“Do you hold him in affection?”
She beamed up at him. “I love him madly. I suppose it seems odd, because of our age difference, but truthfully, I don’t think of it at all when we’re together. He’s far from what I’d consider old. And he’s truly marvelous with William. Oh, Blix, I’d never thought to feel like this again. I must thank you for your approval, for I might surely have died had you not approved.”
His dark gaze was intent upon hers. “You want it this much, then?”
“Oh, yes. He’s an amazing man, funny and warm and wise, and tremendously affectionate. It’s difficult to express in words how right this feels, and how ecstatically happy I am.”
A fleeting expression of pain crossed his features before he quickly assumed his usual somewhat inscrutable regard. “Then I’m happy for you, Luce. Sherbourne does seem to exemplify the best of fathering skills, so William will no doubt benefit greatly from his influence. I wonder, what will you do about Margrave Park? I assume you’ll live at Hornsby Grange.”
“I suggested closing up the house and perhaps hiring an assistant for Mr. Timms to help oversee the tenants, but Sherbourne won’t hear of it. He says William must stay connected to the house, and the land, and we’ll spend a month, at least, of every year there. He indicates he’ll visit with you about administration, to see if perhaps you’d like to share the responsibility. I assumed he would take it over, but he believes your involvement with the estate will help retain your relationship with William, that as he grows, he may need some guidance.” She lost a bit of her smile. “I’m certain he worries he’ll become senile, or die, and he wants you to remain an important part of William’s life as he grows into his own responsibilities.”
“Well.” He turned away and looked beyond the bramble roses, toward the stables. “There is a depth to the man one wouldn’t expect to find, considering his love of a grand joke.”
Remembering Sherbourne’s tale of the jest he pulled on Wrotham, Lucy said, “His jokes are not meant to be only funny. I believe he plots and plans them because it’s his way of gently pointing out another’s flaw, something which keeps them from realizing their happiness. He doesn’t do it merely to provoke a laugh.”
He was quiet for a long while, until at last he said, “In many ways, you’ve had a dreary life, and nothing will make me happier than to see you settled and content. I regret that the man you’ve fallen for is so much older, simply because it must necessarily bring you unhappiness at some point in the future, but you’ve always had an amazing ability to recover, to be optimistic.”
“It’s only that I refuse to anticipate unhappiness, Blix. If I’m happy now, today, that’s all that really matters. For all we know, I may die first, and he will be the one to mourn. The future is God’s to know, not ours. The best we can do is make the most of today. I’m ever grateful to have found him, and will express my thanks by being happy now, and for as long as he is with me.”
Turning toward her, he moved close and reached out his hands. She grasped them and they looked at one another for a long moment. “I do love you so, Blix, and it wounds me that you appear unhappy. I’d thought marriage to Jane would be the answer, but perhaps I was wrong.”
He squeezed her hands before letting go, then offered his arm. “Walk with me, sister.”
She stood and did so, hoping he would reveal something of what occurred.
Instead, he asked a question. “Do you suppose if our mother hadn’t died, our father might still have gone mad?”
It was unexpected and she had to concentrate to shift her mind in another direction. In all their years together, they’d never openly spoken of their father’s insanity, of how he lived the last ten years of his life, or how he died. They referred to him on occasion, but they never actually discussed it. That Blix wanted to do so now seemed somehow significant. She remembered various things she’s heard over the years, and in particular, a conversation she’d overheard between the housekeeper and the butler at Eastchase, just after she returned to live there. She’d never told Blix. The subject of their father always upset him, it seemed. “I believe he suffered a head injury not long after I was born, when you were but four years old, and he never fully recovered. It didn’t impair him physically, but he was not the same afterward. He became irrational and ill tempered, and was convinced that our mother was involved with the old Viscount Radcliffe.”
Blix was quiet, then said, almost in a whisper, “A head injury. I didn’t know. How did you?”