you—”
She silenced him again. “If you love me, do not ask me what
I desire to give and cannot. William…no! Mauger does not deserve that.”
“Does not deserve—” he choked. “His behavior—”
“Is as much my fault as his,” Elizabeth interrupted. “In the
beginning I hated him—hated the world—and made it all too plain. I was
fortunate he did no worse than turn aside from me. He is not an unreasonable
husband.” Then she smiled gently. “You know it is not possible, William. Mauger
could not swallow such an affront. It would mean war.”
He did know, but he wanted her so much it was like a
physical pain. “I could take you to Bix,” he said passionately.
A flame leapt in her eyes, then died. She pulled away, out
of his arms completely. “We are both mad,” she sighed, “to torture ourselves
this way. I thought we had passed the danger point years ago. I cannot think
what made me say—but you caught me at a bad time. I am so sorry I have broken
your peace, William. You know it is not possible for me to leave Hurley. Even
if we could keep Mauger and Alys from knowing—and I do not believe that we
could—I would lose Aubery and John. I love my sons. Also, I dare not leave
Mauger alone in Hurley. So far, I have kept him from despoiling the estate
beyond recovery, but if I were to leave… You do not know what Ilmer is like—the
broken, cowering people, the wasted land… It is not all Mauger’s fault, of
course. His father ruined the place before Mauger took hold of it, but he never
learned anything from the old man except how to spend and to want. He has not
the slightest notion of management. William…”
She touched his face gently, and he closed his eyes,
breathed deeply, opened them. They were blank and bitter. William knew the call
of duty. He had answered it many, many times against his will.
“I have had no peace since the day I lost you,” he said. “My
heart is yours, my house is yours, my strength is yours. When you want any, or
all, tell me, and they will be delivered.”
“I will take your heart, William. I have need of it, since you
have always had mine.” She swayed toward him, then drew upright, away from the
arms that opened to receive her. “What a fool I am. We must be more sensible,
or it will be impossible for us to meet as friends. Please, William. It has
meant so much to me to speak to you and to see you sometimes. If we cannot meet
without behaving like idiots, I will lose even that. No, please…” He dropped
his arms. This time it was Elizabeth who closed her eyes and breathed deep.
“What brought you here today?” she asked quietly.
He turned away and walked to the slit window that opened to
the north side of the outer ward. At first he did not answer, and Elizabeth
could see the muscles working in his jaw. Finally he turned back and told her
about Raymond’s arrival and Alys’s suspicions.
“I thought I would ask Mauger whether he had heard any rumor
of other such placements or whether he heard anything about young Raymond
himself.”
By the time he had got that far, William had calmed down and
Elizabeth was also well under control. The flush had died from her cheeks and
she was now paler than usual, but her eyes were quiet.
“He said nothing to me,” she remarked, “but there was no
reason to mention a thing like that. He should be back soon, if you would like
to wait.”
Struggle as she would, Elizabeth’s voice held a faint
quiver. William swallowed, torn by emotions he was sure she shared. He could
not bear to leave, but he could not bear to stay either. It would do no good to
ask Elizabeth which she wanted him to do. To send him away would hurt, to keep
him would hurt. Life hurt.
“I…are you on easy terms with Mauger just now?” William did
not want to push Elizabeth into approaching her husband if the advent of Emma
had caused a coolness between them.
“We are always on easy terms,” she replied. “Why not?”
William had
She silenced him again. “If you love me, do not ask me what
I desire to give and cannot. William…no! Mauger does not deserve that.”
“Does not deserve—” he choked. “His behavior—”
“Is as much my fault as his,” Elizabeth interrupted. “In the
beginning I hated him—hated the world—and made it all too plain. I was
fortunate he did no worse than turn aside from me. He is not an unreasonable
husband.” Then she smiled gently. “You know it is not possible, William. Mauger
could not swallow such an affront. It would mean war.”
He did know, but he wanted her so much it was like a
physical pain. “I could take you to Bix,” he said passionately.
A flame leapt in her eyes, then died. She pulled away, out
of his arms completely. “We are both mad,” she sighed, “to torture ourselves
this way. I thought we had passed the danger point years ago. I cannot think
what made me say—but you caught me at a bad time. I am so sorry I have broken
your peace, William. You know it is not possible for me to leave Hurley. Even
if we could keep Mauger and Alys from knowing—and I do not believe that we
could—I would lose Aubery and John. I love my sons. Also, I dare not leave
Mauger alone in Hurley. So far, I have kept him from despoiling the estate
beyond recovery, but if I were to leave… You do not know what Ilmer is like—the
broken, cowering people, the wasted land… It is not all Mauger’s fault, of
course. His father ruined the place before Mauger took hold of it, but he never
learned anything from the old man except how to spend and to want. He has not
the slightest notion of management. William…”
She touched his face gently, and he closed his eyes,
breathed deeply, opened them. They were blank and bitter. William knew the call
of duty. He had answered it many, many times against his will.
“I have had no peace since the day I lost you,” he said. “My
heart is yours, my house is yours, my strength is yours. When you want any, or
all, tell me, and they will be delivered.”
“I will take your heart, William. I have need of it, since you
have always had mine.” She swayed toward him, then drew upright, away from the
arms that opened to receive her. “What a fool I am. We must be more sensible,
or it will be impossible for us to meet as friends. Please, William. It has
meant so much to me to speak to you and to see you sometimes. If we cannot meet
without behaving like idiots, I will lose even that. No, please…” He dropped
his arms. This time it was Elizabeth who closed her eyes and breathed deep.
“What brought you here today?” she asked quietly.
He turned away and walked to the slit window that opened to
the north side of the outer ward. At first he did not answer, and Elizabeth
could see the muscles working in his jaw. Finally he turned back and told her
about Raymond’s arrival and Alys’s suspicions.
“I thought I would ask Mauger whether he had heard any rumor
of other such placements or whether he heard anything about young Raymond
himself.”
By the time he had got that far, William had calmed down and
Elizabeth was also well under control. The flush had died from her cheeks and
she was now paler than usual, but her eyes were quiet.
“He said nothing to me,” she remarked, “but there was no
reason to mention a thing like that. He should be back soon, if you would like
to wait.”
Struggle as she would, Elizabeth’s voice held a faint
quiver. William swallowed, torn by emotions he was sure she shared. He could
not bear to leave, but he could not bear to stay either. It would do no good to
ask Elizabeth which she wanted him to do. To send him away would hurt, to keep
him would hurt. Life hurt.
“I…are you on easy terms with Mauger just now?” William did
not want to push Elizabeth into approaching her husband if the advent of Emma
had caused a coolness between them.
“We are always on easy terms,” she replied. “Why not?”
William had
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