The Chocolatier's Wife (48 page)

His
brother
and
sister
had
wed
the
moment
Bonny
turned
eighteen. That
turned
his
thoughts
to
what
his
life
would
have
been
like
again,
and
he realized
it
would
not
have
been
an
intolerable
one,
not
truly,
but
he
closed his
mind
to
those
notions.
When
he
was
a
captain
he
had
lived
by
one
rule: that he was not always right,
but he was always certain.

As
he
passed
under
the
window
of
the
study
on his
way
to
the
kitchen door,
he
could
hear
Bonny and
Andrew
screaming
at
each
other.
Well, Andrew
was
speaking
forcefully
when
Bonny paused
in
screaming
at
him to
draw
a
breath.
Interesting
coda
to
your
thoughts
,
William
,
he
thought, though
he
was
certain
he
and
Tasmin
would
never
lose
their
dignity
in
such a
way. They
would
always
be
reasonable.
Still,
it
did
have to
be
admitted that
Bonny
had
been
miserable
a
lot,
of
late,
as
had
Andrew,
who
had gone
so
far
as
to
ask
him
the
other
day
if
the
spell
could
not
have made
a mistake.
Childless,
despite
their
five years
of
marriage,
with
Andrew
even more
de
s
perate
to
have
an
heir
now
that
William
had
taken
himself
and his own line from
the
running
of the
family fortunes (would Tasmin
resent that
in
time?
Would
his
sons
and daughters?),
a
darkness
had
settled
over the
house
that
nothing
could
diminish.
I
wonder
if
I
have
much more
to answer for than
I
thought?

Perhaps
the
spell
was
wrong. Maybe
it
needed
recalibrated,
like
a
box compass.
Certainly
it
was
a
cruel
creature,
saddling
Tasmin,
who
ought
to be up in
the North where she would have
the freedom to continue with the University,
where
she
had
a
promising
life
of
her
own,
with
a
stubborn
fool such
as
himself,
who
could
not
stand
to
take
the
easy
and
good
things
that were handed to him
out of some twisted sense of pride.

If
he
had
set
out
on
the
walk
thinking
his
mood
could
not
be
darker,
he
had
been
greatly
mistaken,
he
reflected
,
as
he
waited
at
the
servant’s
entrance
to
be
let
in.
The
servant
who
opened
the
door
was
surprised
to
see him,
but
the
front entrance
was
easily
seen
from the
main house,
and
he did not feel like visiting
his parents t
o
day.

The
butler
told
him
his
brother
would
see
him
shortly.

“Does
my
brother still carry
a
decent brandy?”
he asked.

“I
shall bring
it forthwith, sir.”

He
found
it
curious
that
the
man
didn’t
direct
him
to
the
parlor,
so
he
went hi
m
self, only to find
it was already occupied.

Tasmin
was
not
a
pretty
crier.
She
did
not
weep
delicately,
but
hunched up,
bent
over
her
knees
as
she
sat
on
the
sofa, a
hand over
her
mouth
to smother
her
sobs
and
an
arm
around her
waist
as
if
trying
to
give
herself some
sort
of
comfort.
He
froze
for
a
moment,
then
crossed
the
room
quickly, throwing his hat on
the table. “Tasmin?”

She
looked
up
at
him
and
then,
as
if
acting
on
instinct, leapt
up
from the
sofa,
crossed
the
final
steps
across
the
floor
and
threw
her
arms
around him,
burying her face in
his chest.

He
folded
her
against
him
without
thought,
“What is
it?
What
has passed?
Has
someone
hurt
you?”
He’d
murder
them,
he
would.
Then his troubles would be over
because there would be a
real reason
to hang him.

“Someone
took
my
dress!”
she
said,
“When
I
woke
up
this
morning, I found
that
my
dress
had
been
stolen.
I didn’t
notice
last
night
because, well,
I
was
so
tired
I
didn’t
light
a
lamp
and
when
I
got
up
it
wasn’t
there, and
don’t you
dare
say
it
was
only
a
dress
or
I’ll
start
hitting
you,
and
I won’t
stop until you say you’re sorry.”

“I
know,
I
know
...
hush.”

“No,
you don’t
know.”
She hit his chest. “You can’t
possibly know.”

He
curled
his
hand
over
her
fist
before
her
strikes
actually
started
to
hurt.
“It’s
your family dress, of course you’re upset.”

“It’s
all
my
dreams
and
my
hopes
and
now
I
won’t have
any
luck
at
all and
my
marriage
will
be
hell
because
my
ancestors’
well
wishes
won’t
rest on
me and
they won’t
be able to rest on
my daughters, either.”

He
winced.
“
My
marriage
”
,
“
my
daughter
”
,
and
the
way
she’d
said
“
hell
”
,
it was di
s
maying.

Well,
he supposed he’d asked for
it,
hadn’t
he?
And
hadn’t
he just been sort
of
wishing
she
would
go
home?
But
now,
he
cuddled
her
close
and forbore
to
say
an
y
thing
else.
Now
he
could
hardly
let
her
go
across
the
room
from
him,
let
alone
to
the
North, and
sending
her
home
was
the
farthest thing
from
his
mind.
“I
will
find
it
for
you,”
he
said,
when
the
sobs
had softened and
now she was breathing normally.