Charles nodded once.
“A temporary victory born of surprise,” he said. “That involved no real military structure.”
William leaned forward.
“But her symbolic value outweighs her tactical failures,” he said. “In cultural history, symbols often outlive the facts.”
Catherine noticed Sophia flipping through a small leather notebook, her fingers gliding along the pages until she paused.
“We catalogued a brooch last year bearing the Iceni pattern in the northern fields,” she said. “The decorative flourishes align with descriptions from second-century commentaries, which may reflect evolving Roman views of tribal aesthetics.”
Marcus turned to her, clearly intrigued.
“You made a drawing of it?” he asked.
The young woman nodded.
“Yes. I sketched it carefully, and I brought the portfolio with me. If you wish, I can show it after dinner.”
Marcus gave a genuine smile for the first time since their guests arrived. It brightened his face so much that Catherine almost forgot he had spectacles.
“Very much,” he said.
Catherine allowed her ear to remain tuned to the scholarly exchange, even as her eye tracked the rhythm of the servants. The fish course was set down without a clatter, and the wine refreshed with quiet efficiency.
At her side, Beatrice regarded her with an expression of growing approval.
“You manage the room well, Lady Penwood,” she said. “Few new hostesses escape their first evening without at least one mishap.”
Catherine inclined her head with a modest smile. The evening was still young, and she knew there was ample time for some small error to arise, but she refused to dwell on the possibility. Instead, she chose composure, answering only with quiet grace.
“It is thanks to Mrs Thornberry and the servants,” she said humbly.
Beatrice waved away her modesty with her hand.
“And to your own impressive, calm sense of command,” she said.
Catherine looked toward Marcus, who had just leaned toward James to ask something about burial mounds in northern Gaul. There was a quiet ease in his demeanour that had not been there a fortnight ago.
When he saw her looking, he gave her an imperceptible nod and the smallest of smiles.
Eleanor turned toward Catherine across the table.
“Did you assist with the research displayed in the library?” she asked. “The categorisation shows a firm hand.”
Catherine nodded.
“We worked together,” she said. “Marcus’s knowledge guided the content, but I helped organise the materials.”
Eleanor gave the other women a knowing look.
“It shows,” she said. “You have an instinct for it.”
Catherine felt warmth rise in her chest at the sincere approval. She had not expected to care so deeply about the opinions of these people, yet their regard carried weight. It was not for her alone that she wished to succeed, but for Marcus also.
William raised his glass.
“To the Lady and Lord of Penwood, for their hospitality, and for assembling such a formidable company,” he said.
