Not altogether encouraging.
“I suppose we could walk the bridge.” And he proffered a forearm, his stable coat smothered with grime and horsehair. “Ach, my apologies, Bea. I’ll change and–”
She grabbed it. “No, ’tis fine, Redmond.”
They strolled in silence for a while, Beatrice admiring the swans and the setting sun – a great circle of fire that slipped west. As youthful lovers, they had chatted endlessly, but now with age, she felt content to just meander with this man, to appreciate all that was wasted on the young.
Breathing deep, of brackish water, ripened wheat and this Irishman by her side, she gathered her words.
“I should have followed, Redmond. I want you to know that. I guessed Father had sent you back to Ireland but… I was scared. I’d never travelled anywhere, had no means.”
His step faltered on the wooden boards. “I’m damn glad ya didn’t. With a mere seventeen years, what might have happened to ya? And besides, it was me who should’ve swallowed my pride and found someone to write the words for me.”
“We were both young, Redmond.” His wiry arm was tense beneath her fingers. “It was thoughtless of me to never consider you couldn’t write, but I remember you talking of a brother who’d attended school one day a week, so I assumed you…”
Redmond’s palm swiped his jaw, dark stubble always sprouting at twice the rate of most men. “I… I did, but… I couldn’t make head nor tail of nothing. The letters jigged before my eyes and I did better with the horses so I stopped going.” He halted by the bridge rail, and they gazed not to each other but to their reflections in the water. Blurred and without the lines of age, they appeared as they had been – young and…in love. “I hid my stupidity from ya, Bea. Didn’t think you’d want me if–”
“Oh, Redmond, I would not have cared. I could’ve help–”
“Don’t bloody pity me.”
Beatrice tightened her lips. She didn’t pity him.
She loved him still. Had always loved him.
“Well, I am glad you bear me no ill will for my not following; I worried you would.”
“No, Bea.” His gaze lingered on the swans, twining and loving. “And neither do I for ya marriage.” A sigh escaped him. “Three years of waiting is a lifetime when ya young.”
“Thank you. In the end, I had no choice.” She bit her lip, stared to his rigid profile. “And yourself… You never…married?”
Now he twisted his head, eyes shuttered from emotion. “I’ve met some fair lasses, but no, Bea. No one I wanted to marry.”
Beatrice nodded. Cleared her throat. For once, had no words as he directed his gaze to the sky and a flock of birds which swooped and swayed in unison like drilled soldiers.
The boards creaked as she shifted.
“Well, that is all I wished to say. To clear the air.” No response so she patted her fingers upon his forearm. “I should retire abed. It has been an exhausting day.” And she disentangled her hand with no resistance from him whatsoever. “G-good night, Redmond.”
He stood motionless. Still staring upwards.
So she turned. Then halted, waiting in hope for him to bid her stay. To talk.
Naught but silence.
She took two steps. Halted once more.
Still naught, her unwise heart waiting in vain.
And why shouldn’t it wait in vain? Maids half her age gazed at Redmond with lustful eyes, their bosoms firm and complexion smooth.
So she straightened her shoulders and set forth…
A rough hand clasped her wrist.
“Bea…”
“Yes, Redmond?” She did not turn.
