Edmund went off commending himself on the extreme cunning of the maneuver (and it was perhaps for the best that he didn’t notice their indulgent smiles trailing behind him) and stood off in a corner, waiting.
It was a beautiful courtyard, Edmund always thought. The light was falling through the high, old windows, the vivid lavender of winter evening, and he thought with contentment of going back to the country the next morning to see Molly and his boys. There was nothing he liked better than being married, and as he stole a glance at his brother and his old friend, Lady Jane, his heart filled with joy for them, and he pondered the vagaries of the world, which for all of its fault lines and difficulties could offer so much happiness sometimes, and often — as for his brother, who had so long lived as a bachelor, had so long struggled with the prejudice against his profession — often when you weren’t even looking for it at all.
