A Solemn Promise

XXX

"I'll be 87, you'll be 89, I'll still look at you like the stars that shine in the sky." Taylor Swift, Mary's Song (Oh My, My, My)

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XXX.

Upon returning from the church, Grace felt very hollow. She grieved Peregrine, having come to know him as a jovial man as he faced his maker. To be in such pain, but to find such spirit, Grace admired him deeply. She grieved for Adam, too. She despaired at his pain, and for knowing it exactly.

What bothered her further was that she was once again wearing her mourning dress, the one she had worn to her own father's funeral. She only owned one gown, after all, and it felt truly awful to be wearing such a garment again.

Claire place the teapot on the table, and Grace poured a cup for herself, her mother, and for her sister. Peter had not attended the funeral as he was at the forge, and Jem had already escaped with his friends.

"Well, I must say, I thought the service was very dignified," remarked Mrs Denham. "Very befitting. I think the duke would have approved."

In coming to know Peregrine, Grace wondered if he would have preferred a joke or two. He did have a good sense of humour, a characteristic often buried when he had previously been around his wife.

"Are you acquainted with the duchess, Mama?" asked Claire as she sat down. "We could not help but notice how she received you."

Claire had asked the question that Grace had wondered herself. The duchess had only received one mourner in such a familiar way, and it had been Mrs Denham.

"But, of course, the duchess and I have made an effort to become acquainted," murmured Mrs Denham. "How would it be for our children to court without the mothers getting along?" She tsked dismissively.

"Well, I thank you, Mama," said Grace sincerely, running her fingers over the handle of her teacup. "Quarrelling with his mother over her behaviour is the last thing Adam needs at the moment." Especially as he took control of the estate. "He has enough to worry about." It has not escaped her notice throughout the service that Adam's head kept turning to look at his brother. "He is deeply worried about Jack."

"Poor Jack did indeed seem extremely distraught," agreed Mrs Denham, her brows furrowed with concern.

"Of course, he is distraught, Mama," chided Claire. "His father has just died. I think you will find we all appeared quite the same at dear Papa's funeral. I am certain the last thing Lord Jack or any of them need is gossip."

Mrs Denham frowned. "Mind your tongue, Claire," she snapped, and Claire shut her mouth.

But Grace knew Adam's concern was for more than Jack's grief. Jack had long felt out of place, at the very least, in that house. She wondered if ... would it be appropriate before she was wed ... to extend the hand of friendship? He would certainly be welcome. Though her nearest brother in age was a little young, there was no reason why, chaperoned, she and Claire could not keep him company.

And, perhaps, that might eliminate one of Adam's burdens.

***

Later that day, Mrs Denham retired to her sewing, and Grace and Claire started on the preparations for supper. Claire hummed as she chopped, and Grace enjoyed the sweet tune. As she watched Claire move about the kitchen, she could not help but feel grateful and relieved that she had abandoned her hopes of Arthur Slickson. Surely there was someone better, someone kinder, for Claire. She would be eighteen next year. She had plenty of time.

The girls were surprised by a knock at the door, late in the afternoon. They had not been expecting anyone, but Grace quietly hoped it was Adam. It would not be appropriate to visit the house while they were in such early, full mourning. She would only be able to ensure Adam was alright by him visiting her.