“To settle the matters of your allowance...”
“Allowance?” She frowned.
“Didn’t you know? Lord Thornton left his estate to you.” Mr. Wolfe frowned as he looked at her.
Catherine’s head spun, and she reached out a hand to steady herself. Mr. Wolfe offered her an arm to lean on. Edward left everything to her; why? She couldn’t take his money. It was too cruel an irony.
“Mr. Wolfe, I must have misheard you. My son Patrick should be the heir as the next male in our family...” Lydia looked at Catherine with undisguised hostility.
Mr. Oakheart came over and put his hand on Lydia’s shoulder. “Now is perhaps not the time, darling.”
“No. I want to hear it from Mr. Wolfe himself.” She glared at him as if she dared him to say anything different.
“There was an allowance set aside for you and the children, of course, but perhaps we should speak of this inside?” Mr. Wolfe looked at the gathered neighbors.
They were all watching and whispering. If the earth would swallow her whole in that moment, it would be her saving grace. Their stares felt like a burning brand. Catherine’s shoulders rolled forward as she tried to make herself as small as possible.
“I told Edward from the start that putting her into his will was a terrible idea. And look what’s happened. The ink has barely dried on the new will, and he’s—” Lydia covered her mouth with her hand, and she stifled another sob.
“I didn’t know,” Catherine tried to plead her case. But it felt hollow. Maybe her lies hadn’t been accepted as easily as she thought.
“You will say to my face you didn’t know he was wealthy? That you didn’t marry him for his yearly income?” Lydia said, her eyes wet with tears, and her face flushed.
Catherine’s face flamed as did her neck and ears. She lowered her gaze. She couldn’t look into his sister’s eyes. Just as she couldn’t say she loved Edward. It would be a lie. Perhaps she hadn’t married him for his wealth but, she hadn’t been honest with him either.
“I held my silence because I thought you were making him happy. But in the end, all you wanted was his money, and we can all see you got exactly what you wanted.”
Catherine let her words fall on her like blows. She deserved as much.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” Lydia asked. She shoved Catherine in the shoulder, and she stumbled back.
She flinched but otherwise didn’t move. If it would make her happy, she would let her rain down her fists upon her. Nothing Catherine could say or do would bring Edward back from the dead.
Lydia raised her hand to strike her. Catherine flinched on impulse, but the blow never came. She glanced up to see Mr. Thorn standing between them, grasping onto Lydia’s wrist in the air.
“I think that’s enough, don’t you?” Mr. Thorn said.
Lydia stared at him, her eyes narrowed. “Who are you to intervene?” she asked.
“I’m her guardian,” Mr. Thorn said. Lydia’s expression blanked over. Her eyes became dull, as did Mr. Wolfe’s and everyone else who was watching. The same way they had when she’d lied about how Edward died.
“Lady Thornton is deeply grieved over the death of her husband and wishes to return home to rest,” Mr. Thorn said.
They all nodded in unison, and with a nod, Mr. Thorn indicated she should head for the manor. And she took her opportunity to run. Past the carriage at the churchyard gates. Over the fence that separated the churchyard from a nearby field. She’d run until her feet gave out beneath her, until she reached the ends of the earth. She couldn’t take Edward’s money. Hearing that he had left it to her, it felt like a cruel twist of the knife. She didn’t deserve it.
“Lady Thornton!” Mr. Thorn called after her.
Hearing that name on his lips stopped her dead in her tracks, and she turned to face him.
“Don’t call me by that name,” she said.
She couldn’t take his money, and she couldn’t bear his name.
“Then what should I call you?” he asked.
“Nothing. Forget we ever met.” She turned away, marching toward the forest. She couldn’t go to Faery. If she returned there, she could only imagine what dangerous powers would develop. If she must, she would walk to London. Beg Mama and Papa to take her in. Maybe assume a new name or live as a beggar none of it mattered as long as she wasn’t here.
“Nothing; where shall we go?” He jogged to keep up with her.
