“If such a recovery is at all possible,” Constantine said. “And so we must strive to keep our presence secret until such time when revelation can no longer be avoided. I will make my return known to all once I have settled on a course of action against my enemy.”
“Well, we who’ve stayed have done so because we couldn’t imagine living out our days anywhere else save Benningsgate. Loyal to the family to the end, we are. Certainly I am at your every command, milord,” Jeremy said with a bow. “Where do you sleep?”
Constantine took up his fallen satchel, which had been knocked from his person by the enthusiastic beast that was even now dancing at his heels. He glanced toward the wall behind him. “Here.”
Dori’s anger simmered again.
“About the ruin, milord?” Jeremy said. “But it’s not at all safe; all the interior corridors have collapsed. When we tried to get to the hall afterward—” He broke off, and his florid complexion mottled further. “I imagine the walls have crumbled further with the passing seasons.”
Constantine looked at the man for perhaps a heartbeat longer than was warranted. “Parts of it are yet sound and should suffice for the time being. But Lady Theodora has been quite ill. I would press you at once for a potion and perhaps some meat. I’ve no bow.”
The man glanced at Dori. “I fear Stacy is the man you’d want for the purpose of medicines, milord, and he took to Thurston Hold some time ago. We’ve seen little of him.” The statement somehow seemed an accusation at Theodora, and she could no longer tolerate the strain of the man’s less than silent judgment as her eyes swelled with watery anger and unreasonable hurt.
Why did she care what this Benningsgate villager—a swineherd of all things, who had stayed behind to live in the shadow of a ruin the rest of his friends and neighbors had wisely abandoned—thought of her?
She stepped around the men without a word and began walking up the hill toward the wall, taking great pains to step carefully lest she slip on the wet grass and further humiliate herself by falling on her face.
There was a lull in the conversation, and Dori imagined both men watching her walk away. Perhaps the dog had thought to follow her, for Jeremy gave a sharp whistle.
“Erasmus, to me—the lady don’t want you.” And the meaning behind his words was clear:And we don’t want her, either.
* * *
“I’d be honored to provide for you, milord,” Jeremy said to Constantine after calling the dog back in Dori’s wake. The man looked over his shoulder at the numerous traps strewn about the hill where he’d dropped them. “Not much hunting goes on at Benningsgate these days. The forest is plentiful with game.”
“I will meet you in the ward before dusk, then,” Constantine said, trying to push from his mind the sight of Theodora’s face as her reputation was aired before her. “Have you married, Jeremy?”
The man’s expression grew jolly once more. “I never have, milord. Few women would tolerate old Erasmus here supping at their table and soiling their rugs.” He clapped the dog about the shoulders and then looked back up at Constantine. “It’s fine to see you again, milord. I never thought to.”
Constantine could not tell the man that he, too, was happy to have returned to this place, so he only nodded. “Perhaps you could lay hand to some clean garments for Lady Theodora? A pair of slippers? Her wardrobe has taken some wear since leaving Thurston Hold.”
“The items will be hard to come by with everyone having so little. And I have no admiration for the woman, I confess,” Jeremy replied.
“You only know her as well as the rumors about her perhaps,” Constantine chided.
“You know her better?” Jeremy rejoined with a raising of his eyebrows. “Milord?” he added deferentially.
“I’ll appreciate whatever you can lay hand to” was all Constantine would say. “As will Lady Theodora. Be sure you aren’t followed when you return later.”
“You can warrant it,” Jeremy said, gathering up his traps and his long pole while Erasmus ran in loping circles around the man. “No one dares come to the ruin after midday—any hour really.” He dropped his eyes as if he’d misspoken. “Good day, my lord. Come along, Erasmus.”
Constantine watched the man navigate the slope into the fringe of the wood, his dog bounding to the fore and aft like a hairy pendulum. Once Jeremy had disappeared into the fresh, dripping greenery, he turned on his heel and followed in Theodora’s trail in the weeds toward the wall.
He didn’t expect her to be waiting for him as he stepped over the threshold. She sat on a large rectangular stone that had tumbled a far distance into the ward from where it first had fallen. Even after being returned for weeks to the reality that was Benningsgate, he still could not fathom the catastrophe that had taken place here. Besides the obvious signs of the fire that had structurally destroyed the tall keep, it was as if a great fist had seized the enclosure, bending and cracking its walls, shaking its pillars and arches to the ground.
When we tried to get to the hall afterward—
Perhaps crushing the burned bodies of his wife and son in its grip, leaving their remains trapped somewhere deep inside the rubble.
No one dares come to the ruin after midday—any hour really.
Did they think Benningsgate haunted by Patrice and Christian?
Was it?
Constantine stopped and waited to see what Theodora Rosemont had to say, for obviously something was weighing on her mind. But she only stared at Constantine, and the longer her dark, sad gaze bored into his, her wide mouth still and silent, the higher Constantine felt unreasonable ire rising in him.
“I’m surprised you didn’t strike poor Jeremy again for speaking so poorly of you,” he said, hearing the bait in his own words.
