Page 31 of The Tailor's Treasure

There – that was the difference.Walter had been burning up all week, a hot coal in her arms, leaving sweat stains against the bodice of her dress.He wasn't hot now – warm, yes, but only the ordinary warmth of a baby sleeping in her arms, not the fever-heat of before.And he wasn't wheezing.She put her head down towards his mouth, listening closely, but all she could hear was the soft huff of air as he exhaled.The fever had broken while they both slept, and it had taken the congestion in his lungs with it.He was, if not entirely healthy again, then well on his way to it.

She buried her face in his curls, squeezing her eyes shut as tears welled.Silly to cry now, when it was all over and the danger already seemed distant – but she had sat up all night, every night, consumed with visions of how Geoffrey had died choking on the fluid filling his lungs.How Walter might have inherited his father's worst frailties, and Geoffrey might steal his one gift to her from beyond the grave.In the cool, unsentimental light of day, she knew it was a foolish thought – but logic held no sway over her where her child was concerned.She had to take several deep, steadying breaths before she was able to raise her head again.

She'd thought she'd been quiet, but evidently it hadn't been enough to keep from waking Walter.He stirred in her arms, blinking large grey eyes – clear, thank God and all his saints, not clouded with fever – up at her."Mama?"he said, unwinding his arms from around her neck to pat at her face."Mama, wan' bremmy."

She breathed hard through her nose to keep a sob at bay even as she smiled.Of course he was hungry – she'd only been able to coax him into a few bites of porridge all week.She ran a hand over his tangled curls."Yes," she said."Yes, let's have breakfast.And then a bath – we both need one."Her nose had become inured to the twin scents of sickness and unwashed bodies over the course of the past week, but she was certain that anyone who met them in their current state would be hard-pressed not to gag from the odour."And then –"

Her eyes fell to the foot of the bed, where she'd laid out Leah's dress.Not the one she and Constance had been working on when last they spoke – that had been the wedding dress, the most pressing part of their job – but a simpler day dress, embroidered only at the cuffs instead of the more elaborate stitching and beadwork she'd been applying to the other dress.This one was mostly finished, but the other wasn't.And Leah would be wanting to know how they were faring.Most likely, she'd been to see Constance in the past few days, looking for answers that Constance wouldn't have had.She couldn't complete the job by herself – that had been the whole point of hiring Isabel on to begin with.She needed Isabel's skill, and her presence.

Isabel took another deep breath.It was more difficult than it should have been: though she'd fought off tears, her nose and throat were still clogged, and the stale air of the room was making her head ache.She had to go back and see Constance again; even if nothing had passed between them save business dealings, their business was not yet finished.And more had passed between them, and Isabel at least owed it to her to visit and explain why it couldn't be permitted to happen again.

* * * *

The walk to Constance'shouse was no longer or shorter than it had ever been, but today it seemed like miles.Walter fussed in her arms to be put down, then fussed to be carried when she set him on his feet.It was near noon, and the sun was blinding overhead; each time her eyes caught the glare, she felt a piercing pain in her head.The air was cold, and her chest seemed to squeeze tight around every inhale; just the act of putting one foot in front of the other had her out of breath.By the time they'd reached their destination, the street around her seemed to weave and warp in her vision, as if she was looking at it through a haze.

Constance was standing behind the table when Isabel pushed the door open and went in, frowning down at the dress pieces spread out in front of her.She looked up at the sound of the door, and a smile spread across her face almost immediately – like the sun coming out.Like the sun, it was painful to look at.Isabel wanted to drop her eyes to the floorboards, but she held her gaze steady.It was her mistakes that had put her in this position; she could at least look Constance in the eye while she rectified them.

"I –" she began, then had to pause as a cough climbed up in her throat.She was holding Walter, so she couldn't cough into her sleeve; she swallowed it down instead, wincing as her throat scraped."I – apologize for having been so long absent.Walter has been ill, and I ..."

Now she really couldn't keep from coughing.She just barely managed to set Walter down on the floor before the spasms racked her chest, bending her nearly double.Through watery eyes, she saw Constance come around the front of the table to stand before her.

"He's not the only one, it seems," she said, laying a soft hand on Isabel's arm.Isabel tried to shrug her off, but her limbs seemed entirely uninterested in obeying her, and she only managed a weak sort of shudder.Constance's hand moved around to rub her back, and she could have cried for how good it felt.

"I'm well enough," she said – croaked, really – "only tired.And I came because –" She paused for another shuddering cough."Because I behaved – my conduct – I ought not have, when we spoke before – forgive me –"

Her thoughts, which she had arranged so carefully before she left, were tumbling around in her head like loose grain.Constance, still rubbing her back, only made a soft, noncommittal noise.Isabel took a deep breath and tried again."I fear I – I behaved towards you in a manner that – that was wrong of me, to give the impression –" The room was tilting the way the street outside had."- that – that I wished – that I would be, that I could offer – things, favours, that I am not free to –"

"Mmmhm," Constance said."Why don't we speak of it later, once you're better?I think, for now, you had best lie down."

Isabel tried to blink away the blurriness that had descended over her vision.It didn't work."I'm not ill."

"Of course not."Constance was guiding her across the floor with a hand on her back."But you've been looking after Walter, and you must be exhausted, hmm?You'll feel much better once you've had some rest.Just a few hours, there you go."

Somehow, Isabel found herself deposited on the bed with Constance pulling at the laces of her gown until they gave way, then saying gently, "arms out," and getting Isabel to shift in her seat until she could pull her free of the dress entirely.Now that she was only in her shift, Isabel began to shiver, suddenly aware of how cold the room was.Had it been this cold before?She hadn't noticed.Constance was still murmuring something, too low for Isabel to make out – if she'd even been able to, with her brain as fogged as it was – but it still sounded soothing.Hadn't someone done this for her, before?She had a vague memory of sitting in someone's lap, when she was still small enough to fit, being rocked and sang to while a fire crackled nearby.Or had it been her doing that for Walter?Or Matthew?She couldn't remember.

"Lie down now," and then there were hands on her shoulders, pushing her backwards.Isabel felt herself seize up, flooded with cold panic as new memories rose: her bridal bed, in her husband's house, being borne down into the bed with his awful, crushing weight on top of her, his smell all around her, and she couldn't get free.She felt tears leak from her eyes and hated herself for it – it would only make him angry, she knew that, sheknewbetter – but she couldn't stop."Please," she said, "please, I don't want to, Geoffrey, please, no –"

"Shhhh."The pressure that had been bearing down on her vanished, and Isabel lurched upwards, gasping for air.There hadn't been any weight on her, not like before, but it hadfeltthat way.There were hands on her back, rubbing and soothing as Isabel wheezed, then coughed, then wheezed again."It's all right, love.It's all right.I won't hurt you.Nobody's going to hurt you.It's only me.Easy, easy ..."The voice kept going next to her ear – it was a woman's voice – her mother's voice?– no, her mother was dead and she was in Linden and there was no one to stroke her and soothe her, except now someone was."It's me.It's Constance.I won't hurt you.Lie down, love.You've got to rest.It's all right.Lie down, and I'll pull the blanket up.You're shaking."

Shewasshaking, she could tell that much.Slowly – she couldn't make herself go faster – she lay down on her side, curling her knees up against her chest.It hurt to hunch over like that, but it was the best defense she could manage.As promised, a blanket was settled around her shoulders, and she let out a long, shuddering exhale as the cold that had surrounded her was dulled.The hands that had pulled the blanket up stroked her forehead.

"I'm going to go and check on Walter," the woman's voice said – she knew that voice, she knew it, but she couldn't say how – "but I'll be back in a moment, all right?I won't go far.Try to sleep.You need to sleep.It's all right, don't fret.I'll be back soon."And Isabel wanted to reach out and grab for her sleeve, to hold her in place – she may be telling the truth about coming back soon, but selfishly she didn't want to give up that soothing voice even for a moment – but she was so tired and the blankets were so warm, and she was sinking down and down into quiet and darkness.

# # #

Constance tiptoed outof the bedroom with one hand balled into a fist and pressed against her mouth so she wouldn't cry out loud: she knew, if she started, she wouldn't stop.Isabel had looked so small and so frightened, frightened of her – not that she'd done it on purpose, not that it was her fault, but she couldn't shake the sound of her pleading voice out of her ears.Once she had made it out of the bedroom, she eased the door shut and leaned against it, biting down hard on her fist to keep from doing what she really wanted to do, which was scream.

I don't want to.

She'd said she was a disappointment to her husband.After what she'd just witnessed, Constance doubted that.The sort of man who forced himself on an unwilling wife wasn't angered by her reluctance; he was excited by it.Convincing his wife that the fault lay in her for objecting to his conduct was just an added bit of pleasure, a twist of the knife.None of the women Constance loved best had married such men, thank God – but she had known neighbours who had, and she'd watched them be whittled down in daily increments, year by year, until they were walking shadows of their former selves.

And Isabel had been married to such a man for ten years.

Who had she been, before that?Who could she be now that he was dead and gone?

A giggle and a shriek interrupted her thoughts, and she glanced hastily back towards the bedroom door to ensure the noise hadn't roused Isabel.No sounds emerged from behind her, so she assumed Isabel was still safely resting, and went to investigate the source of the noise.She found it in Walter, who was still sitting where she'd left him in the middle of the main room: Tib had emerged, presumably drawn by the sound of voices, and was now washing Walter's face and hair with her tongue.He seemed to find the experience deeply amusing, if the giggles were any indication.Occasionally, he would start to wriggle away, but then Tib would put a paw on his head to hold him in place, and despite the fact that he could easily shove the cat away and make his escape if he wished to, he only laughed harder, flopping over on the floor and rolling onto his stomach as he chortled.

Constance held back a moment, enjoying the scene – whatever Isabel's husband had done to her over the course of her marriage, it didn't seem to have impeded her ability to raise a healthy, happy child – before going over and scooping Walter up off the floor and into her arms.Tib made a disgruntled noise, lashed her tail, and trotted off to the kitchen; Walter watched her go, then tilted his face up to Constance, brow furrowing."Mama where?"