Visions (The Daevas #2)

19 | Confusion

January 29, 1521

Sussex, England

And so I tell him.

I tell him everything that happened between Anne and George-about their betrayal, their deception. As I told Edmund in the solar, all was silent. He gave one dismissive nod to me, wanting himself to be in the solitude of his room and his liquor. I told him I was sorry but he only looked at me with weary eyes. He turned his head away and onto the fireplace his eyes went, saying in a strangled voice, "Please go."

I touched his arm and retreated quietly away from the room, the door clicking shut behind me. Now I am here outside the solar with my back on the door. I ignore the two guards on each side of the oak. I shut my eyes, trying to assure myself that I shall be fine-that Edmund and I will eventually get over this madness and try to live happily as we once were again.

Although we both know that nothing will ever be as it was.

We both loved Anne and George, and we still do. I can tell just by looking into the iris-purple depths of my dear brother-in-law. Only an addle-pate cannot decipher the crestfallen expression on Edmund's face. Sooner or later, the servants and his friends will be curious about the Duke of Brightam's changed from his usual lively mood to this new one.

I push myself away from the door, thinking that I ought to rest for thinking of this deception that makes me weary. But then I hear a yell.

Curious, I follow the voice and the nearer I get, the more the voice sounds familiar to me. I go out to the archery butts, seeing Molly throwing her hat to a porter in front of her while the other is trying to calm her obvious mounting wrath. It makes her wilder for the one trying to keep her at bay is holding her by the belly, keeping her away from clawing the porter in front of her. "I am a woman, as you can see, you bolting cur!" she screeches, kicking and thrashing against the man holding her still. He is obviously struggling.

"Just apologize, John! I cannot hold her much longer!"

"Aye, but-" John tries to say.

"Aye, what?" the other demands.

"D'you really think I can let get away for just apologizing?" Molly hisses furiously, wriggling against her poor captor. "I ought to scratch both your eyes out before I forgive either of you!"

Every servant and knight of the Duke of Brightam is speculating a very amusing yet horrifying scene.

"That," John concluded, swallowing audibly, gesturing to the tempestuous beauty trying to kill him in public. He eyes his companion worriedly. "Are ye all right?" he asks him.

His friend fumes, as do Molly.

"Am I all right?" he booms. "Ye try to be in my place an' tell me how ye feel!"

Molly cannot take another of this anymore and she lifts a leg backwards, hitting her captor's delicate lower, middle part. Hard.

He yelps in agony, making Molly wriggle from his grasp. She turns to John with a deadly glare. "Had you not seen me with the marchioness?" she demands, fuming. "Thank you very much for trying to assault a woman who is innocent."

"I be sorry, milady," John mumbles shamefully, scooting down to help his friend on the ground.

"Oh, let me help!" Molly says loudly, grabbing the poor man on the arm while John takes the other.

"Thank ye," he mutters.

"Hmmph!"

"Molly," I call out, walking toward her. John and his friend-as well as the other servants out in the garden, working-bows or curtsies to me. "What ever has happened to you?"