Octavius woke before his wife. What a wonderful word that was: wife. His wife.
The bedchamber was still dark, but his inner clock had always been fairly accurate. When he crept out of bed and lit a candle, he saw that he’d woken almost exactly when he’d wanted to.
He tiptoed into the dressing room and did his ablutions, then donned his clothes hastily, not bothering with such things as waistcoat and neckcloth. His wife stirred while he was laying out clothes for her on the bed. “Octavius?” She sat up and rubbed her face. “What are you doing?”
“You’re awake. Excellent. Come on, there’s not much time.”
“Not much time for what?”
“I have a surprise. Go wash your face. I’ll help you to dress.”
Pip disappeared into the dressing room. A few minutes later, she emerged, face scrubbed, hair pinned up.
Octavius handed her the chemise, and after that, a gown.
“My stays—”
“No need for stays,” he said. “Or petticoats. Not where we’re going.”
Stockings came next, and then shoes. Octavius wrapped a shawl around Pip’s shoulders, captured her hand, and drew her towards the door.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
They tiptoed hastily along the quiet corridors, hand in hand, and exited through a side door. They crossed the dewy lawn. Octavius lengthened his stride until they were almost running.
It was no longer fully night. Predawn was lightening the sky. There was no color in the world yet, though. The bluebell dell was a place of dark shadows. The Bird’s Nest folly loomed tall on the rising ground.
They climbed the stairs, puffing and panting, and burst breathlessly into the round room at the top. One of the daybeds faced east. “Just in time,” Octavius said, flinging himself down on the cushions and pulling his wife onto his lap.
By the time he’d caught his breath, colors had started to tint the sky.
First came the palest of lemon yellows creeping up from the horizon, then streaks of orange on the lowest scattering of clouds, then pink on the clouds above those. The colors grew richer, stronger, more vivid, the orange like flame, the pink a brilliant magenta.
Octavius felt something akin to awe as he watched the colors change. He might be able to do magic, but this was magic, too, this sky with its glorious cascade of colors.
What was it Pip had said, back in Hampshire? That women saw more beauty in the world than men did?
She’d been correct. He’d seen dozens of dawns in his life, scores of them, but he’d never once noticed how beautiful they were.
The pink faded away, the orange grew fainter and fainter, the yellow dissolved into nothing.
“You were right,” Octavius told his wife, once the final colors had disappeared. “Women see more beauty in the world.”
And women not only saw beauty, they shared it. Pip had shared dawns with him, a gift that he’d have with him for the rest of his life—and that was something else that women did better than men: they enriched the lives of those around them.
Octavius struggled to find the words to express this sudden epiphany. “Pip? Do you think . . .”
Pip shifted in his embrace, until she could see his face. “Do I think what?”
“Men thrive because of women,” Octavius said slowly, fumbling his way through his epiphany. “The whole world thrives because of women. You make everything better.”
His face heated once he’d said it out loud because it sounded so ridiculous, the philosophical waffling of a fool, but Pip didn’t laugh. She smiled at him with such brightness and such warmth that his heart lurched in his chest. “You think we make the world a better place?”
“Yes.”
Her smile became even brighter and more joyful. “I’m glad.”
Octavius tightened his arms around her, while he had yet another epiphany. It was easier to bare one’s soul to a woman than to a man, easier to be vulnerable, and that ease was both freeing and empowering.
Women truly did make the world a better place.
He hugged his wife tightly and rested his chin on her soft hair and knew that this was the best morning of his life.
He hoped it was the best morning of Pip’s life, too. This sunrise. This start to their marriage.
The sky was blue now and the scattered clouds were white and all around them was green. Green treetops, green hills, green hedgerows, green pastures. A hundred different shades of green—and that was another beauty he’d never noticed before, that there were so many greens in the world.
Octavius’s stomach gave a rumble that he felt rather than heard, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten anything since last night. “There’s a breakfast,” he said. “On that table over there. I had the servants lay it out for us last night. Pastries and fruit. Something to drink.” He stroked her waist while he spoke, and as he stroked he remembered that Pip was wearing no stays. He could feel her natural curves.
He stroked again, from hip to waist to breast, a gentle caress.
Pip hummed beneath her breath.
“You like that?”
“Mmm,” she murmured.
Octavius forgot all about breakfast. Instead, he bent his attention to making this best morning even better.