“I would do it again,” Temperance said, grinning. “That cat was a gentleman. He brought the broom mice. What more could she want?”
“Less dust,” Maria said, and they all broke out in laughter.
The knock at the door came just as they calmed. A footman leaned in.
“Miss Havenford….Mrs. Walsh asks whether you would try the lemon tart before she sends for more lemons.”
“See,” Prudence whispered. “God loves us.”
They went in a gaggle to the small dining room to do their duty by lemon tarts. It seemed to Maria that the house had grown kinder as the day went on, as if walls could approve of plans even when hearts argued about them.
After, Temperance was claimed by the dressmaker to carry boxes, and Charity went to confer with Violet about seating. Prudence lingered with Maria in the corridor, letting the bustle move past them until they were a quiet island in a busy sea.
“Will you truly not run?” Prudence asked, voice low.
“I will not,” Maria said, and this time the saying of it didn’t feel like surrender. It felt like a choice she could own. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“If he is still absent?”
“I’ll send for him,” Maria said, startling herself with the decision. “Or I’ll wait until he appears and then trap him by a lemon tree. I’m good at trees.”
Prudence smiled. “You are. And if he says something clever and unhelpful?”
“I will say something plain and impossible to mishear,” Maria said. “I’m learning.”
“You are.” Prudence squeezed her shoulder. “And if you need me to stand in the next room and cough when you are about to be unkind, I will.”
“I am always about to be unkind,” Maria said.
“Then we’ll need a pitcher of water, because I will cough often.”
They stood together a moment longer. The thunder of the household kept time for them. Somewhere, Nicholas barked a laugh that echoed down the stairwell; somewhere, Violet’s voice turned chaos into order. Home, then, for now. Soon, another home. She could manage the idea in small pieces.
“I’m still angry,” Maria said, because Prudence deserved the truth.
“Good,” Prudence said. “You’ll use it to be clear.”
“And I still think he is….” Maria flailed for a word that didn’t insult a person she was about to marry. “Complicated.”
“He is,” Prudence agreed. “So are you. I look forward to watching you trouble each other into being better.”
“That sounds exhausting,” Maria said.
“It will be,” Prudence said cheerfully. “But you will not be bored.”
Maria blew out a breath. “Fine.”
Prudence tilted her head. “The other thing?”
“What other thing?”
“The look,” Prudence said softly. “You have not said it, but you’ve been remembering it all morning. What did you see?”
Maria’s mouth went dry. She hated the part of herself that wanted to tell it. She told it anyway because Prudence had never used the truth to hurt her. “He looked at me like I was not a problem to solve, just for a second. Like I was…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. He left.”