The Enchantment of Lady Ice

XXX. The Secret Player

Nearly a month in Wickhurst and it was Harold who suggested that they returned to Kenward for some peace and quiet.

There were a few reasons, but mainly because he saw how Alice was affected by the gossips surrounding her no matter how she tried not to show it.

A day prior to his decision to go back to Kenward, he learned from Eva that Alice had to suffer an afternoon in a café with some women deliberately talking about her.

"They did not say her name, but it was apparent that she was the subject," Eva had told him.

"And did you leave?"

"No, of course, not," said Eva.

"Of course. Did she give the women what they deserved?"

"Well, no."

Harold was surprised. "You mean to say that my wife kept quiet?"

"Yes."

"And why is that?"

"She was praying they would mention her name, you see. She had to be certain she was the subject."

"Ah, I can imagine her agony."

"This is no laughing matter, Harold. Alice was clearly distressed."

Eva was correct, of course. He had wondered what happened that very afternoon she arrived home from her afternoon stroll with Eva.

"I worry that she will be left alone most of the time now that I am showing. Martin and I are planning to deliver the babe in Lettice."

His decision was made that very same night. With barely no friends in Wickhurst and very little to trust, he decided that the best way to deal with the gossips was to let them die.

His wife was only glad to leave Wickhurst and explore Kenward more.

She tended to her horses in the morning and he would later join her to go for a ride along the plantation. They would sometimes spend hours breaking their fast there, basking underneath a large hole that scattered sunlight and warmth over the corn plantation.

"I could spare a lot for you if you wish to grow a variety of flowers," he offered one afternoon.

"What would I do with flowers?" she asked.

"They are beautiful."

Alice merely nodded. "I see."

"You do not like them?" he asked in disbelief.

"I do not know. I am not just particularly fond of them."

"Whever not?"

"Do I need to have a reason? I simply do not especially like them." She turned to him and added, "But I would love if you can spare a lot for an orchard. I wish to grow grapes."

"Grapes?"

She nodded. "Wines are getting too expensive, darling. We might as well make our own."

The usual conversation he had with his wife were ones he could not typically have with others. He enjoyed the small surprises that would come out of her lips when he thought he already knew how she would react to certain subjects.

It seemed to Harold that the more he spent time with Alice, the more he grew to cherish her. And that wonderful feeling slowly brewed the fear inside him again.

Would he be able to survive if he would lose her?

His live would be chaos, he was aware, but would he ever come to a point akin to all right?