The Broken Daylily

CHAPTER TWENTY: Discovery

The last week, Thomas had been very kind. He had spent more time with her, and that morning, he had waited for her to return from her walk through the garden. She found it nice how he still gave her time to be alone, but also spend time with her. She finally had the feeling like she started to know her husband.

"Are you not afraid to give birth?" he suddenly asked her as they slowly made their way through the house.

She shrugged. "My mother is still alive, and my aunt never died during child birth. So I believe I come from a strong family."

"And Adelaide, does she not want children?" he asked.

She smiled a little as she thought of her sister. She missed her – she always had since she married. But she also knew her sister was alright, for she had send a letter a few days ago. Twas secretive, of course, and Madilyn was not to send a letter back. But she was happy to hear from Adelaide and to know she was doing alright.

"Adelaide does not want children with her husband," Madilyn told Thomas. "But if she were married to someone else, I am certain I would have a few nephews and nieces."

He held his hands behind his back as he concluded: "you like children."

"As do you," she said. His head shot up toward her and his eyes bore into hers. Before he could ask it, she said: "I know because I have noticed. You like your friends and you like being manly, but you have a kind heart for children."

"And how have you noticed?" he asked, not denying her words.

"When a child is crying, your eyes move to him or her, and you comfort him or her when no one else does. And you like talking about children, yet you never ask about your own. And the case you are working on it the most obvious prove. You do not bother that they are beggars, for all you care about is that they are children."

"I believe," he said, "that you have found my weak spot." She smiled at him, appreciating his honesty. Not many man would admit to something as feminine as a huge love for children. But Madilyn liked it. "And I also believe I ought to ask about our child now."

"It will be a big child," Madilyn told him. "And an active one. I constantly feel it kicking, like it wants to break open my skin and come out."

"I hope it does not hurt too much."

She shook her head. "No, it does not hurt at all. It is quite pleasant. I can even feel it against my hand if I lay it on my belly."

They had arrived at Thomas' study, and as he walked in, he left the door open. She took it as an indication he wanted her to enter, so she did and closed the door behind her. She went to sit on the coach she usually sat on when she was in his study, while he went to sit behind his desk. A silence fell between them before Madilyn dared to ask: "if I was not carrying your child, when would you have started with a family?"

He looked at her, a bit of discomfort on his face. "When I would have found myself a woman I love."

She tried not to seem too hurt by it, but she knew his words were true. He did not love her, just like she did not love him. They merely appreciated each other and lived under the same room. And soon, they would have the same child to love.

"I mean in how many years?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Not yet. I would wait a few more years, until I am settle in my work"

"Would you not be bothered if Mary would marry sooner than you?"

He shook his head as he answered: "Mary will not find a husband soon – if she will find one at all. She finds herself quite important – along with every female specie. She hopes on changing society and making women more outspoken."

Madilyn raised her eyebrows, wondering where she got that ludicrous idea from. But then again, with the Bromptons, one will never know. "Why would she want that?"

He sighed and leaned his elbows on his desk. "For many reasons. She does not understand why a man can have lovers while a woman cannot, nor why a woman needs a chaperon while a man does not."

"Those are easy to explain. A chaperon protects a lady, while a man is strong enough to protect himself. And a woman does not have lovers, because she might get pregnant." She pretended she did not think of her own situation – in which she forced herself on a man and eventually called herself one of his lovers.

Thomas did not notice it – or ignored it as well – and said: "I agree. But she does not. She thinks women can be strong enough to protect themselves as well."

"That is quite absurd," Madilyn admitted with a chuckle. "But I guess it does not hurt to dream."

"Except if it does not land her a husband," Thomas said.

"That is true," she agreed. "But she still has time. She is yet so young."

"But time can fly," Thomas said longingly, as if he wanted time to move backward, as if he wanted to be a child again. Madilyn could understand that. No worries, no fears, no unloving husband and unplanned child.

But at least she was treated well. And her husband might not love her, but he did not hate her either. He appreciated her and they were friends now. That was better than expected.

Thomas sighed. "I must concentrate on work now," he said. "I have found a breakthrough yesterday, and I would like to connect it with some prove."

"May I ask what you have found?" she asked hopeful while she stood up and walked to his desk.

He pushed a piece of paper toward her, and while she looked at it, he said: "a name that seems to connect to the bad guy."

She stiffened when she read a name on the paper. She read it again, just to make certain she was not mistaken. But she was not.

Her head shot up and she looked at Thomas. "Why are you looking into Everton?"

"It has a connection to the case," he said. Then he moved his head and looked at her. "Do you know it?"

"It?" she asked, unbelieving of his use of words. "Him. He is Adelaide's husband."

Thomas suddenly jumped up and took the paper out of her hand. Then he grabbed and empty piece of paper and a pen. "What is his name?"

"Arthur Everton," she told him, not understand why he was behaving like this. "Tis a family home he inherited after his parents died."

He had not written anything down yet and just stared at the paper. Then he started shaking his head. "No, the family that used to live in Everton is murdered. The house is decayed."

"No, tis not," she said, shaking her head. "I have been there. And are you saying Arthur killed them?"

She could not believe what her husband was suggesting, but he did not confirm or deny her question. "What is Arthur's last name?" he asked instead.

"Everton," she said, repeating what she had already said.

"No, that is not the estate's name," he said, his eyes staring at nothing behind her. He suddenly seemed to come out of his daze as his eyes met back with hers. "What does Arthur look like? Brown hair like mine, quite tall, ugly smirk?"

"That is awfully specific," she said, while she compared his words to the image she had of Arthur. "But quite correct, I believe. Long nose, thick eyebrows, green eyes," she listed.

"Darn it," he said to her surprise. He walked to the coat rag and took his brow coat off.

"What?" Madilyn asked him, but he did not answer. He was too far off in his thoughts, in a rush to get out of the house apparently. So instead of waiting for him to answer, she looked for it in the papers. But soon, she stiffened again.

"Why are you investigating lord Colston too?"

He came to a stop before he walked through the door, and slowly he turned to her. "You know him too?" he asked.

She nodded, surprised this conversation only came up now.

"Yes. He is the man my parents were arranging my marriage to."