The Widow's Tale (Sister Frevisse Medieval Mysteries Book 14) Read Free

at her, and Cristiana knew that for him there would be no going out to the bonfire tonight and on the beginning of anguish, she said, “Edward …”
    He put out a hand, stopping her. She took his hand in both of hers and they looked at each other long and deeply and in silence before she said, “I love you,” so quietly it hardly stirred the stillness between them.
    As quietly back, Edward said, “You are my heart.”
    There was no need for more. Still holding each other’s hands, they sat in silence, for the little while until a faint knock at the room’s door was followed by Gerveys putting in his head to ask, “May I come in?”
    Without loosing Cristiana’s hand, Edward said, “Of course. No one could be more welcome.”
    “It was either Laurence or I,” Gerveys said. He shut the door behind himself. “I thought I would be better.”
    “By miles and miles,” Edward said. “I’ll have to see him, though. I told him we’d talk before the bonfire.”
    “Talk?” Cristiana asked quickly. “About what?”
    “He didn’t say.” Edward let go of her hand, laced his fingers behind his neck, and leaned his head back into them, easing some weary ache.
    “It need not be now,” Cristiana protested.
    “If I talk with him now, I won’t have to talk with him later.”
    “Then I’m going to be here,” said Cristiana, ready to argue over it if need be.
    But Edward said, “That might be best.”
    “And Gerveys, too,” Cristiana pressed.
    Edward considered that a moment before asking, “If you would?” of Gerveys who answered, “If you want me to, then gladly.”
    Edward pulled himself around to face the room, drew himself up straight, and said, “Let’s be done with it, then.” Cristiana rose and moved aside to her chair as Gerveys opened the door and called in Laurence, who frowned with displeasure when Gerveys closed the door behind him without first going out of it. By his look he was unpleased to have Cristiana there, too, but said nothing about it, only took his stand in front of Edward and said with the firmness of a man sure of his ground, “Well, Edward, it’s time we talked, don’t you think?”
    From where she now sat, Cristiana could guess why Edward had chosen to stay with his back to the window: with the light behind him, his face was shadowed, less easy to read than Laurence’s. Not that Laurence was ever difficult to read; just now he looked and sounded ready to argue something he was sure of winning.
    “Talk about what, Laurence?” Edward asked in a level voice.
    “You. What’s going to happen. Your daughters.” Cristiana tensed at mention of Mary and Jane. Come to stand beside her, Gerveys laid a hand lightly on her shoulder in unspoken reassurance while Edward said evenly, “I don’t see any need to talk about anything between us.”
    “Oh, come, Ned. You’re not a well man. Everyone can see it. It’s time to talk about what happens if you die.”
    Except he meant “when”, not “if”, and Cristiana wanted him dead instead—there and then, for preference. But Edward only said, still evenly, “What happens when I die doesn’t concern you, Laurence. My will is made. Everything and everyone is seen to. Let you content yourself with your own business.”
    “What happens to our family’s lands is my business.”
    “ Your lands are your business. My lands are not.”
    “They are. It’s bad enough the Helyngton lands were divided once, between your father and mine. Dividing them again between your two girls will only diminish them the more. We—“
    “My lands are no concern of yours.”
    “They are. Look at the way the world is going. The little man hasn’t a chance. It’s all big fish in the world today. Little fish are no more than a meal to them. Even you can surely see it’s better to be a big fish than someone else’s meal.”
    With less patience than he usually had for his cousin, Edward said, “Laurence, come what may, you’ll never be a big