The Black Knight of Ashfern

Chapter 32

"What are you doing here?" William asked, facing the woman he had lived without for the past decade.

"I believe that is a matter better discussed in private," Sophia replied, pulling off her gloves with stiff, unpleasant jerks. Entering Nan's workroom, she took in the surroundings with a disapproving scowl. The look and rigidity she currently sported were at odds with the carefree, cheerful disposition William remembered her best for. Though he understood her current unease and knew well where it stemmed from, or at least most of it. With a short nod, William turned to Nan, bidding her leave them with a wordless glance. Giving her own quick nod, Nan picked up her basket from where she had left it.

"So this is what my leaving has left you with." Sophia nodded to the door Nan had left through. "Bedding the staff," she concluded, speaking what she thought as she always had. Something William had once loved and found charming about her, but now he saw her words as sharp and thoughtless. She was basing her biases on what she saw, not what she knew. He understood it was only natural that she would think such things upon seeing Nan, especially given how she had found them.

"Well, I suppose she's better than a whore." She added offhand, her eyes gracing William's face momentarily before they dropped to the floor. Her expression of nonchalance was tainted by the slight repulsion she showed at seeing the entirety of his face. "Cleaner, no doubt." She remarked idly.

"Nan is not a member of my staff, Sophia," William said, his tone hard and sharp like a knife's blade.

"Ah, your mistress then," Sophia replied with a curt nod of understanding, her eyes remaining on the floor. Her features seemed to tighten and pale with his words. Her silent fear became increasingly visible to him, and even now, after so many years apart, William felt the lack of her eyes like a fist to the gut. To keep from demanding they meet his own, William bunched his fists behind his back and concentrated on ignoring the pain her reaction caused him.

"No," William replied, the simple two-lettered word pulling her eyes back to his in confusion.

"Then what—" She began, but her words failed her beyond those two. All she could manage to do was stare, confused and frightened, at the disfigured creature that was her husband. The scars on his face may not have been the swollen red welts they had been. His body may not have been covered in bandages that leaked with puss, blood, and sweat. He may not have looked as bad as he had ten years ago, but he was still not the handsome man that had been her husband. His skin was wrinkled and pink where it had been smooth and tan, often covered in a day's worth of growth for not wanting to shave that morning. Now, he could not afford to miss a morning's shave. He would look ridiculous with only half a beard to cover his cheeks.

"I've sent word to my attorneys in London to have terms written up for your care in France or wherever you wish to live," William said, keeping his eyes level with his wife's.

"Terms?" she echoed, her brow drawing together tightly as she stared at him, now more afraid than confused by his words. "Terms for what?" she questioned.

"Our divorce," William stated. "I realize my release of you may be all too late. I had hoped at some point over the years that you would return. I see now such hope was ill-placed." He remarked bitterly, his eyes for the first time leaving hers as they fell to the floor with his statement.

"Divorce." she breathed, though her tone held no merriment for the news. If anything, it carried all the happiness of a man being told he was to hang. "You'll ruin me!" Sophia breathed in utter shock. "No one will have me!" she cried, her voice near hysterical. "My reputation will be destroyed. I'll have nothing!" she screeched, the sound of which grated against William's ears almost as severely as her thoughtless, selfish words grated against his heart.