Chapter 25 #2
“Will survive. The Cavendish name has survived worse than a reconciliation. It survived Father’s gambling. It survived my reputation. It will survive this.”
Lady Beatrice turned away. Her shoulders, always so rigid, sagged for just a moment before she caught herself and straightened them again. When she spoke, her voice was quieter than Arthur had ever heard it.
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple. That doesn’t mean it’s easy.”
Sophia had not moved from her place by the fireplace.
Arthur watched her watching Alistair, and he saw the moment when her expression shifted, not the public mask, not the private vulnerability, but something in between.
A woman seeing a man clearly for the first time, and deciding that what she saw was worth the risk.
“Lady Beatrice.” Sophia’s voice was steady.
“I do not expect you to forgive me. I do not expect you to welcome me into your family or to forget the history between our houses. But I will not apologise for my writing. It is the truest thing I have ever done. And I will not apologise for loving your son. That is also true.”
Lady Beatrice turned back. Her gaze moved from Sophia to Alistair and back again, and Arthur saw her calculating, not income or property this time, but something more dangerous.
The weight of two people looking at each other the way these two were looking at each other. The impossibility of prying them apart.
“You are both fools,” she said. But her voice had lost its edge.
“Yes,” Alistair agreed. “Probably.”
A sound from the doorway made them all turn. Lady Eleanor had returned. Her face was still pale, her handkerchief still crumpled in her fist, but she walked into the room with a steadiness that had not been there before.
“I have been standing in the hall,” she said, “listening to you all. And I have been thinking about my own marriage.” She looked at Sophia.
“Your father and I did not marry for love. We married because our families required it, and we made the best of what we were given. I wanted more for you. I wanted you to be safe. I thought safety meant money, position, a husband who would not embarrass you.” She paused. “I was wrong.”
“Mama—”
“Let me finish. I have spent three years terrified of scandal, terrified of losing what little we have left, terrified that your sharp tongue would destroy your chances and take the rest of us down with you. And all the while you were writing those essays, and I knew—” Her voice broke, then steadied.
“I knew it was you. I have known since the second one. And I said nothing because I was a coward.”
Sophia crossed the room in three steps and took her mother’s hands. “You are not a coward. You were trying to protect us.”
“I was trying to protect an idea of us that never really existed.” Lady Eleanor looked at Alistair.
“You defended her. In front of everyone. You revealed her secret in a way that made her sound like a heroine instead of a scandal. I do not understand you, Lord Alistair. I do not understand how a man with your reputation could—” She stopped, searching for the words.
“Could be sincere?” Alistair’s mouth curved, not quite a smile.
“I have been asking myself the same question. I think the answer is that I was never as good at being a rake as I pretended to be. Miss Ainsworth, Sophia, saw through it from the beginning. That was the problem. Or the solution. I am still not sure which.”
Arthur, still standing near the door, cleared his throat. “If I may—”
Four heads turned toward him. He had not planned to speak. He had planned to stand in the corner and bear witness and slip away when the drama had exhausted itself. But something in the room had shifted, some balance of forces, and he found himself unwilling to leave it unresolved.
“I have been watching the two of you,” he said, “since the Hargraves’ reception.
Not out of suspicion. Out of—” He paused.
“Curiosity, I suppose. You are both very good at hiding. But when you are in the same room, you stop hiding. You argue. You laugh. You look at each other as though the rest of us have ceased to exist. I have never seen anything like it.” He looked at Lady Beatrice.
“I understand why it frightens you. It frightens me a little, too. But I do not think it can be stopped.”
Lady Beatrice stared at him for a long moment. Then she laughed, a short, sharp sound with no humour in it. “Mr. Finch. You have said more words in the last minute than I have heard you speak in three years of acquaintance.”
“I know. I am sorry.”
“Don’t be. It is refreshing.” She turned to Alistair. “If I refuse to bless this union, what will you do?”
“Marry her anyway.”
“And if I cut you off? If I withdraw your allowance and close this house to you and make it clear to every person of consequence that you have acted against my express wishes?”
“Then I will find another way to live.” Alistair’s voice was calm.
“I have skills. I have friends. I have a small inheritance from my grandmother that you cannot touch. And I have Sophia, who has never needed my money or my name or anything else I could offer except—” He looked at her.
“Except myself. The real one. The one I have been too afraid to show anyone.”
Sophia’s hand found his. Arthur watched their fingers interlace, the simple fact of it, the way neither of them seemed to notice they had done it.
“I have a proposal,” Alistair said, still looking at Sophia. “Not a marriage proposal. We have already settled that. A proposal for our families.”
Lady Beatrice’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”
“The land in Derbyshire, the six feet of disputed boundary. I propose we cede it. Formally. Publicly. The Cavendish family acknowledges the original surveyor’s error and restores the boundary to its correct position.
In return, the Ainsworth family agrees to let the matter rest. No further claims. No further grievances.
The feud ends with a piece of paper, the way it began. ”
Lady Eleanor’s breath caught. “You would do that?”
“I would. It costs us nothing but pride, and pride is what started this in the first place.”
“And the financial difficulties—” Lady Eleanor stopped, her face flushing. “I did not mean to—”
“I know about the financial difficulties,” Alistair said gently.
“My mother made certain of that. I am not offering to solve them. Sophia would not let me, even if I tried. But I have connections. Investors who trust my judgment. If your son is willing, I can introduce him to men who might help him make the estate profitable again. No loans. No obligations. Just, assistance. The kind neighbours give each other, when they are not feuding.”
Lady Eleanor’s eyes filled with tears. She did not try to hide them this time. “I do not know what to say.”
“Say yes,” Sophia said. “Please. Say yes.”