Simon Beaufort - A Head for Poisoning

“Tomorrow, then,” said Henry decisively. “Or even the next day. Give yourself time to dry out.”

“And will you visit us in another twenty years?” asked Joan, looking away down the river.

“Perhaps before,” said Geoffrey. “And I will write regularly.”

Joan smiled at him suddenly, and he smiled back. Henry looked from one to the other mystified, and then helped haul both of them to their feet.

“She has gone,” he said in satisfaction, making his way back up the bank. “Things will be different from now on. Goodrich is mine, as it should be, and there will be no brothers and no Enide and Hedwise to poison our lives. Bertrada will leave soon, but Joan and Olivier can stay on and help look after my estates. It is just that it has worked out this way, and the only good that will disappear with the evil is that wonderful fish soup.”

Joan and Geoffrey exchanged a knowing glance and stood side by side a moment longer, looking down the river where Enide had disappeared. Just as he was about to follow Henry, Geoffrey caught the faintest glimpse of white some way down the opposite bank. He peered at it, but there was nothing to see. He decided that he must have been mistaken, and that his imagination had run away with him. Then he glanced at Joan, and saw her staring at the same spot.

“Did you? …” he began.

“I cannot be sure,” she replied hesitantly. She shook her head. “No. There was nothing there. I must have imagined it.”

They exchanged a look in which the uncertainty of both was reflected, before following Henry up the slippery bank to head back to Goodrich Castle.