Chapter Fifteen
Heart thundering, Hugh entered the Fentons’ Great Hall and felt again like a gangly youth who wasn’t worth the imaginary dirt on their spotless floor, rather than the man he had become.
He almost laughed. The man he’d become was worse than the clumsy poor youth he had been. Shamed for his father’s failures and knowing he’d fight against them for the rest of his life. He still had to fight those rumours, those memories, those truths.
And now he had committed even more sins that, though he had confessed to them, he wasn’t all that certain God would forgive him this time.
He didn’t forgive himself. Especially since he was being so brazen as to grace their home with his presence. He wasn’t invited, and after all he had done, he was most likely unwanted.
Yet, this was the Fentons’ annual feast, and they kept the doors open for all of Swaffham. Everyone.
Which made it easier and yet more difficult for him to be here. Because in the past this feast and entertainment had been exclusive. Now it was open to everyone, and he knew without asking who was responsible for that.
Alice. Always Alice and her generous heart and spirit. She’d have been the one to insist on inviting the entire town. And it seemed the entire town was here. Dressed in their finery with their jewels glittering.
His years away made it apparent how prosperous Swaffham had become. Everyone appeared in many ways more opulent than those at Edward’s Court, for he, at least, had suffered financial woes with his wars.
Not Swaffham, which glowed. Yet, as opulent and joyous as the crowd appeared, it didn’t stop him from seeing Alice immediately. He almost walked away. It was better to face the King and the guillotine than Alice and the truth.
It wasn’t his past deeds or his traitorous present that made him feel unworthy of being here today. It was how he had treated Alice the night of the storm.
And how had he treated her? By spilling his bitter past, his pain, and talking to her with disdain.
Then she had asked whether he’d help her. Her chin raised, her lips trembling from the cold or from her anger—he didn’t know.
But he did know how she’d felt after he had told her he wouldn’t aid her. Her pride and dignity intact, she’d gone to sleep, safe, warm, with the boy at her side.
He had stayed up all night, hating himself more than he had ever hated this town, and had resolved simply to leave. But the next day had sealed his fate.
The storm had left lasting damage, but the worse was over when Cranley had come to his door, asking if Alice had made it.
Alice and the boy had emerged from the bedroom then. William weak, hungry, but effusive in his happiness as Alice had fussed over him still. The boy had grumbled, but leaned into her hugs as well. And Hugh had known he was witnessing something he had never had.
Love, unconditional.
It was what he had seen when Alice had hugged the boy over the tub. It was what he had braced himself against and didn’t want to see. And the morning after the storm, he had been defenceless.
And love had ripped through him like the unforgiving winds had. For one crystalline moment he had been wiped bare and then, with staggering swiftness, he had felt his body swell with a warmth that had filled every barren crevice of his life, of his soul.
Love. He had felt love. Precious. Delicate. And yet so strong a storm couldn’t break it. A storm had forged it.
He loved Alice, could no longer hide the truth from himself and pretend it was mere want or desire. And there was the crux of the matter. Because he loved her, he couldn’t leave Swaffham, leave her to think she had failed the King. There was no resolution for him. But he would set things right—or as much as he could without breaking his promise to Robert.
He knew only one way. It was time to tell.
* * *
Hugh was here...in her home. Where he hadn’t been for far too long, where she had imagined him a thousand times even though she’d denied it a thousand more.
And he was so unbearably striking that that was how she felt. Struck down. By his height, the hardened but fluid way he held himself. At ease and yet ready.
For what? She didn’t know him any more. He had rejected her with no misunderstandings between them. It made no sense that he was here, and yet his gaze caught hers just as it always did.
But his eyes were different now. Because she didn’t feel merely caught, she felt ensnared. She thought the thread between them broken. Now she felt like wool too tightly wound around the spindle.
He stepped further in the room. Eldric walked right along with him.
Alice forced her eyes away—only to meet Elizabeth’s knowing look.
‘It’s not over, is it?’
Alice tried to relax her shoulders, but Elizabeth raised a brow at her obvious discomfort. She hadn’t told her sister of their conversation that storm-filled night. She probably didn’t need to.
‘It’s merely surprising to see him here.’
‘He’s been here for months and attended all the celebrations since then. How could you possibly be surprised?’
Because every time she saw him, it hit her.
‘Weren’t you surprised when he arrived for St Martin’s Day dinner?’
‘You could have knocked me over with a quill!’
Her as well. Alice felt the gentle relief inside her. This conversation with her sister would be easier than she imagined. ‘But only Father’s good graces kept your manners intact?’
‘No, it was the paleness of your cheeks. I thought you would faint. For you it was like seeing a ghost, and I thought, “Here we go again...” But then you did spend time with Mitchell and Lyman.’ Elizabeth gave a tenuous smile. ‘Did you ever mean it? About finding suitors?’
She could never tell her sister why she’d done it, but she couldn’t lie. ‘There was no way we’d ever suit.’
‘What happened when you found William? What happened when you stayed in his home? He didn’t...?’
‘He didn’t touch me—not that anyone would ever believe that.’
‘I do, because you’re still so sad. I feel that perhaps...did we make you miserable? Was it something I—?’
Alice squeezed her sister’s hand. ‘No, it was life, circumstances. Something else.’
‘Did you and Hugh talk of it?’
She couldn’t keep lying—not about this. Her heart hadn’t simply broken that night of the storm, it had shattered. She didn’t even know where to start to pick up the pieces.
‘We did. Some things were repaired between us. Or so I thought.’
‘And other matters were...insurmountable?’ Elizabeth said kindly, but in her usual dogged way.
There were times Hugh unwillingly acknowledged their connection; more often, he denied it. But he had never said the reason. When he dismissed her so thoroughly, she’d given up on understanding why, and yet—
‘He’s here tonight,’ Elizabeth interrupted.
‘It means nothing.’
‘But he’s heading this way.’
And she was still angry at him. All her life she’d done nothing but lay her heart out for this man. Like a fool. As if she had no pride or didn’t know her worth.
She did—she always had. It was he who didn’t know his. But she understood that now—or thought she did, and told him so.
Still, he’d refused her. Yet he walked towards her now, the distance not so great, the room not so wide that his path through the crowds could be anything else.
‘It matters not what direction he comes—he’ll remember the path to the door.’
Elizabeth released her hand and kissed her cheek. ‘Find happiness. That’s all I ever wanted for you.’
When Elizabeth turned away Alice kept her gaze on Hugh, weaving through the crowd. Happiness was all she’d ever wanted for him, but he refused it. Now he looked determined. She braced herself.
Then he stood in front of her.
‘Would you like this dance?’
Here, now. This was the question he asked? ‘You know the answer to that.’
‘You did dance with me at one time.’
She looked starkly at him. ‘Shouldn’t you be dancing with Helen?’
‘Helen from the St Martin’s Day dinner?’ He only just hid his smile. ‘So you did feel something that night.’
‘I don’t think my feelings have ever been in question.’
‘So mine are?’
She tilted her head. ‘Didn’t we talk of lies and deceits and flimsy vows? You have no purpose here. I meant what I said.’
‘I’m not here to stop you from finding the traitor. I’m here to help you find him.’
She’d be a fool to accept his offer of help this time. She’d be a fool to expose herself to the connection that he denied. Even when she’d handed him her heart she might as well have ripped it from her chest and dropped it in the darkest well she could find.
She tilted her head. ‘What changed your mind?’
‘You did.’
He lied.
‘I remember my words and your responses. What has changed?’
‘The next day.’
Cranley had accompanied her and William home. ‘I left that day.’
‘Exactly.’
So her leaving caused him to have a change of heart, when all their lives they’d been separated? ‘Is this a game?’
‘No, Alice. I’m here because I know who the traitor is.’