The Libertine (Taskill Witches 2)
Chloris had never wanted to see the place again, before now. However, she’d begun to exist only in respect of Lennox and that bond had shattered so suddenly that she sought some other anchor. That was how she found herself in front of the tall town house where she had been born, and where her parents had lived and died.
Chloris dropped down from her saddle and stared at the familiar building. She had not been on this street since she went to Edinburgh to marry Gavin, and she had not stepped inside the house since Tamhas had taken her to his home as his ward. She took a deep breath and told herself she was strong enough to do this, to face the past, in order to ready herself for the future.
Calling out to two passing lads, Chloris offered them the reward of a coin each if they stood with her mount for a few minutes. They gladly obliged, taking off their hats and petting the animal while she went to the door.
“The master and mistress are not at home,” the serving girl said when she opened the door and saw Chloris standing there.
“It is not your employers I wish to see. I used to live in this house many years ago,” she explained, wishing that her voice did not waver
so. “Is anyone at home other than yourself?”
The girl shook her head. She was a timid girl.
“I will only ask for a small amount of your time. If you will allow me to visit the old nursery I would be most grateful.”
She chewed at her lower lip for several moments before she replied. “I should not, mistress.”
Chloris opened her hand, revealing the coins she offered in return for the favor.
The girl’s eyes lit.
“I promise it will not take long. It is just to preserve my memories, you see.”
After a prolonged ponder the girl’s decision was made and she ushered Chloris inside. “Just the old nursery, you say?” She closed the front door quickly and gestured to the stairs. “That would be the long room at the back of the house overlooking the garden?”
“You understand me well, that is the very one.” Chloris pressed the coins into the servant’s hand. The girl curtsied and then led the way quickly up the stairs.
Chloris glanced about as she followed, noting the changes that had been made, and the things that were the same as she remembered. As they closed on the door to the old nursery, she steeled herself. There would be sad memories, but happy ones, too.
The serving girl opened the door, then stood by.
“Thank you.” Chloris took a deep breath. It was time for her to accept her lot in life and not chase fancy dreams, nor allow herself to grow fond of a man who she should not have allowed into her life in the first place.
The room was more sparsely furnished than it had been the last time she had been in it, the work bench and chairs she had known gone, and in their place a fancy armoire and several storage trunks. “The mistress of the house has no children?”
“Oh, yes, but they are long since grown and married. This room is not used at all now.”
Chloris nodded and then stepped farther into the room, her feet tracing the familiar path to the fireplace where every morning she’d sat at her mother’s side. Together they would read and study and Chloris had grown from a child to a young woman here. Eithne was her companion in the afternoons, and while they worked on their sewing—Eithne busy with the household repairs, Chloris on her embroidery—Eithne would talk about the clans in the north and how they lived very different lives to the Lowlanders. Eithne would sometimes tell her fairy tales as well, stories of the strange and magical creatures who lived in the sea and the mountains.
So it was that her mother had made her an educated young lady who felt safe and loved, and Eithne had made her believe that magic was all around. They had been golden days, until the illness came and took her parents, and Chloris had found her world broken apart.
She ran her fingers along the stone mantel, but there was no fire in the grate.
There had been no fire in the grate the last time she’d stood here. It had not been laid because it was the day of the funeral and she should have been walking alongside the cart that carried her parents’ coffins to the Kirk.
Eithne had understood, even though she said it was wrong. “You must do this, child. I know you do not want to say goodbye to them, but you must.”
Chloris had clung to her, weeping. “I cannot.”
“You must hold your head up, whatever comes your way in this life.”
Eithne was upset, and Chloris remembered her trembling even as the buxom woman embraced and comforted her. Looking back on it, it occurred to Chloris that Eithne had probably been warned that Tamhas Keavey would not welcome her amongst his servants, and Eithne was doing her best to encourage Chloris on a safe, respectable path.
“Come now,” she had said, “they are waiting for you to go down, it is time.”
“I cannot, I do not want to live. I should be with them.”
Eithne kissed her forehead, and Chloris remembered the sense of calm she had bestowed upon her then. Like magic.