CHAPTER FOURTEEN #4
Hilda looked up at her, black eyes narrowing. Isabel felt herself shrink back. The look on her face was not one of magnanimity. “He has cousins here,” she said coolly, tying a knot in the end of her thread and snipping the tail off.
“But not playmates,” Isabel said, suppressing a shudder at the idea of letting Aline and Petronilla play with her son. “And he was used to seeing her every week, before. He’s too small to understand where she’s gone.”
“Then you may explain to him why your conduct has put her out of reach,” Hilda said.
Her smile was toothy as she re-threaded her needle.
“But for his own sake, I certainly cannot countenance you taking him out. You have proved yourself far too untrustworthy for that. How might I believe you are going where you claim you are? If you wish to go out, then he must remain here.”
“You may send Bridget or Ellyn with us, if you fear me going astray,” Isabel said, trying not to let desperation colour her voice.
If she was denied even this, then she knew for certain that she would go mad.
She didn’t know when she had become so fragile – she had weathered worse than a spell indoors, after all – but she could feel her resolve fraying.
“They will report back to you that I have gone nowhere but where I said I would.”
“And give up the use of their labour in the kitchen? I think not.” Hilda shook her head. “Go alone, or not at all. The choice is yours. If you go, then leave Walter with Bet – she’ll keep him out of trouble.”
It was on the tip of Isabel’s tongue to ask why having Bet watch Walter was any less a distraction from the work of the kitchen than taking one of the servants with her, but she didn’t dare.
It was the best option Hilda could have offered, so long as she was insisting Walter stay behind – if she’d suggested watching him herself, then Isabel could never have justified going and leaving her son in Hilda’s care.
Bet might be impatient with the task set for her, but she wouldn’t be cruel.
“As you wish,” she said, and fled.
After she deposited Walter in the kitchen – Bet was, as she’d expected, less than gracious at having child-minding added to her duties – she took her cloak and hurried out before Hilda could change her mind.
It wasn’t until she was several streets away from home that she felt the tension in her back and shoulders begin to uncoil.
Seeing Elizabeth wasn’t seeing Constance, or even seeing Peter – but it was better than the company she’d had over the past fortnight.
She couldn’t tell Elizabeth what was truly grieving her, but Elizabeth would still sympathize for her being trapped with Hilda.
Even just a half-hour of friendly conversation could steel her against another fortnight’s worth of cruelty.
And once she had found some sort of equilibrium in these visits, perhaps she could regain some of her old fortitude.
She had survived before Constance, after all; and she wasn’t a child, to weep for the end of the world over a disappointment.
She had no business weeping at all, when everything that had happened had resulted out of her own decisions.
She just needed a moment to lick her wounds before she rejoined the fray. Elizabeth could provide that.
But when she arrived at the smithy and pushed the door open, Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen.
Matthew was seated at the table instead, with Marian in his lap.
It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the sight before her: Matthew had taken the ash from the hearth and spread it across the table so that Marian could draw in it with her fingers.
As Isabel paused in the doorway, the baby chortled, slapping both palms on the table and sending twin grey clouds of ash into the air.
She tilted her head to one side, looking puzzled, then sneezed explosively several times in a row.
Her face and hands were both a mess, to say nothing of the rest of the room.
“Does Elizabeth know what you’ve done to her table?” Isabel asked, stepping into the room.
Matthew looked up, his face crinkling into a smile when he saw her.
“I’ll clean it before she returns,” he said, then directed his attention back to Marian.
“There, button, can you draw a bird? With a point there – for a beak – there’s a clever girl.
” He guided her hand as he spoke, getting ash smeared all over his own hand and sleeve in the process.
Even with his guidance, the picture Marian produced hardly resembled a bird to Isabel’s eyes; but Marian seemed entertained by it.
“Has she stepped out to market, then?” she asked.
“Or to the well?” She’d expected Matthew would be at work in the smithy at this hour, and she would be free from the obligation to face him; he would sympathize with her just as Elizabeth would, but he would also be angry on her behalf, and that was something Isabel couldn’t face.
But she could make conversation with him for a few minutes, at least.
“To the manor, to see her brothers,” Matthew said, sweeping the ash into a little pile.
“It’s too long a journey for a little one, and I didn’t wish to have her underfoot in the smithy, so we’re spending the day indoors.
Aren’t we, button?” Thus addressed, Marian giggled and reached up to pat her father’s face with her ashy hands.
He didn’t seem to mind the streaks she left behind, kissing the top of her head before he looked back up at Isabel. “Did you have need of her?”
“I – no.” Isabel, who had taken a few steps towards the empty chair by the table, stopped in the middle of the room, fisting a hand in her skirts. “I had better – you’re occupied with Marian, I’ll not trouble you. I can come back on some other day.” She turned, making for the door.
“Stay.” When she looked back, Matthew had risen out of his chair, still holding the baby.
“Sit awhile and talk – I don’t mind it, and I’m not so busy as I can’t spare the time.
” He offered a wry smile. “I’m not such poor company, am I?
If I am, this one can make up for it.” He jogged Marian, who giggled.
“I had better –“ But despite her objections, Isabel could not force herself to move towards the door. What awaited her on the other side? A return to the house, with Hilda’s sniping and Walter’s tears and the girls’ teasing, and no friendly face in sight.
Endless hours stretching out for days, months, years – the rest of her life, spent soaking in misery, until God saw fit to take her.
For a moment, it had looked as if that might change; but she’d been foolish to think it.
So why was she in a hurry to return to her fate, when she’d managed to snatch a few hours’ reprieve?
She should at least take advantage of it, however long it lasted.
“Isabel?” Now Matthew was frowning at her. “What’s wrong?”
She attempted a smile, and knew without seeing her reflection that she’d failed miserably at it. “Nothing. Only a trying day.”
“Well, come and tell me about it.” He kissed the top of Marian’s head again, then set her down amid the toys scattered on the floor, saying “play with your animals awhile while I speak to your aunt, all right? Good girl.” Marian – who, alone among the room’s occupants, seemed unaware of the tension in the air – happily picked up a toy in each fist, babbling nonsense to herself.
Matthew stepped around the table and lowered himself into one of the chairs, holding a hand out to Isabel. “Come sit?”
Isabel looked at him, then at his hand. It seemed bigger, now, than she was accustomed to, for all that he couldn’t have grown so much in the weeks since she’d last seen him.
Somehow, it had remained fixed in her mind as the little hand she’d held when they were children and she was leading him from place to place, looking for a safe haven.
It was – excepting Walter – the last really good thing she’d managed to do. Strange to think it was so long ago.
She took his hand and let him lead her to the chair beside his. Once she’d lowered himself to sit, he took her hand on both of his, chafing it. “You’re cold.”
“It’s a cold day.” It was easier to look at the wall than at her brother, so that was what she did.
“It is,” he said. “I’m accustomed to working over the fire, so I hardly notice. You ought to have a proper pair of mittens.”
She choked on a laugh at that. Constance had said much the same thing. “I’ve been told.”
“Isabel.” He pulled on her hand until she was forced to look at him. “What’s the matter? Something ails you, that’s plain enough. And you didn’t come all this way without Walter –“ He broke off, brow creasing. “Where is Walter?”
“At home, with Bet,” she said dully. “Hilda thought it best he didn’t come with me.”
That familiar look of outrage crossed his face. “And what business is it of hers’?”
Isabel pulled her hand free, folding it with the other in her lap. “You know very well what, so don’t rail at me.”
“I don’t rail at you, I –“ He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Very well. But that’s to my point, isn’t it?
You wouldn’t have come all this way without Walter if something wasn’t amiss.
For that matter, you wouldn’t have gone this long between visits if something hadn’t prevented you – you’ve been coming twice weekly for near two months now. So what’s happened?”