Jonah walked from the chamber with surprising alacrity. He had closed the door well before she fixed on a response.
Esme stayed where she was, aware of the futility of going after him. Her brother’s sulks were legendary.
A small mew alerted her to Felicity’s presence; she must have crept inside whilst the door was open. Glad of the company, Esme scooped up the little black cat and settled her on her knee.
“What a mess it all is,” Esme crooned as she stroked the soft fur.
Felicity purred loudly, seemingly in raptures to find Esme not only sitting still but also wearing wool thick enough for a good kneading.
If only I were a cat, thought Esme. It was not a bad life. Sleeping, eating, sleeping again. Felicity only had to mew to gain loving attention.
’Twas not unlike Esme’s own life at Wolvesley Castle.
Before I ruined everything.
Hoofbeats outside made her lift her head until she could see out of the window. One of the grooms was leading a chestnut horse out of the stables and toward the mounting block. As Esme watched, her brother Jonah walked steadily from the front door of the hall, checked the horse’s girth and took the reins from the groom.
Jonah was going for a ride!
This was not, in itself, surprising. Despite his wasted leg, their mother had insisted that he learned to ride at a young age. Like the rest of his siblings, Jonah had spent much of his childhood in the saddle—making good use of some specially adapted stirrups which meant his disability was scarcely apparent.
But Esme had not known Jonah to willingly get up on horseback for many years now. When he was obliged to travel, he did so by carriage. He had not ridden for fun since his youth.
That was, apparently, about to change.
Esme rose from her chair, much to Felicity’s displeasure, and put her hands onto the windowsill, leaning out as far as she dared without attracting notice from the courtyard. She watched the groom link his hands together, offering a boot up into the saddle. And she watched Jonah wave him away.
“Good gracious,” she muttered.
The chestnut horse snorted and pawed at the ground as Jonah climbed cautiously onto the mounting block, and Esmeheld her breath as her brother found his balance for long enough to put his good foot into the stirrup. Even from this distance, she could see what the effort was costing him. He was white-lipped by the time he had finally swung himself into the saddle.
But he had made it!
Esme only just held back from clapping as horse and rider cantered toward the main gates.
Once they had passed out of sight, she put her back against the wall and sighed deeply. Jonah’s exploits made her feel idle for staying so long in her chamber, but there was little to tempt her outside.
Not even Adam’s company.
“’Tis just you and I again, Felicity,” she told the little cat as she returned to her chair. Felicity promptly jumped back onto her lap and Esme, reluctantly, picked up her embroidery.
Mayhap it was because of the cat’s constant purring, but Esme found the time went by quicker than expected. It was only when the rumbling of her stomach grew too loud for even Felicity to ignore, that she put her embroidery aside and stretched her arms over her head.
“’Tis time to venture beyond these walls,” she said to galvanize herself.
Felicity was none too pleased at this second interruption, but she wound about Esme’s ankles as she dressed in a simple pale blue gown, belted at the waist and buttoned at the front. The cat waited at the door, then trotted away down the long gallery, her tail held high.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Esme called. “Most likely the kitchen,” she answered her own question.
She found no wish to linger in the great hall, which seemed to mock her solitude with its empty chairs and unlaid table. Biting her lip, Esme could not help but remember the bustling great hall at Wolvesley, which was so rarely quiet and scarcely everempty. But not even the sleepy hounds—usually stretched out by the fire—were present to welcome her today.
Esme gave in to another wave of self-pity. “Everyone has left me.” At a loss for what else to do, she followed Felicity’s example and wandered through the narrow passage toward the kitchen, deliberately blocking out the memories of when she and Adam had become entangled together. The stone flags beneath her feet rang with her solo footsteps.
She emerged into warmth and light. Agnes was red-faced and perspiring, rolling out pastry on the big wooden table. Even the open door and windows could not mitigate the bellowing heat from a big fire beneath the ovens. Esme sniffed hungrily, scenting roasting meat and something sweet. Felicity, she saw, was delicately nibbling at some cuts of meat which had been placed in a small bowl on the floor.
Agnes straightened up hurriedly. “Milady. Can I help you?”
She had intended to ask for a late luncheon, but now she felt guilty at imposing.
