CHAPTER EIGHT #7
What was it Constance had said, that day at the mill pond?
We were both free to pursue our own affairs.
She hadn't said what sort of affairs they'd agreed on, if they'd agreed at all – but it stood to reason he knew, didn't it?
If he didn't, he'd not only agreed to a marriage lacking love or fidelity, he'd agreed to the possibility of raising another man's children, something she doubted very much was in Peter's character to do.
And Constance had seemed so unconcerned at the thought of anyone finding out – that must have included Peter, she lived with him.
And she was tired, so tired, and Constance was so steady, and the temptation overwhelming.
She did not so much as put her head down as let her neck droop, and allowed nature to do the rest. Constance's shoulder was just as soft and warm as the rest of her, and Isabel thought it would be easy to fall asleep right here and now.
Constance, for her part, seemed unperturbed; she only shifted slightly to accommodate Isabel's position, then turned her own head to drop a brief kiss on Isabel's hair.
On her other side, she saw Peter glance sidelong at them, but his expression betrayed no shock or anger: on the contrary, he only seemed faintly amused, as if a long-held suspicion had finally been confirmed.
Well, that settled that. Freed from worry – at least momentarily – Isabel let herself settle against Constance with a small sigh, fairly snuggling into her when Constance slid an arm around her back.
Peter seemed unconcerned with the both of them – but then, Walter was taking up most of his attention.
Even with his happy squeals, the room felt peaceful.
She let her eyes drift shut, enjoying the warmth of Constance's arm around her and the solid weight of her body and the knowledge that everything was - however temporarily - as it ought to be.
She wasn't certain how long she lingered there, but it wasn't until Walter's shrieks took on a pitch that she knew presaged tears in the near future that she roused herself.
Constance let her arm fall away as Isabel stood and went to gather her son.
"Tired, are you?" she murmured as she picked him up.
He wriggled in her grip. "No!"
"Oh?" She shifted him in her arms so that he was facing her. "You want to go on playing, then?"
"No!" One of his flailing feet caught her in the side, and she shifted him again to keep herself out of harm's way. "Well, what would you like to do?"
Another shriek of "no!" was all the answer she got, and all she had really expected.
She carried him back over to where Constance had gotten to her feet and was helping Peter up beside her.
"I'd best take him home," she said, as Walter went on squirming and fussing in her arms. "He's had a long day. "
Constance's smile was wistful as she reached out to brush a stray bit of dust from Walter's shoulder. "Are you certain you can't stay the night? There's a trundle bed there he could sleep in."
The offer was fiendishly tempting, but Isabel shook her head.
"He sleeps better in his own bed," she said.
"And besides, Hilda and the others may return tonight, and it wouldn't do for them to return and find us gone.
" Just the thought of it sent a cold shudder through her.
"Thank you – both of you. For – everything.
" She caught Constance's eye as she said it.
However much Peter may already know or understand about their relationship, she still had no interest in discussing it in front of him.
Constance gave a tiny nod, and a smile touched her lips. "I'll walk you out," she said, and steered her gently with a hand on her arm. Isabel nodded to Peter as they went, who nodded back; he still looked amused.
Constance walked her as far as the front door, then stopped and tugged lightly at Isabel's arm so that they were face to face.
"You'll be back soon?" she said. The question was light, but Isabel could see real concern in her eyes, and she felt a stab of guilt for the way she'd left before. "As you're able, I mean."
Isabel leaned forward slightly, then hesitated.
She'd never been this bold before – but what could be the harm?
They understood each other, now. She closed the gap and kissed Constance softly, without urgency.
Constance made a noise that sounded like surprise, and kissed her back, letting one hand rest at the nape of Isabel's neck.
They could have gone on like that for hours and forgotten all about Isabel's intention to leave, but for Walter squirming and kicking between them, whining at a pitch that only increased the longer they lingered.
Isabel drew back with a rueful smile. "Soon," she said.
"Tomorrow, or the day after." She caught Constance's eye and smiled.
"After all, there's still the dress to be finished. "
Constance laughed, and Isabel knew she'd been understood. She hoisted Walter up in her arms and stepped out the door, into the golden twilight air.