“One way to care for her, you meant,” her father said. “Didn’t have hope for marriage, did you?”
Elizabeth couldn’t take it; she couldn’t.
She said what she needed to; this was all up to Drystan and her father now. She’d…simply stare out the window. Yes, that’s what she would do: stare out the window, and if it wasn’t happy tidings, she’d hide her tears and perhaps hide her intentions to run away with Drystan. Run right out of this room and—
“All these years…the lashes you took.” Her father’s voice changed again. She’d never heard such a tone. Contemplative and something else. What was it? She probably could turn around and see what it was, but no, she said she’d look out the window, and she meant it.
“All the suggestions about changing the land,” he continued, “weren’t for you… It was for her. I wish I would have seen, or someone would have told me. I wish…I could never understand your motivation, always so perfect and generous. You were simply loyal, honorable, and all for my daughter.”
Drystan remained quiet, or maybe he nodded his head, she didn’t know. She could turn around, and…
“Well,” her father said, “she told me her feelings on this, but I don’t want any mistakes or misunderstandings or jests. Do you want her hand, is that what you’ve been implying all these years with—”
“Yes!” Shouting out, Elizabeth spun around, utter joy singing through her, only to face men who stared right back at her. Her father’s expression was utter exasperation, but Drystan winked.
“I think he was waiting to ask,” her father said.
“I don’t like to wait,” she informed him.
“Like you didn’t wait for that first Christmas dessert,” her soon-to-be husband said.
“When she ruined the dessert?” Galoncryf said. “How long have I been blind! Tell us. Do you want her, because I couldn’t ask for a finer husband for her.”
“More than any Christmas pudding.”
Her father slapped his thighs, stood, shook Drystan’s hand. “That’s settled then, and I’m content you know what you’re in for.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Drystan said.
Her father eyed them thoroughly. “Don’t believe I’ll encourage a long betrothal, though. Your mother won’t be pleased, but it’s probably for the best.”
It was. Laughing, Elizabeth kept her eyes on Drystan, who looked like he wanted to wink.
With his hand on the door latch, her father said, “Elizabeth.”
She turned to him. His eyes were misty. There was a great softness about him that she had never seen before.
“I played a bit of games in my youth. Wasn’t as clever to put frogs in a bed, but mice definitely went into the pantry.”
Stunned, Elizabeth could only stare at the man whom she thought never understood why she did what she did. The thrill, the laughter. The shared friendship.
“I’d forgotten how much fun they were, could only remember my tutors’ lectures and punishments,” he said gruffly and cleared his throat. “Will you ever forgive me?”
On a cry, she hugged her father. Startled, it took a moment for him to wrap his arms around her.
“Nothing to forgive,” she said. “Except now you need to give me some suggestions.”
Drystan groaned.
“You’ve got a good one there.” Chuckling, her father gave her a few pats on the back before he stepped back and looked to Drystan. “See you tomorrow in the stables? I’d like to see the land as you talk to me about what you intend to do”’
Drystan gave a curt nod, which her father returned before he closed the door.
The sudden quiet was deafening. Elizabeth turned to Drystan, who stood as still as she.
Had they ever been in a room together, just the two of them, uninterrupted? Only last night in the kitchens.
“You have to know that proposal wasn’t good enough,” she said.
