Christopher was on to Will. “Do you ask so many questions because you think you may be connected?” He assessed him for a beat. “You’d make a fine footman.”
“The timeframe fits well,” Will admitted.
“Nobody made it out of that alive. Trust me on that.” Christopher finished his wine in a large swallow. Will was brooding into the fire. Edwin was tinkering with Victor’s boot buckle and hoping for his attention.
Clara asked as she continued to draw, “Why would someone do this to a Christian man?”
Christopher explained, “A priest traveling to his new parish would be carrying a great deal of personal effects. Cash, jewelry, clothing, books, plus the extra security would have flagged it as a lucrative prospect. One of the drivers could have been in on it, judging by the strange route they took into the village.”
Now he gave Will a stare.
“I don’t feel safe living in this village anymore,” Clara said quietly. Her pencil strokes slowed, and shyly, she displayed her page to the room: a steep incline, the shape of an upturned carriage, and the trunk of a tree. Everything was rendered quickly, but somehow captured the desolation of the moment. Her skill in one minute of work was astounding.
“Very good,” Angelika praised her. “I want you to fill that book.” She regretted her thoughtlessness when she saw Will turn his face away from it.
Christopher patted Clara’s knee. “I must say, I’m glad you’ve decided to live up here. The villagers are growing desperate, and food is in short supply. I’m even wondering if it was our big forest monster who caused this tragedy.”
“God works in mysterious ways,” Victor said out of nowhere as he laid his spoon down at last.
“Vic,” Lizzie gasped. “What a thing to say.”
“That’s horrible,” Angelika hissed at him. “Victor, I cannot believe you.”
He was defiant. “I’m just saying, maybe there are no more vacancies for talentless men who care more for marble than their parishioners. They all need to get a real job.”
“You have no idea if he was like that.” Angelika resisted the strong urge to look at Will, but she felt his helpless anger. “You simplify things in a way you should be ashamed of, Victor.”
“And I’m saying, just among friends, that if I had my way, they’d all be tossed out into the street with nothing, so they could experience what their worshippers endure.” Victor was stroking his fingers through Lizzie’s shiny black hair, and nobody but Angelika noticed how Will’s hands were clenched with the effort of staying silent.
That reminded her. “Are your knuckles sore? I am not the only one who did a little rescuing today. Will saved some poor woman from a beating.”
“He did,” Clara said, so admiring that Angelika was now juggling a two-way jealousy. “He kicked in a door at the boardinghouse, punched a man, and left, in as long as it took me to tell this story.”
“He’s nothing if not efficient,” Angelika agreed. “I bet that woman is telling a story about the handsome stranger who saved her in her time of need.”
Her jealousy expanded and threatened to eclipse her civility.
Will was cupping his right hand. Was that why he hadn’t eaten anything? He couldn’t hold a fork? Angelika sat up from the floor. He read her expression and shook his head at her. A fuss was the last thing he ever wanted, and also the one thing she liked to do best.
It was her house; she’d fuss if she liked. Will sighed, knowing it was no use resisting.
Christopher observed the entire wordless communication.
“Show me.” She put his plate aside and sat on the arm of Will’s armchair. He gave her his hand and she winced over the splits. There was a hint of warmth in the swollen joints. She curled his hand around hers and began a slow rubbing. “Poor, poor thing. Far too gallant. Far too brave. Now look what you’ve done. Are we telling Victor what we know later?” That last part was a whisper, and he shook his head.
“I think I will return home now,” Christopher said abruptly. “Thank you for dinner.”
Angelika was guilty over her inconsideration and tried to pull her hand back, but Will held on to it with newfound strength.
Victor glanced down at Edwin tugging at his trouser leg before addressing Christopher. “It’s dark now; stay the night. Your horse is put away. We could set out early and go up to that clearing where you saw the footprints. I will rescue Mary if it’s the last thing I do.”