“Thomas, you are being ridiculous,” the older woman said. Thomas glanced between them and then sank into his chair slightly.
Genevieve looked at her.
Lady Harrington looked up. Their eyes met for a moment—just a moment—before the older women returned to her plate.
"I understand Mr. Hartley believes it will be a good year for the south pasture," Genevieve said. "Given the rainfall."
"Hartley is usually right about the south pasture," Thomas said.
"Yes."
The candles threw their light across the tablecloth. Someone's fork touched a plate. Outside, faintly, the wind blew, whistling past the window ledges.
Lady Harrington set down her knife.
"Do you know," she said, in the tone of someone making a casual observation, "I have been trying to remember what we argued about at dinner in February."
Thomas looked at her.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You and Genevieve. It was something to do with the library. Whether the Fielding ought to be moved to the upper shelf or whether that was absurd on principle." Lady Harrington picked up her wine glass. "You were both quite decided. I believe I was accused of having no opinion, which I resented."
A silence.
"I have an opinion about the library," Genevieve said carefully.
"Yes." The older woman looked at her. "I remember."
Thomas was looking at Genevieve now. She could feel it without turning to meet it, the quality of his attention, the stillness of it.
She reached for her wine.
"The Fielding should stay where it is," she said. "Moving it would be giving in."
"Giving in to what?" Thomas said.
"To the argument that height equals importance. Which is wrong."
"The books on the upper shelf are more valuable."
"Some of them. But value is not the only organizing principle, and if you arrange a library by value alone you end up with something that's impressive and completely useless to actually read in." She heard herself, the rhythm of it, the slight edge, and something loosened in her chest, briefly, uncomfortably. "Which rather defeats the purpose."
Thomas was quiet for a moment.
"The Fielding stays," he sighed.
"I know."
Across the table, Lady Harrington had resumed eating. Her expression was neutral. But the furrow between her brows was gone.
Genevieve set down her glass and said nothing else for a while. Neither did anyone else. But the silence was different now. Less a tense absence of sound. More just three people who had ended a conversation.
She looked down at her plate again.
She had no appetite.
Chapter 27