She’d thought about helping but it was well run by others, with Rowan in charge, and she thought her presence might hinder some of the women there. Although there were no social distinctions at Stonewylde anymore, nevertheless as Clip’s daughter and Yul’s wife, Sylvie occupied a position of authority. People watched what they said in front of her. She belonged to Stonewylde, would one day be the owner of the estate, and yet at times she still felt like an Outsider. Unlike Miranda, who’d devoted herself to remodelling the education system since her son was born, and now ran the Senior School at the Hall along with much of the adult education in the Great Barn. Miranda was completely integrated into Stonewylde and had become a key figure, while Sylvie still seemed to be on the outside looking in.
She sighed and bent to kiss Maizie’s plump cheek and give her a hug. She was very fond of her mother-in-law and had often considered confiding in her. But although Maizie was the first to point out Yul’s shortcomings, her loyalty towards her first-born was intense and Sylvie wasn’t sure she’d be the best person to hear about their problems. And now she knew that Maizie had such a difficult time with the wayward Leveret, she couldn’t burden her any further.
So, with a small smile, Sylvie left the hall and slowly climbed the great wide-stepped staircase, gazing up at the glorious stained-glass window on the half-landing ahead. She remembered Magus bounding up these stairs in his riding clothes, the red and purple light from the glass shining onto his handsome face and transforming him into a royal deity. She remembered the scent of him with a sharp thrill, the energy that blazed from him. Her hand caressed the ancient polished wood of the banister rail as she climbed the stairs, and she thought of how many times over the course of his life that Magus’ hand must have run along the smooth oak. She stopped and closed her eyes.
‘Are you alright?’
Her eyes flew open and she saw a figure coming down the stairs, silhouetted against the bright wall of coloured light. The body was tall and well-built, the hair pale.
‘I’m fine thanks, Martin,’ she smiled. ‘Just besieged by memories.’
She drew level with him at the landing halfway up, under the stained glass. Martin looked down at her, concern in his eyes.
‘Memories? Yes, I feel them too, all the time,’ he said quietly. ‘Some things just don’t go away, do they?’
Sylvie looked at him more carefully. Martin definitely had Hallfolk blood and she was sure he was closely related to Clip. She’d heard rumours that they shared the same father, Basil, and it didn’t surprise her; the two of them were very alike. Over the years, since the events of that terrible Winter Solstice, she’d tried hard to accept Martin. It had been difficult in the early days as he’d been hostile towards her when Magus was alive and had made no secret of where his loyalties really lay. But Clip had insisted that Martin remain as major-domo. In a period of complete chaos, Stonewylde needed all the stability it could muster and Martin had always done an excellent job of running the Hall.
Clip and Martin had apparently buried their differences, although every time Sylvie saw the horrible scar on Martin’s temple and eyebrow she was reminded of Clip in his swirling crow-feather cloak with that lethal staff in his hands. And sometimes she caught Martin looking at her in such a strange way that made her feel quite spooked. But past troubles had to be put firmly aside and she always tried hard to get on with him. Nobody else seemed to have any trouble doing so. She smiled at him ruefully as they stood on the half-landing.
‘I sometimes feel the past sitting on my shoulder, peering over and breathing in my ear. It’s hard to shake off.’
Martin looked gravely into her eyes; they reminded him so strongly of the wild woman Raven, whom he remembered from his childhood. His mother and aunt had hated her with a vengeance and he knew that Sylvie aroused similar emotions in them. But Martin must work diligently and treat the present magus and his wife with deference and respect, whatever history had gone before. He had a major role to play and personal issues would never jeopardise that.
‘You see the past as a crow on your shoulder, but to me the past is a cloak