But as he looked at Judith, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was making the biggest mistake of his life.
CHAPTER 19
Judith sat in the drawing room, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the embroidered cushion beside her. The room was bathed in the soft afternoon light, the golden rays filtering through the lace curtains, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.
Across from her, John was sprawled on a chaise longue, his broken leg elevated and encased in a cast. Despite his injury, his spirits were high as he concentrated on a sketch, something their father had taught him to love.
Matilda sat nearby, her knitting needles clicking rhythmically as she worked on a new scarf. She looked up occasionally, smiling at the serene domestic scene.
“Judith, look at this,” John called, holding up his drawing.
It was a depiction of their family estate, the lines precise and the details carefully rendered. It was rather impressive for a boy ofonly ten years. One day, Judith thought, he might be an artist or a painter.
She smiled, wondering what Oliver might say to that. Did he envy their younger brother because he’d be free to pursue a life of his own choosing while Oliver was stuck being a marquess? Not that being a marquess was a bad thing, but Oliver didn’t have a choice…
Or would John one day become a marquess as well, if Oliver chose not to have a child?
Judith had been so preoccupied with the task her older brother had given her that she had no idea what his plans were. Would he marry? Surely he’d have to. But what if he was like Aaron, determined to remain unwed? It wasn’t fair that men had the choice and would not be judged as harshly as women. There had never been a case of a gentleman being considered ‘on the shelf’ or ‘an old fellow’ like women were.
“What do you think?” John demanded, drawing her from her thoughts.
“That’s wonderful, John,” Judith praised, moving closer to get a better look. “You’re getting so good at this. Father would be proud.”
John beamed, his eyes sparkling with pride. “Do you think I can add more trees here?” he asked, pointing to a blank spot on the paper.
Absolutely, Judith encouraged. “It would make the scene look even more lively.
Matilda glanced up from her knitting. “You’ve inherited your father’s talent, John. It’s lovely to see you so engaged with it.”
John grinned, his attention already back on his drawing. “I can’t wait to show it to Oliver when he’s back.”
Judith and Matilda exchanged a gentle, knowing smile. It was moments like these that made their current worries seem distant.
“Matilda,” John said, breaking the brief silence, “can we have pudding cake tonight? I know I’m supposed to eat fruit, but I think it’s time to celebrate my getting better.”
Matilda chuckled softly. “I suppose we can make an exception. You’ve been very brave through all this, after all.”
“Yes, you’ve been very brave, John,” Judith agreed. “What flavor would you like? Chocolate or lemon?”
“Chocolate, please!” John replied enthusiastically. “With lots of cream on top.”
“Chocolate it is, then,” Matilda confirmed, setting her knitting aside for a moment. “I’ll make sure the cook prepares it just the way you like it.”
John’s face lit up with excitement. “Thank you, Matilda! You’re the best.”
Matilda reached over to ruffle his hair affectionately. “Anything for you, dear. You’ve been so patient with that leg of yours.”
Judith watched the exchange, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Despite the challenges they faced, these simple, everyday moments were a reminder of the love and support that bound their family together. She looked at Matilda, grateful for her steady presence and nurturing spirit.
“I’m glad you’re here with us, Matilda,” she said softly. “You’ve made such a difference.”
Matilda’s eyes softened, and she reached out to squeeze Judith’s hand. “I’m glad to be here too, Judith. We’re a family, and we take care of each other.”
As they settled back into their activities, the room was filled with a peaceful, comforting silence.
Judith glanced at John, whose head was bent over his drawing once more, and felt a surge of hope. No matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, as a family. At least she had that.
Judith sat down at her writing desk, the delicate quill poised above a fresh sheet of paper. She’d decided to write to Rosy.
