Page 100 of The Lover's Eye
Isobel was already standing, the room fading in and out of shadow.She took a step forward and her foot caught on a chair, toppling it over.“No.No, I’m not.T-Thank you for your help.”She thrust the reticule out, and an invisible hand jerked it from her wrist.
“You’re not leavin’, are ye?”
Isobel had already reached the door and opened it.She paused to lean on it, trying to draw in the cool sea air, but her breaths came in short, desperate pants.
“I wouldn’t,” said the woman.“You’ve waited too long.The sea will be comin’ in.Comin’ in …”
Isobel squinted, peering skyward.The sun had made a considerable descent, the mask of grey clouds darkened by several shades.“I must go,” she said.
The older woman shook her head.She wasn’t looking at Isobel anymore, but cradling the little culinary wonders in her hand, raking them over the deep lines of her palm and rocking in her chair.“You’ll never make it.”
Isobel stumbled out of the shack and toward the sea, the discomforts of her initial journey descending like mist.The soles of her feet stung and the burn on her leg chafed, even against the softness of her skirts.The force of pain served only one benefit: it cleared the fog from her head, which had pushed her near to fainting.
Her mind was split into two halves.She wanted to thrash Giles for keeping such a secret from her, for being in some way complicit in Pemberton’s disgusting behavior toward her sister and Aurelia.And yet, the other half would give anything to be back in Giles’s arms.To set all to rights.She knew his heart, knew there must bemore—and she would make him unearth it all.
She loved him, damn it, and she was going to tell him to his face.
Energy coursed through her veins as she reached the island’s shores.The stretch of seabed connecting her to the mainland was still visible, not yet interrupted by the sea—but the lapping edges had drawn closer.Much closer.
She swallowed, gathering her skirts in her hands and setting out with a fresh wave of determination.She had made the passage once, she could make it again.
Before one foot could sink in the mud, she was already fighting against the suction of the last step, propelling herself ever farther.No matter the hungry ache in her belly or the tiredness that had finally begun to engulf her after so many nights of poor sleep, shewouldmanage.
She tried to wipe her mind clean of fear, filling it instead with thoughts of her husband, of all they would do differently now.He had been right, when he said it was not Aurelia pushing them apart.It had been themselves—their mingling insecurities and fears and perceived shortcomings.They had allowed their minds to concoct grand threats to their love; threats that never were.
Isobel’s thoughts were interrupted by the slosh of water.The tide was coming in, and fast.Under the darkening sky, the sea looked brackish, lined with ripples and foaming as it submerged the rich brown sand beneath her feet.Isobel yanked her gaze up to assess the distance between herself and dry land.She couldn’t be much above halfway.
Panic began to set in as she trudged forward with even more force than before, now having to tread shallow water in addition to the greedy seabed.She had all the mental strength required to complete her journey, but her legs scalded with fatigue, only allowing her to go so fast, every muscle on fire from endless exertion.
She started ripping up the hem of her skirt and petticoat, never stopping her forward motion.She needed to rid herself of as much baggage as possible.She had forgotten her bonnet on the island, but was forced to drop her boots and stockings now.The thin fabric of her garments tore easily, leaving her dress to hang in a ragged edge about her knees.
This.The burning lungs, the onslaught of terror.The sea possessed no mercy, lent no consideration.Her limbs moved with maximum effort, even as she cried out in horror at the insufficiency of them.
Thiswas what Aurelia had felt.
Isobel had a vague blossoming of understanding deep in her core, like a bit of her soul was mending, separate from this urgent struggle for survival.She had spent so much time hating this stranger, weaving comparisons and judgements, even blaming Aurelia for the barriers that existed in her and Giles’s marriage.She had been horribly wrong.
And now, Isobel was free.
34
There was just enough daylight left for Giles to read his watch beneath the shady trees encroaching on Shoremoss Hall’s gates.Quarter past seven.
He wasn’t going to wait any longer, he couldn’t stand to.
Giles considered going up to the Hall to ask after Isobel, but reasoned if she had taken such pains to not be seen by the Pembertons, they would know even less than he.
He had hoped she’d gone to the vicarage again.That she had taken a peaceful walk and would come skipping up at any moment.But as the final dregs of daylight suffocated overhead, his hope dissolved.
Giles urged Theseus into a canter, turning him south toward the village once they reached the coastline.A nippy chill was in the air, and the feel of it cutting down to his bare skin made him nauseous.Isobel was out here, in this, alone and unprepared for the aching cold of night.
When his horse began to work up a frothy sweat, Giles reluctantly slowed him to a walk.Darkness had set fully now, the moon so obscured by cloud cover it looked like the mouth of bottle hanging overhead.
He could only make a weak guess as to how far he was from the village now, and a sick despondency settled around his neck.She could be anywhere.He could be miles in the wrong direction.
“Isobel!”Giles called, his voice lost to the breeze.It felt a foolish thing to do, but he was desperate.He called again, halting his horse.
He did not believe his own ears when he heard a weak cry off the coast.Was he going mad?
