looked so sad when we drove away. I felt like the worst person in the world.”
“You were devastated the first time your father and I went away without you.” Lady Devonmere gave her a knowing look. “But we could not always take you with us, and I found that gifts often helped salve the wound.”
Harriet nodded, kneeling beside her mother and rifling through the chest with her.
“It is what I hope we can do with Phoebe. I think knowing that we will always come back is important, and the gifts will give her something to look forward to if we must leave her behind again. Though I hope sometimes she will be able to come with us.”
Harriet’s fingers closed around a tiny wooden horse her father had carved for her, and she gasped. “I used to carry this everywhere I went!”
“I remember.” Her mother’s face wrinkled with happiness, laughter lines deepening. “You tried to carve your own, but your father was worried you would hurt yourself.”
“I did carve one much later, though it was not as good as his. He has a real knack for it.” Harriet stroked the little horse fondly.
“Years of practice.” Lady Davenport added several small wooden blocks to the growing pile of toys beside them. “He carved me a wooden flower when we were first courting.”
“I remember you telling me.” Harriet felt an odd twinge in her chest as she fingered the new bracelet around her wrist; a gift from Theodore.
“Perhaps when you and Father come to visit, I should ask him to teach Phoebe about such things. Or to take her into the garden and talk to her about plants. Though she may be a little shy at first.”
“I suspect your father will talk enough for the both of them.” Her mother shook her head, a fond smile on her face. “You know that he adores children.”
“I cannot wait for you to meet her. She is really starting to come out of her shell, and she is on her way to being a talented artist.” Harriet took out a small painting drawing Phoebe had given her before they left of three people walking through rolling hills.
“She is still young, but she has so much potential.”
Her mother looked at the drawing, her smile broadening. “I have a set of oils if you would like to take them with you. I rarely find the time to paint these days, and they may as well go to good use.”
“Oh that would be wonderful!” Harriet exclaimed. “She has been through so much and when she is given the chance, she is such a bright and bubbly little thing. She is so full of love and laughter.”
“You care for her a great deal.” Lady Devonmere’s fingers curled around the doll she was holding.
“I do.” Harriet leaned against the toy chest. “It has been so wonderful seeing her confidence grow. She has started talking more, and I feel so proud of her. To be honest, I still cannot quite believe it.”
“Why ever not? I have aways thought you would make a wonderful mother.” Her mother arched an eyebrow at her, forehead wrinkling as she did.
“You have always loved children; you used to beg me for a sibling so that you could look after them. Even though you insisted you wanted a life of spinsterhood, you always sought out children.”
Mother. Harriet’s fingers felt at her corset, wondering if it was too tight. She was suddenly horribly aware of it against her skin, of the pressure against her with each breath.
“When I saw you with young Oliver, I used to imagine you with children of you own.” Her mother continued, still pulling toys out of the toy box.
“And I will admit, I am rather looking forward to being a grandmother to little Phoebe. And you are still young, I suppose, plenty of time to have children of your own if you decide you want that.”
Children of my own.
Harriet’s hand went to her belly as the muscles in her abdomen contracted. Did she want children of her own? She loved Phoebe with all her heart, more than she had thought possible, and she thought of her as a daughter. But that does not mean anything.
Before she had met Theodore, she had wanted to be a spinster for goodness’ sake. But as her mother continued to chatter, her thoughts wandered far from the room. She let her mind drift back through the past, all the times she had played with Phoebe and Oliver before her. Young children of cousins.
The tiny part of her, the part that she had shoved deep inside a box and buried deep within her, rattled in its cage. Do I want children?
Her lips tingled, and she thought of Theodore. His blue eyes flashed in her mind, but the face was an infant’s. A baby with her cheekbones, a tiny nose that looked a little like hers. Her stomach gave a jolt.
She had her answer. B was she brave enough to ask for his?