Intolerable Civility

Chapter Eighteen: Foolish, Dangerous Hope

The letter was written that night, in a shaking hand, and sent the next morning. Cate calculated that her father would respond immediately or not at all, which meant that if she did not receive a reply within five days, the effort had been futile and Demery need not have bothered to ask her to do it in the first place.

For that reason, she did not tell him what she had done. It would only be embarrassing to them both if a reply never came. If it did come, however, she would tell him then and happily surprise him. Her plan was tested, however, when the afternoon after she sent it he came to her sitting room to tell her that in two days he would be returning to London.

"You can't!" she said in dismay.

"Why not?" Demery raised his brows. "The horse is recovered. I've no reason to stay."

"I mean, of course you can but I... I'm just surprised."

His lips were pursed in the displeased not-quite scowl becoming familiar to her. "I'll probably be away until Easter."

It did not matter when he returned; he would be leaving before she could receive a reply from her father. It would not matter, of course, if her father did not reply, but if he did then she would have to write to Demery in London to explain herself. Or explain herself now, which seemed equally awkward.

He must have read her expression, because he said, somewhat apologetically, "Sarah says she wants to come back to London with me. She is bored of Wales already."

"Yes, she told me." Cate did not care about Sarah. She tried to think of a way to persuade David to stay longer without explaining everything. He kept speaking while she thought, distracting her.

"Is it too long to leave you alone? I have deprived you of Miss Skinner, but I do not wish to isolate you. I had hoped Sarah would stay here, be a... friend." He hesitated. "I could persuade her, I think."

Cate shook her head. "It's not being alone. I have Luke."

"Yes, but that's not quite the same."

"No, but Sarah isn't... I don't need Sarah to stay." She wondered if David would stay if she asked. "She's pleasant, but not a friend."

"She could be company."

"I suppose." Cate drummed her fingers on the book she had been reading. The only thing to do, really, was simply ask him. "I won't be lonely, David, but I... I would like you to stay another week, please."

"I have lost much valuable time already, Cate."

"I know. And I'm sorry, truly sorry." She looked away from him, nervous in her white lie. "It's my birthday next week. Will you stay until my birthday, please? I don't want a present. I just want you to be here for it."

He gave a long, heavy sigh. "Cate..."

"Please. It is important to me."

He was silent for a long time, the not-quite scowl deepening to a proper one. "As you wish. I will leave the day after then."

Cate sighed with relief. "Thank you."

It only gave him another reason to resent her, of course, and she felt it, or suspected she felt it, over the coming days. Sarah occasionally beguiled a polite smile out of him, but he was not so courteous to Cate and she was too intimidated to make the attempt anyway. On the morning of her birthday, he surprised her by coming down to breakfast with them and giving her his best wishes. That brought on a wave of self-recrimination from Sarah, who had not known and could not forgive herself for the ignorance. David finished his coffee and disappeared in the middle of her regretful soliloquy before Cate could get a word in edgewise to thank him. Nevertheless, she found herself peculiarly happy for the rest of the morning, even though Sarah insisted on spending every minute of it with her. Shortly before noon, the post came. As Cate never got letters, she knew when the servant brought one in to her that it was a reply from her father. Sarah must have seen something was up by the look on her face.

"What's that?" she asked. "How nice to get a letter on your birthday."

It was not a nice letter. It was short and cold. Cate folded it up again to hide the cold words it contained. "Yes, it's quite the surprise. If you'll excuse me a moment, it reminded me of a chore I must do."

She had a little trouble losing Sarah, however, who insisted upon helping her and wanted to know what the chore was. In the end, Cate had to resort to trickery: she said she was going to check on Luke first and slipped into the servants' passage from the nursery, then through that out into the gallery. Downstairs, a servant told her that David was in the garden. She found him in a small glasshouse near the kitchen, contemplating a sickly-looking orange tree. He looked up when Cate entered.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"I have something to discuss with you."

"Alright then. Let's go to my—" Demery glanced at the house, towards Sarah's bedroom window. "Let's go for a little walk."

They made their way through the kitchen garden to the tall wall that separated the gardens from the wilderness leading towards the cliffs. Demery opened a door in the wall and they went through. It was not entirely a coincidence, Cate thought, that he walked close to the wall, where no one could see him from any of the house windows. It surprised her that a man who could so easily get rid of Miss Skinner would be so tentative in dealing with Sarah. But then, Sarah was his cousin, and that probably made a difference.

It was not quite a sunny day, but every now and then the clouds shifted and light hit the sea in the distance and the breeze rustled sparse wildflowers in the grass.

"It must be lovely here in summer," Cate said.

"It is. Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

"No." Cate hesitated, wondering how to bring it up. "I, um..."

"Wait." David stooped and picked something up from the ground. "Here. Happy birthday."

It was a snowdrop.

"I didn't have any roses," he said apologetically. "And the fruit is not at its best this time of year."

"Thank you." Cate was oddly touched. She tucked the flower into her hair. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"I didn't. Not really. It was just growing there." He shrugged. "What did you want to tell me?"

"Um." She pulled the letter from her pocket. "I wrote to my father."

He stopped walking and stared at her. Then he laughed softly. "And I've been cursing you a hundred ways all week. I suppose this is why you really asked me to stay?"

"It is really my birthday."

"I know. What does the letter say?"

"You can read it." She held it out to him. "Please."

It did not take him long to read the sparse few lines her father had deigned to write. A deep frown grew between his brows. "It is more of an order than an invitation, isn't it?"

"It usually is." Cate found her hands were shaking. "He's like that."

David looked searchingly at her. "You're still afraid."

"Yes. Very much. And I know I'm a coward, but—"

"I won't let him hurt you." David took her shaking hands in his. "I promise you that."

The touch of his hand sent a warm shiver up Cate's arms. He squeezed her fingers gently and let her go. The shiver lingered behind. It made her feel giddy and weightless. For the first time she wondered what he really felt about her. Hurt, yes, but perhaps— could there not be— was it so foolish— so dangerous to imagine that there might be something else too?

And in a heartbeat, imagination turned to foolish, dangerous hope that lingered long after the shiver had faded from her arms.

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2023-03-30: Yes, this chapter is super short. But, hey, I posted it super quickly!