In late March, just about the time Luke was starting to walk, the quarry was blasted to begin the digging of the mine.

It was a day of celebration for the entire village, or perhaps simply the excuse they needed for one after a long and dreary winter. The weather was fine, if cool, and spring had brought a profusion of wildflowers out over the cliffs and hills. The villagers and local gentry alike came up onto the hills overlooking the mines and settled down on rugs with bottles of ale or wine to watch the blasting.

David and Cate came too, which meant that Sarah had to be invited as well. Since he was going to the trouble of inviting Sarah, David asked his mother and Laurie if they would like to come too, and once Paul heard of what was planned, he insisted on coming with his wife Annabelle and making it what he termed a family affair. Annabelle, however, felt unwell the morning of the blast and stayed at home, which meant that Paul spent the entire squashed drive to the quarry apologizing for her absence and gleefully speculating as to the cause of her illness. Cate was the only one who did not know better, and politely asked questions about her health, which only encouraged Paul. By the time they arrived at the quarry, he was speaking as though a son would be born next week.

They left the horses and curricle with a groom and spread out a blanket and cushions on a slope of flowered grass overlooking the black stone pit of the quarry. Down at the bottom of the pit, men were checking the pellets of black powder where the mine entrance was to be dug and measuring distances with rope and wheels.

"We ought to have champagne," Sarah said, as Cate poured glasses of sherry.

"I find that sherry has a sickening effect upon the stomach," Paul said. "Champagne is much lighter."

"I cannot complain about the choice of wine," Mrs Demery said acidly. "Though I do wonder that it was brought out before a single sandwich offered. Some of us have not had breakfast."

Cate froze where she knelt on the blanket, the bottle of sherry in her hands. David suppressed the irritated thought that it would have been a more pleasant outing had he and Cate come alone.

"I'll drink the sherry," Laurie said generously. "It appears that those around us are drinking beer, Sarah. If you like bubbles so much, perhaps you can beg some?"

Sarah wrinkled her nose. "Don't be silly, Laura. Sherry will suit me. But champagne would have been nicer."

Cate gave Sarah and Laurie glasses of sherry and opened the box of bread rolls and cakes the servants had packed.

"Would you like something to eat, Mrs Demery?" she asked David's mother meekly.

Mrs Demery took a bread roll and a slice of seed cake without a word of thanks. She always had been like that, of course, and it no longer bothered David himself, but he was annoyed to see a blush of embarrassment stain Cate's cheeks. Thankfully, Paul, always interested in food, begged Cate for a taste of everything on offer and was effusively grateful for it all.

At the bottom of the quarry, the men were clearing out of the way of the blast site now. Only the foreman remained by the powder train, a lit torch in hand. He waited until all the others were well out of the way, waved his torch at the watching crowd, then lowered it to the powder train. As soon as smoke started fizzing up, he dashed for the safety of higher ground and scrambled behind a large boulder for shelter. People cheered as the fizz of smoke snaked towards the powder charge. Then it reached it. For several heartbeats, it seemed to David as though the fire had fizzled out. Then there was a tremendous thunder, a flash of black smoke, and the earth trembled beneath them as the quarry rumbled and shifted. The villagers cheered and whistled and opened wine. David laughed with relief. Beside him, Cate smiled uncertainly. He squeezed her hand.

"We are quite safe up here," he said.

"And what about the men down there?" she asked.

"They're safe too. They're being very careful. Everything has been planned to the last detail."

"You would hope so," Mrs Demery said. "Though it is not as impressive as I thought it would be. Too much smoke and too little fire."

"The smoke is more noticeable than the fire on a sunny day like today," David said. "You would find very warm in the quarry, Mother. I assure you."

"I thought it was a ferocious bang," Sarah said. "Will there be more?"

"Throughout the day, yes. And on and off for months, I suppose."

"How terrifying." Sarah covered her ears with her hands. "I hope we will not be able to hear it in Plas Bryn in our beds at night. I should never sleep."

There was something disconcerting about the childish way she covered her ears with her hands. David looked instead at Cate, who sat next to him, leaning on one hand, her legs out to the other side, watching the rest of them talk. She had barely said a word the whole morning. Of course, it was hard to get a word in edgewise with either Sarah or Laurie, but it was more than that, or her natural shyness. His mother, he suspected. She had a way of coming down hard upon Cate - a way of coming down hard upon everyone, in fact, but with Cate it was pointed and personal, and Cate, of course, took it to heart. It was a pity, because Cate did not often get the chance to go about in society. Other than church or her trips to shops in the village, she spent most of her time at home. The few nice gowns she had rarely had the opportunity to be seen. Like the one she had on today, which she had ordered recently from the dressmaker in the nearest town. It was orange, which was not a colour David had ever been fond of before, but then it was a very springlike shade of orange, deep and reddish, very pleasant to look at in the cool sunlight and very livening to the pallor of her cheeks.

"Is there something on Catherine's nose?" Mrs Demery said. "You are staring at her in an awfully peculiar way."

"I was simply admiring her dress," David said. "It is a lovely colour for spring."

The pinkness on Cate's cheeks deepened.

"Gaudy, I would say," Mrs Demery said. "But to each their own."

"I rather like it," Paul said. "I think I will have a waistcoat made up in that colour. It is a lovely colour, really. Strong and masculine."

"Well, David likes it," Cate said. "That is good enough for me. And I like it too, for that matter." She played self-consciously with a fold in her skirt. "Though perhaps it is rather daring."

"Married women can afford to be daring," Laurie said lazily. "It is Sarah you should criticize, Mother. She should be in pale colours, if she wishes to be proper, and yet she is wearing a scarlet Spencer."

Sarah laughed awkwardly. "At thirty, I think I might be allowed the pleasure of spring colours too."

"But scarlet is an autumn colour," Laurie said. "Which makes it very suitable for you, doesn't it?"

"One day, you will be my age," Sarah said. "It will not be so far away."

"But by then you'll still be seven years older," Laurie said sweetly.

"Please don't bicker," Cate said. "This is a day of celebration. Besides, you're both dressed very prettily. Aren't they, David?"

"Yes, they are," David said to keep the peace. "They both look very nice."

"And how is that to be damned with faint praise?" Laurie said, raising one eyebrow. "Not that I care what my brother thinks of me. Heavens no. Though I do wish that fine young farmer a little way off would cast me a glance now and then, rather than reserving all his mooning for Cate. My pride stings."

David twisted to look over his shoulder in the direction Laurie indicated with her chin. There was indeed a young man, the son of a tenant farmer of his, looking wistfully at Cate. Cate turned to look at him and he hastily turned away.

A spark of absurd jealousy lit inside David. "I'll have a word with him."

"Please don't!" Cate put her hand on his knee before he could get up. "It will only embarrass everyone. And looking does no harm."

"You said yourself it is a lovely dress," Laurie said wickedly. "Is its loveliness to be reserved for your eyes only? Perhaps Mother is right and Cate should not have worn it today after all."

The flame of jealousy burned higher, given fuel by Cate's hand at his knee, but David recognized the absurdity of confronting the man for merely looking at his wife. It was not as though he was ogling her. The wistful expression of his eyes suggested no danger, nothing more than unrequited adoration.

"It's damn cheek," David grumbled. "He ought to know better."

"Catherine's history has hardly inspired better," Mrs Demery said. "You should not be surprised."

Cate removed her hand from his knee and put it back in her lap. "I do not encourage him."

"He needs none," David said. "Mother, you must not suggest that this is Cate's fault. She can't help being pretty."

"A little more modesty would-"

"The immodest one here is the man who's staring at her. Would you still your harping tongue towards my wife for one day, that we might all enjoy ourselves?"

Even as he spoke, David knew he was going too far. Mrs Demery went red to the tip of her long nose. Sarah looked shocked. Paul raised both eyebrows. Even Laurie looked uncertain. And Cate, next to him, looked petrified with embarrassment.

An awkward silence followed.

"Perhaps you would like to walk with me to look closer at the quarry, Catherine?" Paul asked after a moment. "I've had my fill of cake and sherry."

"Thank you, please. That would be very interesting." Cate spoke in what David now recognized as her company voice - the polite, lukewarm tone she had addressed him in throughout their courtship. "I believe we will get a clear view from that hill over there."

She got to her feet and took Paul's proffered arm. David watched as they walked away. Paul was not usually so perceptive of others' needs. But perhaps he only wished to get away from the awkwardness of the conversation too.

"I am mortified to be spoken to in such a manner by my own son," Mrs Demery said, her voice hard and heavy as iron. "Such disrespect! Such coarseness! May I remind you that I raised you?"

"You raised me well enough to know that I must demand my wife be treated with courtesy."

"Courtesy, for the woman who jilted you? You may be able to forget her adultery when you think of her prettiness, but I cannot. Her prettiness only makes the memory cut deeper."

"Were I to think of her adultery every moment of my life, I would not be able to live with myself, let alone with her. But that is my cross to bear, not yours. You were not the one wronged. So I ask you, Mother, to keep quiet when you have nothing polite to say to her. And if that means the two of you never speak, then it is your loss as much as hers."

"Pah!" Mrs Demery downed her glass of sherry in one swallow. "Then let me be silent."

She crossed her arms and refused to say another word. Nor could David bring himself to speak. He knew his mother well enough to know that she would not change her mind about Cate, no matter what he said. It made his heart hurt. This morning he had woken up to blue skies and the first blasts to begin the mine. He had been happy. That feeling was gone now, and he did not wish to enquire too deeply into the exact makeup of the poisonous mix of emotions that displaced it.

"I'm going to look at the quarry," he said.

He got to his feet and walked off. Paul and Cate were perhaps fifty yards ahead of him, but he did not wish to catch up with them. He meandered between the rugs and blankets on the ground, giving gruff hellos and how-do-you-dos to those who greeted him. It was easier to walk near the quarry lip, where no one was sitting. Down in the pit, another blast shook the ground.

A hand slipped through his elbow and he turned with a start.

"Oh, it's you."

"You sound relieved," Laurie said. "Who did you think it was?"

"Sarah."

"She's busy talking Mother down off her high horse. I don't have the patience." Laurie looked along the quarry edge, to where Paul and Cate were standing on the other side. "Cate took it rather well though. Her bullying, I mean. Either she has more spirit than she used to, or I did not know her so well before."

"She would have more spirit if Mother did not try to crush it so often."

"Don't blame Mother. She tries to crush everyone." Laurie patted his hand. "Besides, it gave you the chance to play knight to your fair damsel. You should have seen her eyes when you defended her. I did not know hope could light you up from inside like that."

"You're teasing me, now."

"I tease everyone. But I'm not the only one who noticed it." Laurie looked across at Paul and Cate again. "Why do you think Paul took her away? He wanted to prevent her swooning into your arms. And Sarah was quite green with jealousy. She likes to imagine you're in love with her, and it's much more difficult to sustain that fantasy when you're in love with Cate instead."

"I'm not. Not anymore."

"But you defend her honour even though she has none left to defend. And you think she's pretty. Sooner or later, if it's not happened already, you and Cate will fall into bed together. And from there it is but a short drop to love."

"No." David pulled away from Laurie. "I am not so simple. Both you and Mother have me and Cate entirely wrong. I can forgive Cate to a certain degree. I must, or the poison of hating her would eat me up inside. But I cannot forgive her to the degree of making a lover out of her. My heart will not let me."

"Then you will have no children by her, and Paul will inherit Plas Bryn. And his children after him, if he and Annabelle ever manage to have any."

"And good for Paul."

"Oh, it is everything he has ever dreamed of." Laurie pressed her lips together against a bitter smile. "But dreams rarely do come true, even when they do."

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2023-05-14: Another unedited chapter in a rush -- but I think minus typos it's good to get the story moving :)