A Discovery of Witches - Deborah Harkness [243]
“Here it comes,” Sarah warned.
Matthew dropped the page from the letter and swept me out of the chair and through the front door. He set me on the driveway, and my toes gripped the soil. The witchwater released harmlessly into the ground while my tears continued to flow. After a few moments, Matthew’s hands slid around my waist from behind. His body shielded me from the rest of the world, and I relaxed against his chest.
“Let it all go,” he murmured, his lips against my ear.
The witchwater subsided, leaving behind an aching sense of loss that would never go away completely.
“I wish they were here,” I cried. “My mother and father would know what to do.”
“I know you miss them. But they didn’t know what to do—not really. Like all parents, they were just doing their best from moment to moment.”
“My mother saw you, and what the Congregation might do. She was a great seer.”
“And so will you be, one day. Until then we’re going to have to manage without knowing what the future holds. But there are two of us. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”
We went back inside, where Sarah and Em were still scrutinizing the page from the manuscript. I announced that more tea and a fresh pot of coffee were in order, and Matthew came with me into the kitchen, though his eyes lingered on the brightly colored image.
The kitchen looked like a war zone, as usual. Every surface was covered with dishes. While the kettle came to the boil and the coffee brewed, I rolled up my sleeves to do the dishes.
Matthew’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He was ignoring it, intent on putting more logs into the already overloaded fireplace.
“You should get that,” I said, squirting dish liquid into the sink.
He pulled out his phone. His face revealed that this was not a call he wanted to take. “Oui?”
It must be Ysabeau. Something had gone wrong, someone wasn’t where he or she was supposed to be—it was impossible for me to follow the particulars given their rapid exchange, but Matthew’s annoyance was clear. He barked out a few orders and disconnected the phone.
“Is Ysabeau all right?” I swished my fingers through the warm water, hoping there was no new crisis.
Matthew’s hands pushed my shoulders gently away from my ears, kneading the tight muscles. “She’s fine. This had nothing to do with Ysabeau. It was Alain. He was doing some business for the family and ran into an unexpected situation.”
“Business?” I picked up the sponge and started washing. “For the Knights of Lazarus?”
“Yes,” he said shortly.
“Who is Alain?” I set the clean plate in the drainer.
“He began as my father’s squire. Philippe couldn’t manage without him, in war or in peace, so Marthe made him a vampire. He knows every aspect of the brotherhood’s business. When my father died, Alain transferred his loyalty from Philippe to me. He called to warn me that Marcus wasn’t pleased to receive my message.”
I turned to meet his eyes. “Was it the same message you gave to Baldwin at La Guardia?”
He nodded.
“I’m nothing but trouble to your family.”
“This isn’t a de Clermont family matter anymore, Diana. The Knights of Lazarus protect those who cannot protect themselves. Marcus knew that when he accepted a place among them.”
Matthew’s phone buzzed again.
“And that will be Marcus,” he said grimly.
“Go talk to him in private.” I tilted my chin toward the door. Matthew kissed my cheek before pushing the green button on his phone and heading into the backyard.
“Hello, Marcus,” he said warily, shutting the door behind him.
I continued moving the soapy water over the dishes, the repetitive motion soothing.
“Where’s Matthew?” Sarah and Em were standing in the doorway, holding hands.
“Outside, talking to England,” I said, nodding again in the direction of the back door.
Sarah got another clean mug out of the cabinet—the fourth she’d used that morning, by my count—and filled it with fresh coffee. Emily picked up the newspaper. Still, their eyes tingled with curiosity.