taking Angel out for a gallop. I’ve tied him up in the shade now. I think he’s glad of a little rest. Do you like to ride?” she asks.
I consider shaking my head, just to stop the conversation, such as it is. Just to avoid being in any way in agreement with the woman, but Cai is watching me, and he knows the truth. I nod, but show no enthusiasm. Still this does not prevent her from treading the common ground between us.
“Then I hope you will allow me to take you out one day soon. I have a wonderful young horse that would suit you very well, I’m certain of it. Cai, would you permit your wife to come riding with me?”
“Of course,” says he, putting tea in front of us. “That’s a kind offer. Isn’t it, Morgana?”
A nod can be surprisingly eloquent. Neither Cai nor Isolda miss the contempt in my response. I see Cai’s jaw set and his eyes harden. Why does it matter so much to him that we please her? How many more people will I be expected to drink tea with while they ogle me as if I were an exhibit in a traveling circus? Did he marry me to provide a subject for gossip and curiosity among his precious neighbors? I feel suffocated by the thought. Trapped. I begin to experience a familiar pressure in my head. There is a noise inside my skull like the winter wind through pine trees. I know Cai is talking to me, saying my name, puzzlement in his voice, but he sounds distant. I want to close my eyes, to let myself be taken to that other place, to escape. A touch on my hand brings me spinning back into the room. I shift my focus, with some effort, and see that Isolda has laid her hand upon mine. She no longer wears her gloves, and the unexpected contact with her flesh sends a burning sensation up my arm and deep into my struggling mind.
“Morgana?” Her words are syrupy with concern. “Are you quite well, child?”
I snatch my hand away. A blue bottle, fat and heavy, flies into the room. It settles on the table between us. I frown, staring at it. For a moment it merely rubs its shiny legs together, but then, quite suddenly, it rises up and hovers between myself and Isolda. She watches me closely, her head on one side, with an expression I can only name as pity. I will not endure her condescension! The fly all of a sudden swoops toward her, buzzing and darting at her face. Without being in the least bit disturbed, Isolda lifts her hand as if to calmly swat it away. At least, this is what she allows Cai to see. I, however, have a closer view, and witness her trap the fly in her hand, silencing it with a deft squeeze so that its life juices seep out between her fingers. All the while she never once takes her cold eyes from me.
I leap to my feet, my chair toppling noisily to the flagstones behind me. Pausing only to scowl at the vile woman I stomp from the kitchen, fleeing to my bedroom, Cai’s irritation clear in his voice as he calls after me.
Almost an hour passes before I hear the front door rub against the stones and sounds of exchanged farewells at the garden gate. The horse’s hoofbeats speed away down the drive. Moments later I hear footsteps on the stairs. I turn toward the door, waiting to see how I am to be rebuked. But Cai does not come into the room. He does not even knock upon the door. Instead he speaks through it, his voice flat and restrained.
“I’m going up to see the ponies. Mrs. Jones won’t be in today. There are vegetables in the pantry for you to make our midday meal, Morgana. I’ll be back at noon.”
So saying he leaves, the dogs barking as they follow him. I go to the window expecting to see him striding across the pond meadow, but he does not. I wait, and shortly afterward he reappears, this time mounted on an unremarkable chestnut cob who lumbers up the hill. I watch them until they are out of sight. Midday meal indeed! I pace the room, the worn floorboards smooth beneath my feet. He knows I want to see the ponies. He invited me to go with him. And now I am not to go, all
I consider shaking my head, just to stop the conversation, such as it is. Just to avoid being in any way in agreement with the woman, but Cai is watching me, and he knows the truth. I nod, but show no enthusiasm. Still this does not prevent her from treading the common ground between us.
“Then I hope you will allow me to take you out one day soon. I have a wonderful young horse that would suit you very well, I’m certain of it. Cai, would you permit your wife to come riding with me?”
“Of course,” says he, putting tea in front of us. “That’s a kind offer. Isn’t it, Morgana?”
A nod can be surprisingly eloquent. Neither Cai nor Isolda miss the contempt in my response. I see Cai’s jaw set and his eyes harden. Why does it matter so much to him that we please her? How many more people will I be expected to drink tea with while they ogle me as if I were an exhibit in a traveling circus? Did he marry me to provide a subject for gossip and curiosity among his precious neighbors? I feel suffocated by the thought. Trapped. I begin to experience a familiar pressure in my head. There is a noise inside my skull like the winter wind through pine trees. I know Cai is talking to me, saying my name, puzzlement in his voice, but he sounds distant. I want to close my eyes, to let myself be taken to that other place, to escape. A touch on my hand brings me spinning back into the room. I shift my focus, with some effort, and see that Isolda has laid her hand upon mine. She no longer wears her gloves, and the unexpected contact with her flesh sends a burning sensation up my arm and deep into my struggling mind.
“Morgana?” Her words are syrupy with concern. “Are you quite well, child?”
I snatch my hand away. A blue bottle, fat and heavy, flies into the room. It settles on the table between us. I frown, staring at it. For a moment it merely rubs its shiny legs together, but then, quite suddenly, it rises up and hovers between myself and Isolda. She watches me closely, her head on one side, with an expression I can only name as pity. I will not endure her condescension! The fly all of a sudden swoops toward her, buzzing and darting at her face. Without being in the least bit disturbed, Isolda lifts her hand as if to calmly swat it away. At least, this is what she allows Cai to see. I, however, have a closer view, and witness her trap the fly in her hand, silencing it with a deft squeeze so that its life juices seep out between her fingers. All the while she never once takes her cold eyes from me.
I leap to my feet, my chair toppling noisily to the flagstones behind me. Pausing only to scowl at the vile woman I stomp from the kitchen, fleeing to my bedroom, Cai’s irritation clear in his voice as he calls after me.
Almost an hour passes before I hear the front door rub against the stones and sounds of exchanged farewells at the garden gate. The horse’s hoofbeats speed away down the drive. Moments later I hear footsteps on the stairs. I turn toward the door, waiting to see how I am to be rebuked. But Cai does not come into the room. He does not even knock upon the door. Instead he speaks through it, his voice flat and restrained.
“I’m going up to see the ponies. Mrs. Jones won’t be in today. There are vegetables in the pantry for you to make our midday meal, Morgana. I’ll be back at noon.”
So saying he leaves, the dogs barking as they follow him. I go to the window expecting to see him striding across the pond meadow, but he does not. I wait, and shortly afterward he reappears, this time mounted on an unremarkable chestnut cob who lumbers up the hill. I watch them until they are out of sight. Midday meal indeed! I pace the room, the worn floorboards smooth beneath my feet. He knows I want to see the ponies. He invited me to go with him. And now I am not to go, all
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