Calling Mabelle by her given name was considered a great offense and a huge breach of etiquette. It was a sign of disrespect and Mabelle was insulted more at that moment than she had been since Elizaveta had entered the chamber.
“I will kill you, then!” she hissed angrily. “How dare you challenge me, you silly girl. I can destroy you with a wave of my hand!”
Elizaveta looked at her. “Then stop talking and do it,” she said frankly. “All I hear is talk. All you do is talk. I do believe that is all you are capable of anymore.”
Infuriated that Elizaveta had called her bluff, Mabelle began to move towards the hearth, her venomous gaze on her granddaughter. She knew she had to do something and do it quickly in order to prove her superiority over her rebellious granddaughter. She had a point to make and Elizaveta would be on the receiving end of it because of her insolence. No man or woman would challenger her and get away with it.
Now, Elizaveta would pay.
“So you side with the English now,” Mabelle said. “They have filled you with poison and you have let them. How worthless and idiotic you are.”
Elizaveta couldn’t help but notice that Mabelle had moved to the hearth and was picking through the iron fire implements like the shovel and the pick, tools used to stoke the burning wood. They could also be used as weapons and Elizaveta became the slightest bit wary, suspecting that Mabelle was going to try and attack her. She would have to be prepared.
“They have not filled me with poison,” she said. “Mabelle, I am English. I know you hate that very word and it is a family shame to have an English granddaughter, but that is the truth. I was born in England and my father is an English peer. Therefore, I am English and I will no longer help you with your campaign of hatred against them.”
Mabelle had found what she was looking for. She now held a heavy iron poker in her hand and was moving in Elizaveta’s direction.
“Then I will end my shame,” the old woman said, lifting the poker. “I will end this now. You have shamed me for the last time, Elizaveta. You will now accept your punishment.”
Elizaveta faced her grandmother fully. It was time to stand up for herself as she should have done those months ago. Now was the time to take a stand and refuse to cower to her grandmother’s wishes. Perhaps it was too late for her to do it, with her honor already gone with the betrayal she had committed, but for her own sake, for the sake of her future, Elizaveta finally had to take a stand.
She was no longer afraid.
“I will not,” she said. “I will not let you beat me.”
Mabelle’s mouth twisted with rage. “You will do what I tell you to do!”
“Nay.”
Furious, something snapped inside of Mabelle; she wasn’t used to having her wishes denied and most especially by members of her own family. She was the grandedame, the woman in charge of everything, and Elizaveta’s rebellion was more than she could bear.
With a grunt of frustration, she rushed at Elizaveta with the poker raised, intending to smash the woman over the head with it, but Elizaveta moved faster than her grandmother. She dodged away from the window to escape the poker, which was now coming down heavily, but in doing so, Elizaveta removed the only barrier between Mabelle and the open window. As Elizaveta darted away, Mabelle’s momentum, and the weight of the poker, took her right through the open window.
It was an unexpected and startling action. Screams could be heard as Mabelle pitched out of the second floor window to the street below. Agnes, shrieking, bolted out of her chair and ran to the window at the same time Elizaveta did, both of them looking from the window at the crumpled figure below. Shocked, they could see that Mabelle had fallen on the poker, driving it all the way through her torso so that it came out the other side.
Agnes was in a state of panic at the sight of her mother’s impaled body and rushed for the chamber door, screaming, running downstairs to be at her mother’s side, but Elizaveta remained in the window and looked down at her dead grandmother as a crowd gathered. She made no move to follow her mother. There was no desire to see to Mabelle’s welfare as she lay dead in the street. There was no desire to do anything for the woman who had ruined her life.
But what did she feel? Elizaveta wasn’t entirely sure. She felt shock, to be certain, but the shock was quickly replaced by a sense of relief – a shining, roaring sense of freedom. There was relief that Mabelle’s evils had finally caught up with her. Relief that the woman was dead and would no longer be a thorn in anyone’s side. Relief that Elizaveta was now free of the woman’s terrible evil. She felt relief in so many ways that she couldn’t entirely grasp all of it. For the deaths the woman had caused and for the death of young Dallan de Winter, all Elizaveta could feel was joy that the evil of Mabelle l’Arressengale Maxwell was finally over.
Everything was over.
Everything. Realization suddenly hit her. Shaken, Elizaveta sank onto the windowsill, still looking at the scene below. She saw when Agnes reached her mother and knelt over the body, wailing. It was odd how, other than the relief, Elizaveta truly felt nothing more as she gazed at her dead grandmother and grieving mother. These were the women who had made her entire life miserable and she could not summon the energy to feel anything other than peace with the situation.
Aye, peace.
She’d never truly known peace in her life other than when she had spent brief moments of it with Drake, but she felt it now. Peace that grandedame’s influence over her life was finally gone.
And so was Drake.
The name flooded her mind and tears filled her eyes at the thought of the man. She missed him terribly, wondering if there would ever be a time in their lives when he would think on her and forgive her. She would pray for his forgiveness daily because it meant more to her than anything else in the world. She wouldn’t blame him if he never forgave her, of course, but there was the hope that someday, somehow, he would.
Even so, she wished him a wonderful and happy life, free of the wife who had shamed him so. She assumed that, at some point, her disappearance would mean that she would be declared dead by the church, their marriage annulled, and that Drake would be free to marry another, a woman who would not betray him. Elizaveta wiped away tears at the thought of Drake marrying another, but she loved him enough that she wanted him to have that happiness. He deserved it.
Taking one last look at her grandmother and mother in the street below, Elizaveta was about to turn away when she noticed a very big knight standing next to her grandmother’s body. He looked particularly familiar and, as if in a dream of slow motion and gentle movements, the man looked up at her, made eye contact with her, and it took Elizaveta a moment to realize that she was looking at Devon.
Devon de Winter….
… dear God… Devon is here!
“Elizaveta?”
A voice came from behind, a voice she knew very well, and Elizaveta whirled around to see Drake standing in the chamber doorway. He was in full armor, exhausted and pale, but there was something in the dark eyes that was alive and vibrant as he gazed upon her. There was warmth there that she hadn’t seen since he’d returned with Dallan’s body and Elizaveta’s heart lurched into her throat. For the first time since arriving in that chamber, she lost her control, suddenly and instantly. Tears stung her eyes as she remained on the windowsill as if unable to move.
“My God…,” she breathed. “What… what are you doing here? How did you find me?”
Drake took a few steps into the room, his gaze riveted to her. “What happened to your grandmother?” he asked, tearing his gaze away from her to look around the room for signs of a massive fight in which an old woman had been killed. “Are you well, love? Did you fight with her?”
Love. He called her love. Elizaveta burst into tears at the sound of his voice, the affectionate term, now completely off guard and crumbling fast. Her strength, the strength she had shown her mother and grandmother, was gone in the face of her husband’s unexpected appearance. She was co
mpletely overcome.
“Why are you here?” she sobbed. “Please, Drake… do not tell me that you hate me again. I know you do. You did not have to come after me to tell me again. I know.”
Drake was so exhausted he could barely stand and the sight of Elizaveta crying had his heart breaking into a million pieces. He could see her hurt, her devastation, and it was difficult to fight back his own tears as he looked at her and he heard his words repeated from her sweet lips.
“I am sorry,” he breathed. “Please forgive me for saying such things to you. I did not mean it. I was hurt and bewildered… I did not understand why you did what you did but I do now. I understand you were in a very difficult position but I was stubborn… it was difficult for me to see your side of it. I am so sorry I told you that I hated you, Elizaveta. I do not. I love you very much.”
Elizaveta’s tears stopped in an instant, shocked by what she was hearing. All she could do was stare at the man, wide-eyed, as he came to within a few feet of her. She simply couldn’t believe it.
“You… you what?” she gasped. “But I cannot… how can you say such things? You were right in every way. I should have told you about my grandmother’s subversion but I did not. I betrayed you and your family. Dallan is dead. I did this!”
“I know.”
“But you must hate me!”
Drake sighed faintly, wondering if too much damage to their relationship had been done. He wondered if things would ever be the same because even if he forgave her, he could see that she wasn’t keen on forgiving herself. He took a few steps towards her, removing his helm in the process.
His dark hair, damp with sweat, fell to his shoulders. As he brushed past the open window, he glanced down to see that Mabelle was still lying dead in the street and Agnes was still wailing over her. It was a distressing scene but he couldn’t work up any sympathy whatsoever.
“What happened to your grandmother?” he asked softly. “Why is there an iron rod through her belly?”
Elizaveta was nearly cowering from him but managed to take a quick look down to the street below. Unmoved at the sight, she returned her attention to him. “She charged me with the poker and tried to hit me,” she said. “When I moved out of the way, she fell through the window.”
Drake’s gaze lingered on the scene for a moment longer before turning to her. “From what you have told me, her actions have brought about an appropriate end,” he said. “She has saved me the trouble.”
Elizaveta’s gaze lingered on him. “Did you come to punish her as you punished Lady de Witt?”
Drake’s features were emotionless. “For what she has done, she would deserve all I can do and more.”
“For Dallan’s sake?”
“For your sake as well.”
Elizaveta pondered that. “You are quick to punish for a wife who has only brought misery.”
He shook his head, his features softening. “You have brought me more joy than you know,” he said quietly. “Why did you run away? Did my hateful words chase you away? Did you come back here to your grandmother to hide from me?”
Elizaveta still had tears in her eyes but they were fading as the surprise of his appearance wore off. She wiped at her face, struggling to think clearly. It was so painful to have the man here, near her, that she felt physical pain because of it. Her limbs ached and her palms were sweating, indicative of her level of emotion when facing someone she never thought she would see again.
God, she ached to hold him.
“I did not come to her to hide from you,” she said. “I came to her because I had to tell her what her directive did to my life. I spied on the husband I had come to love and the family I had come to love, and my fear of her drove me to do it. But I came to tell her that I no longer fear her and that I would no longer be controlled by her. She did not like what I had to say and you see the results in the street below.”
Drake noticed that she wouldn’t look at him as she spoke. She was looking at the floor seemingly unable to face him. He crouched down in front of her, blocking her view of the floor so that she would have to look at him. He was feeling so much angst and sorrow and uncertainty that he was desperate for the woman to look at him. To forgive him.
Please… look at me!
“Is that why you ran away?” he whispered. “To tell her those things?”
Elizaveta still wouldn’t look at him no matter what he did. She turned her head so she didn’t have to.
“Nay,” she breathed. “I left Norwich because I had dishonored you. I left because it was the right thing to do. Tomorrow, I will go to Rochester and commit myself to the convent there. I lived there for years so I know it. It is home to me. You may tell everyone that I simply vanished; they need not know that you and I spoke of it. Surely you must save your pride from what I have done.”
He grasped her by both arms, forcing her to look at him now. He could no longer tolerate her evasiveness.
“You did not dishonor me,” he insisted softly, urgently. “Please listen to me; you are my wife and I love you. It is true that I was hurt and confused by what you did, but I now understand why you did it. I understand that you felt you had no choice. I spoke with my mother and father about it at length and they understand, too. My mother loves you and she has been weeping in fear for you since you left. Mayhap it is difficult for you to understand that our love for you is what allows us to forgive you for what you did, but I wish you would. I wish… I wish you would forgive yourself, as well. We have all done things in our lives that we wish we hadn’t.”
By this time, Elizaveta was gazing at him with a great deal of open emotion. She was raw and vulnerable, hardly daring to believe that he was truly intent on forgiving her. “But… but Dallan….”
He cut her off gently. “It was simply his time,” he said. “The information you gave your grandmother… although she was wicked to pass it along, the truth is that Dallan could have just as easily lived through the Scots attack. It was God’s will that he did not. Mayhap… mayhap his death has prevented countless others. Had he not died, I would never have known of your grandmother’s subversive plans and mayhap you would have sent her more information and more men would have died. So that is why I say that mayhap Dallan’s death saved others. It forced you to refuse to support any more of your grandmother’s vengeance and it has made me realize how much I love you and how much I cannot go on without you. Please forgive me for my hateful words, Elizaveta… I would be grateful if you did.”
She could feel his sincerity, flowing from his weary, exhausted body and into hers, healing the self-hate and the self-doubt, feeding off of his generous sense of forgiveness. She believed him; of course she did. But she knew that forgiving herself would take much longer. She wasn’t sure she would ever overcome the guilt. But as long as Drake was willing to forgive and move forward, she was willing to take the chance as well. The tears began to flow again simply because she was allowing herself to feel some joy in the situation.
The joy of being reunited with her husband.
“Are you sure?” she whispered, wiping the tears that were falling.
He took her hands, kissing them reverently. “I am sure,” he murmured. “I adore you, Vee-Vee. Please, let us continue our life together. Please let me bring you home.”
Elizaveta’s resistance was gone. It would never last long against Drake, anyway, so she threw her arms around his neck, weeping softly as he held her tightly. He kissed the side of her head, her cheek, before descending on her tear-salty lips and experiencing all of the joy and excitement he could have possibly imagined. Elizaveta clung to him, overwhelmed and overjoyed with their reunion.
“Are you sure you are well?” he asked hoarsely, cupping her head in his big hands. “You rode all the way from Norwich by yourself. And you did not suffer?”
Elizaveta shook her head, basking in his concern. This was the Drake she knew, the husband she loved with all of her heart. Thank you, God! she prayed silently. It was like a dream to b
e back in his arms once more, a dream she was certain she would never see again.
“I did not,” she said. “But… but I have not eaten much.”
He kissed her, still cupping her head. “I shall make sure you have a feast,” he said, exhibiting more energy than he had in weeks, his manner fed by the joy of their reconciliation. But he quickly sobered. “But… I suppose we should make arrangements for your mother and grandmother. Do you want me to at least get the woman off the road? I can bring her back here and let the innkeeper deal with the corpse.”
Elizaveta could still hear her mother wailing. A great part of her wanted to leave the woman out there, crying over her dead mother, and not lift a finger to help her. But Elizaveta was born of decent character from a family that had little, so she couldn’t quite bring herself to simply walk away. In her last act of civility before leaving her mother forever, she simply nodded to Drake’s question.
“If you do not mind bringing her in, I would be grateful,” she said. “But… but you must remember that it was from her lips that all of this chaos happened. Would you still be so polite to her?”
He let go of her head, standing up to his full height. “What I do, I do for you and for no other reason,” he said. “If you want her brought in here, I will do it.”
Elizaveta nodded reluctantly. “Then bring her inside and let us be done with her,” she said. “I wish to have no more consideration for the woman than that. I will forget about her from this day forward, so let this be the end.”
Drake reached up and stroked her cheek before departing the chamber and making his way down to the street where Devon was still standing, still watching the scene. Between the two of them, they carried Mabelle up to her rented room and put her upon the bed with as much care as one would treat an animal carcass.
Behind them, Agnes followed, distraught, but Elizaveta stood by the door and watched everything quite emotionlessly. She never said a word to her mother the entire time; she’d already said what needed to be said and there was no more point in additional talk. It was done.