Godfrey was so amazed at the woman’s behaviour that he immediately shut his door to hide his consternation, and poured himself out a sherry. The music had stopped and he sat in the silence with the glass in his hand. He was bemused and thoroughly shaken. He had thought her so calm, so perfectly in control; he had been drawn to her and yet there she had stood like something demented. At one point, he had honestly thought she was going to strike him.
He passed a hand over his head, gulped some sherry and tried in his mind to account for her behaviour, even to make excuses for her. Even if she were right, that was no way to behave, bursting in on him like that and leave him standing there like an idiot. It was all too much. How were they to cope? He had too much on his plate at the moment; he just could not tolerate anything more. The man from the auction house was coming tomorrow, too. And then he remembered that Guy was taking her out. Thank goodness for that! Keep her out of the way for as long as possible. He would have a word with Guy first thing tomorrow. Perhaps he could persuade her to go home, even. It was a doctor she needed, not a priest. And then he remembered Guy was a doctor. He sighed in exasperation. It didn’t seem to matter which way he turned, something or someone was snapping at his heels.
He pushed himself up from his chair, tired and depressed. He felt extraordinarily helpless, but he supposed he should go to see if Brother Joseph was all right. She was bound to ask, and to find out that he didn’t go … then there would be another scene. Damn the woman! He couldn’t help himself. All because of a stupid rabbit! He couldn’t believe anything so trivial could cause so much fuss. And damn Bertram, too!
When he reached Joseph’s room, there was no sign of life. He knocked very gently on his door, praying that there would be no answer, and there wasn’t. He sighed quietly with relief and then hesitated. Perhaps he was too ill to answer! He knocked again. Nothing. Suddenly he was consumed by tiredness. I can’t do any more, he thought and so returned to his room, longing for the oblivion of sleep.