Lady Trent (11 page)

“How is one to know whether a man is a Lesser
or a Higher?”

“Have you noticed Jacob’s clothing? He dones
a red emblem…engraved into many of his vestments, usually on the
lapel…which is the case always during social events. They purposely
do this.”

Just how anyone kept up with all of this was
beyond her. She imagined it would take some time. But she had all
the time in the world. She only wondered…how long did he have?
Maybe longer than he imagined. She certainly hoped so.

******

Three weeks altogether passed and the day of
the wedding came

about. Rachel began preparing herself early
and accordingly. The gown was laid out; so beautiful, like
something from a book or a dream—a child’s dream.

Her bath had been accomplished, her hair was
washed and dried. Zaria would brush and fix it in a short while.
Later, so soon as evening was about to set in, she would shed her
robe and array herself in the elegant gown made especially for her.
The seamstresses and clothier had done an excellent job designing
it.

She touched the silk train, all sorts of
emotions washing over her. Could it be? Was she truly about to
become the wife of Jacob Trent, Lord of The Great City, the finest
city in all New Ebony?

Butterflies swarmed in her stomach, amazement
consumed her heart. But erratic stabs of fright kept her from being
at complete ease. Could she actually go through with this?
Honestly, there were sporadic temptations to run and run hard.

She paced the floor, eventually stopping
before the window from which she stared out at the courtyard below.
This would be an outdoor wedding, just as she’d dreamt about as a
child…before the idea of choosing the Sacred Vows over marital
one’s had ever entered her mind. The large enclosure was decorated
with all sorts of flowers and greenery and statues of lions and
birds, gentlemen and ladies. A red carpet was in the process of
being rolled out down the center of the area where they would be
wed. It would lead from the entrance of the chapel to a platform
where the vows were to be exchanged. Candles floated atop the water
encircling the fountain. They would be lit, along with dozens of
torches encircling the immediate area. And dozens of bridesmaids
and grooms would stand in perfect harmony, dressed accordingly. It
would be spectacular.

She wondered for possibly the hundredth time
if she was making a mistake, furthermore, if she would be punished.
She was more-or-less trading her heavenly commitment for a worldly
one. Was she at all in the right to abandon her calling?

She recalled the hefty donation, and that she
was not obligated to do anything, nor had she ever been. She was
marrying Jacob because she loved him. No, this trading of worldly
vows in exchange for her heavenly ones had nothing to do with
money. It was Jacob. It was love.

It was as she stood gaping at the scene
below, people coming and going, mostly servants arranging things
about the premises and guards strolling about, that the door opened
and Tilly burst into the room. She came toward her with such force
it seemed she would run directly into her.

Rachel’s hands instantly came out to take her
by the shoulders. “Tilly! What is it?”

“It—it’s….” she stopped, trying to catch her
breath.

“Tilly!” She shook her. “What has
happened?”

“It is Sir Trent. He—he is ill. The sickness
that comes and goes has come upon him. He is very ill.”

Rachel released her and after a quick glance
from her face to the door, to her face and the door again, she
nudged her aside and hasted from the room, rushing from one
corridor to another and to the doors of Jacob’s private quarters.
The entrance was secured by two guards, one at the left, one the
right. They simultaneously stepped in front of her as she would
have gone inside.

“He is sick, milady,” explained the one, “and
being tended to.”

“Let me by,” she urged, dodging one to the
left and the other the right.

“He is ill,” said the other.

“And I am his fiancé,” she loudly reminded
before again commanding, “Let me by!”

At this point her fists were clenched and her
expression had gone from suppliant to bold and grave. The two
glanced from her to one another and then, although hesitantly,
stepped aside just as simultaneously as they’d stood together.
Rachel burst into the cozy, unoccupied drawing room and hasted
toward a second set of doors, this leading into a bedchamber. Two
maidens instantly looked up from the bed where Jacob lied. They had
been caring for him, both using damp towels to dab his skin with
cold water.

She rushed to the bedside, nudging one of the
maidens out of the way. She eased down to sit on the edge of the
bed, examining his pale, sweaty skin. She took one of his hands,
casting her eyes upon the maiden opposite her.

“Where is the physician?” She demanded to
know.

“He has gone to fetch another dose of his
remedy, milady,” answered the one nearest her instead. Rachel took
the damp towel from her hand and began smoothing it across Jacob’s
forehead. “Jacob,” she quietly called, frowning deeply at the sight
of him in such a shape.

“He cannot hear you,” said the one, a hint of
scorn in her voice.

“He only comes to on and off,” said the
other.

Rachel took a moment to peer at them both
before refocusing on his sickly face. “Jacob,” she quietly called
to him, and was ever relieved when he said her name in
response.

Still his eyes were closed; he was barely
awake, too close to barely alive, it seemed. But she did not care
even if he could barely hear her, only that he could at all…this
was reassuring.

“Rachel,” he whispered.

“Yes, I am here.”

His brows came together as if from pain.
“This,” he began, his voice very quiet, “it’s a curse to me.”

“No,” she disagreed. “It—It is an illness,
not a curse.”

“Of all days this one. Could it not have
waited one more?”

“You will get well,” she both hoped and
assured, hating to see him in this condition…despising it,
even.

His eyes were beginning to open now. He
raised the hand she held to, touching it to her cheek. “I have
never been so disappointed, nor so certain that fate has set her
face against me. It is not meant for me to be happy.”

“You mustn’t believe such things.”

“Perhaps,” he slowly continued, “I lost that
right many years ago with my tyrannical ways. My…my wicked
deeds.”

After hearing him, she glanced up at the
maiden nearest her. “Go and seek the physician. Tell him to be
quick.”

While the maiden did as asked, she looked up
at the second. “Leave us,” she calmly ordered, and when the maiden
hesitated to budge, she said it a second time…this time louder.
“Leave us!” To this the maiden quickly turned and hasted from the
room. Rachel returned her attention to him, her eyes shadowed by
utter sadness. “You shouldn’t say such things,” she scolded. “It
isn’t so.”

“You did not know me,” he told her, “the
horrible man I was.”

“We have all made mistakes. None of them are
held eternally against us, not after we’ve changed them.”

“And what were yours?” He asked, his gaze,
although sluggish, set upon her. “Tell me, Rachel the Elder, what
horrible deeds did you ever commit? And you were so near to making
these vows to me and doing away with your calling. Perhaps that is
the reason for my downfall this day. It was not meant to be. Or
could this merely be coincidence?”

“I don’t believe either of those things.”

“Seeing me in this condition…you will change
your mind altogether.”

She shook her head, and would have spoken.
But when she parted her lips nothing came out for she heard the
voice of that second maiden in the adjoining room, complaining to
someone else that she “should not be disturbing him at a time like
this”. Rachel was instantly angered by the complaint. Both her
heart and her eyes hardened upon hearing it.

“Do not worry, Holly,” she heard Marcus say
with a reassuring voice. “It is well.”

With that he came thru the doorway looking as
if he’d just arrived from some endeavor with his worn clothes and
dusky features—perhaps he had for she had not witnessed his
livelihood since the day following the wedding announcement.

She refocused her attention upon Jacob’s pale
face, wishing the physician would hurry with his medicine.

“You should rest,” she told him, although in
a way fearing if he slept he would never again awaken. The thought
caused her heart to sink with a terrible sadness and her eyes to
sting with tears.

“Rest,” he repeated. “I will have plenty time
to rest after I have gone into the grave, when death has called my
name and I’ve fallen into that dark, terrible sleep.”

“You will live,” she assured him, “as you
have before.”

“Who knows what awaits a man on the other
side.”

“You needn’t fear death,” she said to him.
Her face came closer as she said, “You are not a bad man, nor are
you being punished, nor will you die.”

“I was well and then—“

“This is how it comes and goes,” Marcus told
her, “without warning.” He came closer, stopping at the foot of the
bed. “Another date may be set for the wedding.”

“Another date,” Jacob repeated, closing his
eyes as if to block out the very idea.

“You will become all the more ill if you do
not adapt to the idea.”

His eyes opened again. “Adapt,” he scowled,
reprimanding not Marcus, but the word in itself. He winced
painfully. Rachel glanced toward the door, wondering just what in
the world was taking the physician so long. But the pain seemed to
go as quickly as it’d come. His expression relaxed again. His chest
rose and fell while he simply rested. She figured and hoped
whatever medicines the physician had gone after would ease his
bouts of pain.

“Will the remedy ease the pain?” she
asked.

“For a time,” Marcus quietly told her.

She inhaled a deep breath, grieved by the
situation altogether. “For how long?” She asked.

“So long as it is needed,” Marcus told her.
“It will be administered to him, and then another to help him rest,
which has thus far proven the best remedy of all. The first several
hours are the worst. But when this stage passes the pain goes with
it and he sleeps. The fever will come and go until he is completely
well again.”

She understood in a daze, staring at Jacob’s
pale face, the circles beneath his eyes and beads of sweat on his
forehead. Using the towel she gently wiped them away, her brows
drawn together as her mind raced with all sorts of thoughts.

“Another day may be set,” Marcus reminded, as
if reading her mind.

“No,” she quietly disagreed with the shake of
her head.

Jacob forced his eyes opened, thinking she
had changed her mind altogether. She took her hand to herself,
straightening her posture, her eyes skipping about as she
contemplated a remedy of her own. “There’s no need to set another
date,” she finally said. “We will say our vows here.”

“What?” Marcus asked.

“Here?” Jacob followed.

A smile threatened to touch her lips while
the idea became all the more satisfying…and not just satisfying,
but possible. “After your pain has eased and you have rested, I
shall call for Father Nelson, and those sent by the emperor to
stand in as witnesses, and choice of the Higher Nobles as well. The
outer room—it could comfortably contain a few dozen people. I will
have them chosen, the most important, and they will this day see
the vows exchanged between us.”

“Milady,” Marcus began to object, “It would
not be such a difficult matter to have the nobles return on another
date. It is obviously necessary. I propose it be scheduled for
another time.”

“And I propose it be done as planned,” she
said, peering up at him. “Today,” she added. She instantly smiled
while refocusing upon Jacob. She took his hands in hers and leaned
closer. “Just give me the word and I will arrange it.”

“How could you approve of such a thing?”

“One needn’t approve of an idea when it was
theirs to begin with.”

“What sort of memory would it be? A lady
awaits such a day, and anticipates a good wedding, a perfect
one.”

“I, milord, am not every lady. And you are
wrong. There are others who would do this very same thing.”

She could already see some color coming back
to his face. “Would it make you happy?”

“I would be very pleased to have you as my
wife before the midnight hour.”

“Then it will be so.” She stood and called
out to the maiden who’d stood near the door simply watching and
listening. “Holly,” she called, recalling her name, and saying it
with the note of ire she felt toward her for having complained
about her presence in the room. “Continue to care for him,” she
told her, and then Jacob, “you should rest for a time. The
physician will bring the medicine to help you sleep, just a while.
And as soon as you are over this stage of the illness and able, we
will say our vows here…in the outer chamber.”

******

While Jacob rested, Rachel went about making
preparations for the change of events. Tilly, Roselyn and Zaria
helped prepare the outer chamber, quietly so as to not awaken Jacob
in the next room. His young page, Galvan, and Edwin, his closest
guard, went about explaining the change of events to the heralds
with few words. The word spread while the room was properly
prepared. Roselyn went off to see to it Galvin and Edwin had
succeeded with their mission. Tilly trailed away to have goblets
and bottles of wine delivered to the room. Zaria went off without
any direct order or explanation. Rachel stood in the outer chamber
going thru the noble invitation cards, separating the names of the
Higher Nobles and their ladies wherever applicable—those who would
witness the exchanging of their vows. It was as she did this a
voice sounded from the doorway saying, “It should have been
postponed.”