2. No Tears Now #2
I dropped my hands into my lap, and tried not to sigh as I looked at him. “May I ask you something? Only we know not how much longer we shall occupy the same house, and I have always wondered. I would hate to miss my opportunity to ask.”
Azriel’s eyebrows shot up, and he titled his head, eyeing me curiously. “You are making plans to move on rather swiftly.”
I balked, my mind racing to cover up my insensitivity. “I only mean, I mean… I had assumed you would want to keep your own house, and not have your stepmother leering over your shoulder as you seek to find a wife.”
“You are quite right.” The grin that spread over his face was wicked, such an expression that my discomfort at being so thinly robed in front of him only grew. “Parading my pretty young wife around in front of you would be uncouth indeed.”
I cleared my throat loudly. “Why have you always called me Evie?”
“I beg your pardon?”
I fidgeted with my fingers, wishing I could break away from staring into those icy eyes, but not wanting him to sense my discomfort.
“Ever since we met, you have called me Evie. We barely knew each other, and yet you always called me such. It spoke to a familiarity I regrettably feel we never shared. Therefore, I always wondered why-”
“Did you wish us to be closer?” He interjected, uncrossing his legs, now draping his body in such a way that felt positively lecherous.
“No,” I snapped, and he laughed softly. My ruse was failing, and I stuttered out an apology. “I did not mean… I only meant… I did not wish to replace your mother, that would have been-”
“Obscene.” He interrupted me again, and my gaze snapped to his at the tone. His eyes flickered down the length of my body, resting for a split second on my bare feet. “My father, the old scoundrel, had actually suggested it. When I rejected his suggestion of calling you Mummy, of course.”
“ Mummy ?” I spat the word out, dripping in incredulity, before I could stop myself.
Azriel laughed, again bringing up a hand to rub the stubble along his jaw. “Can you imagine? A woman so much younger than I, and I should call her Mummy? My father had a rather… unique sense of humour, I think.”
More than you know. I did not say it out loud, but the smirk on Azriel’s face convinced me he knew I was thinking it. My cheeks flushed wildly, and I wished he would leave.
The door swung open, and Mary walked in balancing a tea service on a tray in front of her. Now I had to endure taking tea with Azriel. I suppressed a groan.
Mary served us both tea, and Azriel waved his hand, dismissing her wordlessly.
His eyes remained fixed on me with such an intensity, I felt sweat erupting on the back of my neck at the same time that a chill took hold in the pit of my stomach.I took a sip of my tea, wondering how this man could make me feel both overwhelmingly hot and dreadfully cold at the same time.
The warm tea did nothing to calm my nerves, nor soothe the chill within me.
“You must know how worried I was this morning,” Azriel said softly. “Seeing you so distressed. I think it made me all the more aware of my duty to you.”
I knew it was my guilt that made me imagine the cynicism in his voice, but my tea almost came straight back up as my stomach curdled.
“What did you want to come and speak to me about?” I asked, replacing my teacup on the table. “How rude of me to sit here prattling on about my grief when you came here with a purpose.”
“I wanted to discuss the funeral arrangements, of course.”
“Certainly, I am sure we have much to plan.”
Azriel shrugged. “Not especially. As befitting a man of his age, my father had arrangements in place. He wishes to be buried in the family crypt.”
“Yes, he had mentioned the mausoleum before.” That marble monstrosity that took pride of place in the parish churchyard. Its size was almost comical, were it not for the abundance of dead children and wives within its walls.
“So many of us are there now,” Azriel said slowly, brushing his fingertips over the velvet armrest, his words echoing my own uncouth thoughts.
“My brothers and sisters who barely lived, my mother, rest her soul, and my first stepmother of course.” His eyes settled on me again, bright and intense, as though trying to see into my very mind.
“All those deaths left in my father’s wake.
It seems almost as though Death was always following him so closely, and now finally caught up to him. ”
I swallowed hard, clasping my shaking hands in my lap, grateful I was not holding a cup, as I no doubt would have dropped it. “I am so very sorry for all you have lost, Azriel. I can only hope the future is brighter for you.”
“So do I, Evie. For us both.”
That tone made my toes curl again, cold and foreboding. I gave myself an internal slap, tired of how wary and timid the guilt was making me. Acton was dead, and no one suspected a thing. My plan had worked, so why was I falling apart under Azriel’s gaze?
I straightened my shoulders, and met his eyes square on, pulling my mask into place, the mask I only had to wear for a few more weeks until I would be free of this place.
“Since all the arrangements are in place, what do you require of me?”
Azriel narrowed his eyes for a moment, then reached for his tea. “He will need a suit to be buried in.”
“I shall make sure the finest one is laid out.”
“And I trust you can arrange the flowers, I am unsure what his favourites were.”
Acton’s favourite flower? I had no idea myself. I didn’t think a man as coarse and unrefined as Acton ever even considered something as frivolous as flowers to be worthy of his time.
“Lilies,” I replied, and Azriel nodded.
“Very fitting, then.”
“I shall arrange for them, do not worry.”
“And George informed me that my father had wished for a memento mori.”
Oh god, would I now be forced to wear a locket containing Acton’s greasy hair? “Certainly, did he say what kind?”
Azriel’s mouth lifted into a crooked smile. “A photograph.”
My mouth went dry. I had less than no desire to sit with the grotesquely posed corpse of the husband I had murdered. The thought made my breath catch in my throat, and I quickly gulped down more tea to suppress a cough.
“Oh,” I murmured, hoping my discomfort was not too obvious.
“Do you find the thought unpleasant?”
“No, why should I? Has the photographer been arranged?”
Azriel nodded, rising to his feet. “They shall be here tomorrow afternoon.”
“Wonderful. ”
He went silent then, rubbing his lower lip with his finger languidly as he gazed at me. I did not know how much more of this I could bear. I drained my cup of tea, placing the cup and its saucer back on the table. I opened my mouth to speak, and Azriel chose that moment to break the silence.
“He was so very lucky to have you as a wife.”
I could not help but narrow my eyes at him, my jaw tightening as I held back all the cynical laughter I wanted to throw in his face. “You are so full of praise for me now, and yet I always thought, all these years, that you did not like me much.”
“No?” He lifted an eyebrow. “And what gave you that impression?”
“Well, quite aside from your fondness for my nickname, you always seemed… impatient in my presence. As though you had not much time for me.” I crossed my arms over my body, closing myself in, an instinctive defense.
“And yet, now you sing my praises as a wife and stepmother, lauding me for my devotion, and I must confess I am quite confused by it all.”
“Do you think me insincere?” Azriel’s jaw ticked lightly, his lips curling briefly into a grin. “For I can say that I always rather thought the same of you?”
“The same?” I asked with a frown.
“That you did not like me much. Indeed, you seemed to downright reject my presence.” He leaned forward, his touch lingering on the armrest of his chair. “Was that my father’s influence, or are those your true feelings?”
I quickly looked down at my hands. “I never had any reason to dislike you.”
Azriel’s laugh rumbled quietly through his chest. “I have always given the people around me plenty of reasons to dislike me. But, perhaps, we have simply misunderstood each other. ”
“Yes, perhaps.”
“It is a shame that it has taken my father’s death for us to find some… levity in our relationship. Just a touch too late. Perhaps we must find comfort in that, that his death has made us reappraise our priorities.”
I nodded, staring intently at my hands curled in the blue velvet of my gown. “Indeed, we must take what good we can from it.”
“Perhaps it was his voice that called me back, to care for you.”
Now it was my turn to gaze at him curiously. “Whatever do you mean?”
He rose from his chair, his black trousers stretching across his muscular legs. He leaned a hand against the dark wood mantle, and stared intently at the dancing flames of the fire.
“It is the strangest thing, but perhaps three weeks ago, I had this sense, this… urgency, that I must return home. As though a voice was calling to me, telling me I was needed.” He tapped his fingers rhythmically, then tutted softly.
“Something was calling me back, perhaps to prevent it all from happening. Though I suppose we shall never know.”
The feeling of struggling for air began to encircle my chest, my heart fluttering wildly in my ribcage.
It wasn’t possible for him to know, he had returned hours after his father had taken his last breath.
And there was no reason for him to suspect me, or to even suppose I was capable of what I had done.
And yet, his words set me back on edge, and I was sure that if I didn’t usher him out of my room immediately, I would go mad.
My emotions won out, and tears began to spill from my eyes. Not for Acton, of course, and certainly not for Azriel. These were tears for me. I wanted so much to live, to run away from this awful old house with its cracked walls and dark corridors.
I was so close to being free, so close to having gotten away with it all, and now Azriel’s presence suffocated me so that all I could sense was dread and fear, tightening my chest and threatening to squeeze out all my secrets and sins.
As a small sob escaped me, his head jerked in my direction, his eyebrows drawing together. In an instant, he was in front of me, dropping to his knees to take my hands in his. His skin was hot from the fire, and his eyes searched my face.
“You need not cry, Evie, I assure you.”
I couldn’t speak, simply shook my head.
Azriel’s frown deepened, and he reached out to gently clasp my chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“No tears now, beloved.” He shook his head slowly. “You need to rest. The coming days will be challenging.”
His touch was anything but comforting, his words even less so. Everything he did, every word he uttered, felt like a threat. When he released me, I swallowed down the sigh of relief, and when he finally turned and left my room, closing the door behind him, I slumped in my armchair, almost panting.
Good god, I did not know how I was going to get through these next weeks. But I had to get a hold of myself. I would have to become a much more confident actress than I had been today, or risk the truth tumbling out and betraying me to them all.
And I had come too far for that.