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It was not gentle, but it was good.
A year is such an odd packet of time. It seems so ordered: a dozen months, a handful of seasons. Deceptively even. Make no mistake, it will go awry every which way. Balance? Impossible. Control? Not worth mentioning the word. Some days cling and others run, many shifting just enough to incommode but give no great variety. And then out of the pedestrian blue comes an explosion which reduces all plans to smithereens. The reward for making it through? Getting to do it again. For good or ill.
“Can’t I wait as you rebind it?” “It isn’t my preferred method,” Chambers stated. “My life isn’t always my preferred method, and yet here I am, day in and day out.”
“Sometimes we are too sad to trust in anything, even happiness,”
“We know what we are, but know not what we may be,”
And the Shakespeare was so very grounding, I decided right then and there that, should my courage ever fail me, I would kidnap Hawkes, take him to a faraway place, and make him quote Shakespeare all the day long.
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” “I shan’t.” “But neither should you let it in the gates,”
Hawkes, sitting in the chair behind Islington’s desk, one foot crossed over his knee, was reading. He looked up at me, then went back to his book.
Lmao the way he knows is so good
“Most of us are afraid of the shadow our destiny casts. He didn’t seem to be.”
YOU LOOKED CHARMING THE OTHER NIGHT, BUT NOT AS CHARMING AS YOU LOOK NOW IN YOUR WINDOW. I WOULD MAKE A TERRIBLE SAINT.
Ok I’m still rooting for Hawkes as endgame, but is it so very wrong to be along for the ride? I’m quite enjoying this little romance
“They seemed to hold Pierce responsible for something. I couldn’t quite make out what.
Bruh. Is this a Fruits Basket situation where he’s somehow, indirectly responsible for Maxwell’s death?
'How blest the Maid whose heart—yet free from Love’s uneasy sovereignty—beats with a fancy running high, Her simple cares to magnify.'”
“Is she lovely?” It was as if I’d thrown a pebble into a deep, deep pond. Internal stillness encountering mild surprise. This ripple caused a change only in his eyes. Which might very well be Hawkes for besotted. Or surprise at my lack of manners. Really, how is one to know?
Ahhh because he’s in love with YOU, EMMA
“But I hope she is. For you are lovely, Hawkes.” Again, only the slightest ripple of a response. “She is,” he replied in all sincerity, like a string of white clouds in a blue sky. I nodded. “How wonderful for you.” He looked right at me. Smiled. His bearing shifted. And I could see—I knew—Hawkes was about to perform one of his disappearing acts—the kind where he would simply walk away.
BECAUSE YOU ARE LOVELY. BECAUSE HE IS IN LOVE WITH YOU. OBVIOUSLY.
If they roll over in their graves, they can thank us for the exercise.”
One of these days I’m going to jab your ribs in retribution. All sanctioned by God, of course. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, and all that.” “Have you not read the New Testament?” “You and I are fixed squarely in the Law of Moses.”
“Would she—?” he quietly asked himself. “She?” A single tsk. Then, “Never you mind.”
“When Hawkes wants to tell you, Hawkes will tell you.” “One of these days we will all gather in Baron’s Square to stone you,” I said. “What, you and your bloodthirsty Old Testament penchants?” “Precisely. If your Islington offends you, cut him off.”
No, St. Crispian’s is not mine alone. And alone is not what Victoria Braithwaite should be now.
If this be the case, we will see how soon our handsome and elusive duke notices that his young ward is very pretty.” “That is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard,” Islington stated. “Emma is very pretty,” Hawkes said quietly. “Why, thank you, Hawkes.” His returning smile was quiet.
How am I supposed to root for Pierce when there is Hawkes??
Bavarian cream, What angle could you possibly be working with this scheme? Jack
The pet name getting progressively more ridiculous has me CACKLING
I’ve just realised the purpose of Hawkes’s candle. It is the twenty-third.
He’s the Best. It’s just the fact of the matter, I think.
“You cannot think I’m not owed an explanation,” I pressed. And then my dratted voice betrayed me as it cracked along a line of my heart. “You, of all people.” Hawkes closed his eyes, as if the sound caused him pain. He bent his head, released the slowest of breaths, and looked up. “You have every right, Miss Lion.”
I am utterly in love with this man. And I am still praying that she is too. One day.
And that he’s in love with her.
Is that too much to ask?
I remembered where I had seen her. Twelfth Night in Knightsbridge, when she came to claim Oberon on his throne.
GASP.
Wait ok two opposing theories:
1. This is Hannah, and Oberon was not Hawkes but was actually Islington. Not as likely, but delicious all the same.
2. This is the woman with pear perfume, and Oberon was, in fact, Hawkes. This would play into the “forbidden love” and “forced aloofness” that he has.
Sigh.
She surveyed the room. She seemed to be looking for someone. She was disappointed.
LOOKING FOR ISLINGTON???
OOoooh I can’t wait for my theory to be proven (right or wrong) upon their mutual presence at A Later Date.
“That’s the nephew and his new wife. There’s a son as well, no idea where he is…”
AHHHHH WHO
I and this mystery, here we stand.
