I endured the evening meal. This time I was better protected, for the family sat together, Lady Anne in her habitual place on her son’s right, Elaine on his left. Lord Richard was seated by his sister, and if I felt his eyes on me, I did my best not to look at him. Well down the table, I found myself between John and Ben, with Margery opposite. That effectively cut off any need to hear what was being said, or to school my expression. The three of them kept up a lively conversation on a variety of topics, ranging from the winter fair at Elvington, to whether sycamore or walnut was really best for fine furniture, to the merits of Red’s new breeding sow. They managed to include me, and a variety of imaginative expressions and gestures came into use, causing a certain amount of merriment among our small party. Once or twice, glancing up the table, I caught Red’s gaze, neither approving nor disapproving, just noting how things were. He spent much time in quiet conversation with Elaine. They were well suited, I thought. Childhood friends, they knew their place in the world and would work well together to keep what they had. She had impressed me, with her attempt to stand up to her father. Besides, both were tall and well favored, and they would breed handsome children. But I remembered the expressions on the faces of Liam and Eilis on the night of their betrothal; how they gazed into each other’s eyes as if there were no other in the world. I saw no such expression on Red’s face, nor on Elaine’s. Perhaps it is the way of the Britons, I thought. You do not show what you feel. Instead, you shut it away inside, locked in tight, lest it be seen in the light. But there were exceptions, I thought, watching Margery as she shared a joke with her husband, seeing John’s face as he passed her a platter of bread and she took a piece, touching his hand. There were those whose love spilled over into their every gesture, and so was shared by all who knew them. But they were rare folk indeed.

I slept badly; the night demons were strong, clutching at me even in sleep, and it was a relief to wake, finally, cold and clammy with sweat, and see through my around window the first dim traces of dawn light in the sky. I washed in cold water and threw on a cloak over my nightrobe, for the walls were closing in and I was desperate for air. I unbolted the outer door and went softly out into the garden, barefoot on the cold stones of the path. Alys followed with some reluctance, moving stiffly in the early chill. There would be frost within days, I thought. That was good; maybe in spring I would see the earth carpeted with jonquil and crocus. Today would be fair; I could still see stars in the lightening sky, where purple faded to pink and to the first touch of dawn gold.