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Diana arrived at Ashgrove Cottage, as was her wont when arriving anywhere, with much fanfare but comparatively little warning. To Sophie, indeed, it felt as though the note announcing her visit had barely been read and exclaimed over before Diana herself was shown into the parlour, vivid in a travelling costume of forest green, with her small hat pinned at a jaunty angle.
Fanny and Charlotte rushed to her at once, and she clasped an arm around each of them briefly before drawing out their hoped-for gifts; some hair ribbons and a package of sweets, done up in brown paper. The girls quickly withdrew to divide up their spoils. George she greeted with all the solemnity a small boy’s dignity could wish for, and a smaller package for himself. She met Sophie’s eyes briefly, and shot her a slight but warm smile, pressing her hand for a moment in passing as she made her way across the room to Mrs Williams.
“It’s lovely to see you again, Aunt,” she said, brushing the air next to her cheek with a kiss. Her voice was soft and respectful, as she’d always tried - with varying degrees of success - to keep it when she lived at Mapes Court. To Sophie’s ear that perfectly modulated tone now held a note of irony.
Mrs Williams, whose nose for irony had never been good, was much mollified by Diana’s attitude. She expressed all the proper congratulations on Mrs Maturin’s recent marriage, expected that her new house must be very fine and she and the Doctor very happy living there, and hoped that her journey from town had not been too taxing. She peppered these pleasantries with no more than a dozen complaints about her own health, her difficulties with the servants, and the awkwardness of having an additional place to set for dinner; only a couple of her remarks suggested that either Doctor or Mrs Maturin (she didn’t seem entirely fixed in her mind which) had married above themselves. To all this Diana listened with a tolerant smile and a handful of interjected ‘Certainly’s, and Sophie, watching from her place on the settle, suspected that her cousin had been expecting worse.
At length, Mrs Williams decided Diana had had all the attention that was due to her. She left to discover what Cecilia might be doing and hand her Diana’s last parcel, and to give some instructions to the cook. Diana sat down at Sophie’s left hand, her body angled towards her.
“I’m sorry to have neglected you, dearest.”
Sophie smiled. “Not at all.”
Diana was watching her appraisingly. “You look well.”
“Thank you.”
“No, I really mean it. You are in looks, my dear. And... not too much troubled, by everything?”
“No.” Sophie stole a quick glance towards the door, but they were quite alone. “No. I could have wished for more time with Jack these last weeks, but of course we were happy that he was given another command so soon.”
For a couple of moments they sat together in silence. Diana cleared her throat.
“I noticed your stables, as I was arriving. They’re a fairly recent addition, are they not?” Sophie nodded. “Would you care to ride out with me? It seems an age since we rode together.”
They barely ever had; but Diana knew that, of course.
Sophie thought for a moment. The twins needed her for their lessons; but Diana so rarely visited. It would be reasonable to declare today an unofficial holiday. No great improvement works were currently in hand. Her mother would be only too glad to be left in charge of the household for a couple of hours; no doubt she would like to do a great deal of organising, to accommodate their guest. And Diana must want to speak to her.
“What a lovely idea,” she said. “Just give me a little while to change.”
~
An hour later they had set off, taking the climb up into the nearby hills at a steady pace. They let the horses break into a trot as they reached the ridgeway at the top, with its fine view down to the woods and fields, the neighbouring houses, and, glimmering on the horizon, the thin grey line of the sea. Sophie took in these familiar sights with contentment. Ashgrove Cottage might have its small inconveniences still, but there was no denying that its setting was beautiful.
Diana meanwhile, seeing that the path ahead was wide and reasonably well maintained, leaned forward as if she was going to whisper something in her mount’s ear, and took off suddenly at a gallop. After a few minutes she wheeled around, and headed back to join Sophie at a more sedate pace, laughing a little breathlessly. The wind had stung her cheeks, and they fairly glowed; her horse, in its own way, looked just as satisfied. She’d chosen for herself the small, spirited black gelding that Jack, with perhaps more optimism than sense, had thought might do for George to learn to ride on in a few years’ time. Sophie’s own mount was a calm bay mare, whose gentle soul she had loved almost from the first meeting.
“What a lovely animal you have there,” Diana said, as if in answer to her thought. “Such big, placid eyes she has, so sweet. She reminds me of - what was her name, the horse at Mapes Court who I kept stealing away from you?”
“Eunomia,” said Sophie. Diana laughed again.
“The goddess of good conduct. Of course! What a terrible trial I was to that poor mare, to be sure.”
“Not at all!” Sophie protested. “I’m sure you exercised her far better than I did.”
“And I’m sure I ran her ragged and she was pleased to be returned to your care.”
Sophie didn’t quite know how to respond to this, and instead patted her bay on the side of the neck. “They are rather like, aren’t they? I thought so when I bought Penelope here.”
“Penelope!” Diana’s laugh was a little sharp, this time. “What a genius you have for names.”
For a couple of moments they rode on in silence. When Diana spoke again, it was without turning her head, her gaze fixed on the trail in front.
“You know, when I came to live with your family, I was quite determined to be quiet and grateful and no trouble to any of you. I really tried very hard at it.” Her eyes darted over to Sophie, then back. “It’s dreadfully difficult to apologise for something when the truth is that you’d probably do it all again, were the circumstances the same.”
Sophie took a breath, and let it out again. “You don’t need to apologise to me,” she said, finding that she meant it.
“But all the same I am sorry, if I hurt you at all. Because I never really thought I could. You had your face, and your fortune, and I expected that you’d always be perfectly fine. Rather stupid of me. And now - ”
“And now I have everything I most wanted. Of course there are things that go wrong, things I worry over - ” Sophie found she was making a frustrated half gesture, and put her hand back on the reins. “They’re just things. Really, Diana, I’m perfectly contented.”
Diana studied her face for a long moment. “I believe you are,” she said at last. “Still, I think of you carrying on out here, and - I hope you know you can come to me. If you ever needed money, say. Or perhaps just a change of scenery?”
Sophie thought of her days at Ashgrove Cottage: mediating between the servants and her mother, tending to the girls’ education, planning meals, altering clothes for growing bodies, overseeing renovations when there was money, finding economies when there wasn’t any. The thought of a London holiday felt like a fairy tale; she wasn’t even sure if it was a desirable one.
“Of course,” she said.
They rode on for a while in silence. The sun had reached its zenith, and Sophie was beginning to feel the effects of spending more time in the saddle than she was used to. They turned when they reached the end of the ridgeway, beginning to head back the way they came.
“Diana,” Sophie said, making up her mind to it, “are you happy?”
Diana looked startled. “Naturally,” she said. “Your mother’s quite wrong, by the way. Stephen and I didn’t live together, past a week or two. Both too much set in our ways! He left me the house to do with as I please, and came every day to visit me. What a dear, good creature he is! What a gift to give your wife - perfect intimacy, and perfect freedom. A continual cycle of parting with sweet sorrow, and reuniting with joy. Could any woman ask for more?”
Sophie ignored this particular rhetorical flourish. “And now that he’s at sea again?”
Diana laughed lightly. “Why, I’ve been around men in service my whole life. I shall simply enjoy my greater portion of freedom now, and demand an equal share of intimacy when he returns.” She hesitated fractionally. “Is that how it is with you and Jack?”
Sophie thought for a minute. “It is wonderful, to have him come back. He’s always so very glad to see me, and exclaim over how the children have grown, and tend to the garden and his little observatory. But - there’s always so much that needs to be done here. Every day, whether Jack is with me or on the far side of the world. I’m not sure that’s quite the same thing as freedom, but - it makes it easier not to really notice how long he’s gone. Although sometimes I still miss him dreadfully.”
For a long moment, Diana said nothing. When she did speak, it was still in that light tone. “When my first husband was out on expedition, I used to tell myself - any time I want, I can ride into the desert. If I choose to be a madwoman on a quest, I may hunt him down wherever he’s been posted and see just what he’s doing. I never did, of course, but - I suppose it is a little different, when they go to sea.” She glanced over; there was a rueful humour in her eyes. “I do fear, from time to time, that I’m not quite as good a Penelope as you are. We’ll see. Perhaps I may yet turn into Odysseus, and make a perilous journey or two of my own.” She gave an odd little laugh; it almost seemed to burst out of her. “But it won’t be today!”
She took off back down the trail with an exuberant burst of speed. Sophie watched her go, firm and straight in the saddle, and felt no need to keep up.
~
Playing the conversation over in her head that night as she lay in bed, Sophie couldn’t help but smile to herself. Only Diana, she thought, could travel all the way from London to Hampshire just because she needed to tell someone that she missed her husband - and then when she was there, not say it. Indeed, say almost everything else instead. It was so perfectly like her. But Sophie suspected that for all that, the trip had done her good.
She herself enjoyed her settled life, her roots; the cottage, with the satisfaction of the many improvements they had made to it since first arriving; her girls and little George; their small circle of neighbours. Even the constant presence of her mother was in its own way reassuring. Mama was such a fine manager, even if she took a little managing herself.
Diana was not like that. She could exclaim for hours over whichever pleasures currently held her attention, but none of them could keep that attention for too long. Diana must always be going. And it was the going itself, the moving, that held the spark of joy for her; it scarcely mattered what was waiting on the other end of the journey. Sophie thought of Stephen, dear Stephen; how happy he had looked, in that brief glimpse she had of him as she left Jack’s ship and he made his way towards it. How happy Diana had looked, watching him from the shore. She sighed. Perhaps everything would be well. Perhaps Diana would find an equal happiness, in the much longer cycle of parting and reuniting that they all now shared. For both of their sakes, she would have to hope so.