by Jane Feather
It was Ariel who leaned over and closed her eyes. "There are no words," she whispered, taking Jenny in her arms.
Simon rose slowly and awkwardly to his feet. He looked down at the dead woman, at the glitter of gold between her closed fist. Why? Why the bracelet? His own elusive memory played hide-and-seek, and yet he knew in his blood and bones and sinew that the woman Sarah had taken a secret to her grave that was almost his, but that she would not have had him share.
Chapter Twenty-five
The death-the shocking random suddenness of such a death-sent the crowds slinking away, melting into the smoky shadows. Ralph stood held fast by two of the cadre. His eyes were bemused, his expression sullen, like a small boy kept from the playground.
"Ravenspeare, I want your brother arraigned for murder," Simon said steadily.
"He's a Ravenspeare. Not a common criminal!" Ranulf declared, but much of his bluster had vanished. He had been defeated in passage of arms by the Hawkesmoor, and his idiot young brother had finally gone too far.
"He killed in cold blood," Jack Chauncey said. "Before witnesses. He will stand trial."
"And he will hang," Ariel said with soft vehemence, looking up from Sarah's body. She stood, drawing Jenny up with her. "I am shamed by my blood."
Men were lifting Sarah's body from the cobbles, bearing her into the castle. Ariel slipped her arm into Jenny's and guided her after them.
"You would pursue this through the courts, Hawkesmoor?" Roland asked, his voice alone of the three brothers calm, dispassionate. "The scandal will benefit no one."
Simon rested on his sword point. He was anxious to get to Ariel, and suddenly he knew he had had a lifetime's worth of the Ravenspeare brothers. "Wed?"
"Banishment," Roland said succinctly. "We'd send him to the colonies to make his fortune there. One of our ships is leaving for Virginia from Harwich at the end of the week. Let him go."
Ralph began to bluster but both of his brothers swung
round on him and he collapsed, seeming to lose all his stuffing as he hung from the hands holding him upright.
"You expect me to trust your word?" Simon's eyebrows lifted incredulously.
Ranulf took a step forward, but Roland raised an arresting hand. "Steady, Ranulf. The man has cause enough to doubt when he's been set upon in the back by that cub."
"We'll see it done," Jack said. "If that's what you want, Simon."
Simon looked down at the cobbles, where Sarah's blood glistened fresh and red. He raised his sword. "Ravenspeare. Swear before these witnesses, on your sword, over the blood of the woman your brother killed, that there will be no more blood shed between our two families. We may not live as friends, but we will live in peace. You will swear on your sword oath that your sister's children will be the currency of truce."
Ranulf glanced at Roland. Roland's nod was almost imperceptible, but it was the cool word of wisdom that the elder had learned to accept. He stepped forward, his face grim, his eyes dark burning holes of rebellion. He raised his sword and repeated the words the Hawkesmoor dictated. Each word was wrenched from him as if with red-hot pincers, but not even Ranulf, earl of Ravenspeare, would be forsworn on such an oath before so many witnesses.
Simon remained in the stableyard, somehow unwilling to leave the small patch of earth where the woman Sarah had given her life for his. He leaned on his sword, gazing down at the cobbles, feeling a great sense of peace invade him. Despite the blood and violence of the last hours, he felt purified in some inexplicable way. The woman's smile, the touch of her fingers, had been a benediction, had conveyed something… a feeling of love… that filled him with warmth and peace and strength.
And he thought that she had not died in vain. That from her death had come the first seeds of peace.
Ariel's soft steps brought his head up from his rapt reverie. He held out his arms to her and she came into his embrace, her tear-wet face resting against his shoulder.
"Why do I feel that Sarah wanted to die… was ready to die?" Her words were muffled. "It's wicked to think that, but I can't help it."
Simon stroked her hair, pushing the tear-sodden streaks away from her cheeks, where they were stuck. "I was thinking that she didn't die in vain," he said.
"She gave her life for yours."
"Yes, but much more than that." Gently he told her what Sarah's death had brought about. "Maybe it's fanciful to believe that she intended such a thing." He smiled, tilting Ariel's face to kiss her mouth.
"No, I don't think it is," Ariel said. "No one knew Sarah, not even Jenny, but everyone knew that she never acted without reason, or without thought for the consequences."
"And you, my love? Have you given proper thought for the consequences of marriage to a Hawkesmoor now?"
Ariel's smile was rueful. "Long since," she said. "And I will not have my horses. It's almost frightening that something once so important should now seem so trivial."
"And if I say that of course you may have your horses?" he asked gravely. "Your horses and your independence. What do you say then, my love?"
Ariel looked up at him, a dash of wonder in her eyes. Then she said consideringly, "I would only want my independence for me, not because of you."
"Ah." He nodded. "Of course. Such a simple distinction, but so vital."
He walked with her back to the castle and into the kitchen, where Jenny was sitting beside the fire, her hands lying loosely in her lap.
"Jenny, you must come with us to Hawkesmoor," Ariel said, kneeling on the flagstones beside her, taking her hands. "You will come and live with us."
Jenny shook her head and smiled. "You will be needed in Hawkesmoor, Ariel, but someone must stay here to help the people in these parts. But I had an idea. Something that came to me while I was with Mother a minute ago." She looked up at the earl, standing at Ariel's shoulder. "I hope you will help, my lord, because my mother had… had some feeling for you that I don't understand. But-"
"My dear Jenny, you have only to ask."
"Well, I was thinking that perhaps we could train other people to help the sick… the way Mother trained me and Ariel. We would perhaps have to pay people if we're to take them away from their regular work, but Mother would live always in the hands of others."
"Oh, yes," Ariel breathed. "How perfect, Jenny. I will help you. I can use the money from the racing stable, and we'll set up a school for midwives and herbalists."
Simon ran a somewhat distracted hand through his hair. Somewhere between breeding racehorses and running a training program for would-be midwives and apothecaries, his wife might find time for him.
He cleared his throat a mite plaintively and Ariel looked up immediately, her eyes on fire with her enthusiasm. "Oh, yes," she said with instant comprehension. "I must be a wife too, of course."
"I shall be eternally in your debt, madam wife." He offered a mock bow and proffered his arm. "Perhaps now might be a good moment?"
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