Chapter Fourteen
Matthew found his father’s marshal where he’d left him standing beside the gatehouse, looking very much like a man who’d just seen a ghost. That he was shaken was obvious, but then Walter remembered better than most what had occurred five years ago... He’d been coming out of the keep when it happened.
‘Is everything all right, sir?’ Judging by the way he was avoiding his gaze, clearly Walter didn’t want to talk about it either.
‘Fine,’ Matthew answered curtly. He didn’t intend to be rude, but at that moment it seemed to be all he was capable of. He’d just behaved abominably to Constance, though in truth, he’d been just as shocked by his behaviour as she was. It was as though he’d been watching the scene from outside his own body while a kind of madness had seized hold of him. Only the sight of his wife—his wife!—standing so close to the spot where he’d last seen Blanche had made the whole world turn black. Just as it had five years ago. He’d run up the stairs like a man possessed, every second stretching out like an eternity, his only thought to get her away from the edge.
Goodness only knew what she must think of him now! It was bad enough that he’d shouted at her on the roof, but the way he’d practically dragged her back to their chamber had surely made things even worse! He’d offended and no doubt scared her. She hadn’t cried or cowered, thankfully, but she must have wondered what kind of monster she was married to. The last thing he’d ever wanted to do was hurt her, but the evidence of it had been there right in front of his very eyes! Then he’d refused to answer her questions—not that that had stopped her from guessing the truth—and then walked out on her for the second time in as many days. Last night, he’d been able to use her exhaustion as an excuse to avoid painful explanations, but today there was no getting around the fact that he’d simply run away...
‘It ought to be enough to see us through to the spring.’
He frowned, belatedly realising that Walter had resumed their earlier conversation about the harvest. Which was a relief, although there was another more difficult subject they still had to discuss.
‘What about my father?’ He mentally braced himself for the worst. ‘How has he been?’
Walter scuffed the ground with his boot. ‘There were a few incidents with girls from the village, but none that I know of since he married again.’
‘Has he sired any children?’
‘I don’t think so, but his temper is even worse than it used to be. It’s a relief to have you back, sir.’
‘It’s not for long, I’m afraid. I’ll be travelling to Lacelby with my wife in a few days, but I’ll be close by,’ he added quickly at the sight of Walter’s crestfallen expression, ‘in case you need me.’
‘That’s good to know, sir.’ The marshal looked around nervously. ‘But I ought to be going. Sir Ralph won’t be pleased if he finds out I’ve been talking to you.’
‘I understand. Thank you, Walter.’
Matthew rubbed a hand over his face, heaving a sigh as the marshal hurried away. At least his heartbeat was finally returning to normal, but the rest of him was still awash with a riot of conflicted emotions. It had been foolish of him to think that he could come home and avoid the memories, not to mention the pain. It had been bad enough before he’d seen Constance on the roof, but now it was worse than ever. Everywhere he went in the castle, everyone he spoke to, reminded him in some way of Blanche. Nobody mentioned her directly, of course, but she was still there, like a ghost reflected in their eyes, shadowing his every move. They all remembered what had happened, too.
He tried, yet again, to push the memory of her out of his mind, making his way through the gatehouse and visiting some of his old acquaintances instead. It was a welcome distraction, even if he couldn’t stop himself from glancing up at the keep roof every so often. Only the steady flow of people heading towards the inner bailey in the late afternoon made him realise that it was almost time for the evening meal and he must have missed the dinner horn.
He groaned inwardly, hurrying back to the keep and through the already crowded hall. No doubt Constance would be sitting upstairs on her own, still shocked and angry, waiting for him to return and probably regretting their marriage, her opinion of him sinking lower and lower with every passing second.
Perhaps if he hurried then he could still salvage the situation. There wasn’t time to explain everything—not that he wanted to—but he could apologise again, admit that he was in the wrong and ask her to come down to dinner...with his family.
He groaned again, out loud this time. His family! As if that were any inducement! When he’d returned to the hall the previous evening, Alan had already gone, Lady Adelaide had been silent and his father had seemed determined to spend the entire evening staring into the fireplace. He’d spent an hour in their joyless company and then retired to his chamber, sleeping in a makeshift bed on the floor instead of disturbing Constance. He’d woken early enough to clear away any sign of it that morning, but the way things were going, he’d need it again tonight. Somehow he doubted his wife would be in the mood to share a bed any time soon.
He was just entering the stairwell when he caught sight of her on the dais, seemingly engrossed in conversation with Alan, though he had the distinct impression that she was making a point of not looking in his direction. He breathed a sigh of relief, glad to find she wasn’t waiting upstairs for him after all. Thank goodness for Alan. No matter what his brother thought of him, at least he wasn’t taking it out on her...
‘You’re making a habit of being late,’ his father greeted him with his customary lack of warmth. ‘Have you been looking over your inheritance?’
‘I’ve been renewing acquaintances.’ Matthew gave a tight-lipped smile as he walked past, making for his wife’s side.
‘I apologise for my tardiness.’ He made a bow when he reached her. ‘I was just on my way upstairs to find you.’
‘Thank you, but I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way to dinner.’ Constance’s expression was guarded. ‘Your brother has been keeping me entertained.’
‘Indeed?’
‘I’ve just been telling her about Wintercott.’ Alan gestured around the room with a cynical expression. ‘This place is our father’s pride and joy, after all.’
‘It’s certainly impressive,’ she agreed.
‘It ought to be with the amount of money he spends on it. He reserves his affection for cold stone walls, you see. He’s much fonder of it than he is of us.’ Alan’s gaze landed on Matthew’s face. ‘Of course, all this will be yours some day. You won’t be able to avoid it for ever.’
‘I’ve no intention of doing so.’ Matthew lifted his chin, resenting his brother’s mocking tone, however accurate the words. ‘I’m here now, aren’t I?’
‘And leaving again soon.’