The Viscount was well groomed and starchily correct in his funereal blacks. His dark hair was shot through with silver which accentuated his silvery gray eyes surrounded as they were by thick sable lashes under straight bushy eyebrows. A long, straight nose was bracketed by deep lines. When he spoke, additional creases appeared in his cheeks. Once they had probably been dimples, but then Edwin Renwick, Viscount Barcloe, had never, in the short life-span Stephen knew him, been a very merry fellow. He was about Stephen’s height, but more solidly built. He carried his title with an effortless ease that Papa had never managed. Stephen turned his head to gaze out the near window at that disloyal thought.
“Where are we going?” Stephen asked, after Katherine nudged his arm, ascertaining that the carriage had not turned into the drive toward Waverley.
“I thought we’d take your mother to Castle Renvale until she comes to herself. I do not believe any of us want to make a scene carrying her from the carriage through rooms of mourners.”
“Yes, my Lord. Thank you for the consideration” Stephen returned. A stirring directed both of the men’s attention to the slight figure veiled in black. Ammie heard the voices and recognized the movement of the carriage, but still could not adjust to the dizziness that separated her body from her brain. She realized the gasping sound was coming from her as the thick veil caught at her nose and throat and she fought to breathe through the suffocating fabric. Strong hands grasped her shoulder, as others pulled back the veil that enveloped her upper body.
Air filled her lungs as an arm went round her shoulders to prop her up and her son’s voice whispered, “Mother?” in her ear.
“How very dramatic of me,” she offered shakily as she kissed Stephen’s cheek, patted her daughter-in-law’s arm, and turned to gaze into the heated stare of her childhood friend. “Hullo, Win,” she breathed.
“Hullo, Rosey,” he offered in a calm voice. In fact, it was amazing how calm his voice sounded when he wanted to smash something hard. There were dark circles under her lovely eyes which were puffy and red with weeping. She was too pale and her face was too thin. He wanted to hide her away from this enemy, he wanted to avenge Geoff’s death. He wanted as he had not stopped wanting for thirty-three years. Although he was sure Stephen and Katherine had no idea of the greed that had filled him for so long and that now threatened to overcome his hard fought serenity, Ammie knew and a flush of color rose from her pale cheeks. Her swollen eyelids swept a glorious fringe of lashes down over her eyes. She closed her eyes to him as she had from the day she married Geoff. He must allow it now. Grief for Geoff must be allowed to run its course. But he would not allow it forever.
“Where are we going?” Stephen asked, after Katherine nudged his arm, ascertaining that the carriage had not turned into the drive toward Waverley.
“I thought we’d take your mother to Castle Renvale until she comes to herself. I do not believe any of us want to make a scene carrying her from the carriage through rooms of mourners.”
“Yes, my Lord. Thank you for the consideration” Stephen returned. A stirring directed both of the men’s attention to the slight figure veiled in black. Ammie heard the voices and recognized the movement of the carriage, but still could not adjust to the dizziness that separated her body from her brain. She realized the gasping sound was coming from her as the thick veil caught at her nose and throat and she fought to breathe through the suffocating fabric. Strong hands grasped her shoulder, as others pulled back the veil that enveloped her upper body.
Air filled her lungs as an arm went round her shoulders to prop her up and her son’s voice whispered, “Mother?” in her ear.
“How very dramatic of me,” she offered shakily as she kissed Stephen’s cheek, patted her daughter-in-law’s arm, and turned to gaze into the heated stare of her childhood friend. “Hullo, Win,” she breathed.
“Hullo, Rosey,” he offered in a calm voice. In fact, it was amazing how calm his voice sounded when he wanted to smash something hard. There were dark circles under her lovely eyes which were puffy and red with weeping. She was too pale and her face was too thin. He wanted to hide her away from this enemy, he wanted to avenge Geoff’s death. He wanted as he had not stopped wanting for thirty-three years. Although he was sure Stephen and Katherine had no idea of the greed that had filled him for so long and that now threatened to overcome his hard fought serenity, Ammie knew and a flush of color rose from her pale cheeks. Her swollen eyelids swept a glorious fringe of lashes down over her eyes. She closed her eyes to him as she had from the day she married Geoff. He must allow it now. Grief for Geoff must be allowed to run its course. But he would not allow it forever.
