Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

E xcitement filled Phee as she checked on the bees the next morning, delighted to find that another swarm had chosen to occupy the other one of her hives. The mingled humming of the different swarms was so like music, she was tempted to spin in circles, dancing to it, but now that she knew what it was like to dance with her husband, doing so alone did not seem as fun. Frowning at the thought, Phee threw it to the wind, instead focusing on the new additions.

The swarm seemed well adjusted, their drones coming and going as they searched for pollen to make food for their queen and hive, and while they appeared content with their new home, there was only one problem. They were cranky. Very cranky.

Every time Phee attempted to move near the hive, bees buzzed angrily, diving to sting her in protection of their home, and it became apparent very quickly that they were going to be trouble. Usually a beekeeper could use smoke to calm a hive so they could extract the honey and honeycomb, but she had begun to worry that this hive, should it continue its volatile ways, would need to be drowned in order to acquire the items inside. And that was something she was not sure she could do.

Standing a few yards away, Phee watched the hive carry on as if she had not just walked near it, threatening their very existence. Meanwhile, the other hive was so adept at not only caring for themselves, but dealing with her invasive ways, they cared very little as they went about their daily activities. Phee scowled at the new hive, hoping the drones inside felt her disapproval and would decide to change their ways before it came time to acquire the wax inside. It was doubtful.

“You seem perturbed,” Harrison said from a distance behind her and a smile tugged at her lips as she went to him, removing her heavy gloves and the hooded veil.

“Yes, we have a new hive,” she said, pointing to the new tenants.

He raised a brow. “I thought that was a good thing?” he asked, Mildred curled up in his arms like a babe as he stroked her tummy.

“You would think so, but they are a rather brutish bunch. I barely walked by to inspect them and they sent their squad on the attack.”

His eyes widened as he looked her over. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

She shook her head. “No, a small sting but nothing concerning for me, although I can’t say the same for the bees. The poor things were merely doing their job and died in the process.” She sighed. “What I am concerned over is how we’re going to extract the items from the hive if we can’t get to it.” She sighed again. “But that is a worry for another time. We missed you at breakfast this morning, and I didn’t get a chance to ask how the ball was.”

He smiled, a joyful one as opposed to his usual societal grin. “It was fine. I believe my favorite part was Averndale’s grandmother remarking on my marriage every five minutes.” He chuckled. “Averndale looked ready to flee as soon as I arrived.”

Phee laughed at the image.

“I didn’t think I arrived home that late, but when I asked Sterns, he said you two turned in early. Was it another restless night for our little beast?” he asked, tickling Mildred under the chin.

Phee nodded as she looked at the kitten, her amber eyes closed as she purred contently in Harrison’s arms. “What if we’ve damaged her entirely?”

Harrison reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “She’s content as a plum during the day with us. She’ll adjust soon, don’t worry.”

Phee looked at their interlocked hands, and nodded. “Maybe you were right and we should get her a friend.”

Harrison chuckled and Phee moved in closer, delighted by the sound. “Perhaps. Although now that I think on it, this beast is more than enough trouble for us.”

Phee smiled as she looked at the pair, enjoying the oddity of what she saw. A grown man holding a kitten like an infant, cradling the tiny thing in his arm as he held hands with her. It was like an odd little family. What a peculiar thought, a family. She shook her head. No, they were friends, and their marriage was a business arrangement, that was all. A family unit was nowhere to be found in their contract.

“Are you off to the conservatory?” she asked, pushing the thoughts away.

“Yes, Mr. Williams is on his way for a lesson. I’m hoping to make a mug today.”

“How exciting.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m aflutter to get started.”

“Why so cynical? I thought you were enjoying it.”

He sighed and looked at Mildred. “I am, only I’m certain I’ll never get any better at this. Every piece I make is flawed. Imperfect. The bowl I crafted shattered in the kiln because there was air in the clay. The cup I thought would surely work is so uneven it barely holds any liquid at all. I’m absolutely terrible at this.”

She shook her head and stepped closer once more, putting her hand on the arm that held Mildred. “Sometimes the best pieces are the ones most flawed. So your cup won’t hold tea,” she said with a shrug, “but it can hold hairpins or cufflinks without issue. It isn’t about the product’s perfection, Harrison, it’s about the joy you find in making it.”

He looked at her, his eyes searching and though his gaze was intense, Phee was not sure she could step away, nor that she wanted to. Her hand on his arm tickled and she looked down to find Mildred rubbing her face against it, a heavy purr vibrating her small body.

“My wife is rather adept at giving advice,” he said his voice low, and when she looked back up, it was to find his gaze still on her, the intimate touch sending a delicious shiver down her spine. “You should look into writing a book.”

Phee scoffed, her fingers dipping into Mildred’s soft fur. “I’d be more adept at making someone fall in love with me than writing a book,” she said, a smile overtaking her face at her own joke.

She expected him to laugh along with her, or perhaps even scoff at such a silly notion. Yet he did neither. Possibly it was the sun, or maybe the angle in which she looked at him, but she was certain his lips pursed and his brow furrowed, his gaze flitting away to some expanse beyond the garden, before returning to hers, a soft smile taking over his lips.

“I think you can achieve whatever you set your mind to, Phoebe.” The words were said without humor, conflicting with his smile, and she could not be certain the meaning behind them, nor whether to believe them at all. He shook his head and the moment was gone. “Goodness, would you look at us? What a rather melancholy bunch we are, brutish hives and broken ceramics,” he said, societal smile back in place.

“More of a tragedy than a comedy,” she said, releasing a deep breath. “Shall I take Mildred so you can begin your lesson?”

He nodded, handing over the black furball who meowed in protest at being shifted during her nap. With a final scritch to Mildred’s chin, Harrison pulled away. “I shall see you both at dinner,” he said, dipping his head to her before departing, leaving Phee and Mildred entirely alone in the garden.

“Do you have any notion of what just happened?” she asked the sleepy kitten in her arms. When the small mite did not respond, Phee sighed and shook her head. “Neither do I, pet, neither do I.”

After luncheon, Phee bathed before settling at her desk with her notebook, but no matter how much she tried to focus on the updates of the hives, her mind kept circling back to Harrison.

Her husband made little sense to her, with his interchangeable smiles and kind words which always then would provoke his swift departure. Perhaps it was because she was new at this whole friendship thing, but the entirety of his actions was simply odd. Like having a raging fever and then being dropped into an ice bath, the temperature change so swift, so sudden, one could not brace for it.

Calmly placing the pen back into the ink well, Phee slid her notebook away from her, and let her head fall onto the desktop, her hands cushioning the blow. All of these jumbled moments were turning into a mystery too big for her to understand.

Her mind replayed the night with Mildred, Harrison covering Phee with a blanket before settling down beside her to comfort the kitten. His low and soft words whispered to the inconsolable mite that were so melodious and soothing they had lulled her to sleep as well.

And then there was their dance.

Phee groaned as she rocked her head back and forth across her knuckles, her skin tingling at the memory of his hands holding her close as he guided her around the ballroom, the soft humming of “Greensleeves” filling the air as they twisted and turned about the room. She was free and graceful in his arms, safe and cared for, and the joy had overwhelmed her. Had her looking for more, wanting more. Wondering what his lips would feel like beneath her own. Questioning if he was experiencing the same longing that had taken up residence in her stomach. And as they gazed at one another, Phee almost wondered if she dared to take a chance. If it would truly be that harmful to chase after the feelings Harrison inspired within her.

Thank heavens for Mildred, her timing impeccable, for it would have taken very little for Phee to step closer, to follow the impulse that seemed to be ingrained within her whenever he was near, which would be an absolute disaster for a multitude of reasons, their newly formed friendship merely being one of them.

“Silly, silly man,” she whispered. For silly he was. He moved back and forth between friendship and common courtesy with little explanation as to why. If anything, his hot and cold wavering day in and day out firmly underscored the fact that he was content with the way their arrangement was going.

But that did not stop her heart, her immature, useless heart from pounding resoundingly in her ears when they touched. Nor stop the blasted thing from fluttering when they conversed, his admiration of her filling each sentence.

Phee turned her head to look at Mildred, who decided to settle herself on top of the abandoned notebook, the black minion of darkness grooming herself contentedly as her owner lost her marbles. “You’re a fat lot of help,” she said, stroking the arrow of white on the kitten’s head. “Any chance you can ask him how he feels about me?”

Mildred meowed her disapproval at Phee’s cowardice and returned to her grooming session, uncaring of the turmoil before her. It was rude, really, her utter disinterest, but Phee could understand. When your biggest worry is where to take your next nap, the issues of mere peasants seemed trifling.

With a groan, Phee let her head fall back in her hands. If only she had been born a cat.