Page 46 of The Tailor's Treasure

She took another steadying breath.Then another.Constance said nothing, just went on stroking her hair, waiting for her to collect herself enough to continue.

"I was married nine years before I had Walter," she said into Constance's neck.This part was the hardest, the one that had shamed her the most."I could never conceive in all that time - or if I did, I lost it so quickly that I never realized.I spoke to a physician, and he said that a woman must climax in order to bear a child.So I thought - that was my fault, too.I couldn't climax, and so I couldn't conceive.All the things I was meant to do, I couldn't - I couldn't make my body obey me, to do the things it was made for.There was some defect in me, I was too weak to force myself -"

She stopped.Constance had tightened her arms around her, rocking her slightly as if she were a child.She sniffled, but her eyes were, for once, blessedly dry.She was past tears.This was only her body's memory of pain, echoing past the point where it was of any use.

"But you did have Walter," Constance said softly."And here you are."

"Here I am," Isabel agreed."Here we are."She curled closer against Constance's side."He was so happy here, this afternoon.He's always happy when I bring him here.At home, he's so - solemn."She sighed."I think, sometimes, it would be better if I were able to send him to live somewhere else.My niece's house is no fit home for a child.But I haven't the power to decide where he lives.And I would have to be parted from him besides, and I couldn't bear it."

Constance was quiet for a moment; the only sound was the rain blowing against the walls.Then she said, "What if you could?Decide where he lives?"

Isabel lifted her head from Constance's neck to stare at her."I can't.My husband's will gave that power to my stepsons."

"The wardship.I know."Constance's expression had turned thoughtful."But would they ever cede it to you?From what you've said, they've no paternal interest in him."

"They see him once a month, if that," Isabel agreed."And it's just as well that way.But they want control over the allowance his father willed to him.It's a pittance, but they believe it's theirs by right."She sighed."As of now, they pass it on to my niece every month for his maintenance.I only have what she gives me.And she won't let go of it, either.So there's no way."

She thought again of Walter in Constance's lap that evening, being rocked to sleep.She thought of him shrieking with glee as Peter played with him, or when he scampered across the floor after the cat.She thought of herself, here in Constance's arms, feeling safe - feeling loved - for the first time.She couldn't have this always.She knew better than to wish for that.But just these scattered moments, snatched when the opportunity arose - even that was more than she'd ever thought possible.How could she complain that she wasn't offered more, when she had already received such a precious gift?

"Never mind it," she said, laying her head back down."There's no use wishing for what can't be.And besides, I ..."She played with a lock of Constance's hair, winding and unwinding it around her finger.She couldn't look Constance in the eye for what she meant to say next."This, here, it's - being ...cared for ...I never knew ..."There was more she wanted to say, more she needed Constance to know.But she couldn't find the words.It was not an idea, it was a swirling mass of warmth and happiness and affection that she couldn't shape into coherent thought no matter how she tried.

Constance tipped her chin up with a finger and gave her a look that made Isabel thrill from the crown of her head down to her toes.She nudged her nose against Isabel's, then kissed her: it was a deep kiss, but an unhurried one.Just for the moment, they had all the time in the world.And in her kiss was all of the things Isabel had meant to say, and everything Constance might have said in return.They didn't need anything else.

CHAPTER TWELVE

When Isabel woke, ithappened slowly: first with a growing awareness of the body pressed snug against hers', then the blanket tucked around both of them, and finally the steady drumming of rain against the roof.The bed felt different from what she was accustomed to - somehow softer, though she knew intellectually that it was stuffed with the same straw as her pallet at home.Perhaps it was the width of the bed that made it seem so much more comfortable, or the equal distribution of weight across its surface.Or perhaps it was just Constance's presence, the way her nose pressed against Isabel's neck, how each breath stirred the strands of hair that had escaped from Isabel's braid.Isabel could not remember ever sleeping beside someone and enjoying the experience: up until now, she'd assumed the fault was her own, that she was too cold by nature to share a bed and revel in the knowledge of another person beside her.Another old experience that Constance had made new for her.

Constance was always so warm.

Isabel turned her face to Constance's hair, inhaling deeply.She could stay right where she was for the rest of the night, enjoy the closeness and the stillness until sleep claimed her again or it was time to rise with the dawn.No one was going to come and demand she rouse herself.And she felt a thrill just laying there as she was, her lips against Constance's forehead, their arms around each other to no purpose other than a desire to be close.She knew this occurrence would be a rare one; surely she ought to linger as long as she could.

Except - Walter wasn't here.He was tucked into the little cot upstairs, spending the night away from her side for the first time in his short life.Most likely, he was still asleep - he was not prone to waking during the night, and Peter surely would have called downstairs for her if he had.But his absence still pricked at her.She was so used to half-waking, rolling over, and reaching into his cradle to reassure herself that he was still breathing: now, she couldn't.The chance that anything had happened to him was vanishingly small, but still - the thought squirmed in her brain, and she knew it would give her no peace until she went to check on Walter herself.

Slowly, carefully, she slid away from Constance until their bodies were no longer entwined, and sat up.Neither of them had bothered to put their shifts back on after their earlier activities - she felt herself blush to remember it - so she leaned over and fished around on the floor until her hand made contact with familiar linen.She slid the garment on, then eased herself out of bed as quietly as possible, making sure to pull the covers back up to cover the spot where she'd lain.Behind her, Constance sighed and turned over in her sleep, but she did not wake.The sound was enough to make Isabel want to crawl back in with her, but she steeled herself against the impulse.She felt around on the floor beside the bed until she'd located the reed lamp, then picked it up and tiptoed out, one hand extended out in front of herself so she didn't walk face-first into a wall.

She lit the reed lamp from the embers of the fire in the main room - it cast enough light to see by, but only just - then made her careful way up the stairs.The door to Peter's room was cracked open just wide enough for her to slip through, but the light afforded by the lamp did not stretch far enough to see if he was awake or not.She paused in the doorway, remembering past confrontations: they'd put that behind them, but she was still reasonably certain that Peter would not take kindly to waking and finding her standing in his bedroom.