Marina didn't want to see anyone else after that awful night. She could imagine what Mr. Braithewite would be telling people, what the villagers were saying about her behind her back. She couldn't face the thought of leaving the house. She asked Harriet to do the shopping for her, and spent her time in the sitting room, reading through Philip's library to avoid the world.

She threw herself into the work on the garden, likely annoying Mr. Bridges with her interference. Still, he took her meddling in stride, and she appreciated the distraction the work provided her. She limited herself to a couple of hours a day though, to let Mr. Bridges get on with the work he was trying to do. He had laid down a new path, and brought in rocks to edge a vegetable garden, and found a flowering tree to plant opposite the pear tree.

Mr. Bridges finished the work ahead of his proposed schedule, and Marina was very happy with the result. She brought Celeste out into the backyard to sit with her, and let her crawl around on the new stones. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, breathing deeply of the green scents. She could stay here forever – she would never have to leave the house again.

She opened her eyes again and looked down to see Celeste had pulled herself up to standing on the stone bench she was seated on, and was proudly grinning her toothless smile at Marina.

"Oh darling! Well done!" Marina congratulated her, and swooped her up into a hug. Celeste struggled, and whined to be put back down, and quickly crawled over to the bench to practice standing again. Marina watched her pulling herself along the bench for a few minutes, then picked her up again and carried her into the office.

She peeked around the corner, and saw that Philip and Mr. Locke were working quietly, with no clients in the office, before walking in a bit further and waving to Philip. "Philip!" she whispered loudly. "Hsst! Philip!"

He looked up and squinted at her, then when he saw that she was holding Celeste he got up quickly and came over. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"No, no, follow me."

He followed her back into the garden, where she put Celeste on the ground again so she could demonstrate her new talent for Philip. "Look at what she learned today!"

He was quiet, watching Celeste, and Marina had a moment of worry, that she shouldn't have bothered him at work over something so trivial.

She needn't have. Philip went over to Celeste and knelt beside her, smiling at her. "Did you just learn that?" he asked softly. Celeste laughed and reached out for him, nearly falling over in the process, except that he caught her in his arms and hugged her. He tried to pick up Celeste and encountered the same resistance that Marina had earlier. Marina laughed as he put her back on the ground.

"Isn't this new garden wonderful?" she asked him.

He turned and smiled at Marina, and for a second she saw George, smiling up at her, proud of their daughter, proud of their home. She almost ran to him and hugged him, but she held herself back, though she felt tears pricking her eyes.

"It's beautiful," Philip agreed. "You've done a wonderful job."

Marina was feeling very disoriented, and she didn't want Philip to see how emotional she was becoming, so she said, "Speaking of which – you should return to work. You can enjoy the garden later today with Celeste."

He nodded agreement and left her and Celeste alone. When he had left Marina sank down onto the bench, letting Celeste cling to her knee as she navigated this new upright position. Fat tears slid down her cheeks to plop onto her skirts. "Oh George, is it alright for me to be happy like this?" she whispered.

It was during this time of Marina's seclusion that the decision came down on Mrs. Patterson's case. Philip came home one day with a long letter and explained the verdict to her.

"Basically, the judge ruled in Mrs. Patterson's favor," he said. "She has divorced her husband, and is now the custodian of their children."

Marina squeezed his hands, happy for this victory. "That's incredible! Just think what this could mean for common law going forward!"

"Indeed!" Philip looked like he could jump up and down. He was smiling from ear to ear, and Marina felt the urge to give him a big hug, which she resisted of course. He schooled his face to a sober expression. "Though there are many women who will not be able to pursue this course, for want of financial independence."

Marina knew he was referring to her arguments on the case, and she knew she wasn't wrong, but it wasn't the moment for such details. "True, but it is a first step, as you have said. The first of many to be had surely! We should celebrate tonight!"

They celebrated with a big meal, and a cake that Marina whipped up. Or tried to. The cake wasn't entirely a success, but it tasted good enough to forgive the appearance. Celeste particularly enjoyed the cake, and covered her face with it, laughing joyously. Marina went to bed that night feeling like she had bubbles in her chest.

Staying in and around the house all the time was more enjoyable than Marina had expected. She was kept busy taking care of Celeste and helping Philip with his work, and she had Harriet coming in twice a week, and she managed to convince herself she hardly missed the company of others at all. It seemed that every day Celeste was learning something new. It didn't take long after she first learned to pull herself to her feet for Celeste to take her first steps. Marina was so proud of her progress, but she sometimes wished Celeste was still confined to a crib. She could get into so much trouble now that she was mobile. Celeste was not a timid child, and she fell down often in attempting some physical feat beyond her limited skill. The poor girl always had bruises from one fall or another.

Mrs. Crane commented on her injuries one day while she was visiting, suggesting Marina keep her confined to protect her.

"I'm here to make sure she doesn't get into too much trouble," Marina said. "She's learning very quickly what she can do."

Mrs. Crane shook her head, though she smiled indulgently at Celeste. "I suppose so. She is too much like her father."

"What was Philip like as a baby?"

"Oh, he was a lazy, chubby baby – happy to let someone else carry him from place to place. George would sometimes try to carry him, though he was hardly bigger than his brother. George though – I don't think he spent a single day of his childhood without a bruise or scrape from his escapades."

Marina picked up Celeste and bounced her, using her as an excuse not to make eye contact with Mrs. Crane. She had forgotten for a moment that Philip was not Celeste's real father, though Mrs. Crane seemed not to have noticed the slip.

Celeste had begun to talk as well. Or at least, she made sounds that Marina was convinced were her attempts to speak. The first word she ever said was 'Baba', and Marina was sure she was talking about her, but then she also called Philip 'Baba', using the same word to refer to both of them. Celeste had always been a noisy baby – always babbling and cooing at her parents – but she had begun to point at specific things and name them. She loved the well out back, often asking Marina to bring her to play with the "Waama." She called Mrs. Crane "Guhguh", which delighted her grandmother to no end.

One afternoon Mrs. Crane was visiting and the three of them were sitting out in the backyard having tea. It was a hot day, though the sky was darkening, threatening rain later that night.

"Marina dear, I was wondering if you are ready to move in with me at the estate?" Mrs. Crane asked.

Marina felt her stomach clench, and forced her hands to be still in her lap. Philip hadn't brought this subject up with her again since their talk about the garden had gone so badly, but she should have known that wasn't the last of it. She had thought Mrs. Crane might have forgotten about the whole idea, but evidently it had come up again. "Did… did you talk to Philip about this?" she asked.

"Not yet, but I'm certain he will be fine with it." She passed a sweet to Celeste. "Celeste is old enough now that you could respectably live a separate life from your husband, and my dear…" Mrs. Crane took Marina's hand and squeezed it. "I can't help but notice how you've shut yourself away here. If you wish to avoid the people of Hampstead, you can do so much more comfortably out in the countryside with me."

Marina looked around at the yard, at the work she had done, then she looked down at her hand in Mrs. Crane's. She placed her other hand on top of hers and forced herself to smile at Mrs. Crane. "Thank you. I need some time… I'll speak with Philip about it." It wasn't that she expected him to stop her, but she wanted to talk with him one more time. And she wanted to do it when she wasn't furious about at Philip.

That night she got Celeste to sleep and then knocked on Philip's door.

"Yes?"

"I'd like to speak with you about something."

"Ah, one moment…" She heard his muffled voice, then it was quiet for some time before he spoke again, "Yes. Come in."

He was sitting at his desk as usual. She sneaked a look around as she entered, wondering what he had made her wait for, then she realized the hair around his face was dripping, and his shirt was partially undone. She felt a little lurch in her chest as she realized he had been washing up for bed.

"You wanted to speak to me?" he asked.

She cleared her mind of thoughts of him bathing and nodded. "Your mother came to visit today. She spoke of having me move in with her."

"Oh. I see." He looked wary, and she didn't blame him, considering how their last talk on the idea had gone. Still, she wanted him to protest, to argue against her leaving – she thought he wouldn't want Celeste to go at least – but all he said was, "And what was your response?"

"Don't you have any feelings of your own?" she snapped, fed up with his spinelessness. She had been determined to stay calm, but she could feel her hold on serenity slipping already.

He looked startled at her outburst, and hurt. "What do you mean?"

She shut the door behind her, not wanting to wake Celeste if she ended up yelling at Philip. It seemed likely at the moment. "It's always my decision to make: what is my response? What will I do? Don't you want anything? Don't you care either way, if Celeste and I stay or go?"

He turned red and looked away. "Of course I do… but it is not my place to tell you what to do."

"So you won't mind if I move away? If I take Celeste and leave?"

"Of course I'll mind!" Somehow he kept his calm still, and spoke softly. "I don't want you to go, but… I am not her father. I am not your husband, not really. I have no right to keep you here."

"If you really feel that way, then why don't you just divorce me?"

"If that's what you want," he mumbled, still not looking up.

Marina growled, wanting to scream her frustration, but very aware of her sleeping infant in the next room. She kicked Philip's desk in anger, earning herself a sharp pain in her foot and a startled look from Philip. "Ow!"

He got up and reached out to her. "Are you alright? Here, sit…"

Marina limped over to the chair and sat, her foot throbbing painfully. "You are the most frustrating man I've ever had to deal with," she muttered. "Don't you ever feel angry?"

"Of course I do."

"You just don't express it by abusing furniture, of course. Of course." She sighed. "I suppose I must make myself very clear. Philip, you are Celeste's father. You asked me to decide what your relationship would be, but it is clear that she has made the decision for herself. She loves you." She thought she saw tears in his eyes before he sat down again, heavily, and covered his face with his hand. "And I am happy that she made that decision," she added softly.

"Marina…"

"I want to stay here Philip," she said plainly, annoyed even as she spoke. Somehow he had again avoided expressing himself, pushing the decision – and the confessions – on to her. He looked up at her, half smiling, like he didn't quite believe what he was hearing. "Will you have us?"

"Gladly."

"Good." She sighed and looked into the fire. Why did he have to make everything so difficult?

"I do love her," he said softly. Marina turned to look at him. "I didn't know – I feel fiercely for her. I think, if anyone hurt her, then you would see me lose my temper." He looked so sincere that Marina snorted.

"Even talking like this, you describe it in the nicest terms," she laughed. "Somehow, I just can't imagine it!" He laughed too and she felt the anxiety she had bottled up in her chest dissipate. After all, he had said, 'I don't want you to go.' It was something. "You can tell your mother then; we'll stay here." She stood to leave, but when she put weight on her left foot, intense pain shot up her leg. "Ow!"

"What happened?"

She sat down again, and held her foot up towards the firelight. "I think your desk bit me."

Philip laughed, but then looked at her foot again. He came over and held her ankle. "That doesn't look right."

Her big toe did indeed seem to be pointing in the wrong direction. She tried to straighten it but ended up yelping in pain.

"I'll call the doctor," he said, putting her foot down and standing. Her heel felt cold where his hand no longer warmed her.

"Don't call the doctor. It's too late, and it's nothing much."

"It looks bad. I'll call the doctor." He headed for the door.

"Don't. Call. The doctor!" Marina growled, and he stopped. "I'm fine; it's just my toe." He came back towards her. "God, this is what you'll fight me on?" She snorted and held an arm out to him. "Just help me to bed. I'm sure it'll be better tomorrow."

He put her arm over his shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up onto his shoulder. "What are you doing? I can still walk!" she protested.

"I'll bring you to your bed," he said, fumbling for a second to open the door into her room. "But if it doesn't look better tomorrow we'll have the doctor look at it." He set her down on the edge of her bed, and Marina was tempted to just not let go, to pull him down onto the bed with her and see how he reacted.

She let go of his neck and scooted back onto her bed.

"Is it very painful? Can I get you something to help you sleep?"

"Stop fussing like an old hen!" Marina grumbled. "I'm fine. Just go to bed."

"…all right. Goodnight Marina."

"Goodnight Philip."