Looking elegant and feminine hadn’t worked out too well.
She decided against ringing the bell for Molly or one of the other maids to come and help her dress. Instead, she rummaged in the closet until she located the shapeless woollen gown she’d worn for that long-ago ride from Ember Hall. ’Twas not really that long ago, she ruminated. It only felt like it. Next came braccae, which she’d worn to ward off the cold several winters past. Her hair, she made an attempt at combing, but then left loose to tumble wilfully over her shoulders.
By all that was holy, it felt good to abandon her pretence at airs and graces and go about Wolvesley dressed as her true self.
Mirrie didn’t pause to break her fast. Her stomach was still in knots from last night, and any food or drink would only increase her nausea. But she held her head high as she tripped down the stairs and out into the freshness of another midsummer morn.Servants nodded to her as she passed; not one of them seemed to stare at her outfit or giggle behind her back.
She should have done this long ago.
She passed the fountain, noticing that the almost unbearable glare of bright sunlight in its foaming waters had, this morn, softened into something paler. Overhead, fluffy white clouds were gathering around the sun. Mayhap they would finally have some rain.
Rain would match my mood.
Mirrie let her arms swing by her side as she walked along the side of the keep to the cluster of low-ceilinged wattle-and-daub outbuildings, that included the old bakehouse.
She came to a halt in the doorway and folded her arms across her chest. “This is a curious place for a meeting.”
Jonah was perched on a little stool which Frida used to sit upon to chop herbs and grind pastes. The old bakehouse had not been used for its original purpose for many years. But before her accident and subsequent move to Ember Hall, Frida had taken over the little room and used it as a store for her herbs and healing salves. The fusty air still carried the tang of comfrey and mint, even though Frida had ensured every last jar was transported along with her other belongings to Ember Hall. The wooden shelves now stood empty. In fact, Mirrie thought them a little forlorn.
Jonah sat beside the only window, which was rather grimy. Mirrie had no wish to venture further inside and risk getting cobwebs caught in her hair, but Jonah beckoned her with a frantic gesture she could not ignore.
“Close the door behind you,” he insisted. His blue eyes were even wilder than usual.
“What is this about?”
“I want to make sure we’re not overheard.” He shot her a look. “For your sake, Mirrie.”
She leaned back against a cleanish patch of wall and folded her arms again. “I am not aware that I have anything to be ashamed of.”
Despite the steadiness of her words, inside she quailed in case word had gotten out about her and Tristan’s kisses last night. Just about anyone could have seen them.
“I would never suggest otherwise,” he answered smoothly. He dragged a hand through his hair, a gesture horribly reminiscent of his older brother. The two were more alike than they would ever admit. “I meant about David.”
“Oh.” Mirrie was momentarily nonplussed, but this soon turned to exasperation. “Why did you bring him here? Did you not think things were complicated enough?”
“Aye.” Jonah nodded gravely. “That is what I want to apologise for. ’Twas all my idea, after all.”
“It was.” Mirrie nodded as the memories clicked into place. A surge of anger took hold and she found herself deepening her voice in a mocking parody of Jonah. “Tell Mother and Father you’ve already found true love. You’ve missed life at Wolvesley, Mirrie. Why not return on Tristan’s arm and tell the world you love him?”
“Well, I never saidthat,” Jonah commented mildly, arching his eyebrows.
“It’s a mess.” She covered her hot face with her hands.
“I’m sorry.” She could hear sincerity in his voice. “I admit, part of me thought that if you and Tristan spent enough time together—” He left the sentence unfinished.
“You thought wrong,” she said in a small voice. “But then, why bring David here?” She flung her arms wide, flinching when her fingers dislodged a spider.
“I shouldn’t have.” Jonah leaned closer. “But you wrote to me, Mirrie, saying how bad things had become.” He shrugged. “So I thought, why not?”
A beat passed, in which Mirrie tried and failed to control her rising temper. “Why not?” she repeated.
Jonah began to tick things off on his fingers. “You’re a beautiful woman. You’ve always wanted children of your own. And next winter you will be six and twenty.”
“All of that is true, Jonah.” She sighed. “And all of that is irrelevant.”
“David would give you a home and a family.”
Mirrie covered her face with her hands again. “I know that.”
