Page 59 of The Tailor's Treasure

"I am not so foolish as to assume it," Matilda said, almost as if she had divined Constance's thoughts.She sounded faintly amused."But that may be managed later.For now, my children are home and safe, or about to be.All else may be settled later."She turned to look at Richard."You have work to do this afternoon, do you not?"

Richard rose from his chair, still frowning."I do," he said, "though it will take twice as long with Simon absent.I suppose you think I should forgive him his absence, as we've adopted a habit of lenience?"

"We have done no such thing, so cease your sulking," Matilda said."You may punish him as you wish, so long as we remain true to our promise and he stays under our roof.You will say the same, once you've had a chance to calm yourself.Go on."

He left, a nonplussed look on his face as if he'd just been hit over the head with a wooden board.Constance suspected arguments with Matilda often left him so; her sister had a way of felling opponents with sheer force of will.She also suspected that Matilda was right, and he would return to his customary good temper shortly.As Matilda had said, they'd both had the raising of Simon since he was young, and it would take a hard heart to turn him out of doors after ten years.

"Good, you're here," Matilda said.Constance glanced up to see Margery descending the stairs, now in a clean dress and hose."There's parsnips and leeks on the sideboard, and a knife.Set to chopping them while I build the fire up.Constance, you're welcome to stay for supper if you like, but you'll be put to work along with Margery if you do."

"Thank you," Constance said with a smile, "but I had better get back to Peter.If you'll permit me a word with Margery before I go?"

Matilda flicked a hand,go on, and Constance sidled to where Margery had done as her mother instructed and taken up the chopping knife."It was a kind thing you did," she murmured, "helping Simon and Nelly as you did today."

Margery's face split in a grin."I had fun.It was like an escape in a song or a story."

She was right about that, Constance thought with some amusement: it was precisely the sort of frolic one might expect to hear a minstrel singing of.For that reason alone, she suspected Margery had had the better part of planning it."Is that why you were so set against the match?Because you knew Simon wanted Nelly instead?"

Margery tossed her head with a snort."I didn't want him," she said."I never did.I want to travel, as I said.I never knew about Nelly until I caught them together behind the tavern last month, and then Simon begged me to help.And I did, because that way we'd never have to marry.Are you better now?"

Once again, Margery had leapt from topic to topic so quickly, Constance was struggling to keep pace with her."Better?"

"Since last week," Margery said impatiently."Isabel left, and then you fell on the floor.Are you better now?"

"Oh.That."Memories of Isabel, which had been pushed to the side while the immediate crisis was dealt with, now came flooding back.She gave Margery a tight smile."Yes, I'm better.Or I will be.It will pass."It always had before, after all.Even Emmeline's memory was no longer as painful as it had once been, though it felt fresher now than it had in recent years.Losing Isabel had pulled those wounds open again, and laid new ones atop of them.Still, it would pass.It had to.

"Good," Margery said, and re-applied herself to chopping the turnips."Are you sure you won't stay longer?There's so many vegetables to chop."

Constance laughed a little in spite of herself."I have faith that you will manage it," she said."And I do truly need to get back to Peter."When she did get back, she'd have to thank him for serving as such a ready excuse to slip away when she wished to."I will come back soon enough.Or you may come to me - you are falling behind in your sewing lessons after all."

A roll of the eyes was all she received in response to that, but she didn't mind.She paused on her way out the door to squeeze Matilda's hand - "Do come back soon," Matilda said, "the children have been asking after you -" and then went out the door, into the fresh spring air beyond.It was not cold, not really, but she still huddled inside her cloak as she walked.She thought of Simon and Nelly, presumably rejoicing in the success of their gambit; she thought of Peter, and Jack, who was likely home with him by now.She thought of them, and she thought of Isabel, shut up in her niece's house - and herself, and the cold bed she would sleep in tonight.She thought of all of them, and of Emmeline too, and wondered when she would stop feeling cold.

# # #

Isabel had thoughttime in Hilda’s house would pass much the same as it had before – before the tailor’s shop, before Leah and her dresses, before she’d had work to keep her mind and her hands occupied.Before Constance.She hadn’t anticipated how much slower each hour seemed to drag now that she had experienced life with joy and purpose.Hilda’s jibes, against which she’d long since developed an armour, cut to the quick.The girls, who both knew exactly why Isabel no longer went out, took delight in teasing and poking at her until she snapped at them, then ran to their mother to complain.Even Walter was out of sorts, fussing and whining when she tried to put him to bed, fighting every instruction she gave him, unsatisfied with every toy or game she offered.After two weeks of this, Isabel thought she’d have to leave the house somehow, or she would lose her mind.

“I thought I might take Walter to visit his aunt and uncle,” she said to Hilda, who was embroidering in the solar.Just the sight of the needle and thread in her hand made Isabel want to scream, but she forged ahead anyhow.“He misses his cousin.”

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.