Widow in White

Chapter Fifteen: The Inevitable Conclusion

Laura slept late the next morning and woke to the sound of raised voices. She sat up, heart pounding, and listened. It was Neil, from Richard's room below.

"...don't treat me like a halfwit!

There came the low, indecipherable rumble of Richard's voice.

"It's obscene and you know it! Get rid of her!"

Again, the low rumble, louder this time but still indecipherable. Laura slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the door. Opening it a crack, she could make out Richard's words.

"...certainly not by your command." His tone was controlled but irritation vibrated beneath it. "Not by any command but her own."

"Oh? Is that how it is then? She gives the orders and you follow them? I've never known you to follow an order before!"

"Not yours! Not in my house!"

Laura flinched at the virulence in his voice. She snatched up her wrapper from the floor and fought to get her arms through the sleeves. She was still doing up the sash as she ran down the stairs. In Richard's room, both men were shouting now:

"...You're making a goddamn fool of yourself—"

"—I'm doing exactly as I think I ought—"

"—Oh come on! She's leading you by the—"

"—Please don't!" begged Laura, stopping in the doorway.

Neil shut his mouth with a snap. He twisted on one heel and glared at her, his lips drawn, his jaw clenched. Behind him, Richard was standing and grasping a chair for support, his cheeks burning red.

"Please don't fight. Please."

Neil raised his hands helplessly in the air and shook his head. "You—" His mouth opened and shut several times, then he strode forward and pushed past her into the hall. His footsteps clattered rapidly down the stairs. A moment later, the front door slammed shut.

Laura was left staring at Richard. His chest was heaving in and out and his knuckles showed white under his skin. She watched anxiously as his breath slowed and his grip on the back of the chair relaxed.

"He's right, you know." Laura fought to speak through the aching lump in her throat. "I should go somewhere else."

Richard met her eyes. "You don't want to go."

She bit her lip and said nothing.

Richard kept her gaze for a moment and then straightened up and limped heavily to the dresser. He began to roughly brush his hair, which was swept up in a lop-sided crest over his forehead. Other than that, he was already fully dressed in a waistcoat and cravat and shoes. Laura hovered in the doorway. She should leave. Not because it was obscene. Because Richard and Neil were fighting over her and would not stop as long as she was there. The bitter feelings Neil had been biting back the last few weeks were going to come out now — now that Richard was well enough to endure them, now that she had provoked them beyond repression.

"You're right," Richard said, making her jump. "I need a haircut."

Her alarm faded slightly. "Oh. Yes. You do."

He ruthlessly combed down the crest until it was half-way flattened. Then he laid the comb on the dresser and limped towards her.

"It's not your fault. Neil was bound to lose his temper sooner or later."

It was neither a command to go nor a request to stay. She shrugged.

"And I was bound to sleep with you. Sooner or later." Richard gave a small, half-bitter laugh. "I thought I could control myself."