Page 53 of The Tailor's Treasure

"I am hismother," Isabel said.She was near tears, and could no more have concealed that fact than she could have taken wing and flown."I have had him in my care from the day he was born.He has never been away from my side for more than a few hours.A nursemaid would not know how to soothe him, how to nurse him when he takes ill, how to be certain he finishes his meals and sleeps through the night.You cannot take him from me -"

"We can," Hilda said."According to the terms of my uncle's will.If Ralf and Piers agree, then we may do as we like."Her smile was sickening."And I doubt very much that you would be able to persuade them otherwise."

"Please," Isabel said past the swelling in her throat."I'll do as you like, stay where you tell me - but please, don't take him away from me.He needs me."She was thinking of the night before, how he'd cried at the storm until she comforted him.How she'd paced their small room all week when he'd been sick, feeling his small arms wrapped around her neck as he wheezed, sitting up to make sure he could breathe all through the night.What nursemaid would do that for him?How would she know that he needed rocking to sleep at night, or that he'd bolt across the street if he saw an animal he wished to pet, or how he was accustomed to bread and butter between meals?What woman, hired on by Hilda, would protect him from his cousins' sharp words?And even if a kind nursemaid could be found, how could she explain to him why she was being torn from his side with no notice or reason?He'd think she abandoned him.

"It seems to me you need him far more than he needs you," Ancelin said, but his mien was not so cruel as Hilda's.He was not - based on Isabel's limited experience of him - motivated by spite; rather, he hardly seemed to care how his household was run, so long as he did not need to be bothered with it.If either of them could be swayed, it would be him.

"I say again," Isabel said, addressing herself directly to Ancelin, "I will do whatever you ask - but please, do not take my son from me.No demands would be too great, if it would prevent that.I know I have no right to him by law.I can only throw myself upon your mercy to be permitted to stay."

Ancelin looked at her, and then at Hilda.Isabel chanced a look at her, too: her expression was calculating."If we were to acquiesce," she said, "it would be necessary for us to keep you close to home.You have proven yourself untrustworthy, and so you cannot be permitted your liberty to go about as you have been.You will only go where I send you, and Bridget or Ellyn must accompany you to market and back."Her eyes gleamed."And you will not return to this tailor's shop, of course.Your remaining in this household will require an assurance of good conduct."

"Anything," Isabel said again."Anything you ask."She could not think about what Hilda had said; she couldn't think about what it meant.She could only say and do whatever it took to extract a promise that Walter would not be taken away from her.Her chest felt tight; her fingers were tingling as if they'd gone numb.Her head was swimming.She would do whatever she had to in order to survive this.Anything.Anything.Anything.

Then a horrible thought struck her."Where is Walter now?Where have you sent him?"

Hilda rolled her eyes."To the kitchen, as you well know.Ellyn is watching him."

But Ellyn had been the one following her; Ellyn had reported her comings and goings for weeks; Ellyn obeyed Hilda, not her.And clearly Hilda had been giving her instructions that Isabel had never heard or noticed.If she had told Ellyn to take him out while Isabel was distracted, to make sure he was gone before she knew -

"Then I ask your permission to go to him," she said.Her breath was coming so quickly, it was hard to take in enough air to speak."If this matter is resolved and you are satisfied with my promises, I would see my son."

Ancelin shrugged."Your promises matter little.As my wife has said, we will ensure for ourselves that your behaviour is acceptable."He returned his gaze to the parchment in front of him."But as you have agreed to our terms, you are free to go."

"And go up to the girls' room once you've fetched Walter," Hilda added, "they've not yet practiced their madrigals today."

Hilda had hardly finished her sentence before Isabel was tearing out of the room and down the passageway, all dignity forgotten.She was chilled to the bone and shaking; it was a small miracle that she was even able to hold herself upright, much less run.Walter should be in the kitchen - he wasprobablyin the kitchen - but if he wasn't, if Isabel had handed him to Ellyn and she'd taken him away and she had no way of knowing where or how to get him back -

She heard her son cry, and the sound provided a burst of energy that carried her to the end of the passageway and into the kitchen.Walter was sitting on the wooden bench next to the table, flailing and howling as Ellyn tried and failed to wrap him in a blanket.She looked up when Isabel came hurtling in, and stepped back from Walter, throwing her hands up."Finally!You take him, he'll have none of me."

Isabel did not pause to answer.She snatched Walter up off the bench and fairly crushed him against her chest, burying her face in his hair.He was still damp from his bath, red-faced from his tantrum, but he quieted almost as soon as she picked him up."I'm here," she said, her voice muffled."I'm here.I'm here.It's all right.I'm here."

"Brat," Ellyn muttered, moving around to the other side of the table and taking up a knife to resume chopping the turnips that were strewn over the tabletop.

Ordinarily, Isabel would have snapped at her, but she was too weak with relief to bother.She picked up the blanket instead, and draped it over Walter's shoulders, a compromise he seemed to find more acceptable than being swaddled.If Hilda got rid of her and hired on a nursemaid instead, would she insist on swaddling him over his objections?Ellyn certainly felt no compunction over it.Such a tiny thing, only a preference, but it mattered to him.And she was the only one who cared, the only one who would see that he was happy and comfortable andsafe.

She raised her eyes from Walter to Bet, who was stirring a pot over the fire and watching Isabel with a wary look.Isabel shifted Walter in her arms, feeling her chest tighten."Did you know?"she said.

Bet shrugged, looking back down at her stewpot."They were discussing it last night over supper."

"Discussing what?"Ellyn said behind her, but Isabel had no interest in remaining to hear Bet explain.She carried Walter out into the passageway, kicking the door shut behind her, and sank down onto a bench.She was shaking, her heart hammering.Walter seemed to sense her distress, for he reared back in her arms and reached up to pat her face.She kissed his forehead, then pulled him close, rocking him.

When she'd been seated across from Ancelin and Hilda, she'd been too panicked and desperate to even think of arguing with their demands.Now, in the quiet of the passageway with Walter safe in her arms, the nature of what she'd agreed to was beginning to sink in.She had even less freedom than she'd had before; she would go nowhere and do nothing without Hilda or one of her spies watching.Ellyn was already happy to report back on her comings and goings; Bet seemed to have no objections, or else valued her position too highly to voice them.Likely Bridget would be just as amenable.She was well and truly trapped here, just as if she were chained in a dungeon.And she'd been forbidden from seeing Constance again.

She moaned.Walter's head jerked up in alarm, and she stroked his hair until he subsided, squeezing her eyes shut so he wouldn't see her tears.She'd had no choice.She had no choice.But never to see Constance again - never to hear her laugh or see her smile or feel Constance's hand in hers'- never to wake in her arms, or sit side-by-side with her at the workbench, or rest her head on Constance's shoulder as the hour grew late - it couldn't be borne.The injury was too great, the pain too sharp.Tearing herself away from Constance would be like tearing herself in two: even if the wound did not kill her, the bleeding would.

When she had first agreed to stay on in Hilda's household, there'd been little point in doing anything else.She'd had no one and nothing but her son, so why should she not agree to make herself miserable under Hilda's thumb to keep him?It was hardly a sacrifice.It wasn't giving up the woman she loved.She could not have conceived, then, of loving and being loved like that, much less having it snatched away.She had not yet seen a vision of her future where she knew true, uncomplicated happiness - free of her husband, free of Hilda, free of everything but her love for her child and for Constance.Now she had - and she had to give it up.She didn't know if she could survive it.

But she had to survive it.

She permitted herself one sob - only one.Then she put her shoulders back and drew in a deep breath.Hilda had told her to go upstairs and see to the girls.She'd be angry if Isabel disobeyed her.She had to be careful, now; she had to be sure not to offer Hilda any opportunity to pounce.She had lived like this before, with Geoffrey.She could live like this again.If she knew anything, it was how to survive.

Constance would worry, she thought as she got to her feet.She would wonder why Isabel had disappeared so suddenly, with no warning.Isabel would have to figure out some way to get word to her of what had happened.But she couldn't think about that just now.For the moment, all her focus had to be on making sure she was secure in her position here.She could think of other things once that was accomplished.She tried hard to push away the thought that it never would be.

# # #

It was a week beforethe storm broke - a week of staying constantly on her toes, jumping to do whatever she was told by either Hilda or the girls (Ancelin having absented himself from the house not long after their meeting), and trying to make herself as small and unobtrusive as possible whenever she was not being called on to do something.If the girls noticed that the dynamic of the household had shifted, neither seemed to care much; Aline was still taken up with talk of her betrothal, and Petronilla had devoted herself to sulking while her sister was made much of.Isabel almost found herself missing their sniping.It was easier, when her charges offered some distraction - even an unpleasant one - not to let her thoughts drift back to Constance, to her smile on that golden morning when they had woken up together, on the press of her lips to the crown of her head.On what she must be thinking, now that Isabel had vanished.Was she angry?Worried?What would she do?

She had her answer shortly.It was the Friday following her disastrous meeting with Hilda and Ancelin, and she was seated in the nursery working on her mending basket.Walter was napping, and the girls were going through new silks that their father had brought back on his previous visit home.Their chatter gave Isabel a headache, but she gritted her teeth and ignored it.There were worse things, she knew.