Hilde
She had just agreed to a week at Merewyth, and even though it meant abandoning her responsibilities and throwing her own fate and that of Croftholde to the wind, she found that she was bound and determined to do it anyway.
There was something greedy inside of her that would not be denied, and it wanted more of Elmwood.
It wanted her to feast her eyes on him until every inch of him was so thoroughly devoured that she could conjure him in perfect detail upon the page at will.
It wanted to know that whenever his sleep grew restless, she would be there to murmur in his ear until he sank into deeper slumber, leaving nightmares behind.
It wanted what he had promised her: pleasures both domestic and bodily.
“Good morning, Lady Croft,” said Ed, passing by with a bucket of water from the well. “I see you found Lord Elmwood’s dog.”
“We did. I mean, I did. Ed, will you please take Rollo inside and deliver him to Lord Elmwood before he departs?”
“Of course. Oh, and Cook wants a jar of honey from the cellar, if you’ve time.”
“I’ll fetch it for her. Keep a close eye on the dog, Ed. I don’t want him getting lost again.”
She went around the edge of the yard to the root cellar, then descended into the darkness.
Cook’s honey retrieved, she paused to look at the bulk of Thorgoode in the corner. She went over and pulled back the blanket. His face was so pleasant, even in death. He was the sort of person whom everyone trusted. It had never once occurred to her that he might break that trust.
“Why did you lie?” she whispered. “I would have cared for you regardless.”
Of course he could not answer her.
She wondered then if she had given in to her desire for Elmwood as some sort of revenge, to punish Thorgoode for lying to her. But as soon as she thought it, she knew it was untrue. She had desired Elmwood long before she’d learned the truth, even if she’d had trouble admitting it to herself.
Hilde was on her way to give Cook the honey when she ran into Han, who was already covered in horsehair and had a sheen of sweat on her upper lip and temples.
“You’re up early,” said Hilde.
“I’m driving the lot of them to Hawkmouth to catch the coach. I’ll have to stay the night and drive back on the morrow. Seems like the only thing to do.”
This last bit was delivered in her usual tone, but Hilde could sense some manner of recrimination behind it. Had Lady Isobel told Han about what she had seen? Was it to be yet another fault that Han would hold against her?
“I’m sorry we quarreled last night,” Hilde said, hoping to somehow make it better.
Han scowled at her. “We didn’t quarrel.”
She was impossible! If Hilde wasn’t even allowed to apologize, then what could she possibly do?
“Fine. You should know that I’m going away for a week,” Hilde said.
“Away? Where?” said Han, her scowl deepening.
“I’m not going to tell you.”
Han’s jaw flexed.
“Hilde, I was glad you told me about Thorgoode. That you asked for my help.”
Hilde could not have been more surprised. Glad? Han had hardly seemed to feel anything about it, let alone glad.
“I thought you wished I hadn’t.”
“No.” Han paused, and Hilde wondered if she would say more. She did, but it was not at all what Hilde was expecting. “I’ve decided to leave the Croft.”
It took Hilde several seconds to comprehend what she was saying. This conversation was like a river splitting into ten different streams at once.
“What do you mean? Leave for where?”
“I don’t know yet. I thought I might take work with one of those drovers who take horses to market down south.”
Han wanted to leave Croftholde? The idea was incomprehensible to Hilde.
She couldn’t remember a time without Han—first a little shadow following her everywhere, then a responsibility to be fretted over.
Eventually she had come to rely on Han, but in a practical, day-to-day way rather than with the warmth and depth that she observed among other siblings.
There was some barrier between them, and Hilde was not certain what exactly it had been built of, but she had the sickening suspicion that she had constructed it.
She was beginning to realize that she had inadvertently walled herself away from even her own innermost feelings, and she had not the least idea how to break through.
Now she was going to lose her sister because of it.
“But…you would hate that. Waking up in a different place every morning, each day different from the one before…”
Han grimaced. “Maybe so. But I won’t know that for certain unless I try.”
“Are you really so eager to get away from me?” Hilde said, not even caring how plaintive it sounded.
Han shook her head.
“Maybe, if I go away for a while, we can start over. Start fresh,” she said, much more gently than she usually said things.
“What will I do without you?” whispered Hilde.
Han reached out and tugged softly on her braid. It was something she had done a thousand times when they were small, but it had been so long that Hilde couldn’t remember the last time she’d done it.
“Live for yourself instead of for me and everyone else,” she said. “And if it starts now, with going away for a week, all the better.”
Hilde would never have admitted to herself that she wanted Han’s permission or approval, but having it almost took her breath away. Overcome, she embraced her sister and squeezed her, heedless of the fact that she wouldn’t like it.
Han stiffened, of course. But after several deep breaths, she relaxed, and then she wrapped her arms around Hilde.
“Be careful on the road,” Hilde said.
“Aye,” said Han.
Holding her close, Hilde noticed that she had a smell about her. Horses, of course, and woodsmoke. But there was something else. Roses?
Before Hilde could ask about it, Han slipped out of her grasp and strode away.
Hilde wondered if she ought to seek out Lady Isobel and say something to explain what had happened.
She likely owed her that much. Though it did occur to her that, were their positions reversed, the very last thing she would want was to listen to the woman who had first encouraged her and then crushed her hopes make excuses for it.
Perhaps it would be better to let the poor girl go her way in peace and accept that she would think badly of Hilde, and there was nothing Hilde could do about it.
Hilde deserved to be held in her contempt, and seeking to change that was likely a selfish urge.
This decided, Hilde retreated to her study to set some affairs in order. She heard a carriage leaving and let out a little breath of relief that the whole ordeal of Lady Isobel was, at least, over with.
“I would say good morning, Lady Croft, but I do not see much that is good in it, and we both know that this is not our first encounter of the day.”
Hilde spun toward the voice, wildly surprised to see Lady Isobel standing in the doorway of her study. The girl had an expression on her face that was both pained and suspicious, as if she were cataloging all the various surfaces upon which she suspected Hilde had stolen Elmwood’s affections.
“Oh!” said Hilde, unable to hide her shock. “I thought I heard you leave just now.”
Lady Isobel came the rest of the way into Hilde’s study, closing the door behind her, which seemed ominous.
“Han is taking Miss Floret and Mr. Winthrop back to Merewyth to pack our things, and they will come back to fetch me on the way to Hawkmouth.”
“I thought you would have gone with them,” Hilde stammered, trying to regain her equilibrium. “Won’t you have a seat?”
Lady Isobel looked quite pointedly at the chaise, which was the only seating in the room aside from Hilde’s desk chair.
“I think not,” she said. “I do not believe this will take long.”
Hilde nodded slowly. “I’m glad you sought me out. I owe you an apology, Lady Isobel. I shall not make excuses for my behavior. I will only offer that when I advised you, it was in earnest. I was lying to myself, but not to you,” she said.
“That is so interesting, I think,” said Lady Isobel.
“I have always thought that I have no facility for lying. I certainly can’t lie convincingly to others.
But I am beginning to think that perhaps I, too, am rather accomplished at lying to myself.
How else can I account for having created an epic love story that existed only in my own mind? ”
“I am sadly better acquainted with lies than with love,” said Hilde, and it came out much more bitterly than she intended.
“Are you? I did want to ask you if you love Elmwood. You might have told me if you do. I would have understood.”
Hilde found that her throat was quite dry. She tried to clear it, but the breath caught and dragged.
Did she love Elmwood? After what had happened with Thorgoode, she was beginning to wonder if she was even capable of love as other people experienced it.
Maybe she was misaligned in some fundamental way that meant she would always be standing just outside of what was normal and expected, peering in like a feral cat at a window, wishing it might come indoors but not knowing how.
“It shouldn’t be a difficult question,” said Lady Isobel.
“And yet I have no idea of how to answer it. I…I care very deeply for Elmwood, despite all my best intentions. I didn’t even want to like him, when we first met, but he made my indifference impossible.
I have discovered that I am willing to do rather a lot of things I would not have seen myself doing in order to be close to him.
” Why was she saying these things? She hadn’t even admitted them to herself, and now she was telling them to the last person who would want to hear!
Lady Isobel let out an unexpected little laugh.
“That sounds like love to me, just with the lies still decorating it. Do you know, I think I will give you a bit of advice now, in return for all that you gave to me. Elmwood also knows more of lies than love. Don’t trust him with your heart.
He’s going to break it.” She turned toward the door.
“Now I think I shall wait for the others in the stables. Your horse Ward is a very nice boy, and I think that feeding him some apple slices will do me good. Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Croft.”
“You were welcome to it, such as it was. I am very sorry that my actions have prevented us from being friends.”
“Have they? Hmm. Perhaps I am a better friend than you think me.”
She slipped out of the room before Hilde could come up with anything to say in response.