Heir to Sevenwaters by Juliet Marillier Page B

pray, I suppose,” Father sighed, and I heard in his voice a hope as fragile as a single thread.

CHAPTER 3

    I kept myself busy. Our serving people had never been so well supervised, our house never cleaner, our meals never more promptly served or more carefully prepared. Sibeal and Eilis completed twice as much sewing as usual and made dramatic progress with their reading and writing. Accompanied by a maidservant, I walked to the hawthorn early each morning to say a prayer and make an offering before commencing the day’s domestic activities. In the evenings I said I was too tired to play the harp, and it was more or less true.
    Aidan kept trying to catch me alone in order to offer some kind of explanation. I could hardly be discourteous to him, since to do so would suggest I had had some expectations that the existence of this girl Rathnait had quashed. I would not let him see how much his dishonesty had hurt me.
    “Clodagh!”
    I was walking from kitchen to grain store, my hair bundled up in a kerchief and my feet in sturdy outdoor boots. Aidan fell into step beside me, shortening his long stride accordingly.
    “I want to talk to you. Please.”
    “I’m busy, Aidan.”
    “Let me explain to you. About home and the betrothal. It’s not the way it sounds, Clodagh, I promise you—”
    “I told you,” I said, “there’s no need for any kind of explanation. It means nothing to me. There’s no point in making this into more than it is. Now I must go.”
    “It means something to me,” he said to my retreating back, and I almost stopped and let him tell me whatever it was, for he sounded genuinely upset. I ordered myself not to look back, lest those melting brown eyes make me act against my better judgment.
     
    Time passed; the moon went from dark to full. Mother was persuaded by Muirrin that bed rest was in order and ceased to come down for meals. Several times a day I went in to see her. It helped her to know that the household continued to be run according to her rules. No mouse would poke its head into the food stores, no sheet would be inadequately laundered, no spider would dare build a web in a cupboard while I was in charge. Mother’s ankles were swollen and puffy; her face had the same unhealthy look, but her eyes were full of confidence. She praised me for my efforts and expressed a certain pleased surprise that I had apparently managed to absorb all she had tried to teach me over the last few years. I had sometimes thought her too dedicated to perfection in the house; I had wished she would adopt a more relaxed approach. Now I began to realize just how like her I was. Did she, too, maintain the rituals of a perfect household principally to keep her fears at bay?
    Two days after full moon the weather turned especially benign. The sun shone, flowers bloomed and the forest came alive with the music of birds and insects about their spring business. Over breakfast in the hall, Father said, “Clodagh, it’s time you had a day off. Aidan has asked me if he can take you and your sisters out riding.”
    Before I could think what to say, a huge smile lit up Eilis’s face. “Oh, please can we go, Clodagh? Please, please? We could take a picnic up to the Pudding Bowl and go fishing.” The Pudding Bowl was our family name for a little round lake up in the hills, half a morning’s ride from the keep.
    Coll was beaming too. Even Sibeal looked enthusiastic in her quiet way. I glanced across to the table where Johnny’s guards were seated. Aidan was avoiding my eye. It was Cathal’s sardonic gaze I met, and he lifted his brows at me quizzically before I looked away.
    “I don’t know,” I said. I’d planned to oversee a clean-out of the root cellar. I realized even as I thought of this how much I would love to get out for a day. I imagined it would mean I’d finally have to listen to Aidan’s explanation, whatever it was, but that would surely be less awkward in the setting of a picnic with the children