Chapter Forty-One #2
Jeffrey was the first to move, and even he did not say a word.
He thrust his hand at Dustin, an object between his fingers.
She glanced at it and smiled, thinking it to be a gift from her husband.
But the moment she snatched it away to examine it, she knew what it was.
Her smile fled and her knees went weak. God help her, she knew what it was.
She stared at it for a long, long time. “Why do you have his ring?” she finally asked.
Edward snapped out of his trance. Around them, the bailey was completely silent and even with the hundreds of men, there was absolutely no movement. Filled with people, it was as quiet as if it were deserted.
“I am so sorry, Dustin,” he whispered, his eyes filled with pain.
The gray eyes came up, swallowing him whole. She stared at him until he felt uncomfortable. “What are you sorry for?”
“He is gone,” Edward’s voice was tight with tears. “He is a soldier and he has died in battle, as so many others. But his knights have recovered his wedding ring, a keepsake that meant more to him than anything material he possessed.”
Dustin stared back at him, the color draining from her face.
No one moved or said a word, waiting for her to fly into a hysterical rage.
After several moments, no rage was forthcoming.
In fact, she had yet to move a muscle. She simply stood there, holding the ring before her face, staring at Edward as if he had just spoken to her in a foreign language.
Some wondered if she had understood what he had said.
“He has not,” she said simply.
“He has,” Edward insisted gently.
Dustin shook her head, her nostrils flaring and Anthony stepped forward. “He has, my lady,” he said quietly. “I saw the body myself. I retrieved the ring for you to keep.”
Dustin blinked slowly, absorbing the words. It was almost as if she had become a statue, for she moved nothing but her eyes. It was clear that she was having a difficult time comprehending their words, her stunned mind struggling to process the truth.
“It is not true,” she said again, but her voice was quivering now.
Edward sighed faintly, putting his hands out to her. “Let me take you inside,” he murmured.
She yanked away from him. “Do not touch me,” she hissed. Then, she looked at the men surrounding her, more than anger in her eyes. There was pure, unadulterated hatred there, a thousand accusations of blame firing out at them. “You are lying. You are all lying!”
Max and Anthony passed concerned glances. “My lady, I swear that we are not.” Anthony tried not to sound as if he was pleading with her. “I saw him myself. I swear we would not lie about this.”
The quivering in her voice had taken over her body.
They could all see it in her face, in her movements.
Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled across the sky as another storm moved in and Dustin, with her husband’s wedding ring clasped between her fingers, lowered her arm slowly.
With a lethargic, baleful blink at Edward, she stumbled back and turned, weaving unsteadily as she made her way back to the castle.
The moment she hit the stairs, she collapsed in a heap.
The knights came running. Edward picked her up and carried her, weeping, the entire way up to her bedchamber.
*
Dustin’s days were filled with pain. Too shocked to cry, her pain went beyond tears. In fact, her pain rendered her unable to do anything but sit and stare out of the window as if expecting Christopher to ride through the gates any minute. Her whole world was numb, mindless, and in total denial.
The wet nurse from the village had to be re-employed because Dustin had stopped eating and Griselda knew she should not nurse. In fact, Dustin had ceased to do anything even remotely human and began to take on the cold, unfeeling characteristics of a stone wall.
Everyone worried desperately for her, but she wouldn’t talk.
Edward spent whole days with her trying to get her to open up, but she wouldn’t even acknowledge him.
He seriously feared for her mental stability.
Her feelings remained locked up inside her, building to the point where there was nothing else to do but explode.
When the tears did come, they came in torrents.
Days upon days upon days of hysterics, fainting deteriorated into breaking things and destroying her surroundings.
She destroyed every one of her fine dresses and at one point cut her arms terribly when she broke a precious porcelain vase her mother had given her and ground the razor-sharp chips into her forearms.
After that, Edward ordered someone to be with her at all times and Dustin turned into a surly, snapping bitch who hated the sight of anyone. The only person she would warm up to was Christin, and even then, all she did was hold the baby and cry.
It was a miserable time for all of the occupants of Lioncross.
Dustin was quite mad with grief, taking to wearing her peasant clothes again and ignoring anyone who said a word to her.
Her sorrow and agony had turned her into a shell of a human being, neither feeling nor caring what went on around her.
Her days were spent with her daughter or her garden; she had even let her rabbits go free because they reminded her of Christopher.
Nothing mattered to her at all anymore. Her world was pain.
One night after dinner, Anthony was sitting with her in the solar as she sat motionless by the hearth.
Her gorgeous blond hair was a rat’s nest of filth and she had dropped quite a bit a weight to the point where she was almost skeletal.
She did not look at all like the same robust woman they had come to know and love. It was a horrific sight.
“How did he die, Anthony?” she asked.
It was the first rational statement she had made in weeks. Startled, Anthony looked up sharply from the sword he was sharpening. Should he tell her? God, even he did not really know. He was extremely careful in how he answered her.
“Truthfully, I am not sure, my lady,” he said. “We found him several days after his death and it was difficult to tell.”
She absorbed this, still staring off into the flames. “John killed him.”
“My lady?” Anthony inquired politely.
She turned to him, her eyes clear. “John killed him,” she repeated. “It doesn’t matter how he died, because John killed him.”
Anthony was careful in his reaction. “In a sense, he did.”
Dustin turned back to the flames.
Later after Dustin had gone to bed, Edward and Anthony were alone in the solar sipping fine French wine and Anthony expressed his concern for Dustin.
“What are we going to do with her?” he asked Edward wearily. “I have never seen anyone grieve so hard or so long. She knew Chris was a soldier when she married him; she should have prepared herself for the eventuality of this moment.”
“I doubt one can be truly prepared for the death of a loved one,” Edward replied.
“However, I am worried for her also. Her mental health is unstable and she verges on total madness at times. Dustin was so strong I never thought to see this happen. She even keeps a distance from Deborah because she says the woman possesses ‘his’ eyes. I can only imagine she sees Chris every time she looks at his sister, but Deborah is understandably bewildered.”
Anthony raised an eyebrow. “We all are. Edward, I am worried about her.”
Edward sat opposite his friend. “There is nothing we can do” He shook his head sadly. “I wish David were here. He would be able to get through to her.”
“David?” Anthony repeated, dubious. “After what happened, do you truly believe that?”
Edward nodded firmly. “Aye, I do. David was jealous of Christopher and Dustin. With Chris gone, there is nothing to be jealous of anymore. They say that sometimes grief is the most binding of emotions, and I am sure David would be able to snap her out of this madness.”
“Should we send word to him?” Anthony asked.
Edward gazed off into the darkness of the room a moment, listening to the popping of the wood in the hearth. “If I know David, and I do, he is probably already on his way here. We will give him a week or so and if he still had not arrived, I shall send word to Canterbury.”
Anthony nodded, downing the last of his wine and wondering why life for all of them had ceased to exist the moment Christopher’s life slipped away. There seemed to be the past, and only the past; there was no future at all.
*
Richard was coming to visit to express his sympathy to Lady de Lohr.
And, not surprising, David was coming with him.
Edward and the other knights rejoiced with this news, hoping it would be enough to bring Dustin out of her stupor.
With each day that passed, she seemed to grow worse and they worried for her very life now.
She was so thin and pale, nothing like the healthy, vigorous woman they knew her to be.
The early March morning dawned amazingly bright and cheery.
It was not long after sunrise that the sentries sighted an approaching army and the horn was sounded.
Edward, knowing it to be Richard and David, hustled to find Dustin.
He had purposely kept the information from her, afraid that if he told her she would fly into a fit.
Now it was too late for her to do anything, so he sought her out in the garden.
She was hoeing like a farmer, dressed in the peasant garb that she favored these days.
Gone were the fine dresses, the hose, and the jewelry.
She was back into her blouses and rough cloth skirts, with the black leather girdle trussed up as tight as it could go and even then, it was too loose.
Her long hair was dirty, hanging almost to her knees as she chopped the ground furiously.
“Dustin?” Edward had long since stopped addressing her as “My lady” or “Lady Dustin.”
She did not look up nor did she answer him, as was usual these days. She continued to hoe. Edward continued.