Music of the Distant Stars by Alys Clare Page A

will not m–m–m–marry me,’ he said in a harsh tone, struggling so hard over marry that his face went dark red. ‘I know she loves me, and I certainly l–love her, b–b–but she will not inflict D–D–Derman on our family.’
    I stroked his arm, trying to soothe him. ‘I know,’ I murmured. ‘She told me.’
    I don’t think my brother was listening. ‘Sh–sh–she says he is not c–capable of killing anyone,’ he went on, ‘b–but he was missing on the m–morning the girl was found dead, and we all kn–kn–know he was sweet on her. If she rejected him, wh–who’s to s–s–s–say how he’d react?’
    Haward stopped speaking, his eyes intent on mine. Clearly, he did not want to put it into words, but I had no such compunction. ‘You mean he might have been so angry and frustrated that he killed her. That’s why I found him weeping, and that’s why he’s run away. Because he realized straight away what he’d done and could not face us?’
    ‘Or because he knew he would be hanged for her murder,’ Haward said harshly and with no trace of a stammer. I understood then the depths of his resentment and perhaps even hatred for Zarina’s brother.
    I took in the implications of what my brother had said. If Derman had murdered Ida – and my head told me it was quite possible – then once he was found, he would be tried, convicted and punished. Then he would be dead, and Zarina could marry Haward.
    I stared into Haward’s eyes. I could not believe that my beloved brother, gentle, peace-loving, kind-hearted, good Haward, would wish anyone to hang, even the impediment to his happiness that Derman was. Haward just wasn’t that cold and selfish, that he would wish another’s death so that he could get what he wanted. Even if that other person was a murderer . . .
    I had to ask. ‘Do you hope you find him?’
    I thought he was going to say yes. For a moment, I really believed Haward was going to act so out of character that I’d hardly recognize him. But then the uncharacteristically hard expression left his eyes. His shoulders sagged and he said, ‘No. Of course I don’t. I hope he runs so far and so fast that we never catch him.’
    I realized then why Haward wanted me to watch Zarina. He wanted to know how she would feel if her brother didn’t come back. And I think he already had a very good idea . . .
    I walked slowly back to Edild’s house, so many thoughts and impressions warring inside my head that I was back there before I knew it.
    ‘I’ve been to see Haward,’ I said by way of explanation.
    She nodded. There was no need to explain. ‘The search resumes?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes.’
    As if she fully understood Haward and Zarina’s terrible dilemma – well, undoubtedly she did – she muttered, ‘Poor, poor things.’ Then she fixed me with a determined look and said, ‘A messenger came from the hall. You are to go up there and tend Lady Claude.’
    ‘ Me? ’
    ‘You.
    ‘But – it’s the hall, and you’re the healer!’
    ‘You, too, are skilled, adequately so for what is required.’ Her face softened a little and she added, ‘They did in fact ask for me, but I cannot go. I have to tend a nervous new mother who needs urgent reassurance that her baby girl is not going to die, as well as a lad with a very painful boil that has to be lanced and a case that I suspect is quinsy, for the man can barely breathe.’
    ‘What’s the matter with Lady Claude?’ I ran my eyes over the contents of my leather satchel, waiting for my aunt’s reply before deciding what remedies and potions to add.
    Edild said, ‘She has a headache, and she cannot sleep.’
    I reached for feverfew, wood betony and lavender, out of which I would make an infusion for the headache. I always carry lavender oil, which I would mix with almond oil as a massage for the brow and temples, if the lady would allow it. In our herb garden Edild and I had a patch of wild lettuce that had gone to seed; I would