Lady Trent (31 page)

“Ah, Emwark, yes. Rumored to be even finer
than this.” He extended his arms in reference to the palace.
“Elizabeth Wescott is certainly accustomed to fine things, although
not so fine as a place of this size let alone one the size of
Emwark’s palace. Earl Wescott shall be pleased to see his daughter
so well kept. She is very dear to him, being the youngest of the
daughters and of all his children.” He chuckled. “All twelve of
them. I doubt he has a clue what fine things you have in mind,
although I am certain he, as we all, are well aware that you, Sir
Marcus, bare the potential of becoming what I, myself, have
become…the most noblest noble in all New Ebony.”

Marcus could not help but grin, for it was
not like the man to brag in the slightest, no, not since his
change. It was actually quite refreshing to hear him giving himself
such credit, professing for himself what he truly was, which was
just as he had stated.

“So tell me, my friend, where will this manor
house be constructed?”

“The Southern Plains,” he quickly replied,
for he had tired of falling silent in order to put off speaking the
truth to spare the man’s feelings. No sense prolonging these
obligatory details.

“The Southern Plains?” Jacob’s brows
instantly drew together.

“Quite near the border of the Commons.”

“I see.” He was obviously disappointed.

Marcus inhaled a deep, weary breath of air,
proceeding with an explanation. “I have a reasonable amount of land
there, good land, rich enough to attract planters and sharecroppers
and herdsmen. The pastures and fields are perfect for the raising
of animals. Tradesmen would subsequently follow.”

“The Southern Plains,” Jacob repeated once
more, his very serious expression focused upon his plate, which he
had hardly touched. “Well, then, it seems you have given this a
great deal of thought. I imagine your presence will be required
there. And with the, um, distance I imagine you will have little
time to travel, except it be for some pertinent occasion, such as
is the case with myself.”

Marcus could not speak at all. His heart went
out to the man. His silence answered for him.

“I see. Well, then, I will require a new man
to handle a portion of the matters I have entrusted to you over the
years, or perhaps handle them on my own.”

There was a space of silence. Marcus’s heart
fell, and it was obvious Rachel’s did as well as she gaped sadly
upon Jacob’s countenance.

“I have a man who may be trusted,” Marcus
came to say.

Jacob gave his head a shake. “No, no,” he
corrected. “I cannot simply turn these matters over to just any
man. I am not at ease even thinking about it.” With that, he
scooted back his chair and stood, taking his chalice with him. “I
don’t suppose I had thought about this,” he slowly replied. “I had
supposed you would give me some warning further ahead of time. This
is sudden. I imagine your attention will be required during the
building of this…manor house.”

Again, Marcus said nothing. And after a
generous length of silence, the only sound to break it was that of
Jacob’s boots as he made his way across the floor and from the
room.

And there was silence, a deadly silence while
Marcus and Rachel both stared down at their plates.

******

She felt as if she was being torn apart from
the inside out, torn between these two men. Jacob’s pain—how she
felt it!

She lifted her gaze to see Marcus simply
toying with the stem of his chalice, his expression very blank and
unreadable. She inhaled a very deep breath. “I hope you are
satisfied, Sir Marcus.”

His gaze snapped over to meet hers.
“Satisfied?” His expression proved how very perturbed he had become
with her. “If you suppose so, then I imagine you know absolutely
nothing about the man I am. One thing is certain. You know
absolutely nothing about the friendship between he and I. It has
been fifteen years. Fifteen years.” He barely shook his head. “Do
not even insinuate that I am satisfied.”

“The building of this manor house…can it not
be accomplished on its own?” She leaned forward so that only he
could hear. “Any man whose trade is to build can do so without
incessant observation. All you need do is produce a replica of
whatever it is you desire to be built which may be followed.”

“I
have
produced such a replica,” he
slowly and firmly informed. It seemed as if he was about to lose
all patience and his temper with it.

“Then it can be properly replicated. If you
are so wise a man as Jacob claims you to be, surely you are wise
enough to place such matters into the hands of a man who is equally
as wise in his drudgeries as you are known to be in yours. You must
only occasionally see to the affairs of these undertakings, and at
least give Jacob a space of time to adjust to this sudden change of
events. Must you tear his heart into pieces by departing with such
short notice?”

“I have explained these things to you,” he
loudly and angrily threw at her, catching them both off guard. He
took a quick hold of his temper, and did speak quieter the next
time. “You should be well aware according to my confessions that I
have no other choice.”

“I understand, Marcus, I understand well. But
even I can put my sentiments aside for the sake of his, which are
perhaps stronger than yours and mine combined.”

He glanced at her, appearing very tired and
worn of a sudden. And he said nothing while he continued to toy
with the stem of his glass.

“You cannot abandon him,” she said, refusing
to let him shrink away from the hurt he would surely cause, and
already had.

“I am not abandoning him,” he slowly and
quietly corrected, his eyes upon the movements of his fingers as he
ran then slowly along the stem of his chalice. Then he shook his
head and suddenly lifted the chalice, swallowing its contents. He
lowered it with a loud thump and simply stared upon it, leaning
back in his seat, folding his arms against his chest. “I am first
of all abandoning the only life I have ever known.”

She suddenly felt horrible bad for him, for
in truth she knew very little about him. All sorts of questions
passed through her mind. Who had raised him? How had they raised
him? How had he acquired his own trade, if one could call it that?
And at what age? For how how long? These were very fleeting
questions.

“Secondly,” he continued, “the trouble I am
capable of causing here.”

Again there was silence, and just as those
fleeting thoughts, various emotions coursed through her in speedy
fashion. Her heart palpitated. Her blood crashed thru her veins.
Her thoughts went in all directions, and she was certain her mind
would lose control and stop working altogether.

“You needn’t suffer because of this,” she
heard him say, and her eyes snapped to him.

“
I
needn’t suffer,” she mocked, shook
her head and almost laughed. “How can I help it? To not suffer
would be just the same as to not care.”

“Do you care?”

“You know I do.”

“For Jacob, yes, and yourself.”

“I care about what he cares about,” she said,
which almost brought a grin to his lips. He almost shook his head
and it appeared he would stand.

She leaned forward to quietly say, “Do not
take me wrong, Sir Marcus, or misconstrue the meaning behind these
words. But I beg you, please, do not depart under these terms. Stay
and spare him this sudden pain which was obvious to both you and I.
Stay and allow him a space of time to adhere and to make his
changes, even in his heart which may very well fail him because of
you.”

He again toyed with the stem of his chalice,
and then leaned forward, stood up, and without so much as a glance
departed the room leaving her alone to blink back tears and order
the servant who shortly after appeared to bring in the better
wine.

******

Jacob had found solace in his private
chamber, the outer room from where he peered out the windows
overlooking the city and the courtyard. He replayed Marcus’s words,
called himself a fool for having not thought this far ahead, and
rebuked himself for having relied upon any one man alone to handle
his personal and political affairs.

Marcus had spent the past fifteen years
overlooking specific deeds in his stead. But he did not operate
solely for his sake alone, but for the Higher Nobles, the emperor,
nobles of the least significance, the common people…for New Ebony
as a whole.

Marcus had learned somehow at a young age to
pursue and suggest and arrange peace amongst the realms and their
rulers…to use methods that only he could execute, even if he
specifically ordered a man on exactly what to say or do in his
stead…such a feat could not be successfully accomplished by anyone
else. Yes, Marcus had his own way about dealing with the affairs of
the people as a whole. He could maneuver situations, even dozens at
a time, and even manipulate them in such a way as to keep peace
where peace would otherwise be impossible, or even in danger of
extinction.

In Jacob’s mind, Marcus was a political
genius.

For him to withdraw, even from the matters
that he and Marcus together handled as a team…if they were to
withdraw, what would become of so many various issues? These issues
of peace would suffer slack and even termination. And if Marcus
withdrew altogether from his toils, which were likely more numerous
than any man could imagine, the state of the realms would suffer.
The nobles would suffer conflict, and war amongst themselves…the
emperor would suffer and be in danger from various angles…the
nobles, rulers overseas—particularly the king of Roark.

Perhaps not swiftly, but over time a lack of
action on Marcus’s part would bring about a shortage of unity and
peace. The nobles would begin to rise up against one another. The
rulers overseas would catch them in a weak moment while the nobles
were at odds with themselves and the emperor and would take
advantage of that weakness.

Jacob didn’t think he, himself, could stop
pursuing peace. Not while he had breath in his body, which was
suddenly feeling a bit weak.

A sweat broke out and he knew it was the
sickness…coming upon him so suddenly. Had this news brought it
about? Did the outbreak of illness in his body actually have
something to do with his feelings? Maybe so. After all these years
of suffering on and off, maybe now he was learning something more
about it.

With the back of his hand he swiped beads of
sweat from his brow and turned away from the window. He would not
get sick, not now. This time could be the last. His heart would
fail him for sure. Marcus meant such a great deal to him. Even more
than he’d known, perhaps. Like a son, he thought. Like the son he
hadn’t the opportunity to raise into such a fine man as Marcus Wren
had proven himself to be.

Who would replace him? Who?

He’d said he had someone in mind. Jacob could
not possibly trust any other man, no, not with those things he’d
trusted Marcus with. There would be this constant worry, this
continual waiting for some situation to fail. For something to go
awry. To be betrayed, as he felt now. Was he truly in the
right?

“Milord?” He hadn’t noticed Mable who’d at
some point stepped into the room thru the doors directly in front
of him. He simply stared at her, waiting. “Shall I call upon the
physician?” She asked.

He hesitated, and then nodded slowly. “Yes,”
he agreed. “Yes, do so.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Days passed, six altogether. He refused
visitors during his sickness. When it was over he burst from his
room like a new man and acted as if nothing had ever happened.

His first feat was to pay Rachel a visit. The
sickness, along with his refusal to see anyone, was over and
forgotten—done away with as if to have never occurred. He did not
ask about Marcus or about anything concerning those six days in
which he’d lied sickly in his chamber.

During that time, Rachel had simply coped,
putting much of her time and energy into the governing of the
palace staff. People were always coming and going. New members
tended to cause uncertain havoc. The atmosphere amongst the staff
had shifted such a degree that Percival had become overwhelmed and
quite anxious. She and he together arranged the staff so as to
eliminate all disorder, chaos that had arisen from the addition of
maidens, pages, squires and even some guards. Together they
simplified matters, and Percival was finally able to take a deep
breath, relax and appreciate her all the more.

She was in the process of studying the palace
map, which up until this involvement with the governing of the
staff had not crossed her mind as something in need of examination.
It was as she did this, she heard the door open and footsteps. She
assumed it was Tilly returning with a requested cup of tea. She
extended a hand to receive it, but instead found her hand taken by
another. She turned in her seat, looking up to find Jacob grinning
down upon her.

She was first shocked, and then overwhelmed
with pleasure to finally see him face to face after days of being
refused entrance to his quarters. Even despite the raising of her
voice, the placing of firm hands upon the hips, the peering of
demanding eyes…she had been turned away.

Now, Father Nelson had been the one to soothe
her in the beginning, for he’d been called upon by Jacob, and had
spent a great deal of time with him, nearly an entire day. He’d
assured her that all was well….Jacob simply did not want to be seen
in that shape ever again by anyone at all. Only he’d allowed the
priest that one day, and that one day only, and Edison, of course,
and Holly and Mable.

Her hand in his, she rose from her seat, and
fell into his embrace, so strong and comforting just as she’d
expected. He guided her chin upward and kissed her. She would have
drowned herself in his kisses. But he pulled away and called behind
him to Holly who she had not up until that moment noticed. Her arms
were extended, baring some neatly folded articles of clothing which
he motioned for her to bring forward.