Chapter 21 #2
Nessa knew the lady was upset, that this was the cause of her anger. But that word, witch, it echoed in her mind and settled itself over the room with a weight of foreboding that was suffocating. This place … these people … would Nessa ever truly belong?
All things considered, she doubted that very much.
***
Nessa spent the rest of the day alone. As she went about her tasks, she walked as if she was invisible, wanting nothing more than to be ignored and forgotten.
She knew it was her imagination too, but she could not escape the feeling that the other staff members in the house watched her, as well as judged.
She heard their whispers. She saw their accusing eyes. And she felt them flinch and look away as she passed by.
It is my imagination, that is all. Surely, they do not think …
Was it possible that Lady Verity’s accusation had taken a life of its own? That what she thought of Nessa was no longer a thing brought by visceral emotion, but stated as fact and believed by the rest of the estate? Did people really think that Nessa was a witch?
She could not believe such a thing. She refused to let that idea settle. But she also needed a reminder that she was accepted in this home, that it was a place where she belonged. And as far as Nessa was concerned, there was just one person who might do that for her.
Nerves flooded Nessa as she searched the castle for Lord Thornwyck. Excitement too, of course. She had not seen or spoken to him since their moment by Aisling’s gravestone, and now she wondered what might happen when he saw her.
Likely, nothing, Nessa. Remember, he is in mourning, so there is no reason that you ought to be in his thoughts …
It was common sense, and Nessa should have listened to her own musings. But that did not temper the thrill that rose within as she peered her head into the library … and then slowly stepped into its depths because she could feel Lord Thornwyck’s presence.
The library was a large hall filled with rows of bookcases that rose to the ceiling and suffocated the room so it felt far smaller than it was. She walked past those bookcases, deeper into the library until she came to the back of the room where the windows opened to look over the back garden.
There, she found Lord Thornwyck, sitting by the large windows, the cool sun draped across his shoulders, a book rested on his knees. Even in the sunlight, it appeared as if he sat in shadow, as if that cool sun dimmed when it reached him … as if his mood demanded it.
Nessa stopped when she saw him. She took a deep breath that filled her with calm and hope.
His messy black hair. His rugged beard. Those dark eyes. She watched him closely, her heartbeat quickening, a smile taking her lips and her eyes because just seeing him reminded her of why she spent so many hours thinking about that near kiss.
As always, she felt a pull that drew her to him. He was the reason that this estate had started to feel like a home, and he was the reason that Lady Verity’s accusation would not hurt her. She had to believe that.
“Lord Thornwyck.” She approached him, sure to hold onto that smile so that he would see it. “Are you decent?”
He looked up when he heard her voice. Nessa expected a smile, perhaps a glimmer of recognition and appreciation reflected in his eyes – something that told her that he was glad to see her. What she got instead was cool indifference that made her shudder as if a cool wind had swept across the room.
“Miss Kavanagh …” He returned to the book on his lap. “Can I help you with something?”
“I …” Her words caught in her throat, and whatever she thought to say suddenly felt wrong. “I just wished to check if there is anything needed for the funeral later?”
“That is Verity’s domain,” he said. “Ask her, and I am sure she will find something.”
Something was clearly wrong. Nessa considered the likelihood that it had nothing to do with her, as Aisling’s funeral was approaching, and no doubt it sat heavy on Lord Thornwyck’s mind and weighed down his mood considerably.
But Nessa was no fool. She had seen Lord Thornwyck in his darkest moments, and always she was one to pull him from them. Was that not why they had grown so close to begin with? A moment such as this ought to have seen him reach for her in desperation, wanting her to save him as she had done before.
No … this was something else.
“Is something the matter?” Nessa asked as she took a step closer. “Something I might help with?”
“Is something the matter?” He chuckled bitterly. “What a question to ask at a time like this.”
“I did not mean –”
“Please, Miss Kavanagh,” he cut her off as he continued to look down at his book. “I do not know what you want … the reason that you are here. But whatever it is, now is not the time. Leave me.”
It was like a knife plunging through her chest. Nessa winced, cowered back, and her heart cracked down the middle, because of all the reactions she had expected from Lord Thornwyck, this one had not even entered her frame of thinking.
“I am sorry,” she said as she bowed her head. “I will leave you.”
She turned to go, her mood through the floor, when he called to her. “Wait.”
Nessa stopped, a tinge of hope touching her heart, and she turned back. “Yes?”
He looked up from his book, and the look he held her in was one that she had not seen before; it was detached and cold, as if she were a stranger in his eyes.
“There is something I must ask you, Miss Kavanagh, and for the sake of whatever it is that you might feel for me, I ask that you speak the truth.”
Her eyes widened, and she almost gasped.
No … surely, he had not heard about her? That was impossible! Nessa had been so careful, and the only person who she had dared to tell was Morag – and Nessa knew that Morag would not betray her. Would she dare?
“Wh – what is it?” Nessa stammered as her pulse quickened.
He closed the book and stood up slowly. Nessa resisted the urge to take another step back because he then took a step closer, and it was like a mountain rearing over a small village.
“I have heard things about you, Miss Kavanagh,” he said darkly.
“Things that I … I was hesitant to believe at first, because I could not comprehend their truth. Only now, I am forced to question them, as I am forced to consider what it is that I know of you.” He looked right at her.
“I do not wish to believe them …” He shook his head.
“Surely, they are lies. And I know that you would never lie to me.”
“I would not,” she said with little conviction. “I have not done.”
“These things.” His jaw clenched as he stared her down. “I will hear it from you. And please, if there is any truth to them at all, do not dare lie to me. I have been lied to enough.”
Nessa searched Lord Thornwyck for any sign of the man who she had come to know.
The warmth. The compassion. That familial bond that had grown between them.
But there was nothing. The man who stared her down was a stranger, one who saw through her lies, and Nessa wept silently because he was right to feel such betrayal from her.
I have lied to him … for so long … and finally, my lies have caught up with me.
She did not want it to come out this way. Nor did she want him to think that she had been lying on purpose. But that was the thing about lies and deceit; rarely did one get to choose when the truth came out. And always, when it did, chaos and destruction were what followed.
“I am so sorry.” She bowed her head.
“So, it is true?”
“I did not mean to lie to you,” she said, unable to look at him. “And please, know that I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Say it,” he seethed. “Tell me what you have done.”
She had no choice, and it was time for Nessa to accept as much and pray that her truth did not destroy the one good thing in her life.
“I –”
Sounds of shouting coming from outside cut over Nessa’s confession. She turned at the exclamation, brow furrowed as the shouting increased into a frenzy.
“What on earth …” Lord Thornwyck stormed past her and from the library as if she were not there.