Page 41 of The Tailor's Treasure

Isabel twined her fingers around Constance's.Her mind felt clouded, partially with exhaustion - Walter had gotten her up before daybreak, and she hadn't had a moment to stop and rest since - but also with Margery and Leah's argument, and the feelings it had stirred in her."A strong will is nothing," she said, "without the power to wield it.Leah is fortunate that what she wishes aligns with what her family wishes for her.If it were otherwise - if she were at odds with her mother, as Margery is - what choice would she have?"

Constance pulled back to give Isabel a searching look.Isabel could not think what she was searching for.She wanted to drop her gaze, but she held firm in spite of it.She wanted to be braver than she was.

"For you ..."Constance held up their interlocked hands and turned Isabel's hand over in her own, smoothing her fingers across Isabel's palm."When you made your match ..."

Isabel said nothing.She did not know what Constance meant to ask, and she would not attempt to anticipate her.

"You told me you chose it," Constance said finally."That you blamed yourself for all that came after, because you had brought it upon yourself.But if you truly had no choice, as you say Margery and Leah do not, then can you say honestly that you own the blame?Surely both cannot be true."

Isabel gave up holding her gaze and looked down at their hands instead.Constance was rubbing a thumb over the lines on her palm; the sensation was ticklish, but not uncomfortable."I," she began, then paused to re-gather her thoughts."The circumstances were not the same.I had no mother to press me on the matter.I had only myself."

"And your brother," Constance said."You had to support him, you told me yourself.Was that not what swayed you?"

"To what end are you asking?"Isabel pulled her hand away, feeling suddenly, unaccountably, irritable."Either you believe I had a choice, and what happened after was my own doing; or you believe I had no choice in the matter, and neither do Leah or Margery or anyone else.Either way, you contradict yourself.Which is it?"

Constance did not attempt to take her hand again, but neither did she move away."I don't know," she said."I don't know what I mean to ask, or why.I suppose I only -" She sighed."Nothing we do is easy.Nothing a woman wants comes without risk.Even this -" She bent to kiss Isabel's palm."-would not be chosen for us by anyone but ourselves, but we have chosen it in the face of all impossibilities.I think we must grant ourselves some choice, even in the midst of it all, or we will batter ourselves to death against walls we believe we cannot climb.Do you take my meaning?"

Isabel wasn't certain she did.She also wasn't certain it mattered.Choices, choices, choices; she was tired of making choices, tired of trying to reason out which ones were available to her and which would remain out of her reach.She didn't want to think about choosing this, here, because if she thought too long about it, she might decide it wasn't possible after all.So she didn't answer, didn't say anything.She leaned against Constance instead, resting her cheek against Constance's hair, and letting them both stand there in silence.A choice to do and say nothing was, she supposed, still a choice in itself.Perhaps it was the only one she truly had.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The day had been fairwhen 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 - ?"