Page 18 of To Hunt the Hunter

It was for the best.

“Are you all right, miss?”

Matilda looked up, realising too late she’d barely spoken a word to Sarah and had been staring into the far distance for some time, though she was ready to go down.

“I beg your pardon, I’m afraid I was wool gathering.” Matilda began pulling on her gloves, shaking herself from thoughts of the bleak prospect awaiting her.

“He kissed you, didn’t he?” the girl said with a wistful smile. “Was it lovely?”

Matilda didn’t even blush this time. She just gave a soft laugh and nodded.

“Yes,” she said, realising how ridiculously inadequate the description was. “It was certainly lovely.”

Sarah gave a happy sigh and hugged herself, no doubt filling her head with visions of living at Dern and being a lady’s maid to a marchioness. Matilda had neither the heart nor the energy to remind her she was living in a dream world. Not when she was there too, right beside her. The only difference was, Matilda knew it was a fantasy, and in the morning, she would have a rude awakening.

She opened the door to find Phoebe waiting for her.

“At last,” she said, grinning at Matilda and running to take her hand. “Oh, my. What a beautiful dress. It’s the same colour blue as your eyes, you know. You do look pretty.”

“Thank you, and I must return the compliment. How lovely you look. You’ll be a great beauty one day.”

Phoebe nodded. “I know. Uncle said so too. Is it nice, being beautiful?”

Matilda laughed a little at that. “Well, yes. I suppose it is. Though I think you will by far exceed me. Your poor uncle will be beset by your admirers.”

Phoebe shrugged, apparently unimpressed with this idea. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I shan’t marry anyone. Uncle would be so sad if I left him alone. I couldn’t bear it.”

“Oh, but he won’t be alone by the time you’re grown up.” Somehow, Matilda kept her voice light, though the words threatened to choke her. “He’ll get married soon, and then you’ll have lots of little cousins to play with. So, you see, he won’t be alone.”

A belligerent expression settled upon the child’s delicate features. Matilda’s scolded herself for the surge of pleasure it gave her to know Phoebe wanted her here, and not one of the prospective brides on Lucian’s list.

“He doesn’t want to marry any of those stupid women, and they won’t want me here. I’ll just be in the way. They’ll just end up arguing over me because Uncle will want me to stay and his new wife will want me gone, and with good reason, for I shan’t like them. If he marries any one of them, we shall all be miserable.”

“Phoebe,” Matilda began, knowing she must do something, say something to ease the poor girl’s heart.

“No.” Phoebe stamped her foot and stared up at Matilda. “I’m not blind. I know he loves you, and you love him, and you should be married to each other. It’s so stupid. Who cares about a name? They’re all dead! They’re all dead! Mother and Father are dead, but he’s not dead, and neither are you.”

Matilda got to her knees and hugged Phoebe tightly, feeling her little frame trembling with emotion. “I’m so sorry, Phoebe. I know it must seem very stupid to you. Indeed, it is stupid. There are so many things about life that are cruel and unfair, but there are lots of lovely things too. Don’t make yourself hate someone before you’ve even met them. I’m sure whoever your uncle marries will be someone you’ll like. After all, if he likes her well enough to marry her, you are bound to like her too.”

Phoebe made a sound of quiet rage but said nothing. Matilda sighed, wishing this were not so dreadfully hard. She tried again.

“Besides which, your uncle does not love me, not well enough to marry me. We are just friends, good friends. That’s all.”

Phoebe fumbled for a handkerchief, retrieving one from the sleeve of her dress. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose before sending Matilda a look of such pitying disbelief, Matilda might have laughed if the circumstances were otherwise.

“Come along,” Phoebe said, her voice terse, though making it obvious that this conversation was not over.

Matilda followed obediently, wishing Phoebe was a little less perceptive, and hoping fervently that they’d manage the rest of the evening without any further incident.

***

Phoebe simmered all the way through dinner. She suspected her uncle was quite aware of her mood, as he’d dismissed all the staff as soon as the meal had been served. No doubt he didn’t want them witnessing a scene. For the moment she was too cross to speak, so she just ate and pretended that she was behaving herself whilst concocting all manner of ways to keep Matilda at Dern. She considered creeping into Matilda’s bedroom and painting her with spots so everyone thought she had measles, but reflected that these would wash off too easily and be unconvincing. She thought then about finding something in the medical cupboard to make her sick, or sleepy, but that was obviously far too dangerous. That was a shame, for if it was like in Sleeping Beauty it would be terribly romantic, but life was never like it was in fairy stories and she wasn’t such a ninny as to believe it was.

Next, she considered setting all the horses free so there would none to draw Matilda’s carriage, but Phoebe would never get past all the grooms without someone seeing her, so that was no good. The best idea she had was to lock Matilda in her room and hide the key. The doors were solid oak and the locks very strong indeed. It would take some time to set her free. That was only a short term solution, though, and one that would get her into a lot of trouble, but it was the best she had at present, and it would give her time to think.

“What are you plotting, miss?”

Phoebe looked up and found her uncle watching her. Drat. He always knew when she was up to mischief. He had the kind of impenetrable gaze that made you want to squirm in your seat, like he knew exactly what you were thinking. She’d had plenty of practise at meeting it, however, and though she never lied to him, she did not think she needed to tell him her every thought.