Page 6 of The Thorn and the Rose

“Not at all. I think it sounds romantic, if rather tragic.”

She sent him an odd look, a dark flicker of emotion in her eyes before she turned back to the embroidery. “Life is tragic though,” she said, the words so matter of fact and so hopeless that Thorn frowned, disliking to hear this lovely, vivacious creature speak of such despair.

“I hope not. Your life is not tragic, is it, Marie?”

She was staring down at the embroidery, apparently lost in thought, and so he reached out, covering her hand with his. Marie jolted in shock, turning to stare at him, eyes wide and glittering with tears. She did not remove her hand from his grasp but sat, frozen. Her chest rose and fell, her breath coming in short little gasps as she stared at him.

“What is it?” he asked her.

She swallowed and licked her lips, hesitating. “I-I wish—” she began and then shook her head. Letting out a short laugh, she shook her head and withdrew her hand. She was composed now, but that strange sense of sorrow hung about her again.

“Why do you look like that?” he asked softly. “It’s like a weight presses down on you and all the light leaves your eyes. It makes you look sad and afraid. I don’t like it.”

She gave another unconvincing laugh. “Now who is being fanciful?” she said with a teasing smile, though it did not reach her eyes.

What trouble was she in? He felt certain there was trouble here. Her brother must surely be the cause.

“Shall I beat you at vingt et un again?” she suggested.

Thorn nodded, allowing her to move the conversation to safer ground as she reached for the cards on the bedside table. They played for an hour, with Marie winning more than half the games. She was quick and clever, and Thorn could not help but admire her.

“I hope you do not gamble, Mr Barry,” she said, wagging a playful finger at him. “You do not play well.”

Thorn laughed, aware that for the moment at least, that was true. Mostly because of the pain in his head and the distraction of the beautiful enigma before him. It was damned difficult to concentrate on anything.

“I shall leave you to rest now,” she said, gathering the cards up.

“Marie, wait. Please… won’t you tell me what troubles you? I promise you may trust me. I would help you in any way I can.” He gave a rueful smile. “I am aware I do not appear much of a rescuer at present, but once I am well again, I would do whatever I could for you.”

Marie stilled, the cards clasped tightly in her hands. There was something like longing burning in her eyes, there and gone, swiftly replaced with a blank expression he did not like one bit.

“Marie. Please… I promise you I will help. Perhaps I could take you to stay with friends or family? If not, I could take you to my mother and—”

“No!” she exclaimed, shaking her head vehemently. “No. There is no one who can help. Least of all you.”

She glared at him, frustration burning in her eyes and looking almost enraged.

Thorn did not know what to make of that. Why should she be so angry? “Is it your brother? Are you afraid of him?”

Marie got to her feet, her lovely face blanched white. She set down the cards and headed for the door. “Get some rest, Mr Barry. You need to leave here as soon as you are able.”

Thorn watched, unsettled, as she left without another word.

He woke the next day to the sound of raised voices. A man’s voice, clearly furious, resounded in the room over his head. The heavy tread of boots echoed upon the floorboards. Thorn’s heart skipped with terror for Marie, and he forced himself out of the bed. His ignored his pounding head and reached for his trousers, which had been hung neatly on the back of a chair. He did not think facing her brother for the first time in nothing but his shirt would endear him to the fellow. He had just yanked them on and fastened the buttons when a door slammed overhead.

Thorn held his breath, stilling at the sound of running footsteps coming down the stairs. Marie burst through the door.

“You must go,” she said, her cheeks wet with tears. “Now. This instant. He won’t be gone long and… Oh, please, Mr Barry.”

“No,” Thorn said, disturbed by her obvious distress. “No, I can’t possibly leave you when you are in such terror.”

“Oh… n-no. Not terror, at least not for me,” she said urgently. “My brother would never raise a hand to me, I promise you. Only if he were to find you here that might change, and he is growing suspicious. I placated him for now and he has gone out for a while, but when he returns, you must be gone, or he will see I have lied to him and that he will never forgive.”

He hesitated. In law, with her father dead, she was her brother’s legal responsibility and Thorn had no right to interfere. If he stayed, he might ruin her in her brother’s eyes, and that would be unforgivable of him.

“You swear to me you will be safe, that he won’t harm you?”

“I swear it,” she said. “So long as you are gone and I can prove to him I have not been keeping secrets from him, all will be well. Please, Mr Barry. I know you are still unwell, but do you think you can get yourself somewhere safe, to a friend?”