Lady of Hay by Barbara Erskine (reading an ebook TXT) 📕

Bennet smiled calmly. "You're trying too hard, Jo. You mustn't try at all, my dear. Come, why not sit over here by the window?" He pulled a chair forward from the wall and twisted it so that it had its back to the light. "Fine, now, we'll do some little experiments on you to see how quick your eyes are. There's no hurry. We have plenty of time. We might even decide to leave the regression until another day. " He smiled as he felt under his desk for a switch that turned on a spotlight in the corner of the room. Automatically Jo's eyes went toward it, but he had seen already that her knuckles on the arm of the chair were less white.

"Is she as deeply under as before?" Sarah's cautious question some ten minutes later broke into a long silence.

Bennet nodded. "She was afraid this time. She was subconsciously fighting me, every inch of the way. I wish I knew why. " He looked at the list of questions in his hand, then he put it down on his desk. "Perhaps we'll discover eventually. But now it just remains to find out if we can reestablish contact with the same personality at all! So often one can't, the second time around. " He chewed his lip for a second, eyeing Jo's face. Then he took a deep breath.

"Matilda, " he said softly. "Matilda, my child. There are some things I want you to tell me about yourself. "

Chapter 12

The candle on the table beside his bed was guttering as Reginald de St. Valerie lay back against his pillow and began to cough again. His eyes, sunk in the pallid hollow of his face, were fixed anxiously on the door as he pulled another blanket around his thin shoulders. But it made no difference. He knew it was only a matter of time now before the creeping chill in his bones reached his heart, and then he would shiver no more.

His face lightened a little as the door was pushed open and a girl peered around it.

"Are you asleep, Father?"

"No, my darling. Come in. " Cursing the weakness that seemed to have spread even to his voice, Reginald watched her close the heavy door carefully and come toward him. Involuntarily he smiled. She was so lovely, this daughter of his; his only child. She was tall, taller than average. She had grown this last year, until she was a span at least higher even than he, with her dark auburn hair spread thickly on her shoulders and down her back and the strange green eyes flecked with gold that she had from her dead mother. She was all he had left, this tall graceful girl. And he was all she had, and soon... He shrugged. He had made provision long ago for the future when he had betrothed her to William de Braose. And now the time had come.

"Sit here, Matilda. I must talk to you. " Feebly he patted the blankets that covered him, and the lines of his face softened as she took his hand, curling up beside him, tucking her long legs under her.

"Will you eat something today, Father? If I prepare it myself and help you with the spoon?" she coaxed, nestling close. "Please?" She could feel the new inexorable cold in his hand and it frightened her. Gently she pressed it to her cheek.

"I'll try, Matilda, I'll try. " He pushed himself a little farther up on the pillows with an effort. "But listen, sweetheart, there is something I must tell you first. " He swallowed, trying to collect his thoughts as he gazed sadly into her anxious face. So often he had hoped this moment would never come. That somehow, something would happen to prevent it.

"I have written to Bramber, Matilda. Sir William de Braose has agreed that it is time the marriage took place. His son could have married long since, but he has waited until you were of age. You must go to him now. " He tried not to see the sudden anguish on her face.

"But, Father, I can't leave you, I won't. " She sat up straight, her eyes bright with tears. "Nothing will make me leave you. Ever. "

He groped for her hand again and held it gently. "Sweetheart. It is I who must leave you, don't you see? And I couldn't die happy without knowing that you were wed. Please. To please me, go to him. Make him an obedient wife. "

He was seized by another fit of coughing and Matilda slipped from the end of the bed and ran to the pillow, cradling his head on her breast. Her eyes were full of tears as she clutched him, desperately clinging to him. "You can't die, Father, you can't. You'll get well. You will. You always have before. "

The tears spilled over and dropped onto her father's gray head. He looked up, trying to smile, and raised a shaky hand to brush her cheek. "Don't cry, darling. Think. When you marry William you will be a great lady. And his mother will take care of you. Come, please don't be so unhappy. "

"But I want to stay with you. " She still clung to him stubbornly. "I hate William, you know that. He's ugly and. he's old and he smells. "

Reginald sighed. So often he had given her her way, this girl of his, and he longed to do so again. But this time he had to stand firm. For her own sake. He closed his eyes, smelling the lavender of her gown, remembering. She was so like her mother had been: willful, beautiful, wild...

Sleep came so suddenly these days. He could feel his lids drooping. There was no way to fight it. He supposed death would come like that and he welcomed the thought. He was too old now, too racked with