Page 26

“ G ood morning, Your Grace,” Penelope greeted lightly in the grounds the next morning. “I see that you decided to accept my invitation.”

“Invitation is putting it politely,” Alexander inclined his head in greeting. “I was under the impression that the excursion is mandatory.”

“I am glad that you take my invitations so seriously,” Penelope teased. “But jest aside, it is a lovely day out today and it would do you good to get some activity as well.”

“Where is Odette?” Alexander asked, looking around. The estate grounds were vast, stretching as far as the eye could see.

“She could not wait,” Penelope gestured over to where she was . She was trying to keep her balance despite waggling unsteadily in her saddle. “The horses seem eager enough as well.”

Alexander arched his brow in amusement, waving over to Odette to join them.

“Odette,” he drawled to his daughter, “You are perched so elegantly on that saddle. It seems that the lessons Penelope has been giving you are working wonderfully.”

“Father,” she answered, rolling her eyes at his sarcasm, “if I ride any worse, I might scare the horses.”

She shifted in the saddle, attempting a more ladylike posture, and raised one slender hand to steady herself. “I am out of form this morning, it seems. Perhaps it because I had to wake up so early.”

“Early morning is the right time to ride,” Alexander said, mounting his own mare. “In the olden days, we used to ride at dawn and return only by the evening. Every time we fell off the horse, we would have to brush off the hurt and get back on there again.”

It was the little things that Alexander said that made Penelope understand why Odette turned out the way she did; and why it was so important for her to have a female presence in her life.

“Alexander,” she nudged him from her own horse gently, “do be gentle with her. It is not the olden times anymore, and nor does Odette need to ride at dawn to become proficient at horse-riding.”

“Would you rather my daughter never learns to ride properly?” Alexander turned slightly in his saddle, his brow shooting up in challenge.

“Of course not,” Penelope retorted. “But there are more gentle ways to convey information. She is hardly a soldier in training that horse-riding would be such an important skill for her to have.”

“Lessons are best learned the hard way,” Alexander let out a dry huff, eyes fixed ahead.

“Not when you’re fourteen,” she said firmly, reining her horse a little closer to his. “At fourteen, one needs encouragement. Not the fear of failure.”

He didn’t reply immediately. But Penelope knew that he would have a reaction to her word. She kept her gaze fixed sharply onto him. And then she caught what he muttered under his breath.

“That wasn’t the case for me.”

Penelope’s spine straightened. Once again, she found herself softening towards him.

“Exactly. That’s why you must change your ways,” she said, “If we do not change ourselves, then we risk transferring the same traumas we endured onto the next generation.”

The conversation had taken an unexpected serious turn. Odette, who was barely keeping up with what was being said, trailed beside them.

“What are the both of you whispering about?” she scrunched her nose in confusion.

“Nothing, dear,” Penelope smiled at her. “Your father was just acknowledging the rather wonderful job you have done with your horse-riding, and how you will be one of the best riders one day.”

Odette looked at Penelope in astonishment, and then at her father.

“Did you really say that?”

Alexander hesitated, then he glanced at Penelope. “Yes, well… I did imply something of the sort.”

Penelope stifled a laugh, biting her lip.

“I knew it,” Odette beamed, clearly thrilled.She sat taller in her saddle. “You see? I told Apollo I was improving.”

“Remind me to commend the dog later for his wisdom.”

Odette fastened her horse until she was a few paces ahead of them, her riding now more confident. Alexander watched her carefully.

“She seems to have improved a great deal only in a few moments,” Alexander said, surprised, and then looked at Penelope for an answer.

“See what a little encouragement can do?” Penelope smiled knowingly. “It is like magic.”

“Is that your secret?” Alexander asked. “A gentle prod of encouragement.”

“You can see for yourself just how well it works,” Penelope shrugged. “Can you blame me?”

“No, I cannot,” Alexander mused. “But perhaps I can learn from you.”

Penelope turned to look at him, genuinely surprised. “You? Learn from me?” she repeated, as if the concept was entirely novel.

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I plan to,” she said sweetly.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to make fewer admissions going forward.”

“Shame,” she mused, “You were becoming almost tolerable.”

Just then, Odette bobbed back into view. Apollo followed her, his ears flopping in joy.

“Goodbye both of you,” Odette sang out. “Apollo and I are off to find a picnic basket.”

With a grin, she gave her mare a little kick, Apollo scurrying alongside. Penelope watched them go, amused.

“I will never understand how she can vanish like that,” Alexander murmured with a shake of his head, his gaze following his daughter’s retreating form. “She’s like a kitten that always finds a new corner of the house to explore.”

“She’ll be back before long,” she said gently. “It’s Odette’s way to roam and return. Are you troubled that she’s gone off on her own like this?”

“Not when we are within the bounds of the estate,” he replied, “Ever since she was a toddler, Odette’s mind and feet have been set on adventure.” He turned his horse in a little circle to face Penelope fully. “Besides, you are here to keep me company.”

“Oh, I can imagine that you would grow terribly bored without me,” Penelope teased him.

They set off again, riding through a soft silence. Odette’s and Apollo’s laughter still echoed faintly in the air, as they were still in the distance.

Penelope’s thoughts drifted. I am enjoying this, she thought to herself.

“Your Grace,” Penelope broke the silence. “May I ask you something?”

“Go on,” he mused, though there was a flicker of curiosity in his voice.

“You have never spoken about Odette’s mother before,” Penelope chose her words carefully. For reasons she could not justify, she did not wish to use the word wife. “Now that I am getting to understand her better, I think I would like to know more about her. Only if you wish to tell me.”

Alexander drew a breath and settled more firmly in his saddle. “Is that really something you wish to speak of this early in the morning?”

“Yes,” Penelope’s response was immediate. “It would help me understand things better.”

“Very well,” he began. “Her name was Helena.”

“Helena,” Penelope repeated. It was hard for her to fathom that the position she occupied today once belonged to another. It would be wrong to be jealous of a woman who was no longer here, but Penelope could not fight the creeping feeling.

“She was… my first wife.” He swallowed, and Penelope noticed his hands tighten slightly on the reins. “I was twenty when I married her. My father insisted, though, and made it clear to me that I did not have much of a choice.”

Penelope listened without interrupting.

“Later I realized that it was because he needed funds, and Helena’s dowry promised to set us on firmer ground. I agreed to the arrangement,” he admitted and then with a wince, “She had reasons of her own for marrying me.”

“May I ask you what those reasons were?” Penelope asked, though she could barely find her voice from how tight her throat felt.

“She…” Alexander continued quietly, “she came from a family that I won’t trouble you with—they were cruel and spiteful, and Helena needed to escape from them.”

“Oh. ” She had not expected to hear that answer. Somehow, it humanized her in Penelope’s eyes.

“We came to an arrangement. She would give me an heir,” Alexander said. “And that after the child’s birth we would live mostly separate lives. I would take care of the estate , she would go her own way. She had her home in London, her friends; I had mine here. It suited us at the time.”

Penelope was too afraid to ask how she ended up losing her life. She decided that it must be a difficult thing for Alexander to speak of, as well. It was better if he was the one to bring it up.

So she waited.

For a moment, they only rode in silence. Perhaps Alexander was organizing his own thoughts, and feelings. She could not blame him nor did she wish to push.

“She went into early labor,” he started again, a slight husk to his voice now. “There were more issues than expected, and much uncertainty about whether she would be able to deliver the child.”

“Alexander,” The words slipped out of Penelope’s mouth before she could stop herself. It was the first time she had referenced him using his name.

He seemed to be lost in his own world though.

“I remember it was early in the morning when the midwife came to me,” he admitted. “She told me that I was the father to a girl. But Helena had not survived the birth.”

Penelope gasped.

“She died giving birth to Odette. There was nothing I or anyone could do.” His voice wavered on the final words.

Tears sprang to Penelope’s eyes.

“I am so, so sorry. She was brave. To bring life into the world...” Her voice broke. “Odette is a wonder, Alexander. You should be proud.”

“I’ve often wondered what would have happened if things were different. If she had lived... I think she and I might have been friends,” Alexander admitted softly.

Penelope felt a lump in her throat. She remembered her own mother, whom she had lost so long ago; how it felt to carry a fragment of someone inside you.

“She would have been proud of Odette,” Penelope said softly.

“She would be happy to know her daughter loves these woods, and that she has you, Alexander.”

“Helena,” he said in a near whisper, “if she had lived, I know she would have been proud of how you care for Odette now. You have given Odette more love and happiness than I ever could alone.”

Penelope took a breath. “Do you really think so?” she asked. “Do you truly believe Helena would approve of me?”

“I think so,” Alexander mused. “She had little interest in being a married couple, so it is not as though she would have taken any issue with you.”

Penelope tried to imagine what things would be like if Helena was still here. By all probability, it would have meant that she would never had married Alexander.

“Fate had other plans then,” Penelope sighed.

It took her a moment to speak again.

“I suppose I understand what it means to lose a mother before one is ready.” She looked down at the reins in her hands. “Mine passed when I was quite young. I don’t remember all that much. Just the feeling that... things were quieter after.”

“It wasn’t spoken about much in our house,” she continued, “But it was always something that hung in the air. I suppose that is why I am able to understand Odette so well, because I know what it feels like to grow up with an ache you can’t quite name.”

Alexander looked at her for a long moment. “I’ve done my best to fill the spaces Helena left behind. But I know I haven’t always succeeded.”

“You’ve done more than most would,” Penelope replied softly. “But we can only learn as we go through it, not before.”

“I don’t know how you manage to do this,” Alexander muttered under his breath. “But you have this uncanny ability to make the heaviest of things feel light.”

Penelope did not know what to make of it, but she felt a warmth spread in her chest at his words. It was nice to be acknowledged.

“But enough dwelling on the past,” Alexander said firmly. “I would much rather enjoy the morning.”

“You do not need to tell me twice,” Penelope nodded, racking her brain for a change of topic, “Isadora wrote this very morning that she expects the two of us at her estate for dinner next week.”

“Oh?”

“The invitation was very kind. I should like to go. It would please Isadora, and I think it would do me good to mingle beyond these trees.”

“Then we shall go,” Alexander affirmed.

Odette trotted up, carrying a basket. “We found the picnic basket. Everything’s ready,” she announced proudly. “Sandwiches, lemonade, even sugar cakes.”

Penelope looked at Alexander, and then dissolved into laughter. It was the ideal end to their morning ride.