CHAPTER ELEVEN
The day had been fair when she and Walter set out, but it did not have the courtesy to remain so.
In the two hours it had taken them to complete their errands at the market and set off towards home, a mass of dark gray clouds had chased away the morning's wispy white, and the sky was no longer pale blue, but an ominous brownish-yellow.
The wind, too, had grown biting, and Isabel wished she had thought to bring a proper cloak instead of the shawl she'd tossed over her shoulders.
Walter seemed entirely unperturbed by the changing weather – at least, until a resounding thunderclap split the air directly above their heads. He shrieked in fright, and came dashing back to hide in his mother's skirts.
"It's all right," Isabel murmured, bending to scoop up her son and cradle him against her chest. She glanced upwards just in time for the first fat drop of rain to strike her forehead.
They were still a league away from home, too far to outrun the rain.
On the other hand, they were no more than two streets away from Constance's house.
If they hurried, they might be able to make it.
The sky opened just as they reached Constance's door, and the accompanying gust of wind fairly blew them inside. Walter shrieked again, this time with laughter, and Constance – who was sitting at the sewing table – looked up, a smile lighting her face when she saw them.
"I don't mean to intrude," Isabel said, with as much dignity as she could muster while her dress was dripping on the floor. "But as you can see, the weather caught us by surprise."
"You couldn't be an intrusion if you tried," Constance said, coming around the table to take Isabel's sodden shawl from her shoulders.
She took the opportunity to kiss Isabel's cheek while she was there, which Isabel almost flinched at before she remembered herself.
They were safe within these four walls, with a solid oak door between them and the rest of the world, and Walter as their only witness; they could kiss each other as much as they liked.
It was an idea that took some getting used to.
Walter, meanwhile, evidently felt no dismay at the situation now that they were out of the storm.
Isabel had set him down while Constance helped her with her shawl, and now he beamed up at her from the floor, head tilted back so he could see her properly.
"All wet, Mama!" he chortled, waving his hands in the air.
And indeed, he was as soaked as she was; water dripped from his hair, and his coif was translucent with moisture.
"You certainly are," Isabel said, bending to take the coif from his head. "I'd best get you out of those sodden clothes before you catch your death. Constance, I don't suppose you've any - ?"
"No baby clothes, I'm sorry to say," Constance said. "Though I've blankets enough to wrap him in until those are dry. And I've a dress for you – you ought to be out of your wet things too. I wouldn't wish to see either of you fall ill again."
"I'm not so frail as that," Isabel said, though she could feel her face heating. Having someone fuss over her was as unfamiliar an experience as being kissed in affection – but similarly lovely, once the initial raw feeling passed.
Constance went to the chest in the corner of the room, and returned with a familiar garment in her arms. "Here," she said, handing the pink dress over to Isabel with a fond look.
"It seems you're doomed to always wear this one way or the other.
Perhaps I ought to make a gift of it – you've surely done more to make it wearable than I have. "
"But if you gave it to me, you'd have nothing to lure me back with," Isabel said lightly, a little amazed at her own daring.
Was she flirting? She'd had the skill once, when she was young, but that had been a carefully mannered attempt to make herself attractive to men like Geoffrey.
It had always felt awkward, unnatural. This felt as easy as breathing.
Constance put her head to one side, her expression mischievous. "Nothing?"
"Well . . ." Constance was still standing close by, close enough for Isabel to turn and bump her lightly with her hip. "Perhaps not nothing."
Constance reached out to catch Isabel around the waist, a mischievous grin on her face.
Isabel dodged her grasp, laughing, then hurried into the bedroom before they could be distracted any further from the task at hand.
As much as she was enjoying their conversation, the damp chill of her clothes was already making her shiver, and it surely was no good for Walter either.
Her son voiced no objection to being stripped of his wet things, but protested loudly when Isabel attempted to wrap him in blankets.
She eventually gave it up for a bad job - the house was warm enough that he could go about in just a clout until his clothes dried - and quickly stripped off her own wet dress and pulled on the clean kirtle, pulling the laces tight before she picked up Walter and carried him out to the main room.
He was still fussing a little as she did so, and when Constance caught sight of them, she smiled.
"Ah, is it so bad? Here." She stretched her arms out, and Isabel delivered Walter into them gladly; her own arms were starting to ache from carrying him.
Constance hoisted him in her grip and pulled grotesque faces at him until he gave off crying and began to laugh instead.
"It's warmest in the kitchen," Constance said, and Isabel trailed after her into the room in question.
The fire was roaring, and there were already chairs arrayed in front of it; no effort was required for Isabel to drop into one of them.
Constance seated herself opposite, with Walter in her lap.
He was already squirming to get down - likely because Tib was curled up napping in front of the fire - so Constance let him slide to the floor, and Isabel watched fondly as Walter crawled over to the cat and buried both hands in her fur.
"You know," Constance remarked, drawing Isabel's attention away from Walter and Tib, "it's convenient that dress fits you so well, but I will admit, there are other - enticements - to seeing you in it.
" She reached out and traced a fingertip just above the neckline, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in her wake. "This, for instance."
Isabel felt her face heat. "I'm pleased to hear that I enhance the dress."
"Oh, I don't know that I'd say that," Constance said. She was still trailing her fingers back and forth over the same spot. "More so that you're so lovely, I hardly notice the flaws in the construction. It's hard to notice anything but, when you're sitting there, looking as you do."
"And how is that?" Isabel asked, knowing that she was nakedly begging for compliments and not much caring.
Constance wanted to lavish her with praise, that much had become clear to her - and she was going to do so whether Isabel prompted her or not.
That she was able to participate in this little courtly dance of words was - exciting.
Arousing, even. It felt like teetering on a narrow ledge, knowing that a rush of wind would catch her and fling her into the air if she fell.
"I hardly know where to begin," Constance murmured.
She pulled her chair a little closer, the better to lean close and murmur in Isabel's ear.
"This swell, here - I can't look at it too long without wanting to put my mouth on it.
And I could say the same for your neck, it's so graceful.
Your mouth is distracting no matter what you're wearing, especially now that I know how it feels. And your -"
A squeal from the floor broke the spell of Constance's words, and they both looked towards the source. Tib, having apparently tired of being petted, had gotten up and was trotting off towards the door. Walter watched her go, his bottom lip trembling ominously. "Kee?"
"Gone for a nap, I expect," Constance said, reaching down to pat his head. "She'll be back when supper's served, I have no doubt. Here, would you like the ball to play with in the meantime?"
That might have successfully distracted Walter - for his face brightened when he saw Constance reaching for the toy chest - if not for the resounding peal of thunder that cracked overhead just then, loud enough to make both Isabel and Constance jump in their seats.
The fright of it, along with the disappointment of the cat's departure was too much for Walter, who immediately burst into noisy tears.
"Ah, poor thing," Isabel said, bending to pick him up.
He screamed, red-faced, and clung to the front of her dress while she rocked him.
"Shhh, it's all right. You've had a long day, I know.
" She should have recognized beforehand that he was overtired, but she'd been so preoccupied with the afternoon's events, it had escaped her notice.
Now, he buried his face in her breast, sobbing, as she swayed in her chair and murmured gentle nonsense to him.
When she glanced up, she saw Constance looking at her - no, watching her - with a soft look on her face that Isabel had never seen before. She caught Isabel's eye, and her mouth curved in a small smile, but she didn't look away.
"What is it?" Isabel said, barely audible over a still-weeping Walter.
"Nothing." Constance shook her head. "I was just thinking how lucky he is to have you. How lucky we b- how lucky we all are."