“Good evening,” she answered. “How does the night go?”
“Quiet,” he said. “Save for the odd squirrel.”
“That is good to hear.”
They smiled with the brief ease of men pleased by small talk that held no trouble.
She moved on and cut through the path to the courtyard, counting her steps until the crunch of gravel beneath her feet gave way to the softness of grass. There, a bench waited in a pocket of shadow between two lanterns. She took it, lowered herself with care, and let her shoulders drop.
Crickets sang in the seams of the walls, and she could hear the air murmuring somewhere beyond the gardens. The sound held her for a while. She closed her eyes and tried to let the air scrub the last of the day from her mind. It almost worked.
“Evening, dear.”
Erica almost jumped out of her skin at the sound. She drew in a quick breath as her eyes flew open.
Grandmamma stood beside the bench, cane in one hand, amusement bright in her eyes.
“I am so sorry,” Erica breathed. “Ye gave me a fright.”
“Nonsense,” Grandmamma said, easing herself down with a small sigh. “If I cannae terrify folks at night, what is the point of reaching me age?”
Erica laughed, then let the sound fade. The lantern to their left chimed against its hook in a small wind.
They sat in a shared quiet that did not chafe. When Erica spoke, she kept her voice low.
“Alex told me about Isabella,” she said. “It was a tragedy.”
Grandmamma nodded. “Aye. Poor girl.” Her mouth pulled to one side. “She was a bad seed from the start.”
Erica glanced over. “From the start?”
“I watched her while he was at war,” Grandmamma said. “He had brought her to me, thinking a young bride might like a bit of company. I saw what I saw. The glint in her eyes when she didnae get her way, the habit of putting folks in their place for sport.” She tapped her cane once against the stone. “I warned him when he came home. He called it duty.”
“And he kept it,” Erica said.
“And more,” Grandmamma agreed. “He fulfilled it until there was nothing left to give. Lost an eye to it as well.” Her voice softened. “That is the thing folks forget about duty. It is a fine belt until it turns into a rope.”
Erica wrung her hands under the shawl. “He told me about the fight,” she said. “He told me how he was hurt. He didnae say what caused it, though.”
Grandmamma’s gaze sharpened by a hair. She turned her face to the moon and then back. “That isnae me secret to tell,” she said. “He will have to give ye that truth himself.”
Erica looked down at her skirt and smoothed it, though it did not need it. “Aye,” she said.
They let the silence breathe a little.
The lanternlight gave Grandmamma’s silver hair a pale ring. She leaned her cane against her knee and folded her hands.
“Ye came out here to think?” she asked.
“I came out here tostopthinking,” Erica answered. She smiled without any humor. “It didnae work.”
“It never does,” Grandmamma said. “Night gives ye the thoughts ye have pushed away all day.”
Erica huffed. “That sounds like a curse.”
“It is only a habit,” Grandmamma said. “The mind likes to balance its sums.”
Erica stared toward the darker far wall. “Folks think I am brave,” she said. “I feel like a woman who is very good at standing still while things happen to her.”
