Chapter 23

Three more days had passed, and each of them brought a new surprise for Penelope whether it was a first edition of a rare book or a horseback ride through the countryside to his favorite spot.

"Race you!" he heard Penelope shout, right after she flew by him on her horse.

"I thought you said you didn't know how to ride!" he shouted after her, spurring the horse onward, but he doubted he would catch up to her.

"I lied!" she turned around to tell him, then she flew once again like an arrow, straight ahead, her luscious curls floating in the wind after her.

He focused on her in the distance, but at the same time, he paid attention to the morning sun as it bathed the landscape in a soft, golden light. Dew glistened on the grass, casting a shimmering veil over the rolling hills and verdant meadows. The countryside seemed to awaken around them, with birdsong filling the air and the scent of wildflowers mingling with the fresh morning breeze.

"Slow down!" he shouted after her. "You don't know where we're going!"

She turned around only to laugh, her laughter mingling with the sound of hooves as they raced along an invisible trail. The cool morning air rushed past them, invigorating their spirits and filling their lungs with the exhilarating scent of freedom. He could see the untamed energy within Penelope as she leaned forward in her saddle, the thrill of the race coursing through her veins.

He couldn't help but laugh himself, his own horse endeavoring to keep pace with hers as they continued their race. He admired the graceful curve of her form as she rode, her hair catching the morning light and glinting like spun gold.

"Turn left there!" he shouted in hopes that she would hear him and reach a nearby brook. A moment later, she did exactly as he told her. "You should see a brook there!"

"I see it!" she shouted back, her horse thundering across the open fields with a burst of speed that left James trailing in her wake.

She reached the brook shortly, and she dismounted from her horse. He joined her soon after, doing the same. She had that victorious gleam in her eyes.

"I won," she said with a gleeful smirk.

"Yes, you did," he noted with a smile. "Not fair and square, but you still won."

"How was it not fair and square?" she asked, chuckling.

"Because you lied," he pointed out.

"How does that change the outcome?" she inquired with a playful tone of voice.

"You started the race when I wasn't ready," he said with a pout.

"Oh," she laughed cheerfully. "Well, all right. We could have a rematch on the way back."

"Maybe," he considered, pretending to be offended. "Why didn't you tell me you were so good?"

She shrugged. "I guess it was because I wasn't supposed to do it. I only rode my father's horse when everyone was away from the house, and I knew they wouldn't be returning soon."

His brows furrowed. "You didn't go with them?"

"No," she shook her head. "Not very often. Mother and Father always took Vanessa everywhere they went. I suppose that is because she is the eldest. As for Adeline, she was too little to go, so she would stay with the governess. And I was allowed to roam free."

"A small child roaming free?" he wondered.

She shrugged again. "The governess only told me to stay on the property and not get into any trouble which I didn't do that well, seeing I was sent off to a nunnery."

He laughed. "I see."

She laughed as well. "But I did learn how to ride pretty well."

"Who taught you?" he inquired.

"The old gardener," she said with melancholy in her voice. "He saw me the first time I was there. He asked me what I was trying to do, and I explained. He also knew that Father would never allow it. Yet, he still helped me. He taught me everything he knew about horses."

James smiled. He could sense the underlying burden that her family had always been to her and she to them. He knew that feeling well. He knew when a family didn't function as it was supposed to, when one part of the unity was in dangerously ill repair. It left devastating consequences on those who remained behind.

"I love this place," she said, reminding them both where they were.

The air was filled with the soothing sound of babbling water, a tranquil melody that calmed the spirit and invigorated the senses. Birds were flitting and chirping among the branches overhead, their joyful songs adding to the natural symphony of the brook's surroundings.

"Me, too," he said stepping closer to the brook.

Penelope did the same, dipping her hand into the cool, refreshing water.

"So peaceful and serene," she murmured, her voice soft with appreciation.

"This is where I used to come with my mother and sister," he revealed. "We didn't ride our horses, though. We walked. It took us… well, two hours," he said with a smile. "But it never felt like two hours. Angelica… my sister, she would always amuse us with her flower picking and singing. She had the most beautiful voice, just like my mother. And they would always sing to me and to each other. I don't know how, but time with them always seemed to pass so quickly, too quickly almost."

"You must miss them a lot," she said tenderly, placing her hand on his shoulder.

He wondered if this was the moment to tell her the truth about what happened that fateful night. He locked eyes with her, but he couldn't do it. Instead, he smiled.

"Let's race back," he said. "I will beat you this time."

"You can try," she replied, already running towards her horse and jumping on it with the skill of a veteran rider.

As it turned out, he didn't win that time either.

* * *

It was late that same afternoon when James found himself in his study, trying to focus on some work. He was sitting at his desk, sifting through a stack of papers, but the truth was, he could barely remember what he had already read when he would move onto the next document.

He sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. The truth was, all he could think about was Penelope. Was she happy here with him? Was there more he could do for her?

At that moment, a quiet knock on the door interrupted him.

"Yes?" he called out.

The door opened, and the cheerful face of his grandfather appeared in the doorway. "Am I interrupting you?"

"Of course not," James replied. "I'm trying to do something, but it's amounting to nothing, so I might as well leave it."

His grandfather walked inside, closing the door behind him. "Does that lack of focus have anything to do with your lovely wife?" he asked, with a knowing smile. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he observed his grandson, a silent understanding of the situation that had been occupying him.

"I don't know," James said, at first not wishing to admit anything. But he quickly realized that there was no point in trying to hide anything from his grandfather when everything was painfully obvious. "Yes," he finally confessed with a single word.

"I've noticed," Grandfather remarked, his tone gentle yet probing. "You seem different lately, James. Happier somehow."

"You think it has something to do with Penelope?"

His grandfather smiled. "I am certain it has everything to do with her, my boy. Love can change a man."

"Love?" James echoed, getting up and shaking his head. "No, no, no. This isn't love, Grandfather. Most certainly not."

His grandfather frowned in confusion. "Then what is it?

James gestured with his hands as he spoke as he always did when he was slightly nervous. "I am merely trying to make her more comfortable. She was in a convent mere days before our wedding, Grandfather, so the siring of an heir is intimidating for her. She needs time to adjust. I do not want to make it traumatizing for her, so we're taking it one step at a time."

He did his best to focus on the business side of their deal although nothing of what he had done recently for Penelope was business related. He enjoyed every single moment spent with Penelope, and that was exactly what was frightening him to such an extent.

His grandfather thought about it for a moment then he reminded James of something he himself knew well. "Before, you wouldn't have reacted in this manner at all. You would not have taken the time to make her comfortable, or you would have simply asked for an annulment so you could find a new wife altogether."

James mused on his grandfather's words. He had to admit that the man was right. And that petrified him.

"So, you see, my boy," Grandfather continued, seeing that James had nothing to say, "bestowing so much attention upon your wife is not just a means to an end, as you have put it. There is something deeper to it, something you refuse to admit. It is all right when you refuse to admit a certain truth to others, but when you are lying to yourself, that cannot end well."

"I am not lying to anyone, Grandfather," James spoke in a determined tone of voice although he was anything but. "I just told you, I am merely trying to court my wife as customs dictate. We didn't have that courtship period, so this has to be it. I cannot expect her to provide me with an heir just because I tell her to."

His grandfather chuckled. "At least you are aware of that."

Upon those words, he got up from his chair. "Well, I shan't be taking any more of your time. You go on and try to focus, my boy. I shall go see what that lovely wife of yours is doing and see if she will join me for a cup of tea. If you have any wits about you, you will join us."

"No, I've got a ton of work here," James pointed at the piles and piles of papers lying on his writing table.

"But you said you couldn't focus," his grandfather reminded him.

"I can't, but I have to try," James replied. "Someone has to take care of the family business, and I am the one whose burden it has become ever since?—"

He cut himself short, not wanting to continue. His grandfather walked over to him, patting him tenderly on the shoulder.

"You've always been so hard on yourself. Too hard," he spoke gently and with much love. "You keep forgetting that it is all right to be happy. You do not have to grieve them forever, you know."

"I know, Grandfather," James nodded.

He waited until he was all alone then he slumped back into his chair. Ever since his family died at the hands of his father, emotions were a strange, unfamiliar land to him. Whatever those emotions were, he knew that he couldn't give into them. He couldn't risk becoming his father.

You will never be like your father, his grandfather's words rang inside his mind like a broken church bell. But were they true?

James couldn't be sure, and he refused to risk it because risking it meant putting Penelope's life in danger. His father's blood streamed through his veins. What if that madness lay dormant inside of him, kept at bay solely because he refused to open his heart to anyone?

No. He couldn't risk it. He wouldn't. That was why there was only one thing left to do, no matter how difficult it was. He would do it if it meant keeping Penelope safe from harm.