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Chapter Thirty-four

DARCY WENT TO bed with the plan of the old house still upon his desk.

He had put it away twice and brought it out again. Neither examination moved Jane’s rooms beyond the boundary. At last he extinguished the candle. He lay upon his uninjured side, listening to the house until the sounds of servants and shutting doors gave way to sleep.

In the dream he held a key in his right hand.

There was no bandage. The hand was broad, with a small scar beside the thumb. He knew the weight of the key and the chamber it opened; he knew, before he lifted the latch, that his wife meant to leave him.

Mara stood beside the window seat. Her apron hung crookedly, as though she had carried something in it and set it down in haste. Elspeth rose from her knees beside the seat.

“What have you put there?” Nicholas asked.

“Nothing of yours.”

He glanced at Mara. The girl lowered her eyes, but did not move from her mistress’s side.

“Hugh has a cart at the orchard gate,” Elspeth said. “I am going to Joan.”

“You will remain here.”

“Until your adviser comes back with men to take me?”

Nicholas shut the door. She looked at the key in his hand.

“You gave your word,” she said. “He came to advise me. That was what you said.”

“He would have done, had you listened.”

“He asked what I believed of the sacrament. He knew the very words I spoke to you.”

There was no answer which would serve him. He had repeated them to Hewet. He had wanted a man with authority to frighten her into obedience, and when Hewet asked whether he would put his name beneath the statement, Nicholas had done so.

A wife who knelt at Mass would cease setting herself above her husband. He had thought the two corrections might be made together.

Elspeth came towards him.

For an instant he remembered her crossing this same room with her hair unbound, laughing because he had kept her waiting. He remembered the quick warmth of her mouth. He did not want to remember it now.

“Send Mara out,” she said.

He opened the door. The girl hesitated until Elspeth nodded.

When they were alone, his wife took his empty hand.

“Nicholas. Tell them you misunderstood.”

“I did not misunderstand.”

“I know.” Her fingers shook against his. “I know what I said. I am asking my husband to let me live.”

He pulled his hand away.

“Then answer as you ought.”

She stared at him. He preferred her anger. He had arguments ready for anger; he had none for the silence with which she stepped back from him.

He turned the key when he went out.