Warenne knew what had happened with the loss of the baby; they all knew, all but Solomon, who wasn’t even aware that his dead son’s wife was at Wolfe’s Lair. The time for introductions would come soon enough but it would have to wait until the man overcame his initial grief and madness. Warenne had never quite seen such grief from a father over the death of a son. He was glad to have left the chapel in search of Atticus, leaving Kenton behind to watch over the bereaved Solomon. There was something inherently heartbreaking and depressing about watching the man suffer. Moreover, there was a reason why he had come in search of Atticus and he hastened to come to the point.
“I am glad to hear that, my lady,” he said, feeling that it would be unseemly of him to mention the loss of the child. Perhaps some things were better left unspoken. Therefore, his gaze shifted to Atticus. “I came to tell you that your father has agreed to bury Titus this very night. I would suggest we go about it before he changes his mind.”
Atticus grew seriously. “Saints be praised,” he replied. “Is the priest prepared?”
“Prepared and waiting,” Warenne responded. “He did not want to commence with anything without you.”
Atticus nodded swiftly and was about to follow Warenne from the chamber when he suddenly came to a halt, turning to look at Isobeau. She was gazing back at him, her eyes wide in her pale face. The color had gone from her cheeks again and he could see the emotion in her eyes. He could see the return of her sorrow.
“Isobeau, I am sorry…,” he began, stopped, and started again as he grasped for words. “I know you do not feel well, but I am afraid we must take this opportunity to bury Titus. He must be put in the ground as soon as possible and if my father is willing at this moment, then we must do it.”
Isobeau waved him off as she began to climb off the bed, very weakly. “He should have been buried days ago,” she said. “He should have been buried before I saw him back at Alnwick. If you will give me a few minutes, I will dress and go with you.”
“But….”
Isobeau cut him off with a deliberate look. “I will go,” she repeated, more firmly. “You will not bury my husband without me and he must be buried; therefore, I must go. Give me a few minutes and I will be ready.”
Atticus didn’t have the heart to argue with her. The woman deserved to be at her husband’s burial. She deserved to say her final farewells.
“As you wish,” he said softly. “Do you require any assistance? Should I send one of the servants in to help you?”
Isobeau nodded as she found her feet and unsteadily began to make her way across the floor towards her trunks.
“Please,” she said. “And hurry. I am sure your father will not wait.”
Atticus glanced at Warenne, who simply shrugged; they both knew that they could not, in good conscience, deny the woman the right to attend her husband’s funeral no matter how weak she was. Therefore, Warenne quit the chamber, calling for the servants, as Atticus stood near the door, watching Isobeau as she struggled to pull out a couple of her smaller trunks.
Quickly, he moved across the room and helped her, gently pushing her aside as he pulled out her trunks, all of them, and threw open the lids so she could get to the items she needed. He didn’t even think about the fact that she had seven of them, a number he had complained about. To scold her again didn’t even cross his mind. He had just finished opening the last trunk when the servant with the oily skin entered and rushed to help Isobeau as the woman began to pull things out of her trunks. She wasmoving as quickly as she could in spite of her weakened state; Atticus could see that. He returned to the chamber door.
“I will be waiting in the corridor when you are ready,” he told her. “You need not rush. Do not strain yourself.”
Isobeau turned to look at him and he could see that she was trying hard to be brave for what she was about to face. The finality of the burial was coming to weigh on both of them, the final farewell to Titus de Wolfe. It was a mood that now hung heavy in the air.
“I will only be a few minutes,” she told him again. “I will be ready soon.”
Atticus didn’t reply. He simply left the chamber and shut the door, affording her some privacy. He waited in the low-ceilinged corridor for her but the truth was that he hadn’t waited an over-amount of time; she was swift in her dress as she said she would be, but all the while as he waited in the corridor, Atticus found himself asking his brother for guidance. He’d never missed it so much as he did at that moment.
I am so sorry about your son, Titus,he found himself saying.Please know that if it had been within my power, I would have given my life if it would have saved his. But there was nothing to fight and no sacrifice I could have made that would have saved him. Please forgive me for what has happened.
He knew, wherever Titus was, that the man had already forgiven him but that didn’t lessen his guilt. Moreover, there was something more he was starting to feel guilty about when it came to Isobeau.
Would it be wrong of me to want to marry your wife now because I found something in her that you must have liked? Because, I am certain, I’ve found it….
CHAPTER NINE
Ionian scale in C– Lyrics to May God Keep You
May God’s good grace be upon you:
May He grant you the strength to stand tall.
May God keep you embraced to his bosom:
Until we meet again in this life or within his Holy Hall.
Never have I adored as much as I do now:
Never have I seen such light.
