At the Year's End

Dressed with Oil and Wine

18

A knock sounded on the open door, and Alistair turned back to look at Mrs Woodburn and Charlotte, both with worried faces. Their shadows stretched out before them and reached into the dark room.

"We heard a commotion downstairs," Mrs Woodburn began.

"Ann, are you alright?" Charlotte fluttered in to sit beside her sister while their mother came forward. Alistair stood from his crouch.

"What happened," she asked him.

"She seemed a bit faint, so I brought her up," murmured Alistair, his eyes glancing to Annalise. Charlotte was rubbing her shoulder soothingly but the girl seemed unresponsive. He felt a painful tug at his heart for the small lie he had told her mother.

"Oh..." Mrs Woodburn put a hand to her chest. "Thank goodness you were around. You've been so good to her, Mr Hume."

If only it were true, thought Alistair. If only she knew how true he wanted it to be. But as of now, he was highly doubting those words.

"Please, excuse me." He sidestepped Mrs Woodburn.

"Of course."

Leaving the family behind, Alistair found his way down to his study, hopeful and regretful all at once, that Josephine would still be waiting. He entered the cold room. The only light source came from a single candle on the desk, splaying soft yellow against hard, black shadows.

Josephine whipped around to face him once she heard the door open, and Alistair had to witness yet another weeping woman for tonight. Her rouge ran red down her cheeks like ugly scars, and kohl blurred around her eyes in black.

"Why did you lie to me?" Her voice was as shaky as her stance.

Alistair said nothing. He was silent.

"Answer me!" She screeched.

"I didn't lie to you," he finally said.

"Then why?" She leaned onto the chair, her breathing suddenly shallow. "Why did you leave me for her? She doesn't know you like I do... She doesn't love you like I do."

"Josephine, I think you should sit."

"Why did you leave me?"

"I didn't leave you, Josephine, you knew I didn't want to be with you anymore!" He had finally lost his temper, his booming voice filling the room. "I had told you time and time again that I was tired of this life, that I didn't want this anymore. But you refused to listen."

Alistair gauged her reaction. She had pursed her lips, her eyes still wide and frenetic, but she had made no move to leave, sit, or speak, so he continued. This was long since due.

"You had this idea in your head that I was just confused, that I didn't really know what I wanted. And you were right, I didn't know, not after what I had done to my mother, and my father's passing. So I wanted to stop; to slow down and think. But you would have none of it. You wanted to be mistress of Clyde Park... Then you went and did this to yourself, thinking that maybe it would help your case."

She knew exactly what he was referring to; her child. She touched her stomach.

"So, do you believe me now?" She stepped forward. Her eyes glanced frantically around the room, as though she were looking for something. "That this is your child just as much as it is mine?"

Once more, Alistair said nothing. He clenched his fists at his sides. Josephine scowled at his lack of response. She raced across the room and reached for the vase on the bookshelf, breaking it on the desk before Alistair had any time to react.