Page 60 of The Tailor's Treasure

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.“WhereisWalter?”

“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 atyou, 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?”

Isabel looked down at her clasped hands, worrying at one ragged thumbnail with the other.She hadn’t picked at her nails in years, but the habit had returned with a vengeance since the last time she’d seen Constance.“I have ...”She took a deep breath, steadying herself.“I had been working at the tailor’s shop – you know that, that’s why Elizabeth was watching Walter for me.But Hilda learned of it, and she ...objected.So I’ve no cause to go out now, and no reason to ask Elizabeth to mind him.That’s all.”

“It’s not all.”He was watching her closely.“What cause did Hilda have to object?”

“She felt ...”In spite of everything, a hysterical giggle rose up in her throat.It would have been so ridiculous, if the consequences hadn’t been so dire.“It was – it reflected poorly on my character, to be so often visiting a house where –“ She lost control of herself then, and made a noise that was half-laugh, half cough.Matthew looked alarmed.She didn’t blame him.“Constance – Mistress Rykener, the tailor – has a brother who lives with her – Hilda felt that my visits were intended to provide an excuse for assignations with him.And she did not think it – fitting.So ...”She shrugged.All traces of laughter had left her.“She instructed that, if I were to continue in these visits, I was not welcome to linger under her roof.And, of course, Walter would remain even if I left.So there was no real choice to be made.And now ...”The thumbnail she’d been worrying at split, a small bead of blood rising from the nail bed.She watched it with a detached sort of interest, as if it were happening to someone else.“I have nothing to occasion my going out of the house.So I seldom do.I – suppose I wished for an afternoon’s visit.For ...old times’ sake.”She shrugged again.“There’s no more to it than that.”

Matthew was silent.She kept her eyes on her lap, watching the blood from her nail creep slowly down her finger.If it fell, it would blend into the brown of her dress; there was no cause for concern on that front.And even if it did stain, what did it matter?There was nowhere to go and no one to see or judge her for shabby clothes.

At last, Matthew spoke.“It’s all spite.”When she glanced up, his mouth was set in a line, and his face was reddening – but he wasn’t shouting.She was glad of that, at least.She didn’t have the strength to pacify him.“What she says, it’s – she doesn’t believe that.You know she doesn’t.It’s only an excuse to keep you chained to your place, because she can’t see you happy without wanting to crush it.Of all the churlish, vicious –“

He stopped then, and took a deep breath, as if drawing his anger back into himself.She was so surprised to see it, she almost missed his next question, which was, “What does the tailor – Mistress Rykener – make of all this?Surely she’ll be sorry to lose the benefit of your labour.”

Isabel opened her mouth to reply, then snapped it shut in horror as she felt a sob well up in her throat.She swallowed convulsively, but it didn’t do any good – her eyes were watering, and her mouth spasmed without her consent.She only managed to hide it by hastily putting her elbow up on the table and leaning her face against her hand.Even then, a choked sound escaped her throat, followed by a strangled gasp.She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in deeply through her nose in a vain attempt to calm herself.It didn’t work.

“Isabel?”She felt her brother put a tentative hand on her back.“What’s wrong?What did she say?Surely she can’t blame you –“

That sentence, innocently spoken, shattered the remains of her resolve entirely.She buried her face in both hands, shoulders shaking, little hiccuping sobs leaking out between her fingers in spite of her best efforts.She didn’t want to think about how her face would look if she raised it.She couldn’t think of anything else, because if she wasn’t preoccupied with hiding, then her mind returned inexorably to the memory of how Constance had looked at their last meeting – the expression on her face, like Isabel had delivered her a blow to the stomach.Her parting gift of love before Isabel had torn herself away from her.Isabel had done that - it was her fault.She had offered love and companionship and all the while, she had known she was free to offer neither.She had built a life where she was not free to do anything at all, and she’d lost Constance in the process – and along with Constance, the last bit of happiness she would ever grasp at.And it was her own fault.

She was so preoccupied with her own thoughts, she hadn’t anticipated what Matthew would do next, which was pull her roughly into a hug.Her immediate instinct was to struggle, but it passed quickly; she didn’t have the strength for it.She turned her face against his chest instead, letting tears leak from her eyes and soak his tunic, until her body finally stopped shaking with sobs and she was able to breathe deeply again.Still, she didn’t stir.Part of it was practical – so long as she stayed where she was, Matthew wouldn’t catch sight of her tear-stained face – but a greater part was simple need.She was tired, so tired and unhappy and lonely, and she needed her brother more than she’d ever realized she could.

Matthew didn’t speak while she cried herself out, or in the quiet moments after as she sniffled and scrubbed her hand over her wet face.When he did speak, his voice was measured.“If she blames you, then she must not know what it is you contend with.Did you ever tell her?”