Atticus lifted his eyebrows at the foolish answer he was about to give. “She asked me earlier.”
Warenne gave Atticus a long look. “You did not take her?”
“Nay. She did not ask.”
Warenne sighed. “Atticus, forgive me, but it seems to me as if you have been incredibly selfish with regard to Titus,” he said. “You treat that woman as if she has no rights to your brother at all. You said that Titus loved her. Do you think he would appreciate the fact that you have treated his wife with such disregard?”
Atticus was trying not to feel guilty as they crossed the last of the muddy road and ended up on mashed, frozen grass. The livery was in the near distance with the de Wolfe escort party milling around the livery yard near a cooking fire.
“I have not treated her with disregard,” Atticus said, feeling as if he were defending himself. “I have been polite when the situation called for it.”
Warenne sighed, shaking his head. “She was your brother’s wife,” he said, sounding disgusted. “You told me you may have seen a flicker of what your brother loved in her yet you continue to treat her poorly. I am ashamed of you, Atticus. This poor woman felt she had to slip away to see her husband because you would not take her to him. Is that truly what kind of a man you are? I would never have guessed it but your actions have thus far proven otherwise.”
They had entered the livery yard by now and Atticus was feeling fairly well disgusted with himself, too. Hearing his behavior through Warenne’s eyes made him think that perhaps he’d not been as benevolent and kind to Isobeau as he thoughthe’d been. Perhaps he had been selfish with his brother and hadn’t even realized it. But he knew it wasn’t because he had disdain for Isobeau; in fact, just the opposite. When he realized she was missing, he’d experienced fear such as he’d never known. He was still feeling the fear.
Through the small ventilation window of the livery he could just see the top of Isobeau’s blond head; she was still up in the wagon. He couldn’t hear her and she didn’t seem to be moving around, but the sight of her was enough to make him realize what an idiot he’d been. Maybe he really had treated her poorly because he didn’t feel as if she had a claim on grief for Titus. He was wrong; he knew he was wrong. Heart full of sorrow, he turned to Warenne.
“I never meant to treat her poorly,” he said quietly. “Mayhap… mayhap in a sense you are correct. I was being selfish with Titus, as if I am the only one who has claim to grieve for him. She does, too. I could see how enamored she and Titus were when he was alive. Mayhap… mayhap there is some jealousy there as well, that it was no longer simply me and Titus anymore. Isobeau was introduced into our lives and for the first time in his life, Titus was focus on something other than our common goals. It was terrible of me, I know. So what do I do?”
Warenne wasn’t really angry at Atticus; he simply wanted the man to think about Isobeau and stop thinking about himself. He patted Atticus on the side of the head.
“Go in to that livery and apologize to her,” Warenne said quietly. “Apologize for being selfish and terrible. Marry the woman tonight and make her happy as Titus wanted you to. If you truly want to honor your brother’s memory, that is what you will do.”
Atticus nodded, resigned. “I will,” he muttered. “She wants to go with me when I seek out de la Londe and de Troiu, too. Sheaccused me of being selfish about that, too. She said I acted as if I were the only one allowed vengeance in Titus’ death.”
Warenne shrugged. “You do act that way,” he replied. “But fortunately, I did not listen to you. I will say this, however– just as you are allowed your vengeance, so is Isobeau. She has as much right to vengeance as you do. More, even. She was Titus’ wife.”
“Then you believe I should take her with me?”
Warenne lifted his eyebrows thoughtfully, perhaps indecisively. “I think you should consider it,” he said. “She may resent you otherwise, for the rest of your life. I do not think you want that, do you?”
Atticus shook his head. “Nay,” he confirmed. His gaze moved to the livery again; Isobeau’s head had disappeared in the window. “But a quest for vengeance is no place for a woman. She may be hurt, or worse. Moreover, she is with child– Titus’ child. How can I risk her and the child like that?”
Warenne shook his head. “Believe it or not, there are midwives all over England who can deliver a child when the time comes,” he said sarcastically. Then, he grasped Atticus by the arm, his gaze intense. “She will not be hurt. Kenton and I will be there to aid you. We will also protect her. Stop treating his woman as if she does not matter, Atticus; she mattered to Titus a great deal. She has every right to mourn for him and she has every right to seek vengeance regardless of the fact that she is with child. I admire her strength for wanting to do so and you should, too.”
Atticus knew he was correct. About everything, he was correct. No more protests, no more excuses. With a sigh, he turned away from Warenne and headed towards the livery.
“As you say,” he said, sounding weary. “I will see if I can undo what I have done.”
With Atticus in the lead, Warenne followed. The stable yard was mucky and slippery as they made their way to the wide entry door. Just as they reached it, Atticus came to a sudden halt and when Warenne opened his mouth to ask him why, Atticus shushed him. He gestured to the interior of the livery where there was some whispering and weeping going on. Not wanting to intrude, Atticus peered around the side of the entry door to hear better of what was happening inside that cold, dark structure.
“…and then she threw me!” Isobeau was saying, giggling. “Do not feel bad for it; I know you gave me the horse but it was my fault for not holding on tightly enough. She had been corralled in the barn since the big snow back in February, right after you left, and she was quite happy to be out. She was very frisky. I am riding her even now as we head to Wolfe’s Lair. I am quite excited to meet your father, you know; I just wish… well, it does not matter. You are going home, Titus. Atticus is making sure of it. He is making sure of everything. He will punish those men who killed you. I only hope he does it with your sword… I do not know where it is but I shall ask Atticus. I am sure he knows. I hope he kills those men with your sword and that he then, in turn, passes your sword to our son. It would be such a great honor for our son to carry your sword. And that’s another thing; what are we to name him? Tertius says I must name him a Roman name or my father will disown me.”
She set off giggling again, stroking the lid of the casket lovingly as Atticus and Warenne watched. Isobeau was no longer sitting on the casket, she now knelt beside it. Her hands were all over it, touching it, speaking to Titus inside. As they watched, it looked as if she thought to lift the lid so she could look at Titus once more but she stopped herself. Defeated, she laid her forehead against the edge of the coffin lid.
She lifted her head. “I miss you so much,” she whispered, her tone now very serious in contrast from the giggling that had been going on earlier. “I can still hear your voice and I can still see your smile as you waved farewell to me those months ago. You told me you loved me and I was too foolish to say it in return. I should have; God knows, I should have. Titus, I swear that if I had known you would not return to me, I would have never let you go. I would have found some way to keep you at Alnwick. It is not fair that we did not have a chance at a life together; it is not fair at all. And your brother… he says that you asked him to marry me and to take care of me. I am sure it was a noble thought, my love, but I must tell you that your brother wants nothing to do with me. I am afraid you have doomed us both to a sad and unhappy life with one another. It is therefore my intention to tell him that I release him from your request. Surely you did not mean to make him so miserable, Titus. It was selfish of you to ask. I know you do not want me to marry anyone else and I swear that I shan’t. When we reach Wolfe’s Lair, I will find the nearest church and tell the priest of my situation and beg that he admit me to the nearest convent. I will become a bride of Christ. I would rather do that than marry anyone else.”
With that, she trailed off and laid her head back on the coffin lid, simply laying there and perhaps dreaming of a life that would never be. Atticus, filled with sorrow and regret, turned to look at Warenne, who was gazing back at him with equal sorrow. They had both heard what Isobeau had said, now knowing what was in the lady’s heart. It was tragic to say the least.
“That is not what Titus wanted,” Warenne whispered. “You must speak with her, Atticus,now.”
Atticus didn’t hesitate. He went straight into the livery, leaving Warenne outside, and approached the wagon where Isobeau lay with the top part of her body across the coffin lid.She didn’t hear him enter so he cleared his throat softly as he approached simply to warn her that she was no longer alone.
Isobeau’s head shot up when she heard him, her eyes big on him. There was guilt and fear across her features as Atticus came to stand next to the wagon bed. For a moment, neither of them spoke; they simply stared at one another. Isobeau kept waiting for the man to explode at her but, so far, he’d given no indication he planned to. His expression was surprisingly calm, considering she had run off and lied to him. Maybe he was so calm because he was beyond fury and had terrible things planned for her punishment. Nervously, she cleared her throat.
“Sir Atticus,” she stammered. “I… I did not mean to cause you any undue concern by leaving the tavern, but I felt compelled to….”
Atticus put up a hand, cutting her off. “You need not explain,” he said quietly. “I am not angry. In fact, it seems as if I owe you a wide measure of apology, my lady. It occurred to me when you felt compelled to steal away to come and see my brother that I have not been very kind to you. For you to have to feel as if the only way to see Titus was to escape me, I have been a terrible man indeed.”
