‘I would reflect on your own behaviour if I were you,’ he said.
She gasped. ‘What...what in heaven’s name does that mean?’
‘Nothing.’ He sighed. ‘It means nothing. Apologies, Eleanor, but I didn’t sleep well last night and as a result I am more irritable than usual.’
‘I understand. Is there anything I can do?’ She raised her brows. ‘Anything that I can help with?’
She’d hoped the look she gave him was one that would tempt him to visit her later that night.
‘No,’ he replied, before riding out ahead.
Eleanor dropped back to ride beside her ladies whilst she thought on what had just passed between them. Oh, yes, there was definitely something wrong with Hugh and she would do everything she could to find out the reason for his bizarre behaviour. None of it made any sense, but she would be on guard and watchful until she understood everything—even if it ended up hurting her.
Eleanor and her women washed and dressed in clean and sober clothes before arriving in the pretty yet remote hamlet of Milnthorpe. At the church of St Michael she knelt at the altar and received a blessing from the priest, making the sign of the cross before resuming her prayers, conscious of her husband beside her. She was glad of Hugh’s presence, since it somehow made it a little easier being in this solemn place.
The sickly-sweet smell of incense enveloped her senses, making her stomach turn on itself. She hated coming here. It brought back the desperate unhappiness and loneliness she had endured after her family had perished, one after the other.
Sometimes she still felt as she had back then—guilty about being the only one to survive. Not that living had been any easier. Her life had been filled with its fair share of difficulty and hardship. The only glimmer of light had been her recent marriage to Hugh, and that seemed to be fading before it had truly begun to shine.
She stood up abruptly, in an attempt to end those morose thoughts, but swayed, losing her footing and finding a pair of strong masculine hands around her shoulders, steadying her.
‘You look pale, Eleanor, are you well?’
‘Perfectly,’ she said, taking in a huge breath. ‘Thank you again for allowing me to pay my respects. Coming here always reminds me of how much I have lost.’
‘Naturally... I understand.’
Eleanor rubbed her forehead and turned her face away from him.
‘Come, you could do with some fresh air.’
Hugh gently guided her by the arm out of the chapel and away from prying eyes, leading her down a cobbled path until they reached a small stone wall overlooking green pasture, with sheep grazing in the field.
Sheep, for the love of God!
It made her think of that day when Hugh had gifted her with her own flock, given with such unbelievable kindness the like of which she had never known. Well, not since her family had been alive.
It had been such a happy few hours or so. She had forgotten about all her problems and enjoyed her husband’s company, his humour, not to mention his glorious kisses. Ah, those languid, melting kisses that had left her wanting so much more...
If only she had known then that they would be so fleeting...that he would soon reject her.
Eleanor’s eyes darted from the sheep dotted around the field to the young spring lambs nestled beside them and filled with tears. She let out a shaky breath as an ache enveloped her chest.
She wiped her eyes angrily with the back of her hand and looked away. She hated feeling like this—and even worse revealing her weakness in front of another, least of all Hugh. It made her feel vulnerable—something she could never be. She must be strong-willed and resolute; she had learned it was the only way to live. In any case, mayhap she was wrong about Hugh and there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for his behaviour.
‘Here, Eleanor, you could do with a drink.’ Hugh held out his flagon, offering it to her. ‘It’s cool water from the stream.’
She took it hesitantly and nodded her wordless thanks, taking a few sips.
‘It’s not easy to lose someone you care about,’ she said, fixing him with a pointed stare.
‘No, it’s not.’
There wasn’t much else to say, and Eleanor didn’t feel the need for conversation, allowing the awkward silence to stretch. She realised that she wanted to be alone for a moment, to compose herself and clear her head.
Hugh coughed, gaining her attention. ‘How old were you, my lady, when you lost your family?’ he asked.
‘My brothers and sisters all died through illness one terrible winter,’ she whispered. ‘For a few years it was just my father and I, until his death when I was in my eleventh year.’ A ghost of a smile played on her lips. ‘I remember the sound of his laughter. It was so infectious. And he was the most patient man. I could be quite a handful, you see...so eager to learn everything and nothing.’
Hugh chuckled. ‘He sounds like a man of true honour.’
Eleanor smiled weakly, nodding in agreement. ‘Yes, he was. As for my mother—she died before them all, when I was very young, in childbirth. I barely remember anything about her, although I have been told that I’m much like her.’
‘I’m sure you are, Eleanor.’ He scuffed his shoe absently against the edge of the stone wall before continuing. ‘My mother died in much the same way as yours, although I was much older. Even to this day the smell of lavender and thyme evokes memories of her. She was a gentle, kind soul.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss. It’s not easy, being left behind.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s not.’
‘That is why I find it difficult to come here. Because it reminds me of the enormity of my loss.’
‘I know—but that’s why it’s important to honour our loved ones in the most fitting way. By living life with grace, dignity...and courage.’
‘True... But those high standards are not always easy to live up to.’
‘Are
