Summers at Castle Auburn (41 page)

“S
omeone out front to see you,” Darbwin told me.

“Who is it?”

“Didn't say. A young lady and a young man. On horseback.”

My clients didn't usually come from so far away that they needed to ride in, for my reputation was decidedly local. I shrugged, dried my hands on my apron, and ducked out into the sunlight.

To see Elisandra standing beside her horse, watching the door hopefully.

“Corie!” she cried, and flung herself into my arms. I shrieked with delight and disbelief, and hugged her, and drew back to stare at her, then shrieked and hugged her again.

“Elisandra! What are you doing—oh, it's so good to—why didn't you
tell
me! How long can you stay?”

Her responses were just as disjointed, and we finally drew apart, laughing and clinging to each other.

“Tell me,” I commanded. “What are you doing here? How did you convince Matthew to let you go? How did you
find
me? What's going on at court? How long can you stay?”

“Oh—it's so complicated—it's so exciting—!” she exclaimed, and I thought I had never seen her so animated. She was positively radiant, happiness spilling across her face and lighting its every
angle. “Matthew had watched me all this time, and, of course, I wasn't pregnant. On the nine-month anniversary of my wedding, I told him I was coming to see you. He made a big fuss, and said how you were banned forever, and went on and on about how I had a duty to marry some man with a noble lineage. I just walked out of the room. Walked out. I've never done that to anyone in my life.”

“I'm so proud of you,” I said admiringly. “How did you find the courage?”

“I pretended I was you.”

We both laughed. I said, “And your mother? What did she think of this little flare of rebellion?”

“I just told her I was leaving. Packed my luggage while she paced around the room and wept. I did kiss her goodbye, but that did not calm her. So, I don't know if she'll actually come visit me.”

“Come visit—” I paused, momentarily struck dumb by shock, then rushed on. “You mean, you've
left
? For
good
? You've come to live with me? Oh, Elisandra, how wonderful!”

She was laughing again. “No, no, no, not with you. I'm going to Jaxon's estate. He's renounced his claim to it. Has declared himself legally dead.”

“Has—” It seemed I could hardly comprehend what she was saying, let alone complete a sentence. “You've heard from Uncle Jaxon?”

She nodded. “I received a letter about a week ago. It seems he's sent copies to his steward and the local squire, as well as Matthew. In it, he renounces his citizenship, his claim on Halsing Manor, his right to inherit property from any other source, and, essentially, declares his status as a—I think he called it a ‘nonliving person.' It was very strange.”

“He's gone to Alora,” I said.

“Yes, that's what I think, too. You should have heard Matthew ranting, but nobody else seemed surprised. Kent suggested that he might someday regret his decision and want to live among men again, but I think—”

“Never,” I said. “He'll never leave Alora. The stories I have heard of the place—the stories he has told himself—he's with the aliora forever now.”

“Which means that I've really and truly inherited Halsing Manor.” She gave me another quick hug. “You and I have inherited,” she amended, “because anywhere that is my home is your home, too.”

I was thinking hard, trying to remember. “But wait. There was something odd about the entailment—I remember. You can only inherit property from Jaxon once you're married.”

She nodded again, a great smile spreading across her face. “I know. I've come here to be married. I want you to be my bridesmaid, for the second time in less than a year.”

“Married—!” I breathed. “But to—”

And then I thought to look to her companion, who all this while had stayed seated motionlessly upon his horse. He was not dressed in castle livery, so I had assumed he could not be one of the royal guards, sent to protect her on this most hasty of journeys. But he was, and a guard I recognized: Roderick, the prince's personal defender.

I felt my mouth drop open in astonishment.

“I know you realize what a wonderful man he is, for he has told me of your great friendship with each other,” Elisandra's voice was saying, faint and faraway in my ear. I could not stop staring at Roderick, who gazed back at me with absolutely no expression on his face. “Whoever else scoffs at me, I know
you
will understand.”

I made an effort to shut my mouth, and I looked back at Elisandra. “But how did this come about?” I asked stupidly. “I never even saw you together. You never mentioned his name.”

She was blushing prettily; she looked as sweet and lovestruck as any village girl. “We went riding that one time—you and I—and you fell off your horse. You remember that day?”

“Oh, yes.”

“And Roderick had come riding with us, and he saved your life.”

I glanced once more, sideways, at the silent guard. I was ready to swear now that the slightest smile played across his lips, but still he sat quietly upon his horse and did not speak. “Well,” I said, “he did carry me back to the castle. As for saving my life—”

“And that fall he traveled with Bryan and me to Tregonia. He was so alert and careful on the road that I always felt safe with him
beside us. And he saved Bryan's life that one time—and he was so brave and thoughtful when Andrew was captured. Oh, there are so many times he has done such wonderful things!”

It was becoming clearer to me as she spoke. Roderick had a country charm to him, that I would absolutely admit, and it was true that the more I had come to know him, the more I had liked him. No doubt it had been the same with Elisandra. I just had not been able to picture the first few meetings, the chance encounters, the unexpected conversations that had sparked interest, then affection, then passion, between these two most unlikely lovers. But once the affair had begun—oh, I could see it well enough.

“And then, I suppose, once he was made Bryan's personal guard, you saw him every day—” I mused.

“Every day. In every setting. And day after day, week after week, he exhibited such strength, such nobility of character, that I could not help but fall in love with him.”

I sent another sideways glance in Roderick's direction. He was definitely grinning now, though he tried to wipe the expression off his face when he caught my gaze. I tilted my head and watched him a moment. “So, I suppose Daria was acting as a courier on your behalf when she brought him notes and remembrances,” I said. “I suspected the maid.”

Elisandra laughed. “No—you didn't! You thought Daria was flirting with Roderick?”

“It seemed a more logical explanation than the truth.”

She came a step closer and put her hand on my arm. “But Corie—you understand, don't you? Nothing in the world will change my mind, nothing will change my heart, but I—If I do not have your support and your approval—it means so much to me that you accept him, accept us, stand up with us on our wedding day—”

I laughed out loud and held my hand out to my new brother-in-law-to-be. “I prefer him one hundred times over Prince Bryan!” I said gaily. “There is no one I would rather give you to than him.”

Elisandra actually squealed in my ear and clutched tight at my arm. This was the signal Roderick had been waiting for. He
swung down from his horse and came over to me in three quick strides.

“I'm happy to see you, Lady Corie,” he murmured, and lifted me off the ground in one brief, bone-snapping hug. “Yours was the only opinion that mattered.”

“That's a first in my life,” I said breathlessly when he set me on my feet. “Now! Come inside for a drink. We have a wedding to plan.”

 

D
ARBWIN WAS MOST
interested to meet my sister—as was everyone else within earshot. They all knew my history and my lineage, of course. So, once I pronounced her name, everyone in the tavern knew that the prince's widow was sitting nearby, having run off with a commoner. It was just the sort of news to make every yeoman in the eight provinces feel pride in his own virility, so Roderick and Elisandra were instantly the most popular couple on the premises. There was no hope of planning a wedding or even holding a conversation in private, but Elisandra, that most regal of women, did not seem to mind. She nodded as the serving girls debated wedding attire and the farmers conferred about the best venue and the innkeeper's wife suggested a reception feast which featured squirrel stew as its primary component. Elisandra's cheeks richened with color, her eyes sparkled with mischievous laughter, and her rare, delicate laugh filtered through the smoky air of the tavern more times than I could count.

“You'll be needing a few days off, then, to plan this affair,” Darbwin said late in the evening, when we were both back in the kitchen at the same time. I have to confess, I was feeling a bit disoriented by this time—too many surprises, too many changed reference points.

“Yes—I suppose—except I don't think they're in any mood to wait. A day or so, maybe, and then I think they want to be wed.”

“Copley will wed them any day they say—that's no problem,” Darbwin said, dismissing the first of my many concerns. Copley, the village priest, was a great friend of Darbwin's, despite the fact that
the tavern owner was a complete heathen. “They'll need a place to stay for their wedding night, of course, and Jake's inn is full up with the traveling season begun again.”

“I know,” I said worriedly. “They could have my room, I suppose, though it's small for two. I could sleep out at my grandmother's.”

“You could bed down here in the kitchen if it came to that, but it won't,” Darbwin said. “I've got two rooms completely framed in on the new inn. Windows aren't in, but we can cover the holes with good heavy quilts, and build up the fire real nice. Bring in a bed from my house, just for the night—they'll be all snug and cosy. Not a soul around to bother them, either, which is just what they'll be wanting on their wedding night.”

I thought for a moment of Elisandra's first wedding, an affair attended by so much pageantry that Darbwin would not believe it if I recounted half of the details now. I thought of the bridal couple's royal suite, the furnishings of the room hand-carved by master carpenters, the curtains made of velvet, the marble floor covered in exotic fur. I thought of the noble lords who had toasted her health, the noble ladies who had wept over her good fortune, the soldiers who had guarded her rest.

I thought of the secret poison racing through her husband's blood, malicious enough to mark him for death almost as soon as he had swallowed it.

Then I thought of Darbwin's unfinished village inn, quilts on the windows for curtains, an old mattress for a matrimonial bed.

“It will be perfect,” I told him. “Thank you so much for offering.”

 

I
T WAS
,
IN
fact, a simply charming wedding, held outdoors in the market green because the weather was so fine. Every soul in the village turned out for the event—because this was a rare match indeed!—and stayed afterward to participate in the ring-toss games and drinking contests and other customary entertainment. Even Milette and my grandmother had walked into town to see the proceedings for themselves.

Elisandra wore one of my old dresses, hastily fancied up with
ruffles of antique lace by my landlady, the seamstress. Roderick wore a dark jacket supplied by Darbwin and a fine cotton shirt that he produced himself. The priest, Copley, a bit intimidated by his unexpected commission, spoke his prayers and masses in an almost inaudible tone; but both the bride and groom gave their responses in firm, cheerful voices. When the ceremony concluded, Roderick snatched Elisandra up in his arms, swung her around in three wide circles, and then kissed her heartily. The audience cheered.

After the congratulations and the feasting and the games and the toasts, they retired to Darbwin's unfinished inn and made themselves truly husband and wife. I had wondered, watching them the past two days, if they had not in fact already taken that final physical step sometime on the road from Auburn—or even before—but I did not ask Elisandra. There were still questions that that happy, carefree woman would not answer.

I had had very little time to talk with her alone in the two days preceding the wedding, though she had stayed with me in my tiny room and we had whispered in bed at night until we fell asleep. Trouble was, we were both so tired that we had fallen asleep almost instantly both nights. We had managed to stay awake long enough that first night for me to ask a few of the questions that had vexed me for the past nine months.

“What about Kent?” I asked. “How is he faring?”

“Oh, he's been absolutely lionized! Especially as it became more and more obvious that I was not going to bear Bryan's child. You should have seen the lords fawning over him—even Matthew, who does not offer anyone more than ordinary courtesy—”