"I see you're much more comfortable with that thing now that a few months have passed," he said. Henry grunted his agreement.
They rode in silence, John Paul lost in his thought s as he imagined Henry to b lost in his own. It was only a few hours' ride, but they pushed the horses and made it with a few minutes to spare before they would meet the Wakefields. Lydia and her brother were already there, though, as they arrived.
Chapter 14
Lydia rose up on her toes as they came, looking over the hedges at them, and stepped out into the path first.
“John Paul!”
Her hands waved in wide arcing motions over her head and she smiled, belying the black clothing she wore for her mourning period. It was a nice afternoon, autumn not quite cool enough for heavy yet, but the color was starting to touch the leaves on the trees that lined the path.
Simon stepped out after a second later. He did not wave, but he looked to be in a decent enough mood. John Paul was unsurprised. The weather was absolutely fine; if anyone could have a bad day in such perfect June weather he couldn’t imagine it.
“Simon,” John Paul said as they came close, “This is my nephew, Henry Roche. Henry, Simon Wakefield. Lydia’s eldest brother, and…”
For a moment he regarded Lydia, quietly considering his words.
“Since the passing of their late father, the head of the Wakefield home.”
“Nice to meet you,” Henry said, offering his hand out. They shook hands and for a moment it seemed as if something passed between them, unspoken.
“I think I’ve seen you!” exclaimed Simon after a moment, as John Paul turned to his fiancee.
“I suppose we ought to let them get acquainted, then,” he said, his amusement touching his voice. “Would you like to walk?”
John Paul had not noticed it before, but he felt the tugging of tiredness dragging against his steps. He ignored it as best he could. Occasionally, he would catch snippets of the young men, talking a dozen or so steps back.
He caught sight of them, on occasion, when the path took a tight turn between hills; they were speaking softly enough most of the time, but anyone looking could see the vigor with which they were approaching whatever subject they discussed.
“They seem to be getting along well enough,” John Paul remarked out loud.
“I suppose they do. I didn’t realize they’d known each other before, though.”
“No, neither had I,” John Paul agreed. “How have you been, my dear?”
Lydia reached her hand out and he took it, their fingers intertwining. He felt his heart race as he held her hand and they took a few experimental steps with her hand wrapped up in his.
“I’ve been having trouble sleeping,” she said, softly. She blinked and started and looked at him. “Because it’s exciting! I’m nervous and excited about the engagement, and everything, and it’s all so different.”
John Paul nodded.
“No need to explain.” His exhaustion was becoming more and more noticeable as they walked, heading up a hill. He saw a bench ahead of them. “Do you need to sit, miss Wakefield?”
“No,” she said, looking as if she’d been caught off guard by the question. “But I think we could sit and look at the trees together, at least,” she offered.
He took her offer, whether she meant it to be a way for him to sit or not, he needed it. They walked over to the bench; Henry and Simon stopped a ways back to keep whatever their private conversation was, private, and to give the lovers their space.
“There,” she said finally, pointing a gloved hand up at the sky. “That cloud.”
“Yes?”
He saw the cloud she was pointing to. It looked unremarkable to him; very much like a cloud.
“Don’t you see? It looks very much like a dog, don’t you think?”
He didn’t see it.
“You’re absolutely right,” he answered. She smiled at him.