Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [90]
The baby was now a year old. Robin had wanted sons, and she had given him only this one. She had braced herself one day, and asked Dr Tobie a straightforward question, to which he had replied in the same way. It was not impossible. But it could only be done if—as Tobie had said, with the delicacy doctors kept primed for these times—Robin surrendered his sovereignty.
She understood. She also understood that, whether he was physically ready or not, she must wait until his pride would allow it.
Towards the end of the period, she was too uneasy to stay away, and remained in the large, comfortable house, talking to Robin or reading to him. Outside, the yard was busy with horses most days: every time she heard a fresh clatter of hooves, she felt Robin grow still, and made desultory conversation until the riders’ voices told that they were strangers. Until the fifth day, about an hour before noon, when Kathi strayed to the window and was looking down as four horses came in: two travellers with two grooms. The grooms were nothing special. The men—she knew, without even seeing their faces—were Robin’s father and Nicholas de Fleury. Archie dismounted heavily and looked up. Nicholas said something, and Archie looked back at him, as if caught by surprise. Then he moved forward alone. Nicholas also glanced up at the windows, but it was no more than a flicker, after which he turned back with the grooms to the stables. They were all talking. It struck her to wonder if Crackbene was there, out of sight somewhere.
Robin spoke her name from the bed.
She turned and said, ‘Do you have second sight? It was your father.’
He couldn’t even be propped up: not yet. He could only turn his head and look anguished. ‘But Nicholas,’ he said. ‘I heard Nicholas.’
She crossed and knelt, smiling. ‘You heard Nicholas being tactful,’ she said. ‘He has retired, to leave the field clear for the family. May I stay?’
She had hesitated even to ask. He saw it and, as ever, understood the reason, and gave her one of his sudden smiles. He said, ‘I think you’d better, don’t you?’
And then his father was standing in the doorway, his hands loose, his eyes on his son’s face, saying, ‘Oh, my laddie! Thank God, thank God, ye’ve come back to us!’ And somehow he was on the floor by the bed, Robin in his embrace, and they were both weeping.
Which was the best way of all.
Kathi stayed, her eyes wet, through the first of it: when Archie, recovering, took a stool, and Robin asked questions, and his father began to explain, in a torrent of eagerness, all that he had prepared for his homecoming. Only, after a while, Kathi saw Robin’s eyes flicker towards her and away. Smiling, she backed to the window and sat there, without looking round. A few moments later, there came the rattle of purposeful footsteps and a bang on the door, which opened on Nicholas.
Robin’s eyes left Archie and his pale face coloured deeply. Archie, looking round, got up from the stool and gestured, offering it. Settling into his face was the first distillation of the last fifteen minutes: an expression of pride and relief and, above all, joy. It did not go unnoticed, Kathi thought; nor did her own presence. But the odd, intent look on Nicholas’s face was only for Robin. Nicholas said, ‘I’m so bloody sorry. And so bloody glad.’ He sat down.
Robin’s lips trembled. He said, ‘That about sums it up for me, too.’
Nicholas studied him. ‘So what happened? I saw you shot. How did you get there? And what happened next?’
While Robin was speaking, Archie quietly made for the door. Kathi made to rise too, but a glance from Robin asked her to stay. The door closed, and she came and sat down on the other side of the bed, so that she could