A Porcelain Viscountess by Hazel Linwood
Chapter 30
Phoebe was numb as she watched the coffin being lowered into the ground. She had insisted that she attended the funeral alone, with only Louisa as her company, yet she felt strangely lonely there without Francis, or Lord and Lady Dodge nearby.
“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…” the vicar said as the coffin reached the bottom of the earth that had been dug out for Graham’s grave.
The grave attendant came round with a box of earth and proffered it to Phoebe first. With no other family left in the world, she was the only relation Graham had and the first who was supposed to grab the soil and throw it on his coffin in memorial. Yet she struggled to do it.
Louisa’s arm was linked with hers, and Louisa used that connection to subtly elbow Phoebe into action. With a trembling hand, she reached out and placed a hand into the box, grabbing hold of some soil in her palm. The grains dug into her skin, burying themselves in the lines of her palm before she threw it onto the coffin.
“Are you all right?” Louisa whispered to her as the box was passed around.
“I do not know,” Phoebe said quietly. She tried to wipe her palm clean on her skirt. “I cannot dance on his grave, Louisa,” she whispered as the vicar closed the final prayer of the funeral. “I could never delight in death.”
“I know,” Louisa said softly, patting her arm through their connection.
“Yet can I mourn him either?” she asked, lifting her chin up from the grave. She looked to the sky instead, watching as the grey clouds seemed to part in the distance, showing a glimpse of the sunshine trying to gleam through. “I cannot do that in earnest. He hurt me too much for that.”
She blinked and, in that darkness, she could relive everything he had done, grabbing her around the throat, tearing her dress, plus every bruise he had given her. Then she saw the way he had lifted the pistol toward Francis and Louisa.
“No, I cannot mourn him,” she said decisively, opening her eye again. She looked down at her mourning weeds and decided something with a small smile. “Let’s go home, Louisa.” Louisa smiled too.
Arm in arm, they walked away from the grave. Barely any mourners had come to Graham’s funeral, and Phoebe was not bothered about being the last of them to stand by his grave. She hurried out of the graveyard first, with Louisa beside her, heading straight to the carriage that awaited them.
“Home, please,” she called to the coach driver.
“Of course, my Lady,” the coach driver said kindly as they climbed into the coach. Within seconds they set off, and Phoebe smiled as she looked out of the window. Travelling through London, the clouds were parting more and more, until they reached Hayward’s estate, to find that it was completely bathed in sunlight.
“Do you intend to go back to Lord Ridlington’s house ever again?” Louisa asked as they started riding down the estate driveway.
“No,” Phoebe said with finality. “It was Graham’s home, not mine. I went to see Mr Preston the other day and he is arranging for the house to be put on sale. My things will be moved out and we will not have to go back there again.”
“Thank goodness for that!” Louisa said with relief. “The place has too many bad memories.”
“Agreed,” Phoebe said, just as the carriage came to a stop.
The door was opened, but not by a footman, and the hand that came to assist Phoebe out of the carriage made her smile instantly.
“Francis?” she said in surprise as she took his hand. His fingers wrapped warmly around her own as he helped her out of the carriage. “Have you been waiting on the doorstep for our return?” she asked.
“It would be lying to say I hadn’t been,” he said, helping her down before he offered his hand to Louisa too. “There is something I must speak to you about.” He looped Phoebe’s arm through his and escorted her back toward the house.
Before Phoebe could reply, she turned her gaze to the house. They walked through the front door to see the staff were wandering to and fro, all quickly trying to prepare for the dinner they were to have that evening with Lord and Lady Dodge. It was to be a celebration of freedom.
Phoebe smiled as Mrs Goodman waved at her and the other staff waved too. After Graham’s death a few weeks ago, it was imperative the whole truth came out. Francis had decided to explain to his staff himself what had happened, to avoid any confusion. Since then, the staff had been extraordinarily kind to Phoebe, even more so than before. It meant that when Francis had asked her to stay living with him for a while, not to rush back home yet, she had heartily agreed.
This place feels like my home now.
“Can you spare a few minutes?” Francis whispered to her softly. Louisa hurried toward the staircase, giving Phoebe the minute that she needed alone with Francis. “I am struggling to wait much longer to say what I must say to you.”
“Can it wait a few minutes?” she asked quietly. “There is something I must do first.” She smiled with the words, confident in her decision. “Meet me outside by the stables in half an hour?” she asked.
“You wish to ride Cantante?” he asked.
“I always do,” she said with a small laugh. “But today…I think the freedom of riding that horse will matter even more than usual.”
“As you wish. I’ll see you there,” he said. He looked as though he wanted to lift her hand and kiss the back, but then he glanced around the other staff that were passing them by and held off. She giggled at the sight of it. She wanted nothing more than to feel the press of his lips against her skin, but just like him, she wanted privacy for it.
“I’ll meet you there,” she promised and hurried off up the stairs, following Louisa.
When she reached the bed chamber and shut the door behind her, she turned to her maid with a great smile on her face.
“There, now,” Louisa said, matching her smile. “That is a true smile of freedom.”
“I am nearly free. There is one other thing I must do first,” she said and heaved at the thick black skirt of the mourning dress. “Look at me, Louisa? Why am I wearing this? I do not mourn him, no more than he would mourn me had I been lost from this world. Wearing this…it’s a foolish thing to do. It suggests I am still beholden to him, and I am not.”
“You wish to change?” Louisa said excitedly. She clapped her hands together and rushed toward the wardrobe. “Wonderful! What would you like to wear instead? The blue gown? The green one? How about the new cream one?”
“The boldest one you can find!” Phoebe said with a giggle and threw off the mourning gown.
* * *
Francis was impatient for Phoebe’s return, pacing up and down the stable yard as the new groom he had employed was preparing Cantante and another steed for their ride. His boots clopped across the cobbles each time he turned and walked back the other way.
Since Lord Ridlington’s death, Francis had been restrained and given Phoebe the space she needed to move past the horror of what had occurred, but he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He loved her, absolutely, there was not a doubt in his mind, and he had no wish to live apart from her. The fact that she had agreed to stay in his house too suggested she had no wish to part from him.
Today is the day I stop waiting. He had a question to ask her, and it may not have been most aptly timed, but he had to ask it now.
“You look stressed,” a soft voice said with a giggle. He turned his head round to see Phoebe was approaching him.
She was dressed in a fine blue riding gown, so bold and colorful that she was a direct contact to how she had looked the night he had first met her. The sight of her beauty, with the deep neckline and exposed forearms made his breath hitch.
“You are beautiful,” he said softly. She blushed and smiled even more, holding his gaze as she walked toward him.
“You are too kind to me.”
“Truly, I am not,” he said, reaching for her. She placed her hands in his.
“You wished to say something to me?” she asked.
“I did, but…” He paused and looked toward the groom nearby. “First, come on a ride with me. What I have to say, I want to say to you alone.”
She blushed and turned toward the Andalusian horse. He helped her up, unashamed to take hold of her waist and help lift her onto the horse. He was thrilled when she blushed even greater at his touch.
She is no longer separated from me…
He quickly mounted his own horse and soon they were off across the estate. They took the same path they had taken on their first ride together, through the estate and up to the trees, until they reached the very top of the hill, looking over the tops of the trees and down to the house. From here, they had their race toward the stream where he had fallen in. Francis smiled recollecting the moment. From that first day with her, she had been different and brought him happiness. Since then, despite the pain her husband had brought, she had always made him happy.
They came to a stop at the top of the hill both breathing heavily as he looked to her, seeing the wind had mussed the locks of her hair until they blew unbidden behind her. He jumped down from his horse and reached for her, saying nothing. She took the signal though and clambered down too, coming forward until she placed her hand in his.
“What is it you wished to say?” she asked, breathing so fast that her chest rose and fell with the movement.
“I once asked you this before,” he said, clutching to both of her hands with their fingers interlocked. “I asked you to come away with me, and at the time, you were married.”
“I was,” she said, her lips flickering into a smile. “But I am not anymore.”
“Thank god for that,” he said, watching as she giggled under her breath. “Phoebe, I still wish to travel. I want to go to Egypt and Italy, all those wonderful places, but I don’t wish to go alone anymore. Come with me, Phoebe, but…this time, I don’t ask you to come away with me in order to run from what is here. I am asking you to come as my wife.”
Her eyebrows shot up and her lips parted.
“You’re asking me to marry you?” she said softly, her voice such a whisper that he had to bend down to hear her.
“Goodness knows when I first fell in love with you, Phoebe, but I do not want to live without you now, and I rather think you like my company too.” His jest brought a loud laugh from her.
“You can tell?”
“Just a little,” he continued the joke, leaning down toward her. “I promise to make you as happy as you have made me since you came into my life. Marry me, Phoebe? Please?”
She bit her lip for a second, before lifting herself up on her toes. She reached toward him, touching her lips to his. Lost in that kiss, he pressed the two of them together, wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing her closer to him. When they parted, they were both breathless, clutching to each other.
“Is that a yes?” he asked, desperate to hear the words.
“Of course, it’s a yes!” she said, giggling before reaching up to kiss him again.
