Page 26 of A Raven Realized (The Raven’s Den #5)

“Madelene didn’t kill your wife.” Simon struggled to contain his anger and his body began to tremble. “She was never the evil one in this house, Robert. That was you. She was the one piece of your wife you had left, and you should have treasured every moment you had with her.”

Slowly, he nodded. “Where is she?”

“Nowhere you’ll ever find her.”

“She’s my daughter. You have no right to her.”

His voice was escalating and Simon flipped open his razor as a reminder of his threats.

He shook his head and lowered his voice. “Please don’t take her from me.”

“If you’d been a better father, you’d still have her.” Simon dropped his foot onto the floor and slid his razor back into his pocket. “She is all that is good and wonderful, and you never deserved her.”

Robert leaned forward, shaking his head desperately. “No, please don’t take her from me,” he sobbed. “I can’t lose her too.”

“You disgust me, Robert.” Simon stood and loomed over the man. “You’re a selfish bully and a coward. Enjoy sharing the rest of your life with nothing but that portrait of your dead wife.”

* * *

Madelene hugged her shawl closed as the wind carried a chill over her. Selma had already spoiled her. She’d bought her multiple shawls, several bodices, skirts, two coats, boots, and all the other things she hadn’t had of her own since Auburn Ridge.

Selma smiled at her. “This fresh air and sunshine agrees with you.”

“It most certainly does.” Selma had been right, green had crept up the hillside, even in the short week she’d been there. The wildflowers were also filling in. It was stunningly beautiful.

“Thank you for accompanying me to Donna's. Our nightly ritual wouldn't be the same without her special tea.”

“Thank you for inviting me. She's a lovely woman.”

“She obviously approved of you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has her son David around the next time we visit.”

“I hope not. I’m sure he’s a pleasant enough man, but I’m not interested in meeting someone.”

“Your heart belongs to another.”

Madelene nodded.

“Will you tell me about him? How did you come to be with Mr. Allister?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

Selma shook her head.

“He rescued me.” She looked at Selma, debating if she should tell her the truth.

Would she still want her here if she knew where Simon had found her?

Probably. After all, this was the woman who sat around the fire every night eating sausages with her servants, all of them in their nightclothes. “From an asylum.”

“Oh, my dear girl.” She pressed her fingers over her mouth. “Your father sent you there?”

She nodded.

“So how did you meet Mr. Allister? He obviously cared a great deal about you to rescue you from a place like that.”

Madelene laughed and shook her head. “We hadn’t met, actually.” She couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “I’d only been there a day when he arrived, and he wasn’t there for me. But after breaking down the door, he found me, blindfolded and being forced into a tub of icy water.”

Selma gasped and stopped, shaking her head as if to make it not so.

“It was pretty awful, if I’m honest. But Simon being Simon, he would never have just left me there. It didn’t matter that he knew nothing about me.”

“Well, now I know why you fell in love with him. But then, why are you here with me?”

Madelene brushed a bit of gravel from the path with her foot. “He would have let me stay if I’d pressed him.” She still wondered every day if she’d made a mistake not fighting for him. “But I was never supposed to be his responsibility. He’d already done so much for me.”

Selma wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they continued walking. “Well, perhaps one day your heart will heal, and you may decide to let someone else in.”

“Like you and Mr. Lamsley?”

Selma’s ruddy cheeks grew even more red and she smiled sheepishly. “I thought we were being discreet.”

“The way the two of you look at each other, it’s fairly unmistakeable.”

A wistful smile turned up Selma’s lips. “Perhaps, but Mr. Allister also said you’re very observant.”

“When did he tell you that?”

“In the letter he gave me at the train station.”

“What else did he say about me?”

Selma squeezed her. “All kind things, I promise. You’re welcome to read it. I kept it just in case.”

She shook her head. “If he wished for me to know those things, he would have told me.” That was part of it, but she was also afraid it would be too painful.

The razor-like edges of the shards of her heart were only just beginning to dull.

Or at least they had been. “Do you mind if I go up and rest for a while?” she asked when they entered the house.

“Of course not. In fact, I think I’ll do the same.”

She barely managed to close the door to her room when the burgeoning sobs burst out of her. She slid down the wooden surface and cried into her knees. She just wanted his arms around her. His warmth and protection. His assurance that everything would be alright. That she would be alright.

But it wasn’t fair to Selma to be pining for another life that she shouldn’t even want.

Selma was sweet and kind and motherly. She had welcomed her into her home and her family.

And she was right. In time, Madelene’s heart would heal.

Even if right now, it didn’t feel like it would. It had to. Didn’t it?

That evening, Madelene sat around the fire with the others, eating sausages and drinking tea. It had become her favorite part of the day. They welcomed her as if she had always been a part of their family. As if she belonged there.

As Lamsley told a story from his childhood they all laughed.

“Mrs. Steepleton always left pies out on a table in her back garden to cool. I was only seven, but I thought I was so sly when I crept over the wall and snatched one.” He was animated and dramatic as he told the tale.

“It was filled with apples and currants, and apparently I had a purple smudge on my chin when I returned home. My mother dragged me all the way over by my ear and forced me to confess before promptly ensuring I wouldn’t be sitting down for at least a week. ”

Selma wiped tears from her face as she laughed. “Now I know why you have no desire for currants. It was beaten out of you!”

Slowly, the laughter died down, as did the fire. “Well,” Selma said. “I think it’s time to turn in.” She looked at Madelene. “I thought tomorrow we might go into town and find something to keep you from getting bored. Perhaps some art supplies? Embroidery? Books?”

Madelene’s mood brightened at the last one. Books had always held a special place in her heart.

“Books it is.” Selma squeezed her hand. “Sleep well, my dear.”