"The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place." George Bernard Shaw
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VII.
She had run from him. Adam was certain of it. She had scurried up the stairs as quickly as her legs would carry her in an effort to get away from him. Somewhere inside, Adam knew that this behaviour meant that she really did want nothing to do with him. She must have had nothing to say to him.
Her letter had been quite enough.
But Adam's heart was ruling his head in that moment, and he needed to speak to her. Surely, she could not be so callous as to not even want to greet her old friend. They had been friends once.
Adam saw her back first. She was facing a closed door, trying to turn the handle, and appearing frustrated that it would not open. He first noticed that she had not grown very tall. Like her sisters, she was quite small in stature. She wore a plain, dark navy dress with a white apron tied around her waist. He could not see her hair for it was tucked underneath a white cap. Was it as long and wavy as Kate's? Adam immediately wanted to see it down.
She turned, not seeing him standing there, sucking in heavy breaths, and reached for the first door on her right, and found it, too, was locked. Once again, Adam was hit with the realisation that she was truly trying to hide from him.
But his thoughts were quite quickly eclipsed by the very fact that he was truly seeing her for the first time in twelve years. Lord, he had always thought her a pretty girl. Impossibly pretty. He would frequently get into trouble at school for staring at her and missing the answers when the vicar would call upon him.
He would be grateful in years to come that he had this opportunity to look on her again. Grace had grown into a truly beautiful, young woman. Her face was soft, and heart-shaped, with a lovely flush to her cheeks from the three flights of stairs she had just climbed. Her large, cornflower blue eyes found him the hallway, widening with shock. Adam wished he were closer. Her eyes used to look violet in low light and he wanted to know if that was still true.
Cornflower blue was still his favourite colour, even after all this time.
Her pink lips parted, and he heard her gasp. A few tendrils of her charcoal coloured hair had fallen out from under her cap, and they were framing her face perfectly.
"Grace," he said, his voice hoarse from panting. Adam suddenly realised that it was the first time in many years that he had said her name aloud.
And yet she said nothing. Not words escaped her parted lips, not even his name. She stared at him, half in shock, half in ... well, he honestly couldn't tell. Adam dared to take a few steps towards her.
Grace seemed to instinctively press herself up against the door, trying to move as far away from him as she possibly could. Adam could not pretend that he had not seen that, and he ceased his approach. Why was she so anxious to be away from him? Ought not he be the one to want to keep his distance?
His anger, his hurt, and his questions kept being pushed aside by his pure elation to be seeing her again. Adam was so glad to know her, to have a chance to know her. No matter what he had been through, what she had put him through, here he stood, ready to throw himself into the deep.
"How ... how are you?" he asked, nerves shaking his voice a little.
Grace shifted nervously on her feet; her hands pressed against the door behind her. "Well," was all she could muster in reply. Her eyes dropped, and Adam felt the urge to demand she looked at him, just so that he could see her eyes.
But her answer vexed him. Well. Was that all she could say? Was that all he deserved?
Grace focussed her stare at the ground in front of him, her shoulders rolling forward in a way that closed herself off. There was a sudden coldness to her, which was a word that he never would have used to describe the Grace he had known.
She truly did mean every word in that letter, and nothing had changed, not even after all this time. What he had been expecting, Adam really didn't know. But he couldn't stop himself from wanting to just speak to her again.
But this was the result. What had he done to deserve this?
"I am well, too. Thank you for asking," he said facetiously, and without thinking.
She looked up again, her eyes flashing to his as they narrowed. There was anger there, fire, and he could see something in her. She was holding her tongue, but she felt something. If it was anything other than an apology, he couldn't understand it.
Grace took a deep breath, then, and she calmed herself, composed herself, regaining the focussed coldness of a moment ago. Adam didn't like this about her. It annoyed him, really, that she had the nerve to be this way.
"Footmen see to the gentlemen," Grace then murmured. "You should have no need to speak with me. I am but a housemaid, so I am of no consequence to you."
Adam felt so shocked at her words that he needed to take a step back, feeling as though she had pushed him herself. "Really?" he repeated, his voice little more than a gasp. "I never imagined you to be a rude person, Grace. How things have changed." His teeth clenched.
"Rude?" retorted Grace, with as much resentment in her voice that he had ever heard. But she said nothing further. Once again, she swallowed her tongue and regained her composure, seemingly determined not to answer for herself.
Adam realised Grace would not apologise. She would not right the wrong she did him, and he was a damned fool to be standing in front of her, waiting for her to make it right. She wasn't his friend, and she certainly was not anything more than that.
What came next, Adam was not proud of. He did not like that he had been so determined to injure her in that moment, but it was as if he could not control his own tongue. "I am engaged," he said, in such a spiteful tone that he never knew he had. "Won't you congratulate me?" It was utterly ungentlemanlike, but he simply couldn't help it.
The blood drained from Grace's cheeks as shock spread across her face as she heard the news. She, again, said nothing, but the damage was done, and somehow, in some deep, horrid part of Adam that resented Grace Denham enormously, it made him feel better.
Adam turned on his heel and left her there, fuming as he walked. Lord, he was furious with her, and he knew that he would be angry at his own behaviour in time. But today was not that day.
Adam descended to the second floor and emerged out into the hallway that housed the family's bedrooms. After checking on Jack to make sure that he was still sleeping soundly, Adam knocked on Susanna's door, entering after he heard her soft greeting.
Susanna's bedroom was in disarray. Every possession that she owned seemed out on the floor as she organised what to put away in her trunk. The wardrobe doors were open and there was clothing everywhere. Some of the dresses Adam could remember Susanna wearing when she was a child.
"Why don't you ring for a maid to help you with this?" Adam asked her, before immediately chastising himself. What if Susanna followed his advice and Grace was sent to assist? He would certainly be making himself scarce.
"I haven't seen most of my things since I was seven," replied Susanna. "I am actually quite enjoying myself," she mused with a smile. She then looked up at Adam and her expression changed.
Adam realised he must not have had a very neutral look on his face.
"Adam, what is it?" she asked, concerned. She abandoned the gown that she was holding and stepped over the obstacles on her floor to reach him. She placed a comforting hand on his forearm.
Adam was very protective of his younger siblings. Naturally, as Susanna's elder brother, Adam would always watch over her, but he felt it necessary to ensure that Susanna was protected from many of the consequences of being a woman in her position. They need only look at their parent for the result of a marriage of convenience.
At nineteen, she was still divinely innocent, but she was not oblivious.
"Grace is here," Adam said simply, his voice annoyingly thick.
Susanna's green eyes fell with knowing and concern. There had been a time when Susanna had been desperate for Grace's approval. She would have done anything to be Grace's friend, and Adam had found her terribly annoying. Selfishly, he had wanted Grace for himself. As she had grown, Susanna had perceptively understood Adam's motivations during those times.
"Did she come to see you?" Susanna asked softly.
Adam exhaled sharply. "No," he replied. "She is a housemaid." And she had done the exact opposite of coming to see him. She had run from him. The thought made his blood boil. "She has nothing to say to me. Not even an apology."
Susanna knew everything, as did Jack. Adam had not been a pleasant person to be around for a while after Grace's letter had arrived. Susanna, at the time, had been disappointed that she would not be a proper bridesmaid, as only a little girl could be. As she had matured, she had been more tender, and cleverly never mentioned Grace again.
"Will you be alright, Adam?" she asked him quietly.
Adam managed a small smile for his sister. "Of course, I will be," he assured her. He was determined that he would never be so affected by Grace Denham again.
***
Adam might have walked right up to Grace and slapped her across the face. At least, that was what it had felt like once he had informed her of his engagement before stalking off away from her.
Grace was certainthat his confession of such a fact in that way was a deliberate attempt to wound her, and, by God, he had succeeded. A silent sob had escaped her chest in that moment as she had crumpled to the floor, the moment he was out of view.
What had she done to deserve such a reception? After all this time, and after everything he had put her through, that was how Adam had chosen to renew their acquaintance? But, she thought, there would be no acquaintance. That would be their only encounter, she was determined. The first and last meeting was done, and she would keep her promise to the Duchess. Adam was aware of her presence, though that was not her fault, but she would certainly be keeping her distance. And truthfully, after such a display, Grace had no desire to speak with Adam Beresford again.
That Sunday, Grace visited her mother, but told her nothing of meeting with Adam again. Mrs Denham was very worried for Grace as the news of the Beresfords returning to Ashwood had reached her.
"I do not see them, Mama," Grace said, which was truthful. The footmen served the family. The housemaids were kept out of sight.
Mrs Denham shook her head angrily. "Oh, if I were but going with you today, I would have something to say to that boy for treating my daughter so ill, I assure you!"
"Mama," calmed Grace, "really, we were children," she dismissed, perfectly convincing. "There need not be any more to it than that. Mrs Hayes is seeing to it that I am valued and perfectly busy at Ashwood House. I have little time to dwell on anything other than my duties."
Mrs Denham settled and tapped Grace's hand affectionately. "You are such a good girl, Grace," she said, her voice thickening. "Off you go." She shooed her. "You do not want to be late."
Grace leaned over and kissed her mother's forehead before leaving her bedroom. "Peter!" she called. "Jemmy! Are you ready?" Grace's younger brother's both emerged from their bedroom dressed in their Sunday best, Peter quickly helping to adjust young Jem's collar.
"I do not see why we should have to go if Mama cannot go," complained Jem.
Grace's eyes narrowed as she smirked. The sun was out. Her twelve-year-old brother would far rather run about with his friends than sit for an hour and listen to a sermon. "Hush," she scolded, before combing his unkempt dark hair through with her fingers.
Claire was dressed in her best gown as well, dark hair up, and bonnet atop her head. The four siblings went down the stairs one by one and out the door, calling their farewells to their mother.
Every one of their neighbours was out and about on their way to the church for the morning service. The church was in the centre of the village, a gorgeous stone building with a tall belltower that rang out as it beckoned the flock.
Kate and Jim were already seated when they arrived, and Grace filed her siblings in the pew. Claire seemed to linger, looking around as subtly as she could manage for someone, whom Grace knew to be Arthur Slickson. He was seated beside Grace's old mistress, Mrs Slickson, and not paying any attention to Claire. Grace ushered her down, before taking a seat herself on the end. The church was quickly filling, and Grace smiled to several of the servants from Ashwood House that she now thought of as friendly acquaintances, if not her friends. Ruby was sitting with a few of the other housemaids in her Sunday best, and she waved kindly at Grace.
The hum of friendly conversation in the church silenced as one final party joined the congregation. Grace, as did everyone else, turned her head back to see who had joined them.
The duke walked down the aisle, the duchess on his arm. He looked perfectly indifferent, but she walked with her nose in their air, as though she were trying to appear taller than those she passed. Behind them was Adam, with Lady Susanna on his arm. Susanna had a kind smile on her sweet face as she passed the congregation, and Adam seemed to admire this in his sister. No sooner had Grace willed herself to look down, Adam's eyes found her for the briefest of moments.
But he looked away a moment later and passed her without a second glance. Grace swallowed loudly.
Jack walked behind his family, looking as though he wished he were anywhere else. Despite looking as though he didn't want to be there, he was dressed decidedly better than the last time Grace had seen him. He indeed looked handsome when sober, and not ill with drink.
The Beresfords took their places in the front, elevated box, that had stood empty for twelve years, looking as though they had never left. Grace didn't even realise that she was looking over at them before Claire took her hand in comfort.
Grace smiled at her sister, and squeezed her hand, forcing herself to concentrate as the vicar took his place at the altar.
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Hope you enjoyed it!! I know I left you guys on an awful cliffhanger last chapter and I'm sorry you had to wait a whole week to find out what happened. I tried to write a little bit each night this week to get it up earlier but it just didn't happen. I was just too tired.
I don't know what's wrong with me at the moment. I'm just emotionally fried. Absolutely dead. Working from home, teaching online, just everything is getting to me. We preach about wellbeing for our students but we honestly are not taking care of ourselves and I don't know how to. Like, I can't take a break from my work because it still needs to get done. I can't do less, because the work still has to be done. We are so good at putting on a show for when we're online with our kids and the minute we sign off, it's like a crash back down to earth.
I can't stop crying at the tiniest little things. It's so annoying! Even happy things. I saw this video on Facebook of this girls football team who learned their team song in sign language so their hearing impaired player could join in and, you guys, I WAS SOBBING!
I just can't wait to go back to school. I got an email last night that I wouldn't have seen until Monday had my office not been in my dining room and it just set me off. We are working so freaking hard, and a little appreciation would go a LONG way sometimes. We work so hard and then one tiny insignificant little nudgy negative comment sets you off.
I know schools in the Northern Hemisphere are going back soon, so if you are a teacher, I am thinking of you and wishing you all the luck in the world.
If you are a parent homeschooling, send your child's teacher an email, I implore you, and recognise them for something, even if it's tiny. The need it. They're fried and broken, but will spread themselves to their thinnest layer so your child sees a smiling, happy face on their computer screen.
But parents, trust me, we see you as well, and know it's not easy.
Anyway, that's where I've been this week.
But in other news, "The Reluctant Marchioness" joined the Paid Story program this week, and I am so thankful for the positive reception, not that I ever receive anything but love from you guys. I seriously, seriously needed that this week, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Tomorrow is Sunday, and then it will be Monday again, and we'll do it all again. I will get online, I will smile, and joke, and make my kids laugh so they know that when they come to see me every morning, they know it's their safe, happy space. And when I log off, I will probably cry, but I will fix my damn makeup and film lessons for them from my dining room table and soldier on.
Teachers, we've got this.
Deep breath.