Atonement

Chapter 7

This was a colossal mistake.

The thought swirled around Fabien's head on an unending loop as he silently cursed inside the claustrophobic confines of the carriage. En route north towards St. Denis for far longer than he would have preferred, he was cold, agitated and irate – the inclement weather doing nothing to soothe his dour disposition. Soon after leaving Versailles behind, the heavens had opened up, bombarding their carriage roof with relentless, driving rain. Sudden and unavoidable, the current conditions were also unwelcome as it slowed their middling pace even further.

Sitting across from him, the main focus of his ill temper was at present staring in an almost hypnotised manner at the water cascaded down the outside of the carriage window. Other than to acknowledge his presence when she'd first stepped into their conveyance, Sophie had not so much as uttered a word in his direction. Fabien should have been pleased by her restraint, but for reasons he did not want to fully understand, it vexed him even more. If she was not speaking, that must mean she was ruminating on inconsequential matters or worse, potentially plotting – a dangerous notion.

Through the inky blackness of the carriage interior he could discern her outline, her slim figure huddled in the corner, shrouded in shadow. He could tell she was cold by the way she clutched her cloak around her body, her fur trimmed hood up and around her face. He could also tell she was grossly uncomfortable. Not even the dusky obscurity could disguise how tense she was, how her hands constantly braced on either side of her to prevent herself from toppling over whenever they hit a rut in the road. Their carriage was built for distance and speed, not for luxury. It contained none of the amenities that she was accustomed to such as liberally stuffed seats covered in soft, rich fabrics and a generous allotment of leg room to languish in style and ease. Instead, they were sitting on practical, well-worn seating in an enclosure cramped enough to ensure that their lower extremities bumped together every so often. Perhaps he'd been deliberate in his choice of transportation. He'd had the option of a larger, more lavish carriage, but he'd wanted to test her resolve and so had foolishly not given any thought to how he would manage having her within his immediate proximity for hours on end.

To her credit, he was forced to grudgingly admit that she bore their current circumstances well - at least for now. He'd not missed the dismayed look on her face when she'd first set foot inside, however she'd not uttered a single syllable in protest. He was convinced she did not like their rather rudimentary mode of travel, but she seemed determined to keep her dissatisfaction to herself. Much to his annoyance.

"You are unusually quiet," he said above the cacophony of hooves, wind and rain.

Her head swung around. "He speaks at last. I had feared we would make the entire journey without attempting any conversation at all."

He frowned at the thread of amusement in her tone. "Should I be flattered that you would consider my wishes before engaging in any manner of discourse?"

"Hardly. I would call my reserve a form of self-preservation, rather than an endeavour to please you." This time he did not mistake the laughter in her voice. "Furthermore, I assumed you would support an atmosphere which was mute and devoid of any form of communication."

He'd thought so too. Apparently not. "You continue to mock me."

She sighed rather dramatically. "Do you truly possess no sense of humour, monsieur? Not everyone strives to insult you. Though I imagine there are a great number of people who would wish to, but are merely too afraid."

His brow shot up. "I am the guardian of His Majesty's safety, not a harlequin. It is essential that others fear me."

"I am not implying that you adopt the mannerisms of a court jester," she huffed. "I am merely suggesting that everything need not always be taken in such a serious light. It must be arduous to be so...rigid."