Lady Trent (17 page)

She studied this a moment before taking the
letters from his hand. It took both of hers to hold them. “Thank
you, Percival,” she said with the bow of her head, and went off to
her quarters. Tilly and Zaria had already begun preparing her bath.
As they proceeded she sat at her desk, shifting through the
letters, curious about them. She began opening and reading them.
She was persuaded to smile, for these letters were none other than
expressions of gratitude, respect and, as she’d been warned,
praise. There were invitations and requests for visits: to speak
with her outside of any specific occasion so as to have her direct
attention, and to attend such events as socials amongst and with
other ladies. These letters touched her heart and pleased her. They
pleased her well.

Although Tilly and Zaria would have remained
to help with her bath, getting dressed and brushing her hair, she
kindly asked them to leave.

“You also need rest,” she told them, but they
knew she simply wished to be alone.

She afterward bathed, slipped into a gown and
would have opened more of the messages, but she’d become so tired
she could barely keep her eyes opened. She decided to return to
them in the morning, after she’d gotten some sleep. She lied down,
closed her eyes and dozed off, but instantly began dreaming…about
everything from the summons to the proposal to the engagement, the
marriage…Orland Manor, and even Marcus Wren. She awakened wondering
just how far he’d gone, if he was safe, had he reached his
destination, and had the people received their gift. She fell
asleep again, but only to awaken a short time after. She could not
rest. Her mind would not let her. Perhaps she was overwhelmed. The
manor itself demanded a great deal of attention, and stirred up
feelings in her she’d never experienced. How could she deny feeling
pleased to be a part of restoring the conditions of the place? How
could she deny feeling proud to do so?

She kept seeing the faces of the people, from
the nobles and citizens during the announcement of the wedding, to
the nobles and the citizens the day of the wedding, to the citizens
of this very needy place, Orland manor. Was it not well to
appreciate these new roles? Was it not well to be proud of where
she was?

She decided on a breath of fresh air. She
stepped out onto the balcony, the events of the past several weeks
passing through her mind so swiftly she could not snatch any one of
them to ponder for any extended period of time, only a second or
two. She remembered Westerly and told herself to send a message
immediately describing the new role she’d taken She had to tell
them the truth. Yes, she must be honest and not keep any of this
from them. How could she?

She was also bent upon sending someone there
to help guide them with their situations. The question was, who?
Who would replace her? Who would she trust? She suddenly wished she
had someone like Jacob did. He had Marcus. Now she needed someone
to trust as well…someone smart and wise and kind. My, but wasn’t
that basically a compliment to herself and what she’d been all
these years?

The face in the moon stared down at her as if
in agreement. She smiled and looked away. This midnight sky was
very clear. The air was perfect, not too hot or cool or damp. Just
right. Perfect. The light of the moon gave access to the city, what
could be seen from where she stood, and to the gardens.

She thought she saw some movement there, and
leaned over, adjusting her vision so as to get a clear view. No,
she had not mistaken. There was movement—of something not only
Zaria had warned about, but Marcus as well. They both claimed
lovers would meet in the gardens late at night. She now saw that
they were correct.

She was at first stunned by the scene, but
then intrigued as the young man and woman seemed so close to
actually making love. They were tightly embraced, and kissing so
ever passionately. The damsel’s head fell back and her companion’s
lips sought her neck. She was clutching to him, now, while his
hands held her hair as if to keep her in place. Her eyes were
closed. Her lips parted. If Rachel was not mistaken, there was a
sigh of pleasure. His lips had travelled down even further to the
crevice between her breasts, and his hand moved to take her
garment, moving it aside so as to expose one breast which his mouth
instantly devoured.

Rachel did not realize she had been holding
her breath until she turned away from the scene. Then she exhaled,
thinking about what she’d just witnessed. She did not want to see
anymore or to be seen seeing. Then again, as the memory of what was
happening directly below replayed itself in her mind, she fought an
urge to turn and to witness again the passion between the two
lovers. The urge was so strong she hurried back inside, closing the
doors behind her. She leaned against them, her chest rising and
falling, her eyes searching the room mindlessly.

She thought of Jacob, imagined him holding
her, kissing her, and her blood turned warm. How fond she’d become
of him—and attracted, she had to admit. She placed a hand over her
stomach as it began to burn.

“No,” she said quietly into the air. This
couldn’t be.

Then the voice in the back of her head
reminded her. She was married, was she not, and well able to
experience what the damsel below was experiencing—and appearing
quite delighted to be doing so.

She put a hand to her throat and imagined
Jacob kissing her neck as the lover had kissed his damsel, and it
was not hard to envision. For she imagined Jacob would be a perfect
lover, that he would consume her with the very passion she’d just
witnessed down below.

She began to pace, and when all else failed
she sat at the desk and flipped open the very large book containing
the Sacred Oracles, and she began to read. This succeeded. Before
long she was calm and the thoughts of her head directed elsewhere.
She yawned, rubbed tired eyes. Standing she made her way to the
bed, lied down and slept.

At some point she was awakened by the heat of
another body, a hand stroking the hair from her face. She opened
her eyes to see a blurry image of Jacob seated on the edge of the
bed. A lazy grin touched his lips as she noticed him.

She started to pull herself up, but he
stopped her.

“No,” he softly persuaded. “You were resting
well. I am sorry for wakening you, but I wanted to witness your
livelihood for myself before retiring.”

Her eyelids fell. He kissed her on the check,
a long, soft, lingering kiss as she drifted back to sleep.

******

That morning the first thing she did upon
awakening was touch a palm to the cheek Jacob had kissed. She
wondered what his plans were for the day. In the hopes of getting
to him before anyone or anything else, she did not bother dressing.
She yanked her arms into the sleeves of a robe and hasted from the
room. Tying the front of the robe together, she scurried down the
hall, toward Jacob’s private quarters. Edwin stood at the doors,
not seeming to notice her. He stared straight ahead without so much
as the blink of an eye.

She slowly opened the doors, instantly
spotting Jacob in the outer chamber, dressed and ready for the day.
He stood straightening his belt when she entered.

He grinned big at the sight of her, and held
out his arms as she came toward him to both offer and welcome a
warm embrace. “I see I’ve caught you just in time,” she said,
pulling away from him.

He held her there at arm’s length. “I would
have certainly found you before going my way.”

“I had hoped to have you all to myself for
the day.”

“I find it reassuring to have such a lovely
woman anticipate my company.”

“Will you be occupied all the day long?”

“Possibly so, my love.” He kissed her
forehead. “I’m already falling behind. I was late returning. Now
it’s the tenth hour. I should have been gone and on my way by
now.”

“The tenth hour,” she repeated. “I didn’t
realize.”

“I imagine we were both exhausted from our
drudgeries,” he commented. “I spoke with Father Nelson briefly upon
returning. He claims you were generously welcomed and that you
handled yourself as if you were trained for the position all along.
I’m glad of it. Being lady of Orland is no small matter.”

“I was very discontent with its present
state.”

“Oh, I imagine so. I studied the proposals
you handed to my advisory.”

“I hope you were not troubled by them.”

“No,” he warmly assured. “Quite the contrary.
You judged the conditions of the estate well. As for your
proposals, consider them done. I have already sent Winston with a
reasonable amount to add to the treasury and also some guards to
see to the prisoners, that they are properly supervised and handled
during their labors. Also a draftsman. I see no reason why the
estate cannot be restructured a bit to suit the age.”

She hugged him in response, and felt her body
go limp there, as if she could stay there in his embrace forever.
He stroked her hair and her back. She heard and felt him inhale and
exhale a deep breath.

“Ah, Rachel,” he said quietly, very close to
her ear. “How much I love you.”

She pulled away, feeling all the more
disappointed to see him go. She wanted to be with him today…to be
close to him…like the lovers in the garden.

Could the eyes truly give someone away so
certainly? She watched his expression change, as if he too was
considering the scene she’d beheld that night. A voice in the back
of her head suddenly reminded her of the fact that he had
experienced such a thing before. She had not.

He raised a thumb and caressed her cheek. She
felt as if he would suddenly draw her to him, maybe kiss her, hold
her. Touch her. But he did not. He instead turned away, as if to do
away with whatever emotions were toying with them, and spoke as if
to say just whatever came to mind.

“The manor has become very poor,” he
commented.

“Yes,” she agreed. “The conditions of the
homes and buildings are not good, and the people were so poorly
dressed. There are some who are not poor, but they hardly seem to
mind that others are.”

“Such would be the case in any domicile. Even
here in the Great City there are those who haven’t everything they
need.”

“But it isn’t so,” she quietly began, “in
Westerly.”

Lips pressed together, he came back to stand
before her. “Rachel, not every man and woman intend to better
themself. In fact, some prefer a handout opposed to laboring with
their own hands.”

“And those who do. I mean, those who labor
but haven’t the things they need.”

“I imagine any man who practices a skill or
trade is able to provide for himself and his house.”

“It isn’t always so.”

“I had not considered it.”

“Will you consider it now?” She asked, and
thought to mention her concerns about the community she’d left
behind for this marriage. Something kept her from doing so.

He gazed thoughtfully down at her, raising
his hands to caress her cheeks with his thumbs. “Of course,” he
said and pressed his lips to hers. He drew away and she opened her
eyes. His thumb took the place of his mouth, and he caressed her
lower lip, a far away, cloudy look in his eyes. She thought he
would speak, but he did not. He instead stepped back, taking his
hands to himself and proceeded to straighten his belt. “Am I decent
enough to venture out?” He asked, extending his arms.

She raised her hands to straighten the lapels
of his shirt, and holding on to them said, “Of course, as
usual.”

“Then I must be going.” He took her arms,
kissed her on the check, and then stalked from the room leaving her
feeling rather disappointed.

CHAPTER NINE

The journey to the Isles took nearly two
weeks. Marcus was happy to arrive, but decided he would be all the
happier to see his deed completed and the next embarked upon. He
did not travel alone. Byron rode with him and some of his own
men…Abe, Nicodemus, and Simon. These three were nearly as faithful
to him as he was to Jacob. He could call upon them at any given
time and they would never reject him. He paid them, yes, but
considered them colleagues just the same. Trustworthy men such as
they resided in villages and cities—all sorts of domiciles—and were
stationed throughout all New Ebony.

These he’d called upon to travel with him to
the Eastern Isles. They were familiar with the plot against Jacob
and determined to see to it the guilty culprit, along with his
plot, was abolished.

Marcus and his four accomplices were
altogether greeted outside Norton’s castle by several men on
horseback. Another had seen them from afar and made it known that
Marcus Wren had finally arrived.

Duke Norton was an upright and stern sort of
man, but not nearly as unfriendly as he appeared to be. He was
acquainted with Jacob, although not to the extent of some of the
other nobles. And although a noble, he was not a member of the
class of Higher Nobles.

Marcus and his companions were escorted
inside the castle, and into a room where Duke Norton sat looking as
if he’d been sitting there in that same spot waiting for a very
long time. He stood when they entered, and the doors were closed
behind them.

Duke Norton did not ask about his own
personal business just yet. He, too, was involved in trying to find
out who was trying to kill Jacob; and getting paid well to do it.
The emperor knew who to call upon when the situation called for
it.

Coming up with a reason for the overall
scheme was of utmost importance, Marcus had decided long ago. The
true motive could surely lead to the enemy.

“The man I had taken into custody would not
speak,” Duke Norton told him. “I gave him several weeks to comply.
Even through torture, he would not answer me. I dread to say he was
finally done away with. He is not alive.”