The Shadow of Albion (34 page)

She was Roxbury. She was Mooncoign. The ancient promise and ancient bond

beat in her blood, and from behind the sleep-pierced veil of her amnesia Sarah

understood it: she was the champion of the Oldest People, the human warrior set

to guard their lands from the intrusion of those who would seize them. That was

the responsibility that the Other Sarah had forsaken; the one that she – the

Other’s doppelganger – had so carelessly taken up. She, like her predecessor, had

rashly believed that there was no enemy tofght.

And she, like her predecessor, had been wrong.

The Sarcen Stones homed high and grey above her, the pillars of a city without

walls. In the waking world the stones were rough-hewn things, but in Ms dream

Otherworld they were tall silvery pillars of gleaming rune-covered crystal. Sarah

stood in their midst, before a block of stone through which was thrust an ornate

and glittering sword. It was a ceremonial sword – far too large for any human

being to wield. A sword for a giant.

But she was expected to wield it – to draw it from the stone and carry it against

the enemies of the People. Against the Terror; the. beast that paced just beyond

their borders.

They were watching her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see them,

standing among the pillars which bordered the circle. Rank upon rank of the

Oldest People, their bodies nebulous and insubstantial as mist, waiting for her to

keep her promise.

Only she was hot the one who had made the promise. Another had promised for

her – had plucked her from her own familiar world to keep a promise she had

never made.

Despite this, Sarah would not fail them. The fight was just, and she was ready

to take her part in it. But when she steeled her nerve and reached for the sword,

she could not grasp the jeweled hilt. It slipped through her fingers each time she

tried.

„You are not a part of the land.“

It was the man who had shown Sarah her other self in Mooncoign’s lake, but

now, instead of green velvet and golden horns, he wore a suit of cloth-of-silver that

glowed so brightly that she could barely look at him. Around his brow was a

chaplet of rubies, and as she watched they swelled and broke, running down his

face – not rubies, but blood.

„Until you make yourself a part of the land you cannot serve it. Nor will it

nourish you. Do not fail us, Sarah….“

„Wait!“ she cried. „I don’t understand!“

Sarah sat bolt upright in her bed, heart racing. She gazed wildly about the

bedroom – only the faintest of light filtered in through her windows, left open and

uncurtained in the summer heat.

„I don’t understand,“ she whispered, but she had no chance to chase after the

wisps of the dream. A shadow moved between the window and the bed and she

realized she was not alone in the room.

„Shhh!“ an urgent voice hissed, just as Sarah drew bream to cry out.

„Meriel?“ Sarah whispered in disbelief.

The phantom drew closer to her bed. It was Lady Meriel, clad in a long black

domino over the white silk ballgown Sarah had seen her in earlier this evening.

Sarah flung back the coverlet and scrambled out of her bed.

„What are you doing here?“ Sarah demanded, more harshly than she intended.

She moved toward the table, intending to light the candle waiting mere, but Meriel

was there before her.

„No!“ she hissed in an urgent undertone. „No light! Someone might see!“

„Who?“ Sarah demanded, instantly alert. She pulled the windows shut, then drew

the heavy brocade draperies over them.

„Uncle Geoffrey,“ Meriel said in a low voice. „If he should see a light – “

„It is all right now, Meriel – no one can see us,“ Sarah said. The heavy damask

draperies would certainly shield the light of a single candle from observation by the

street below – even if there were an intruder lurking in Sarah’s back garden.

„But he will know that I am here,“ the other girl said miserably. „Uncle Geoffrey

always knows everything – it is he who said I must scrape an acquaintance with you,

that your loyalty to the King would provide a good blind for – for what he would do.

He said you were cold and over-proud –   but you were always such a friend to

me….“ Meriel's voice faltered and she could not go on.

„Never mind that now,“ Sarah said hastily. She abandoned the candle to cross the

room and take Meriel by the arm. Even through the thin silk of the domino, Meriel’s

flesh was icy. „The important thing is whatever brought you out like this – it is the

middle of the night.“

Meriel managed a shaky laugh. „It is nearly morning, and I am meant to be found

with the Prince at Vauxhall Gardens in one of the private boxes – to what end you

may well imagine! Uncle Geoffrey got the Prince to come away with him when the

party was over, and has put laudanum in his flask. Then when he was insensible I

was to go to him, and allow myself to be discovered with him – “ The younger

woman’s control broke, and she dissolved into a fury of silent weeping.

A spark of resolute anger kindled within Sarah, even as she urged Meriel to sit

down on the edge of the bed. It was a shabby trick to play on both Jamie and

Meriel, and if Jamie did not panic and marry her – If the King did not give in to the

scandal – Meriel would be ruined all the same, and all for her uncles’ greed and

ambition.

„But you have not gone to Vauxhall,“ Sarah said, her tone half-questioning.

„Uncle Geoffrey sent the carriage for me,“ Meriel said, her voice filled with grim

triumph, „but I did not let the door latch, arid when it was stopped behind a

brewer’s wagon down near the docks; I slipped out and let it drive on without me.

But then I did not know where else to go, so I came here.“

„You walked all that way?“ Sarah was horrified. She had heard tales of the bands

of roving young noblemen – Mohocks – who spent their nights serving up mischief

to anyone unlucky enough to be abroad. And down near the river even greater

danger abounded – Meriel had been lucky indeed to reach Herriard House, instead

of having her throat cut – or worse.

„I had no choice,“ Meriel said. In the darkness, she was only a faint shadowy

shape, and for a moment Sarah wondered if she were still dreaming. Everything

seemed so unreal here in the dark.

But it was real. For one brief pure moment, Sarah wished Wessex were here. As

cold and calculating as the man was, she was certain he would know exactly what to

do in this situation. Shoot Ripon and Mr. Highclere, perhaps, but certainly he would

know just how to whisk Meriel out of her wicked uncles’ reach.

Unfortunately, Sarah had not me least idea of where he could be found. Perhaps

the Dowager Duchess…

„I know it is too dreadful of me to burst in on you this way,“ Lady Meriel said

ruefully, as if only now realizing what she had done. „But I shall only be a charge

upon you for a short while longer. I have had more man enough time to consider

what I would do – Uncle Richard’s plans have been no secret to me this past

twelvemonth and more! – and I know, now, that I must go where he will never find

me.“

„Where?“ Sarah asked, fearing the worst. „Meriel, don’t be afraid – I can take

you into the country, to Mooncoign – “

But Ripon was likely to trace Meriel there easily. Ripon need only present himself

at Sarah’s door and demand her return, and Sarah – or her servants – would have

little choice but to comply. And try as she might, Sarah could not think of where else

Meriel could go once she had run away from her guardian.

„No!“ Meriel said, her voice rising above a whisper for the first time. „I shall go

to Mama’s family, in Spain. He dare not follow me there, and they will take me in – “

„Spain! Meriel, have you lost your wits?“ Sarah gasped. Only last December

England had declared war upon Spain, and Spain was now a French vassal state, its

exiled nobility fighting frantically – as was all of Europe – to free its people from

beneath the Corsican boot.

„My mother’s family is there,“ Meriel said. „I know my aunt Maristella very well,

and until my uncle Richard forbade it I would write to her every week. She will take

me in – and I will be done with both my uncles and their plots.“

Sarah tried to argue Meriel out of her mad plan – travel halfway across Europe in

the middle of a war? But English ships continued to call at still neutral Lisbon, in

nearby Portugal, and from there Meriel could probably find an escort to take her to

her mother’s family. Even the candles that Sarah finally succeeded in lighting did not

shed the light of Reason on the discussion.

„Sarah, I have no choice!“ Meriel burst out at last. „I do not dare go home again

– do you know what my Uncle Geoffrey will do to me? No?“

Meriel flung off the domino and tugged wildly at the bosom of her ballgown.

Delicate silk and lace parted, opening the neckline far enough for Meriel to push it

and the chemise beneath down a few inches. She turned her back to Sarah, and in

the candle’s glow Sarah could see an ugly red welt marking Meriel’s skin above the

line of her corset.

Lady Meriel had been whipped.

„Your uncle did this?“ Sarah said, aghast.

„Uncle Geoffrey,“ Meriel said. „I did not wish to fall in with their plans – to see

the Prince last night – but if I do not do as they wish, Uncle Geoffrey says he will

make me disappear to where no one will find me… and I believe he will. I have

money,“ Meriel went on, pulling a pocket from beneath her skirts that clinked

heavily, „and my mother’s jewelry. It will be enough to take me to Madrid,“ Meriel

said stubbornly. „And there are those who will help me, once I reach Dover. I know

those whom Uncle Geoffrey deals with – they have no loyalty above gold, and I

have gold.“

This put an entirely new complexion on matters, Sarah realized. She was not

satisfied of her own ability to hide Lady Meriel – not if the Earl of Ripon and Mr.

Geoffrey Highclere wanted their playing-piece back. But to leave Jamie to be

entangled in a web of Ripon’s spinning was unthinkable – not the least now that

Sarah had seen what they were capable of.

What to do… what to do…?

„You cannot continue to wear that,“ Sarah said decisively, gesturing toward

Meriel’s torn and mud-draggled ballgown. „Let me ring for Knoyle, get you a

suitable gown, and have the coach put to – “

„No!“ Meriel protested.

„But Meriel, however else will we get to Dover?“ Sarah said simply. „You say

you have friends there, but I think you need-friends here as well.“

It was still an hour before dawn as Sarah and Meriel entered Sarah’s well-sprung

yellow-paneled traveling coach. Unlike the ceremonial monster in which Sarah had

journeyed to Lord Ripon’s ball the night before, the yellow coach was a swift,

smooth-riding beauty, which would whisk its passengers to Dover in only a day.

Knoyle, her face a mask of expressionless disapproval, sat on the seat facing

Sarah and Meriel, bandboxes crammed with the most vital necessities tucked to

either side of her on the yellow velvet seat. A large hamper full of cold delicacies –

for every English traveler knew the unreliability of the table d’hôte at English posting

inns – occupied the floor between the travelers’ feet. All three women were

swaddled in thick warm shawls – despite the summer weather, the morning was cool

– and looked like so many bundles of laundry.

The door closed, and Sarah heard the coachman crack his whip out over the ears

of the team leader. A moment later the carriage began to rock over the cobbles in

front of the house. Behind her, Sarah heard the hoof-clatter of the outrider’s mount

as he took up his position.

It was hardly a covert or unremarked departure, but to travel without a.

coachman, a footman, and an outrider was to invite disaster along the way. And

Knoyle would be needed, not only to preserve Sarah’s reputation on the return

trip…

But so that she cannot be taken and questioned – however unlawfully – while I

am gone. A quality that Sarah had not realized that she possessed made her soberly

estimate the danger they were in, and not hold lightly Ripon’s power to do harm. He

knew that she was Meriel’s friend – once Meriel had vanished, Ripon would wish to

see what Meriel’s friend knew about it, and somehow Sarah was not as sanguine as,

as –

 
 – as the real Duchess of Wessex would have been – – that her rank would

protect her from Ripon’s curiosity. The man was already conniving at High Treason,