Milady
Father was no better, but since Simon had left he had insisted on walking out into the garden each day, as far as the forest boundary. He was still frighteningly weak, and needed me to support him all the way, but once there he could sit on Hob’s bench and face the dark trees. I could not leave him there alone, so I would sit by him, and wait.
This day was no different from any other. We walked out at mid-morning as far as the bench and there we sat. He stared blindly into the forest, his limbs lax, his back leaning heavily against the cold stone wall behind. I was not watching the forest; I would not leave him to sit alone, but neither could I waste a day. I wrapped my cloak warmly about me, pulled my feet up, and set about reading over the week’s accounts.
We sat so for an hour or two, until the sun had passed midday, and I was entirely absorbed in my work. Still, it was I who first noticed the change in the forest. I am not sure whether it was a noise, or some sudden movement catching the corner of my eye that made me turn my head, but I looked up abruptly and saw them ride out of the forest together.
For a moment all I could see was a horse and two riders in the gloom, then they burst out from among the trees, and I leapt to my feet, scattering my papers in the snow.
“Father!” I shouted. “It’s Beauty!”
I ran forward, Beauty slid from Simon’s horse, and we met in a tangle of arms. Father hugged us both with a strength I thought he had lost, and then suddenly pulled back from us.
“Where is Hob?” he asked.
“She is well,” Beauty assured him. She hugged him again. “Oh, Father. I thought I’d never see you again. Nor you, Elizabeth,” she said, looking at me over his shoulder.
“What happened to you?” I asked. I was burning with curiosity.
“I’ll tell you later,” she said. “Not here. Not now”
I nodded reluctantly.
“We should go in,” Simon said. He had dismounted too, and was leading the mare.
“She looks exhausted,” I said, patting her nose. “You too.”
“I am,” he admitted reluctantly. “A little.”
“Thank you,” I said after a moment.
“I did little enough,” he said, “but the story should wait until we get in. It’s cold enough as it is, and it will only get colder. There’s more snow on the way, I think.”
“Yes. Let’s go in,” Father said. I was startled to hear him in such command of himself. He began to walk slowly towards the house, leaning on Beauty, but already more upright, as though her very presence was a cure. Simon followed behind with the mare, but I hesitated a moment and glanced back at the looming forest. Then I turned away and followed along behind the others, leaving my forgotten scattered papers blowing in the snow.
When we reached the house I took the mare from Simon to be stabled before I went to join the others. I was a little reluctant to hear what Beauty had to say – a little frightened, if I admit it. I had one sister back, but where was the other?
When I joined them they were all already seated around the great fire in the library. Beauty and Simon were sitting on one of the sofas and although they did not even touch each other, they might as well have been embracing. Father sat in a chair opposite them and smiled on them. I took the chair next to his and waited for Beauty to speak.
“Hob told me you were ill,” she said, leaning across to Father.
“I am well,” he assured her, looking anything but, though much better than he had. “I am fine and all the better for seeing you safe home. Now forget about me and tell us what you have done. You have seen Hob? You are sure she is well? How did she find you?”
