With as much decisiveness as she could muster, Maeve moved forward between the adjoining chambers and grabbed the connecting door, closing it firmly on her younger sister’s reflective face. Grace let out an annoyed huff but moved away, leaving Maeve in peace.
The bedchamber laid out before Maeve was as shabby and almost-gothic as the rest of the shambolic Hall was. Thanks of course, as Maeve now knew, to the misled and confused dowager.
Walking forward, dragging her feet until she reached the faded glory of the four-poster bed, she sank into the lumpy mattress—it felt divine. She shuffled forward. Her mother-in-law, the state of the Hall, her marriage—it swelled and grew as issues before her eyes. Only when Maeve let darkness swash over her, did she reassure herself that at least the first two could be taken care by her father, her sister, or someone who could be hired in. The latter… well… she pulled the moth-eaten blanket up and over her head. Her marriage would be dealt with when she’d had some sleep.
* * *
Over the next few days,Maeve avoided Silverton. She knew there were a great many things that they should resolve, but the whole reason for their marriage was gone. He was no longer dying. Yet the growing life within her would tie them together forever. How was she supposed to face him, when in order to save her and the baby, Silverton had had to kill his own brother?
So, she distracted herself with work, setting Betty and the newly hired maids to work throughout Silver Hall, with Grace stationed near Silverton.
Maeve’s heart was pulled in different directions. She was on tenterhooks over the future of their marriage, the baby she carried, their relationship, and how Silverton and she would proceed with their lives going forward. A picture was forming in Maeve’s mind of two detached people merely passing time under the same roof, a colourless existence that lay out before her.
It was on the seventh day, when Grace marched into Maeve’s bedroom, that things changed. Betty was laying out the breakfast tray on the newly purchased bedspread.
Sitting up, cushioned by some divine silk pillows, her exhaustion gone, Maeve eyed her sister in some confusion. “What’s the matter, dear?”
“Your husband is a terrible stick in the mud.” Grace climbed up onto the bed and stole a biscuit. Crunching loudly, she grinned at Betty. “Don’t mind me.”
Betty shook her head and moved across the room to open the curtains up, revealing a sparklingly bright day. Soon April would be here, and the spring summer months were Maeve’s favourite.
“Ever since the funeral, his lordship’s been—” Grace seemed to dwell on her words, her expression pained. Her reference was to the burial of Charles. Maeve was grateful she had been excused from attending. It was a step too far to say she could muster any sympathy for Charles’s death, after all the things he had done, and what he had threatened to do.
“It cannot have been easy,” Maeve said.
“That man was a traitor.” Grace was very firm in her opinions on all matters, especially in regard to Silverton’s twin. “And now, your husband seems completely changed in mood.”
“How so?” Maeve tried to keep her voice moderate and curious, too embarrassed to give away how much she longed to know what was really happening with her husband. She would hear him on occasion through the wall, but he never knocked or tried the handle of the connecting chamber. Clearly, her pregnancy meant he had no need to visit her again. If she gave birth to a boy, he may well never have to even see her again. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t been out and about, Maeve thought glumly.
“He was pleasant to me, but it is like some of the children you taught—he sulks.”
“I do not believe his lordship sulks, as you put it,” Maeve said, cutting off her mischievous sister. “I am sure it was not an easy task to say goodbye to his brother in such a way. I could not bear to do so with you.”
“But I am not a murderous wretch.”
“You are not the former, that is true.” Maeve laughed at how easily Grace had walked herself into that trap. In annoyance, Grace reached for a pillow to swat at Maeve with.
“You must not forget what his lordship asked of you, Miss. To tell her ladyship,” Betty said, cutting off whatever witty retort was certainly on Grace’s lips.
“What’s that?” Maeve asked, a flurry of nervous energy bustling through her as she looked between her sister and her maid.
“He wants to see you.” Grace was busy finishing off the biscuits, so her mouth was full as she spoke.
On her feet with less neatness than she would have liked, Maeve was halfway to the connecting doorway when Betty called her back.
“No, my lady, he wanted you to join him later today in the garden.” Betty looked over at Grace, clearly hoping to nudge the young lady.
“He said it was important business,” Grace added.
Maeve found herself nodding, a bright smile forming on her lips which did not at all address the swirling emotions that rushed through her. In a moment, she desperately wished to know what he wanted, what the business was that was so important, and why his mood had so altered. A new idea had formed within her, one which she could not entirely do away with. Silverton might blame her for his brother’s death, that if she had not been present, he would never have had to deliver the killing blow.
“Will you help me get ready?” She looked at Betty as she walked to her wardrobe and pulled out a floral day dress, one which had been purchased in Brighton. If that was why her husband finally wished to see her, she reasoned she should be ready to remind him of the good times they had shared and of the happiness that could yet come in the future. Surely that was not too much to hope for.
CHAPTER23
The spring day was a mild one, and the large garden made for a welcome change of scenery after Silverton’s recovery and the mental endurance tests of the last week, staying inside the Hall.
Now that he was standing outside, Silverton could admire the scent of wildflowers which were close by, clustered in the glen he had selected for his picnic. He could hear the noise of the chirruping birds and, even in the distance, the sound of Silver Hall’s new servants busy improving and airing out his house. The problem was, it would never feel like a home unless he did something to alter the current situation between himself and Maeve.
