Arthur pinned Kenway to the carriage door. He wasn't the broken, drunk man who had lost his ships; he was a man who had spent the winter swinging an axe, hauling stone, and fighting the freezing earth. The muscles in his forearms were corded tight as iron.
"You will not speak to her," Arthur said. His voice was completely devoid of a shout; it was a low, terrifying rasp that carried the promise of immediate violence. "You will not look at her. You will not breathe the air in her direction."
Kenway's face flushed dark red, panic finally breaking through his arrogant veneer. "Take your hands off me, you madman! I own this land! I hold the notes!"
"You hold paper," Arthur snarled, shaking him once, hard enough to rattle Kenway's teeth. "I hold the stone. I hold the mud. You want Harrow Gate? You will have to drag me out of it in a pine box. Do you understand me? I am not running to Scotland. I am not hiding anymore."
Arthur shoved Kenway away. The lord stumbled, catching himself against the carriage wheel, his silk cravat skewed, his breathing heavy.
"You're a fool," Kenway spat, straightening his coat with shaking hands. "You have nothing. You are nothing."
Arthur turned. He looked at Beatrice standing by the garden wall. His eyes softened just for a fraction of a second before he looked back at the man he used to call a friend.
"I have everything I require," Arthur said coldly. "Get off my land, Charles. If I see your carriage on this road again, I will burn it to the axles."
Kenway scrambled into the carriage. He slammed the door, shouting at the driver. The black coach lurched forward, the wheels spinning in the mud before finding purchase and rocketing down the driveway.
Arthur stood in the courtyard, chest heaving, watching the carriage disappear into the mist. He slowly uncurled his fists; his knuckles were white.
Beatrice walked toward him. She stopped a foot away, her heart hammering violently against her ribs. Arthur finally turned to her. The anger drained from his face, leaving him looking exhausted but entirely grounded. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently brushing a smear of dirt from her cheek with his thumb.
"Are you all right?" he asked roughly.
Beatrice swallowed hard. "You shouldn't have done that. He holds your debts. He could ruin you."