Cilla pushed away her plate. She rested her elbows on the table. “Well, you’re going to find out eventually, and you’ve a right to know. I’m not surprised he hasn’t brought the subject up though. You’re right. I believe he remains very troubled.”
Laura took a sip of water, her mouth suddenlydry.
“When Amanda failed to return to the house at dusk, Nathaniel gathered together an army from the estate and the village to search for her. The next day they found her body washed up on the rocks. She’d fallen from the cliffs. The weather was fine, so that wasn’t a factor. We get dreadful storms here sometimes.” Cilla dropped her gaze to the table and drew a pattern on the tablecloth. “We were very good friends. I miss her dreadfully.”
“A horrible accident,” Laurasaid.
“That was the coroner’s finding when an inquest was held.”
“Why would Amanda wander about alone heavily pregnant?”
“She liked to walk. Exercise made her feel better.” Cilla gazed out to the horizon and frowned. “There were rumors. Don’t ask me to repeat them, Laura. It would be merely unsubstantiated gossip, and I like to think I’m above that. I feel a sense of loyalty to Nathaniel. He has been kind to me.”
Laura swallowed at the horror of such a useless death. She fell silent, recalling her fright when her shawl blew over thecliff.
“The servants and villagers have little better to do than gossip,” Cilla said. “Such a tragedy. I imagine it will pass into the annals of history, as mysteries do. Try not to believe anything you might hear about Nathaniel though.”
Laura stared at her. “Nathaniel?”
“I’m sorry I mentioned it. Let it go, Laura. You have your own life to live. Amanda’s death will never be solved.”
For Nathaniel’s sake, Laura could not dismiss so sad a loss that easily. “But her unborn baby. Nathaniel’s baby.”
“I’ve no doubt he’ll relegate it to the past where it belongs when you give him an heir.”
Laura almost gasped. It seemed so coldblooded.
Cilla pushed away from the table. “Let’s have tea inside, shall we?”
They stacked plates and cutlery onto a tray and sat in the sittingroom.
The friendly atmosphere had waned slightly. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it either, Cilla. It’s just that I need to know.”
“Then talk to him.”
Frustration filled Laura’s eyes with tears. “I know, it’s just…” She put down her cup, spilling tea in the saucer. She couldn’t explain that she was afraid she could never fill Amanda’s place in Nathaniel’sheart.
Cilla rose and placed her arm around Laura’s shaking shoulders. “You are troubled, aren’t you? I think you should give it time. Be patient, Laura.”
Laura sagged back in the chair. “Do you believe love to be a necessary ingredient to a successful marriage?”
What she didn’t understand weighed her down. Why Nathaniel left her bed after they made love, and why he pushed her away when she tried to express tender feelings. Where he went every night. And she knew he did because she’d figured out how to open the panel. He had said once they were destined to be together. Had he meant it? Did he still believeit?
Cilla’s eyebrows rose. “Surely you aren’t referring to yours and Nathaniel’s? Why, he’s besotted with you. I didn’t expect him to ever marry again. I am sure he’d decided not to. Yet here you are.”
Laura picked up her cup with shaky fingers and took a gulp. The strong, hot tea warmed her and helped her regain her composure. “I must beg your pardon, Cilla. Burdening you with my troubles is unforgiveable. It’s because I’ve no one to confide in. Nathaniel has been distracted since we came here. He’s been caught up with estate problems.” She brushed away the annoying tears on her cheek. “I’ve felt so isolated.”
Cilla smiled. “You have nothing to apologize for. You are welcome to talk to me at any time.”
“No. I’ve become a bore. Please tell me more about yourself. What brought you to Wolfram?”
“My father was born here in the village. He and my mother returned after they married, and I spent my childhood here. Until Nathaniel went away to school, he was part of a group of children who roamed the land together. My family was not of his class, of course, but children care nothing for that, and no one seemed to object at the time.”
She leaned back in her chair. “My parents returned to France when I was a young woman. It was wonderful at first.” She looked down at her hands. “Then they died of influenza within a week of each other, leaving me destitute. I had to sell my paintings cheap on the left bank of the Seine to eke out a living. And after my lover died, I couldn’t bear to remain.”
“How dreadful,” Laura said. “Were you about to marry?”
“Marriage isn’t for me, Laura. I prefer a bohemian life. It’s impossible to live as I wish in a small village like Wolfram. I ran back here in distress, but I shall return to Paris once I have sold enough paintings.”
