Page 55 of The Curse of Penryth Hall
Tamsyn lowered her eyes and sighed. “You would never understand.”
“I’ll simply have to try then, won’t I?” I grumbled, hugging my arms against my stomach.
She turned away, silhouetted in the window. “We grew up together, George and I, playing the games children do, and… well… I don’t know. I always assumed I’d marry him. But Father would never allow such a thing.” She let out a heavy sigh, tugging at her bare fingers. “The summer before you came to stay with us, Georgie went and asked for my father’s permission. Of course we were barely more than children, but Father refused to entertain the notion and promptly carted me off to London so I couldn’t shame myself with him—that’s what he’d said. Then you arrived in my life and I tried to forget what I couldn’t have.”
“Why didn’t you simply run away with him? Your father would have come around in time, I’m certain of it.”
“Not all fathers were willing to forgive every transgression like yours, Ruby.” Tamsyn shot me a cross look. “Besides, my wants meant very little to him and I trusted my parents knew what was best for me, for my future. I tried to put him out of my mind, and George was going to marry Nellie anyway. Everything was as it was supposed to be. The proper order, Father called it. So when Edward offered for me during the war… he was precisely the sort of man Father wanted for me. And at the time… he gave me an alternative. A way out of all that.”
“So you wouldn’t have to settle for me,” I grumbled, trying—and failing—to not sound aggrieved.
“You still aren’t listening to me. How many times must I tell you this?” Tamsyn snapped. “My choices were never about you, they were about me. I was tired of the war. Tired of waiting for you to get yourself killed—or worse, tired of waiting to die. I wanted to go home, and back to the way things were before the war changed everything. I wanted peace, Ruby. You would never give me a peaceful life. You couldn’t. And it would have all been fine had George stayed away like he’d promised.”
“What do you mean like he’d promised?” Fiachna hopped up in my lap, settling himself there, and I ran my fingers over his silky fur.
“Georgie came back and…”
Georgie? The way she flipped between his given name and the nickname made me dizzy, then I realized what she was saying. Perhaps she was right that I didn’t listen. A thought I wasn’t about to dwell upon at present. “He’s Jori’s father, isn’t he?”
Tamsyn nodded as she toyed with the edge of her skirt, her eyes fixed on the floor. “Edward knew right away. He was gone when… when it happened. He’d been in the city for business for months and while we might have fooled the village, Edward knew he wasn’t the father.”
Having the truth between us at last was a relief. No more swords drawn, no more fighting. It was one thing to quarrel with a stranger, another to do the same with someone who knew the very contours of your heart, as those battle wounds were far graver.
“Did Edward…”
She blinked the wetness back from her eyes. “I don’t know. He was angry at first. George came here as soon as he found out, telling me we should run away and I wish… I wish I had but I was frightened. He was talking nonsense. Saying Edwardwasn’t the heir, that he had a plan. That everything would be right again if I’d just trust him.”
“Edward wasn’t the heir? Is that… is it true?”
Tamsyn shook her head. “I don’t know who else would be if it wasn’t Edward. His uncle died childless. Killed by the curse as was his wife.” Tamsyn took on a shade of green. “According to the legend, any Chenowyth heir who marries beneath his station would die at the hands of the beast the old witch summoned.”
“I told you, it’s not a curse.”
Tamsyn clenched her fist tight enough her skin grew white across the knuckles. “But it happened to Edward’s uncle. He’d married beneath him as well. And me… I’m not gently born. Not like Edward was. His family is ancient. I’m the granddaughter of a butcher. What ifI’mthe reason that Edward is dead?”
I placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not—and there’s no such thing as curses. They’re all about control. That’s all any of those old stories are. Ways to keep girls like us from reaching too high. You can’t possibly believe that the curse killed your husband, not when there are any number of angry husbands and brothers who would have done it themselves.”
Mention of Edward’s infidelity calmed her, though more likely it was the logic in my words. The only real question was whodidn’twant Edward Chenowyth dead? “Then you don’t think that I’m in danger?”
I wanted to say no. Promise her that nothing was going to happen and that the worst was over, but I couldn’t bring myself to lie. Because while I didn’t truly believe in curses or demons, I’d nearly been stoned to death in the town, all because of a misunderstanding. “Do you think Edward could have had something to do with George’s death?”
She shook her head. “No. That I’m sure of. We were…well… George and I understood each other. After the war…” She held her hands up to silence me. “I know you don’t like to go back there, but it changed me, Ruby. And it changed him too. He had returned home with every intention of picking back up with Nellie, despite the fact Edward had saddled her with his bastard. But when she looked at him…” Tamsyn bit her lip with a frown, grasping for the words that didn’t want to come. “He told me when he looked at her, he saw all the things that the war stole from him. When he tried to talk to her, to speak of it, the words became like ash on his tongue.”
“But he could talk to you?” I said softly.
“Broken people make the best companions. That’s what he told me,” she said with a frown. “And George, well, he had a bad war. Had a harder time adjusting to life at home than you or I. It changed us all—even Edward. I don’t know how it couldn’t affect one a little.”
“Did he… tell you what he was going to do?”
She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and twisted it in her hands, then shook her head. “No. But I wasn’t surprised either. His mother. She didn’t want to believe he’d done it. Neither did Nellie. But you should have seen him, Ruby. The man was eaten up with what he’d done in France. No one could reach him. Not in those last few days.”
A lump formed in my throat as I remembered the way Mrs. Martin spoke of her grief. “Who found him?”
“Mr. Martin. He had half the village out looking for him when George didn’t return from…” Her hand rose to her throat. “Oh God…”
“Had you seen him? What is it? What did you remember?”
Her eyes grew wide. “Honestly, Ruby, you can’t think I’d hurt him. He’s the father of my child. And… and if he were still alive I—”
