Casting her eyes to the her plate, she sat quivering, waiting for his outburst, but it did not come. Still, she could not look at him.
The silence that followed was loud with unspoken pain. David, his heart folding within his chest, the sting of tears in his eyes, dared not look at her. Her words had done more than cut him, they had cleaved him in half. He floundered like a fish on the shore, his breath coming with difficulty, as he struggled to rise from his chair.
A glass fell at his hand as he used the table to bear his weight, for his legs were weak with the stunning blow she'd delivered.
After long moments of silence, during which only his harsh breathing could be heard, David went quietly from the room, not looking at the woman who had just killed him.
For though he breathed, he did not live. His heart was dead inside him and his spirit was done as well. Knowing he had no choice, however, he determined to follow through with his plan.
Hannah sat there, her heart as broken and dead inside her as was David's. How then had they come to this pass? They had loved so well and so truly, and she had considered him tender and caring.
She had thought this of herself as well, but she could see it was not true of either of them. For when the troubles came, they had both pulled hard away from that love, and there was no turning back.
Her words still echoed in the silence, and she wanted to call him to her, throw herself at his feet and beg forgiveness. She could not do so, however, for a part of her that knew it would only worsen her situation. Hannah, unloved and unneeded in her own eyes, was shattered.
Hannah, certain he would not accept an apology from her now, had not the energy to wipe away the single tear that ran down her face. She had seen his eyes and knew him implacable in this matter... and bitterly hurt at her outburst. She lifted her head at the sound of Challenger's scream of freedom.
Rising, she went to the window and watched David as he rode away on the stallion, black hair flying in the breeze, his powerful body one with the animal as he galloped hard away from the manor.
So in pain and anguish that she could not even cry, Hannah called for the small carriage and took herself off to see Mary Strongbow, for the woman would surely give her council and comfort.
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* * * * *
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Gillian Strongbow heard the familiar sound of Hannah's carriage and looked through the shop door, watching her alight, her face unreadable in the shadow of her bonnet. She held herself in such a rigid manner, however, he was certain of something amiss. Her roiling emotions fairly staggered him, as he sensed her spirit warring within her and the troubled vibrations of it came to him across the yard.
"Here Lad, watch the fire close, for I must leave a moment. Have a care now with that shoe, it will not bend properly if you heat it too little, and too long in the fire will weaken and shatter it."
Having given his absentminded instruction to the apprentice, who was accustomed to the old man's vagaries, Gillian went through the back door of his shop and slipped along the side of the house.
Stopping just under the window of the small parlor, open to let in the breeze, he leaned upon the wall and fixed his eyes on the road, as though casually awaiting a visitor, but his ears were fixed on the room above him.
He listened, as was his wont, when he needed to know what was afoot. Though shameless in his snooping, the old man knew the information he gleaned would possibly aid his loved ones, as it had done many times before.
Sometimes it took more than second sight to glean the answer to a problem and Gillian was adept at all manner of getting answers. That he was also a nosey old man did not occur to him at all.
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* * * * *
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Mary took Hannah by the arm and led the pale young woman to a seat by the empty grate, the day being too warm for a fire. Wordlessly, she went about preparing one of her herbal teas, to soothe the obviously agitated Hannah.
In the few minutes it took to prepare a small repast of fresh baked bread and jam and seat herself nearby, the only sound in the room was the ticking of an ancient clock on the fire mantle and Hannah's soft sobbing.
"Here you, dry your tears and drink this. Tears are cleansing, it is true, but too many will only bring on a headache and will not cure what ails you." Mary spoke gently but her voice also held a hint of sternness, for she needed to bring the girl back from her pain long enough to tell what was amiss... this time.
Hannah sipped, choked, and sipped again more slowly, and as she finished the brew—which held more than tea, including a wee drop of laudanum—she began to relax a bit, but could not smile. Her amber eyes were drenched with pain and shame. Mary learned soon enough why the shame lingered there.
"Mary I have done a most terrible thing." Hannah gulped back a sob and visibly controlled herself, then went on in a quivering voice, "I have said hurtful, horrible things to him I cannot take back. He will never forgive me, I am sure. I have said in so many words that he is unfit to raise a peer of the realm and I have told him..." She fell silent, unable to go on.
"What else then, have you told him?" Mary prodded—careful to keep her voice neutral—for though upset with her son, she could not like what the girl had said to him and her protective motherly instincts came to the fore. She pushed them back with a will and reminded herself this woman was the mother of her grandchild, and had no one else to turn to.
"I have told him that I will leave him. That he is not really a Marquis and that he is no longer my husband." She finished on a dry whisper, and looked toward the window where a small wren had perched for a moment, then flown a way, disappearing into the leaves of a nearby tree. Normally, Hannah loved to watch a bird in flight, but held hard to the ground by her anguish, she took no pleasure in the graceful soaring wings.
"Well, then, you can surely tell him you have changed your mind, if you wish to." Mary, unsure what had brought this argument on, waited for the girl to get to the meat of the matter. Until she did, Mary had no hope of advising her. "When his anger has cooled, you can go to him... "
"No. He will leave in the morning and take Clay away. He has said so." She looked her misery at the other woman, whose maternal breast understood all too well what Hannah was feeling at that moment.
"Take him where?" Mary knew well the answer, but she wanted to hear the girl say her piece, and find out what her objections were. It had sounded a good idea when she'd heard it from her father. The boy needed discipline, but he need a change as well, for he still clung to the old Marquis and his loyalty lay with the dead man, instead of with his father, where it belonged.
"He is taking a peer of the realm to a dirty hovel in the middle of the country, to visit with an old cousin whom he doesn't even know." She looked up, a spark of anger beginning to glimmer in her eye. "He says this old man is some kind of magician... can see into Clay's soul."
Hannah threw up her hands in exasperation, and cried out, "How could a man believe such drivel? No one can see into another's soul. 'Tis only God can do that."
"Are you so certain then, that you have the right of it?" Mary looked long and hard at Hannah, forcing the girl to look back as she willed it so. "Have you given any thought to David's motive here?"
"How can I give anything a thought? He came to me with his decision already in place. He did not ask my opinion, and told me in a voice that was just like his father at his worst, that there would be no deliberation, for his mind was made up. I have no say. He is my child, and I bore the pain of birthing him, and yet I have no say."
She glared at the older woman, as though she accused her as well.
Mary was at a loss, for once in her life, to advise the girl. She could no longer take her side, for she could see that Hannah was not in tune with the healing powers of seers and thought only of her own needs, her own wants and, most of all, her own pain.
She could not see the boy benefiting from this journey and would most likely not listen to anyone. Mary gave a weary si
gh and said the only thing she could to the young woman.
"I think, Hannah, that you would do well to seek out your husband and tell him what you have told me. You should not keep your feelings so bottled up that you spew angry nonsense instead of facts."
She looked rather censorious and her eyes glittered darkly. Mary could not quite hide her displeasure with what Hannah had done. "If you feel so strongly about this, you must use reason and sense in your argument. You have used instead hurtful words that you do not mean. Sometimes, child, those words cannot be recalled and no action will heal the pain of them. 'Tis clearing the air with David you need, not telling me."
Her voice was kind, but firm.
Mary rose from her chair and went to the door, a clear indication that Hannah should leave. The girl got to her feet and replaced her bonnet, pulled on her gloves and went to the door. She pecked Mary's cheek and quit the house without a word. Her heart was even heavier than it had been before. Mary had not spoken unkindly, but clearly, Mary was not in sympathy with what she had done, and she could blame her not.
With a heavy step and no peace of mind, Hannah allowed herself to be helped into the carriage and went home again. Home would soon be empty of all, save herself and the servants. Already she mourned the loss and her hands went to her abdomen, where a new life had perchance begun. She was not certain, but thought she might have conceived. I should have told him that, instead, she thought with bitter regret.
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* * * * *
.
"Come in now, old father and wipe your feet at the door." Mary went to the window and stared at the old man, her eyes annoyed, but not really angry. "Your snooping ways will get you in a hot kettle one day, I vow."
She then closed the window firmly and went to make his lunch.
Gillian moved away from the wall, and went into the house, his step as slow as Hannah's had been. What he knew that Mary seemed to have missed, was that Hannah was most likely increasing.
A woman who behaved in such an emotional way, usually was.
He remembered well Hannah's first pregnancy and how she had jumped from one taut emotion to another. Of course, she had had cause, finding out the things she had, but still, a woman increasing was like a storm on the brew... her course uncertain from one minute to the next.
Chapter Twenty-Two
~~
David returned to the house late in the night and went straight to Carlton, waking the man with some urgency. Carlton, if he were surprised at this nocturnal visit, hid it very well and pulling on his dressing gown, followed David to the study.
When they were both settled in, David with a brandy and Carlton with a small glass of his favorite cider, they began to discuss the situation and make plans for the journey.
"I would that you could pack up some things for the boy tonight. I know it is late, but I would have an early start and be there by tomorrow evening." David looked to his friend for a moment and seeing his nod of acquiesce, he continued. "I would be gone before his mother awakens and creates a hysterical scene."
Changing the subject abruptly, Carlton fixed David with a glance that took in his disheveled clothes and muddy boots, asking in a very straightforward manner, "Where have you been this long evening? You look like you have been crawling through the brush."
"I walked Challenger down through the marsh, and I fear I got lost when it became dark. I arrived at the cottage and stayed there awhile. It's peaceful there and a good place for a man to think."
"Yes. I will have such a place on the estate as soon as I've seen to the more pressing business at Crossham. Those folks in the village are in desperate need of sustenance."
The talk turned to the troubles at Crossham and how Carlton could bring some commerce to the area and boost the flagging economy. An hour later they parted, having avoided a discussion of the reasons for David taking the child away. They had already been over this ground and there was nothing left to say on the matter.
David went quietly along the hall, stopped by Hannah's door and waited a moment, then deciding retreat was the better part of valor, went to his lonely bed, missing an opportunity to commune with his wife, who lay awake, waiting for her silent lover.
When his footsteps had faded down the hall, Hannah turned her face to her pillow and wept in remorse. Seeing his action as one of rejection, she could not bring herself to go to him.
Carlton went along the hall to the small stairway that led to the nursery, his task to gather a few things for the boy, as David had requested. He checked on the sleeping child, and pulled the cover over him where he had kicked it away, then stood looking down at the boy and thinking of how he would soon have such a child with all the cares and joys—and yes, burdens—of his raising. He then turned his thoughts to David and Hannah.
Carlton was not certain that David did the right thing, but he was unwilling to say so. Aware of Hannah's resentment of him, he knew it was time to move on. He would go, he decided, as soon as she had settled down from the hysterics that were certain to follow the departure of her husband and son.
He would take the newly engaged tutor with him to stay until David returned with the boy, giving the man shelter against that day, for he liked him well and would enjoy his company. Mayhap, one day, he would have the fellow to teach his own sons, for he planned to marry as soon as he was able, being tired of his lonely existence.
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* * * * *
.
David went to rouse the child before daybreak. He carried the sleepy lad over his shoulder and placed him tenderly on the carriage seat, then covered him with a blanket. A streak of rose was just beginning to spread across the eastern horizon, heralding the new day, as the carriage bowled down the drive and away from the manor.
Amber eyes followed their progress until they were out of sight, and continued to stare at the empty road for a long time.
Hannah, standing in her window, gulped back her sobs, lest her new maid, Sally—sleeping in the anteroom—should hear her. Her heart was heavy, and knowing no other recourse, she knelt by her bed and began to pray.
She prayed for their safety, of course, and prayed as well that David's mission would be successful. During the long night, Hannah had come to believe there was no other choice for him or their son—this, then, would be the answer. She prayed it were so.
Her whispered plea that David could love her once more and forgive her angry words were mingled with her tears. Tears as silent as the lover who had come to her so tenderly in the night. She had spent the long hours in thought—and although she could not bring herself to go to him as Mary had suggested—she had come to understand that David needed to do this.
She came to the knowledge that it was not so much the wise man that he sought, but time with the boy, as she had often admonished him to do. Why he had not explained it to her thus, she could not understand. Remembering how he had stopped earlier at her door then passed on, she was even more dejected.
Weary beyond sleep, she rose from her supplications and dressed for the day. New lines had formed in her young face and the mistress went about her tasks quietly. To the surprise of all, she asked not a word about the absence of her small family and threw no tantrum, nor shed further tears, though traces remained of her earlier crying.
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* * * * *
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David awoke to the sound of Clay's piping questions. "Father, where are we and where is Mamma? I am not dressed. Where are my clothes?"
Before David could draw breath to answer the boy, he added in a very petulant and sulky way, "I am hungry. What shall I eat?"
Smiling in reassurance, David pulled the boy—still in his nightshirt—onto his lap, speaking softly. "Well, my son, you are going on a great adventure with me. Just the two of us."
The lie coming easily to his lips, he added, "Your momma wanted us to make this trip together and she did not want to come."
He reached down and rummaged in the wicker basket at his feet
and handed the boy a muffin, choosing one for himself, gathering strength to answer the boy's next question, which came immediately.
"Why?" Momma loves to be with me... she has said so many times." Clay looked puzzled and squirmed to be let down, gobbling the last bite of muffin. "And may I dress? I am a bit cold."
Handing the boy a bundle of clothing, David sat ready to assist him, but seeing there was no need, only tied the boy's boots as he lifted them, one foot at a time. He spoke, still softly, all the while.
"Your momma wanted it to be just us because sometimes a man and his son need time together, without all the fussing ladies do." He drew the boy into an intimate circle, "You know, if your face is just a bit dirty or your shoes are scuffed, she whips out her hankie and scrubs away...
"And if I dirty her floor with my muddy boots, well..." He twinkled at Clay, who was nodding agreement, a long-suffering look on his little face.
"Yes, she always scrubs at my face or my clothes. It is tiresome, but she says a gentleman must always look his best." The child turned an inquisitive gaze upon his sire. "Does she scold you as well?"
When David nodded solemnly, Clay looked gratified and piped up with and ingenious grin, "Will you let my face get dirty, sir and shall our boots get muddy?"
"Only if it is appropriate to what we are doing. I should not expect a spanking clean face on a boy who is tramping around in the woods, or building a fire... or fishing, of course."
"Is that what we are going to do?" The boy craned his neck to see out the carriage window, and looked startled when the countryside was unfamiliar to him. "Where are we? Where are we going?"
There was an edge of excitement in his voice, much to David's relief, as he noticed the adventuresome side of his son coming to the fore. Perhaps it would not be so difficult, after all, to gain the boy's trust.
"We are going to visit a cousin of ours. He lives in a small house and nearby him is a circle of magic stones where you and I might wander to our hearts content. He also has a loom and weaves... magic clothes for people to wear."
The Silent Love Page 23
