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Welcome to the blog of Charlotte Hawkins, author of romantic and literary fiction. Enjoy your visit!
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Where in the "World" will Mini-Thorin go?
Sunday, September 2, 2012
The Baron's Lady - Chapter 19
The sky was growing
dim, a drizzle of rain falling as the threesome approached the house, but the
warm glow of candlelight penetrated the gloom. Out of habit, Guy’s eye rose to
a second story corner window, where a familiar silhouette could be seen. A warm
feeling, one of comfort and security, came over him. He moved his horse the
short distance further into the courtyard, and quickly dismounting, he handed
his mount over to the groom. Just a moment passed before Cassia appeared from
within. His thoughts turned immediately to the cloak she had wrapped around
herself. A concerned frown came to his lips. She was only a few weeks recovered
from childbirth, and he felt there was still a concern of illness.
“There is a shower
coming on,” he said. “You should be inside where it is warm and dry.”
She smiled in her usual
way. “Tis’ only a light mist, my love.” Raising up on her toes, she kissed his
cheek. “Was your journey tolerable?”
“It was mostly
uneventful. But in truth, I am glad to be done with it.” Taking her in his
arms, embracing her, he whispered close to her ear. “You
and I must speak. It is rather important.”
She replied with a nod,
kissing him again, this time softly on the lips. “Of course,” she
replied. “But first you must eat. Come, it is waiting for you.”
He was not particularly
hungry, but there was a routine to be followed, and it was important that their
new member of the household observe it. He watched as she greeted Owen and let
him introduce Sebastian, who of course was welcomed with Cassia’s usual warmth
and generosity. But seeing it, Guy did not feel his usual sense of pride.
Looking at Sebastian, he was only reminded of the complicated mess that his
family was entangled in. Sheltering Isabella, sending her to Toulon, avoiding the
prosecution of the Sherriff…and now, taking in Isabella’s child. And then there
was the matter of Owen, who was deeply forlorn already, and would likely become
even more so in the coming days. Their life had become quite complicated, more
so than he wished it to be, and he hated the very idea of it.
All through supper, a
frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. He picked at his food with his knife,
eating only a small portion of the food on his trencher. Looking at Cassia, he
saw that she was engaged in conversation with Sebastian, who chattered away on
some subject that made Cassia smile. That was her way, to be welcoming to all,
especially to children. Ordinarily, it would have pleased him to see it. But he
felt a pang of frustration at having her so distracted by something, and
seemingly unaware of his dismal mood. It was selfish, he knew, to be bothered
by the notion of not being the sole object of her attention. But he needed her
consolation to ease his troubled mind, and he found solace in the knowledge
that soon enough, she would find time for him.
Patiently, he waited,
and it was not much longer until a servant took Sebastian away to show him
where he would be sleeping. Guy made to rise from his chair. But just as he
did, Claudia approached Cassia, speaking in a rather concerned fashion.
Phillipe was crying incessantly and she could not soothe him, she said. Cassia
rose, calmly, to attend to the babe, and though Guy felt concern for his son,
he could not help feeling an even greater sense of abandonment. But he kept his
frustrations to himself, particularly as he stood in the doorway of the
nursery, watching Cassia walk back and forth with the baby. For the moment, he
thought not of himself, but of his son.
“Is he unwell?”
Without looking up,
Cassia replied. “He is not feverish. He shows no symptoms of illness. I think
perhaps it is a touch of colic.”
Colic, Guy thought. All of the children had gone through it. It
was merely a stomach ache by definition, but for an infant, it was cause to be
very unhappy. Guy slowly let out a breath, taking a few steps forward. Cassia
paused for him as he approached, and he gently brushed his hand over the baby’s
back.
“I am quite tired,” he
said. “I think I shall retire for the night.”
“But what of your
important matter? You said you wished to speak with me.”
He gave her a
half-hearted smile. “Methinks it can wait. Our son is a matter of more
importance.”
She smiled at him.
Kissing the baby’s head, she resumed their walk, and Guy left them in peace,
making his way to the bedchamber.
It was not so long a
time before she came in, and as Celeste helped her into her nightdress, she
told him how the baby had let out an enormous belch, and just a few minutes
later, he had at last fallen asleep. Lost in his thoughts, he only heard part
of what she said, and it wasn’t until she came to sit beside him on the bed,
where she reached out to shake his shoulder, that he at last looked at her. He
turned his head away again.
“Guy,” she said, “What is wrong? You have been waiting to speak to me. Yet
here I am, and you are silent.”
He sighed, his eyes cast down. “I have no wish to burden you.”
His inner voice told him he was being childish, but he found it hard to
help himself. He knew, in the back of his mind, that she would see right
through him. And she did. Rising to her knees, she came to kneel behind him,
and she leaned over him, putting her arms around his shoulders. She pressed her
cheek against his temple.
“My love, you are not a burden. It is the duty of a wife to see to her
husband’s needs, and I can see by your expression that your mind is
well-occupied. Speak to me. I insist.”
Instantly, he felt a familiar warmth in his heart that only she could
bring. So too did he feel a slight sense of remorse at having been so selfish.
A slight smile came to his lips.
“Forgive me if I appeared to be cross, beloved. After all these years,
it seems I have yet to control my selfish impulses in regards to you.”
She laughed softly, kissing his cheek. “I am accustomed to it by now,
self-important creature that you are. But enough of that. Tell me what is on
your mind.”
Taking a deep breath, feeling more content now that she was near, he
sighed slowly as he answered.
“It is as we thought
with Owen. He is in love with Isabella.”
“Are you in jest?” she
asked.
He shook his head, and
neither of them spoke for several moments. Cassia was first to speak.
“Does she return his
feelings?”
“It would seem so.”
“And you are not angry
at this revelation? You seem quite calm, in fact.”
“I am not angry,” he
replied. “I am deeply troubled.”
She came around to sit
beside him. Taking his hand in hers, she gently prodded him.
“Tell me what troubles
you, Guy. Perhaps it is Isabella’s inferior status?”
“That is one of many
concerns. But Owen is my greatest worry. He is so headstrong. He acts on
impulse, rather than using rational thought.”
She smiled at that. “He
has always been thus. Much like his father.”
“That is what troubles
me the most.”
Drawing her close, he
held her firmly to himself. She put her arms around him, and he took comfort in
her closeness as old memories, and fears – both old and new – blended as one in
his mind.
“I think of my feelings
for you in our first days. My madness, as it was, which blinded me to all but
my own selfish desires. I see my son acting with the same impulsiveness,
rushing headlong into a situation which might very well prove disastrous. And
there is nothing I can do to stop it, short of placing him under lock and key.”
“What does Owen say to
you? Is he so very determined to marry Isabella?”
“He wishes to have her,
despite all warnings against it. I believe, if given the opportunity, he would
whisk her off to a faraway place, as I once intended to do with you.”
“Is Isabella in accord
with him? Does she wish to marry him?”
“She seems to feel as
he does. But in a strange twist to this plot, she airs on the side of caution.
Tis’ the only thing keeping Owen from taking any foolish action.”
“So all should be well,
then. Should it not?”
“I can see no way for
Owen and Isabella to know happiness. They cannot marry, and if they attempt to
do so, what life would there be for them? She is an outcast already, and Owen
would happily become one if it meant his having his way.”
“But did you not say
that Isabella is acting with wisdom?”
“I did,” he replied. “But
what is her common sense when challenged with a Gisborne’s determination? You
know as well as anyone what a monster that stubbornness can be.” Lowering his
head, he sighed deeply, a sad sound. “I fear there can be no joyous conclusion
in any of this.”
His tone was merose.
But hers was more upbeat.
“Why can there not be?
Love is a most determined thing. It knows nothing of rules or limitations.
Think of us, of the adversity we have overcome in our lives together. There can
be no better expression of love’s determination than you and I.”
“But we risked much to
have this joy. I think of you, in the castle square of Nottingham, with the
fire lit below you…”
As recollections of
those horrible moments came fast upon him, Cassia pulled back in his embrace,
and he could see that she was reluctant to revisit such a dark place in time.
“Do not speak of such
dreadful things, Guy. It is better to forget them.”
He held her hands in
his, his voice trembling slightly. “But I have not forgotten them. Often times,
particularly during the silence of the night, my mind dwells on such
nightmarish recollections. And then I recall our separation – the two months of
anguish and hopelessness.”
Cassia tried to stop
him from dwelling on such things. “Oh, my love. That was so long ago, and it
was a mere two months. Think of the time that has passed since then…the
wonderful years we have had together.”
He wanted only to think
of their happiness. But Owen was such a reminder of himself – a reminder of
both good and bad.
“I think of each night
I spent, alone, thinking of you. Aching for you so miserably.”
“Think of it no more,
dear husband.”
Cassia was insistent,
but he needed her to hear all that he said, and so he went on.
“I think of it now more
than ever. My memories have been brought to life once again. I think of Owen,
taking the same path I once ventured, and it pains me to think he may soon
endure what I have suffered. What we both have endured. I would not wish him to
suffer that.”
When she rose up, embracing
him, he found his voice faltering. Listening to her, hearing her soothing
words, he relished the comfort she always brought him.
“My love, my love. All
will turn out well. I am certain of it.”
A heavy sigh escaped
him. But a moment after, as he leaned back in her arms to look at her, he felt
a glimmer of hope and a sense of wonder. His features warmed, his mouth
breaking into a slight smile.
“Is there nothing you
are uncertain of?”
Her eyes shined with
mischief, and she gave him one of her typical remarks. “Very little.”
Shaking his head,
laughing softly, he delighted in several sweet kisses before they settled into
bed. As she rested her head on his chest, her words were firmly spoken.
“Sleep, husband. Have
no more of these troubling thoughts. And perhaps, while we slumber, your
beloved muse will think of some brilliant scheme that will lay your troubles to
rest.”
I would not doubt it, he thought, and the corner of his mouth
turned up as he slowly drifted off. I
would not doubt it for a moment.
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