The sun sank below the treetops, and the sky turned to lavender and violet and deepest gray. Above us the willows sighed and were still. Framed by their weeping branches, the river water slowly darkened to black. Torches were lit, and placed on poles around the grassy expanse where we sat. The whistle was joined by a drum and a fiddle, and some of the young folk got up to dance. Out on the river, there had been no sign of swans.

“Tell me, my dear,” Richard turned his attention to me without warning, “have you no idea where your husband has gone off to so suddenly? I found the official explanation just a little hard to believe. Stretched credibility just a touch too far, I thought. Young Ben’s keeping something back. What about you? Did Hugh let on what he was about, when he abandoned you so quickly? Secrets of the pillow, and all that? I should think you’d be adept at that, got him eating out of your hand, I hear. What did he tell you?”

“Richard,” said Lady Anne reprovingly, not liking his manner at all. Her loyalties here were clearly divided.

“I wouldn’t trouble yourself, Sister.” Richard gave her a comical look. “You forget a woman of Erin cannot think and feel as you do. She does well enough at the surface appearance, I grant you that, but scratch that surface and you’ll find your enemy under it. A spy. A sorceress, even. I’d put money on it any day. You can’t trust them.”

“Jenny is my son’s wife,” said Lady Anne tightly.

“Mm,” said Richard. “So she is, so she is. Now tell me, little niece, for so my sister would have me call you, though it sticks in the throat, where did Hugh go? What was his errand? What could be so urgent, that he abandoned his bride on her wedding day? What could be so secret, that even his mother was not informed?”

Sorcha. Sorcha, where are you?

“What is it, Jenny? What’s the matter? Are you ill?” Lady Anne had seen my face change, as my mind caught the silent call of my brother.

Wait. Wait. I’m coming. Don’t move.

I sprang up, trying to keep my expression blank. Nodded and mimed. Please excuse me. My stomach…

“Take Megan with you, my dear,” Lady Anne called after me, as I walked as calmly as I could toward the river, toward the shelter of the willows. On pretext of needing privacy to rid my stomach of its contents, perhaps I could—maybe I could—

“Where are you going?” Ben loomed up in front of me, face anxious in the torchlight. “By God, woman, you have the weakest stomach in history. Here, let me help you. No going off alone, it’s against the rules, remember?”

But I gestured, and gestured again. Please. Just for a minute. I won’t go far. Please. He regarded me, frowning. It was true, there were certain bodily functions that did require due privacy. But he respected his orders. Please. I’ll be safe enough.