“I brought this.”
Catherine accepted it without speaking. The velvet was worn smooth at the corners, and she knew, even before she opened it,what it must contain. Lifting the lid, she found the pearls nestled within, their soft lustre catching the light. Her mother had worn them on every Christmas, at every important dinner, in every portrait sitting. They had not been seen in years.
Her throat tightened.
“I thought they were lost,” she said, struggling to swallow a sob.
Thomas squeezed her shoulder gently as she studied the heirloom fondly.
“I kept them,” he said. “I could not bring myself to let them go. But they belong to you now.”
She touched the pearls. They felt cool and familiar beneath her fingers.
“They belonged to Mother,” she said, more to herself than to her brother. “Are you certain you wish to give them to me?”
Thomas cleared his throat, clearly sharing his sister’s emotional torrent.
“She would want you to wear them today,” he said. He reached forward and took the necklace from its case. Catherine turned to allow him to clasp it to her neck. His hands moved gently, the latch clicking into place with a quiet finality.
“She would be proud of you,” he said, breaking the solemn silence. “She always said you had her mind.”
Catherine placed a hand over the necklace.
“She also said you had her stubbornness,” she said, closing her eyes to hold back her tears.
Thomas laughed softly.
“She meant it kindly,” he said.
They shared a quiet smile before Thomas’s expression grew serious.
“I want you to know this is not how I pictured your future,” he said. “I had hoped for more time to secure a better arrangement. Yet this suits you in a way I had not foreseen. I feared the opportunity might be lost, had I delayed. I only hope you can forgive my haste.”
Catherine met his eyes steadily.
“I chose it,” she said. “I might have refused. Nothing prevented me from declining his offer. The decision was mine, Brother. You forced nothing upon me.”
Thomas inclined his head, though his gaze slipped aside.
“I know,” he admitted. “And I admire you for it. You could have remained here with Priscilla and me—no one would have questioned it. You managed our household better than I ever did. You might have continued on in comfort, in safety.”
Catherine touched his cheek with gentle affection.
“I wanted more than comfort,” she said. “And you knew it—that is why you offered me the choice. I am nothing but grateful to you, Thomas.”
He swallowed, visibly relieved, though a shadow of remorse lingered in his eyes.
“You chose a man who respects your intellect,” he said. “That is no small thing—especially among our peers.”
Catherine nodded. However else her life might unfold as Lady Penwood, at least she need never conceal her intelligence.
“No,” she said softly. “It certainly is not.”
Thomas drew a steadier breath, reassured.
“I saw how he listened to you last week,” he recalled. “That discussion in the library—about the Saxon burial site. He deferred to your judgment without hesitation.”
Catherine’s smile touched her eyes.
