Widow in White

Chapter Twelve: Among the Ashes

But now she recognized his voice, and then his face and figure, taller, slenderer, and more elegant than it had been eleven years ago. A strange sensation of unreality washed over her; the knife slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. Of course. Neil would have to come to London, for Richard's funer—

"Don't you dare faint," Neil ordered, as behind him another man, a stranger in servant garb, appeared.

Laura drew herself up straighter. "I have never fainted in my life! What the hell are you doing here?"

He ignored her question, darting forward to kick the knife out of reach behind her. She stared at where it now lay, glinting in the shadows.

"I wouldn't have hurt you," she said flatly. "Not once I knew you."

"Maybe." He laid a heavy hand on her arm and pulled her back out into the kitchen. "Are you ill? Hurt?" He stared at her, eyes narrow and hawkish. "...Pregnant?"

"No!" She shook him off. "Why are you here?"

"I was sent to find you." He pressed his lips tightly together. "Now I have. What the hell are you wearing?"

She looked down at the coral and silver footman's frock coat and vest she wore over her dress, the clumsy black boots beneath her delicate linen petticoat. For the first time, it occurred to her that she looked absurd. She raised her eyes to meet Neil's again.

"Why, it's the latest mode from Paris."

Neil had never appreciated her sense of humour, but the servant behind him sniggered. Neil turned to him, frowning.

"Thank you, George," he said. "We've found her now. You did well. Go and see to the carriage, will you?"

"Yessir." The man touched his hat to Laura and left.

As his footsteps faded away above, Neil looked at Laura and Laura looked at Neil. There was a beaten, wearied look to him that she had never seen before. She felt suddenly bad for having made a joke, under the circumstances they were in. The words began to leave her lips before she even knew what she was saying:

"I — I cannot apologise — it's useless to say any such words. But I must — I must say them. It is my fault and—"

"Yes," Neil said coldly. "It is."

Her guilt became immediately anger. "I couldn't have known he would do such a thing!"

"And could you not have known it was utter madness to say anything at all?" Neil snapped. "Is there no conception of right and wrong in that pretty, foul head of yours? Are men's secrets not worth keeping? Men's lives not worth protecting?"

"There is, and they are, they are!" She covered her face with her hands. "Neil, I'm so..."

The word she hated to say hung in the silence between them.

"...Don't say it," Neil warned. "I don't want to hear it. Not now. I only want to speak to you alone for a moment, before I take you back."

Back. Dismally, Laura realized that her father must have asked Neil to find her and bring her back. Neil would have been at Albroke, of course. It was within riding distance from her home — her father's house. They would have had things to talk about — Richard.

"I want to say this now," Neil said slowly, "so that we're absolutely clear. And then this matter need never be spoken of again. It doesn't matter what you do or what you say. I cannot forgive you for what you have done to Richard. I will not. And after this, I never want to see you again."

She couldn't disagree with him. She only nodded mutely.

"Now let's get out of this hovel. Come."