“Why?” Gwen affixed a suspicious eye on her friend. “What are you up to?”
“Me?”
Gwen merely hoicked a brow.
“Well, I might…” She faffed with her poetry book, inspecting the spine. “I thought we might, well…” She sniffed and cast the book to her lap. “I believe we need to sort out the problems between Tristan and Rhys. We’ve given them all time aplenty.”
“It’s been little more than a week!”
“Precisely. Any longer and all that manful bull-headed dwelling sets in.” She tapped her thumbs together. “No, we need to give them a little…nudge.”
Gwen inwardly quailed. Then straightened her shoulders. She needed to be more like Isabelle with her practical approach. How would she herself cope with tuneless mules and marauding camels if she could not give them a little…nudge every now and then.
“Have you spoken to Rhys about his odd manner?”
Isabelle groaned. “I attempted to broach the subject but he said there was naught wrong. And I believe he needs my comfort at this moment not an inquisitive wife. Also… I have no knowledge of his bond with Tristan other than what he has told me – that Tristan was his other half, his twin in every sense.”
“But have you any guess as to what could be wrong?”
“I…” She stared out to sea. “He is treating his brother as though he’s made of fragile glass, which I can understand. He is worried that Tristan may still take ill from his injuries. That he may lose him all over again. But there is something more. I sense he is struggling with some kind of remorse that I cannot put into words but I feel they just need to talk to one another. Therefore…” She twisted in her seat. “You need to tell Tristan to speak to his brother.”
“Me?” Gwen likewise swivelled on the bench. “Why me? He doesn’t even remember our closeness.”
“But you are close, despite that. I see him watching you. He enjoys your company. And you know him.”
“Do I?” She briefly closed her eyes. “I knew a man who had feelings for me, who would clutch me so tight. Who kissed me as though I was air. Who now treats me as someone who is…iscomfortable!”
Isabelle mumbled something in French and folded her arms. “Oh, this is preposterous. Tonight, I’ll just march up to Tristan and tell him the truth. ‘Your memories may be lost, Tristan, but deep within, you’re passionately in love with Lady Gwen Eva–’”
Gwen slammed a palm to her friend’s mouth. “No! Promise me you won’t. I cannot and will not fill his memories with feelings that are not there. Promise me, Isabelle!”
She stayed that hand until her friend rolled her eyes but nodded.
“And in any case… What if…” Gwen snatched up the flask of chocolate and took a fortifying gulp. Perhaps this was silly but… “Oh, Isabelle, there is another possibility. For what if he does come to remember but no longer wants me? What if he feels time has moved on? After all, we never declared love for each other in words as such.”
Isabelle peered into her eyes, expression shifting to serious. “Oh. Gwen, no. Have faith. ‘Love does not forsake come winter’s chill.’”
“That’s Byrne.”
“I know.” Isabelle tutted. “Irritating though it can be, he usually has the right line for the right moment.”
“Hmm. And I’ll try but… I have also decided to continue making plans for my travels.”
Isabelle remained silent. Which spoke volumes.
Gwen shook her head. “But he’ll need time, Isabelle, with his daughter, with his brother, and I’ll only be twelvemonth or so. Then we can reassess.”
“You feel strongly about doing this, do you not?”
“I… Yes. Do you know,” she said, staring to the horizon, at the free gulls dipping and diving, “this journey to foreign lands is the first time I have ever done anything for myself. I was sent to school. I was sent to my aunt. I was sent to balls and soirees. I was sent back home.” She flicked her gaze askance. “Upon my birthday last year, I came into my grandmother’s inheritance and with you as inspiration, I have decided I will not be sent anywhere I do not wish to go. ’Tis not in my upbringing to be rebellious yet… I feel a yearning beneath… To do something different. To be adventurous. Tr-Tristan saw that yearning in me and I’m not sure I can go back to just…waiting for something to happen.”
A hug took her by surprise. “You have such courage, Gwen, which you hide beneath such generousness of spirit. I shall wish you Godspeed, whatever you decide.”
She returned the hug with fervour. “I shall stay for Christmastide but then, if…if he does not remember, or does not want me, then I shall leave.”
“Very well.” Isabelle drew back and for a while, they both gazed to the sea with its dormant strength and endless majesty. “There was something else I wanted to ask you. Have you also noticed a change in Mari? She’s…”
“Not her usual self.”
