LIX
Dinner was a subdued affair.
On the one side, there were three upset patriarchs stewing over the disappointments of the day, on the other, two chastised 'children' wishing they could be anywhere else.
Needless to say, the wine was flowing freely.
Winchester had brought his own, for he declared Vaisey's stuff undrinkable, Guy secretly agreed with him, but that didn't stop him from drinking it, especially on days like this where he needed all the help he could get.
Despite Winchester's complaining, Vaisey had no intention of serving a better vintage, he freely admitted he had no palate for wine and was loath to waste the good stuff on present company.
It was as the servants were clearing the table and Vaisey called for more, that Smythe made an appearance.
Winchester had recently recruited him to improve security at the castle and in that endeavour he'd been successful, but unfortunately not when it counted - the outlaws had still found a way through.
Vaisey was deeply unhappy about this. Smythe had hoped that alcohol would take the edge of his ire and that's why he'd chosen this moment to turn up - alas, the sheriff was as prickly as ever.
Winchester on the other hand, was a more pleasant drunk. But only by a fraction.
The yelling started pretty much as soon as Smythe entered the room and he pulled up a chair next to Francesca and Guy, having correctly deduced where the 'naughty kids' should sit.
Francesca took the opportunity to observe him and found that he took the reprimands well. He was obviously used to dealing with difficult people because he was smart enough to spare the excuses and quick to offer the next course of action.
His suggestion to search the villages for Hood and his men went down well as it complemented Vaisey's scheme and blocked off that particular means of escape for the wanted men.
"Yes, it's an excellent idea; the outlaws won't know what's hit them, I'm sure." Winchester declared, gesturing to the newby to come sit beside him and for the servants to bring him some wine.
Francesca had to hand it to Smythe, as nondescript as he looked, he certainly had a way with her fiancé - he'd gone from being rebuked by him to drinking with him in less than five minutes.
Winchester announced they would convene to discuss the finer details after they'd finished at the table and Smythe nodded obediently. With this decided upon, the heavy mood lifted and all were happy to see the servants arrive with the drinks.
All except Smythe.
He was frowning.
Francesca watched him closely, baffled at his behaviour. She looked to the others to see if they'd noticed, but if they had, there was no sign of it.
What happened next was surreal.
Winchester was just about to take a sip of his wine - had the goblet a hair's breadth from his lips - when for reasons unknown, Smythe batted it out of his hand.
The nobleman cursed loudly as wine splashed everywhere, streaming off the table's edge and flowing into his lap. He jolted backwards and screamed at his newest recruit, gesturing furiously to his soiled attire. Smythe apologised profusely whilst offering his handkerchief and with it one of the lamest excuses imaginable;
"The goblet is chipped."
'Chipped! It's made of metal!' is what Vaisey would've said were it not for the fact that he was completely dumbfounded.
This was out of character. Normally, he'd have been the first to comment on Smythe's strange behaviour and mock his absurd explanation, but no, he merely sat there, stiff as a board, eyes fixed upon the wine stain, utterly aghast.
Francesca was more surprised about this than what Smythe had done because she had never seen Vaisey so dismayed: indeed, it was as if someone had squashed one of his birds right under his nose.
Guy had also noticed the strange response from Vaisey. At first he'd been as surprised as anyone at Smythe's behaviour, but then as he took in his master's reaction, she could see the minute changes in his expression as the cogs turned in his mind. Eventually he brought his gaze to her and she was shocked to find a look of sadness and utter defeat.
What on earth...?
For the life of her, Francesca could not think what had happened here to warrant such a reaction. That Winchester was kicking up a fuss, she could understand. That he stormed out of the room to go change, as well. That Smythe followed, offering apologies and effusions of regret was par for the course and that her father followed shortly after in his usual obsequious manner was no surprise either.
But what was this?
Her gaze darted between Guy and Vaisey and they were both so crestfallen, it was as if someone had died.
What is wrong with them? It was just some wine...
She watched Guy closely, wishing she could go sit beside him. She knew he'd had a hell of a day, the disastrous wedding, culminating in the revelation that Marian was the Nightwatchman would've been enough to drive any man to despair, but as she looked at him now, she could not help but feel that something else had happened here, something she had missed or was not privy to for he had never looked more despondent.
She had no time to dwell upon this however, for Vaisey abruptly pulled himself up from his seat, the chair legs scraping jarringly over the dining room floor. She kept her head down – sensing the foulness of his mood and made sure not to look at him as he growled at the servants to clean up the mess and reminded Gisborne of his duties the following day before turning sharply on his heels to leave.
She was about to ask what that was all about, but Guy dismissed her with a shake of the head. He looks completely wrung out, so she takes pity on him and leaves her question unsaid.
She rises from her seat and is about to leave when he brings his eyes to hers in a sorrowful gaze and she wishes she could lighten the burden somehow. There is a way, though she is not sure if it's a kindness to speak of it because although it is something good, he may not wish to think of it on top of whatever new worries he has currently plaguing him.
"Mary is taking good care of her."
She doesn't have to say who for there can only be one 'her'. "She says she will live."
His reaction is a stoney gaze and a curt nod.
"I err... I just thought you should know." She adds nervously and then turns to go. She's only gone a couple of steps when she hears him say,
"She is dead to me now. Do you understand?"
She turns and nods, meeting his cool anger with a sheepish grimace.
"She does not exist." He continues icily, "That I have to lie for her is one thing, but deal with her I will not."
Francesca swallows tightly and nods to signal that she understands him.
"She would do well to steer clear of me. I have a temper and doubt I'll be able to keep it in check should I see her."
She nods one last time and then quietly stalks out of the room lest she displease him further.
Life has a way of surprising you.
Just when you think you're over the worst, you're not.
Not even close.
After bolting from the church that morning, Guy had not had the stomach to go to Nottingham.
The main reason for this was because he feared that Vaisey would only have to look at him to know what he'd done. He'd never had the talent to lie to him and though the sheriff would doubtless have other things on his mind, (the outcome of 'King Richard's' trip to Nottingham for example), the conversation would've come round to the wedding and he didn't trust himself not to blurt out Marian's secret at the first mention of her.
There was a snide part of him that longed to take revenge on his almost bride by delivering her to the sheriff. He thought about what Francesca said and knew it to be true but the betrayal cut so deep, had he not taken the time to collect himself, he doubtless would've spilled the beans at the first opportunity.
Instead, he went to Gisborne.
He sat in the long grass where his house once stood and let the disappointment settle upon him.
He had pictured her here. Had pictured their life here, in their house, with their children...
and wasn't that a joke now?
There would be no wife. There would be no children. There would be no house.
But then maybe there never would've been.
As his mind travelled on to what might have been, he realised that he most likely would've discovered her secret anyway for how could she have concealed her injury in the marriage bed? And what would he have done without Francesca to bring him from the brink? A shiver passes through him as he thinks he might have murdered Marian in his rage. He was certainly capable of it. His behaviour had very nearly spelled her death as it was, but what if he'd found out later rather than sooner? He would've been bound to her and he dreaded to think what he might've done had he found out further down the line.
To look at it from that perspective, one could say he'd had a narrow miss. The thought should've brought him relief but it didn't for although the worst had been avoided, the shock and pain of her betrayal still affected him greatly.
Yet again the life he'd dreamt of had slipped through his fingers and he was helpless to do anything about it.
It was whilst grappling with this disappointment that the next arrived and if Marian's revelation had left him reeling then this very nearly finished him off.
The idea had been simple: enough poison to make Winchester ill and the rest to finish him off in his sick bed. What could go wrong? Well, as per usual, everything.
Whatever had made Smythe suspicious, Guy could not say for his head had been so full of other concerns he hadn't been paying attention. All he'd been able to register was Vaisey's reaction and that had been all he needed.
Winchester will live.
Not only that, he will take Nottingham and with it that which would hurt Guy the most...
Francesca.
She would not be spared.
They had failed her.
Guy sat in the dining hall alone, trying to get to grips with this new disaster. His sorrow for his own sorry fate he could just about handle, but knowing what awaited her...
He recalled her look of concern just before she left the dining hall and it occurred to him that although she had every reason to be miserable at the hand life had dealt her, she could still find it in her to care for others and be of consolation where she could...
You are so brave, little mouse...
and so good...
He thought of all she'd been through in Nottingham, all he had put her through (God knows how he's tried her) and yet she still sought to help him with the burden of his strife... she still looked at him in that way...
Shame came then, as it so often did - shame that he could not manage his disappointments with the same fortitude. It was true what she said about being 'that girl' - she was her and so much more - he would once have thought her weak for her quiet forbearance, but now he knows she is strong, for she has not let adversity crush her or make her bitter.
Now he wishes he could do something for her, little realising that in the very act of feeling this way, he's already come along in leaps and bounds.
For who would've thought that on this most disastrous day, Sir Guy of Gisborne could be troubled for another?
Robin of Locksley was not often so overwhelmed by his feelings that he's in tears.
Once again, it is Marian who's responsible for it.
He'd arrived at Knighton, thinking he would sneak in through the window and surprise her in her bedchamber before congratulating her on her excellent job of fooling Gisborne with her 'bout of nerves'.
At the first sight of her, so pale and weak in her bed, he knew this was no acting.
In the parlour downstairs, the serious expressions of Sir Edward, Thornton (What is he doing here?) and Mary Lambert (!?) did little to put him at ease.
Mary was quick to tell him that Marian was going to pull through which begged the question "pull through what?'"
Thornton took it upon himself to tell him what had happened. Sir Edward's expression was ashen throughout, but then as Thornton got to the part about how Gisborne opened the door and let Mary inside, he began to weep.
The first telling had been hard enough, but he was still so upset that his daughter had nearly died and so relieved that she lived, he could not help it.
Robin for his part, was speechless.
Gisborne let her live?
He let Mary heal her?
That he locked the door in the first place was not unexpected - having discovered that she was the Nightwatchman it was no surprise that he would lash out at her but that he relented...
"It was Francesca. I don't think he would've done it if it wasn't for her." Thornton said and a small sob came from Sir Edward now, overwhelmed by feelings of gratitude to this girl he hardly knew who had talked Sir Guy into letting his daughter live.
Thornton smiled wanly at Robin and the outlaw could see he was exhausted. It was no wonder after the day he'd had since he'd been taking care of Marian ever since she collapsed – assisting Francesca and then Mary, organising her journey home, comforting Sir Edward and now the other most important man in Marian's life.
Robin was still so out of it, he couldn't speak to thank him or Mary for all they'd done – a small nod whilst fighting back tears was the best he could do and thankfully, they understood. Mary mentioned how she'd put Marian under sedation to keep her from any 'further adventures' and Robin nodded to signal he'd registered her words but seconds later could scarcely remember any of it.
The walk up to Marian's chamber passed in a daze. He was practically sleepwalking to her bedside.
Then, as he lay down beside her on the bed and placed his lips upon her cheek, the tears came.
