Simeon picked up a sucket fork and held its prongs to the light. “Probably seeing to the horses.”
But, above us, the ceiling creaked, and some more dust sifted. Mathilde’s gaze lurched skyward at the sound of footsteps from above. Rosie, who had been twirling a lock of her hair, went dead still. Elin, not realizing, reached for her own fork.
I had seen Otto glance upward. Had seen him watch the dust filter through the cracks. I looked up now at the mural. The many apples. The faded red. I felt a little nauseous.
“I forgot…” I didn’t finish the sentence. I made for the door.
I couldn’t bring myself to hurry. The act would confirm my fears were valid. And so I went to the entry hall and up our grand staircase slowly. The steps creaked and moaned under my feet. And, when I turned at the top of the stairs to go to the west-facing wing, my legs moved as if weighted by lead. Dread had personified into slow motion. But all my delaying had little power to stave off the inevitable: When I got to the double doors that concealed our rubble, they lay open.
Like a long-boiled sucket, disappointment, reduced down into onepuckered image: Otto, posture stiff, hands behind his back, in front of the pile of rubble. He turned to me, frowning. “Were you trying to keep this concealed?”
I was indignant. “You cannot just go prowling—”
“It is dangerous.”
“This is my home, and you’ve not been invited—”
He ignored me and stared into the rubble pensively. “The debris is heavy and could fall through on the heads of everyone who sits downstairs.”
I gathered myself. “I assure you, the matter is well in hand.”
He turned back to look at me. “Your roof has fallen in.”
“And will be repaired.”
“I am going to tell the prince to leave. You should advise your family to do the same.”
He turned and made for the double doors, and with him, I worried he was taking our entire future.
“They are to be married in a matter of days,” I called, and he slowed. “They barely know one another. Would you truly deny them a chance to spend a little time together?”
Otto’s jaw ticked. He didn’t respond and continued toward the doors.
“Stop!” I called, and he did.
He turned back to me. “This is grossly irresponsible.”
His words burned and then my own tumbled forth: “You have done everything in your power to prevent my happiness. To prevent a union between one of my daughters and Prince Simeon. At every turn, you have been a blockade.”
“My lady,” he said, grimly.
“Do you deny it?” I cried.
“I do not deny it.”
Not suitable.I was unable to speak for a moment.
“You are right that I did not want your daughters to match with the prince. And you are right that I did what I could to prevent it.”
To hear it stated, to see him tell me with such little emotion, forced the air from my chest. “What right have you to interfere?”
“It’s not a matter of right. It’s a matter of duty.”
Insulted, aggravated, I had to ask: “And what in your duty insists my daughters are not a suitable match?”
“Etheldreda.” He looked me over. “You mistake me. It was not the prince I was trying to protect. It was your daughters. And in that I have failed. You have my apologies.” He bowed, stiffly.
“I always seem to have your apologies yet I am left the one insulted.”
