The Silver Rose (45 page)

“It would incite me to murder him, which would have set all of Catholic Paris in an uproar and they would likely have come to destroy me and my son. A very clever plan.”

Miri ventured to speak up. “Truly, it seems like total madness to me, Your Grace.”

“No, my dear. It could possibly have worked, except for a small matter, that the duc de Guise is not in Paris. His meeting with the king has been postponed until next month. But your Silver Rose was not to know that, because Gillian didn’t know it either. The woman has showed herself markedly ungrateful to me. Although she managed to flee the palace grounds, my guard is still searching for her. Hopefully she will be captured before she leaves the city and then I will deal with her disloyalty.”

The way Catherine said that sent a chill through Simon. Despite Gillian’s treachery, he felt a stab of pity for his former mistress, but there was nothing he could do for the woman.

Simon studied Catherine, trying to gauge her mood. She had to be angry about the trick that had been played upon her, bitterly disappointed that the text she had believed to be the
Book of Shadows
had turned out to be a fake. But she appeared to have her emotions well in hand as she demanded, “And so this Cassandra Lascelles woman, she was the one behind all of this? She was the Silver Rose? And you are certain she is dead?”

“Presumably so, Your Grace. She fell into the river.”

“I—I saw her drown myself,” Miri added in a quiet voice and shuddered. Despite the Dark Queen’s presence, Simon reached out to take her hand comfortingly in his.

“The woman is undoubtedly dead, Your Majesty,” Simon said. “And sadly, she dragged her poor child down with her. Neither of them could have survived.”

When Miri started in surprise at his words, Simon gave her hand a warning squeeze. But Catherine was too absorbed by her own thoughts to notice. She paced her antechamber scowling.

“The child is of no concern to me. What I want to know is what became of the real
Book of Shadows.
”

“Alas, Your Grace, that is something we may never know now that the Silver Rose is dead,” Simon replied blandly. He had his own ideas regarding the book’s location. He intended to launch a thorough search of the Maison d’Espirit at the first opportunity. But he kept his expression carefully neutral as Catherine glared at him.

“It seems I placed far too much faith in your skills, Master Witch-hunter. I had expected you to track down the location of the witch’s coven and that infernal book as well. Who knows how many of her members might still be at large?”

“With the Silver Rose gone, I doubt they will pose any threat to Your Grace.”

“All the same, you have keenly disappointed me.”

“Disappointed you?” Miri quivered with indignation. “Your Grace already seems to have forgotten that Monsieur Aristide risked his own life to foil the sorceress’s plot. If it had been a miasma instead of a sleeping draft, you would have lost your reason and the entire country might now be on the brink of revolution.”

Catherine pursed her lips. “True enough,” she conceded grudgingly. “And I suppose he did rid me of the threat of the Silver Rose.”

“For which I believe Simon told me you offered him a reward,” Miri reminded her.

“He said there was nothing that he wanted. But I suppose, like most men, he has changed his mind and thought of something.”

Simon only had to consider for a moment before saying, “Yes. Just one thing. I would like you to restore the Lady of Faire Isle and her husband to their property.”

Miri gave a soft gasp. Even Catherine looked taken aback at the request.

“Just when I think I’ve grown too old to be surprised, Monsieur Aristide. A witch-hunter asking for the restoration of a witch?”

“No,” he said. “A very wise woman, and her husband. I made a mistake years ago, and so did you. I believe Your Grace and I both hope this is the end of this Silver Rose matter. But with all these witches dispersed across the countryside it would be good to have the Lady of Faire Isle back on her island helping to keep watch.”

The Dark Queen pursed her lips, seeming to turn the matter over in her mind. “For once you and I seem to be in agreement, Master Witch-Hunter. Ever since that raid on Faire Isle, the world has seemed strangely out of balance. But one would have to know where to find the lady.”

Miri spoke up. “I believe that I could help with that, Your Grace. I would be happy to get word to my sister as soon as possible.”

The queen nodded glumly, but she turned to Simon. “But what of you, monsieur? With these witches abroad, perhaps I can persuade you to continue in my employ until they are all hunted down.”

But Simon shook his head. Gathering Miri’s hand tighter in his, he said, “No, Your Grace. My witch-hunting days are over.”

Epilogue

T
HE SUN SPREAD
a sparkling streamer of light across the pond, a soft breeze blew through the trees, and Simon’s farm was a peaceful haven after all the violence and turmoil of Paris. Miri drew in a deep draft of air, feeling like she could finally breathe again. She smiled from the doorway, looking at the trio over by the pond, Yves, Carole, and Meg skimming stones, feeding some stale bread to the ducks.

Her smile was rather sad as she reflected that of the three, it was only the largest, the tall, ungainly boy, who remained a child at heart. After all that Meg and Carole had gone through, they had been transformed forever, forced to grow far beyond their years.

But it was pleasant for the moment to watch them laughing and happy and being children. As a shadow fell across her, Miri looked around as Wolf joined her in the farmhouse doorway, gazing across at his daughter. His lips quirked wryly. “Mon Dieu, she actually likes it here. What is it about you wise women and farms?”

Miri laughed. “I don’t know if I could even begin to explain it to you.”

Martin looked wistful. “She’s happy. It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile since—since . . .” Neither of them had to say since that grim moment the child had been told of her mother’s death.

“I almost wish I could let her stay here, but—”

“I know.” Miri regarded him sadly. They’d all agreed that the best course was for Martin to take Meg and vanish. Although the body of Cassandra Lascelles had never been recovered, she surely could not have escaped the river’s current. Miri hoped that woman’s insane plans had died with her, but when Simon had raided the house in Paris, the remaining members of the coven had all fled. Nor had the
Book of Shadows
been found, even in the hidden underground chamber. Some of the witches might still be determined to find their Silver Rose and resurrect Cassandra’s dream. There was also the danger that the Dark Queen might discover that Simon had deceived her regarding the true identity of the Silver Rose and that Meg had not drowned along with her mother.

Turning back to Wolf, Miri asked, “So where will you go? I thought perhaps you could take her to Faire Isle.”

Wolf shook his head. “No. Not even with Ariane returning am I convinced that my daughter would be safe there. I’m not even sure that it’s safe for me to take her back to Navarre. I think that our best course is going to be to leave France entirely.” He attempted to smile. “We’ll get by. Don’t worry about us, Miri. I think Meg is fond of England. It will be like going home to her. I’ve traveled there enough that I can pass myself off as an Englishman, although it makes me shudder to do so. Ah, but the sacrifices one must make for one’s child.” But his smile vanished the next instant. He looked wistfully at Meg. “God, Miri, I’ve never had anyone of my own before. When I was rescued by Captain Remy I adopted the rest of you as family, but she’s—she’s of my blood,” he said wonderingly, as if he could scarce believe it. “I’m her father. Me, a papa. Who would have ever imagined it?”

“I’m sure you’ll be a fine one.”

He shook his head. “I’m terrified. I don’t have the least idea how to go about it. I never had any father of my own. When I think of the mistakes I might make . . .”

“I think that you will find that children can be very hardy flowers. Just a little love and sunshine is all they require to thrive quite well. Being Meg’s father . . . You must think of it as just another grand adventure.”

“There’s only one difference. This time I’m scared to death.” But he said nothing more, as Meg had crept up to join him.

She slipped her little hand into his. “Don’t be afraid, Papa. I’ll take care of you. Just like I always wanted to take care of Maman, but she wouldn’t let me.”

As a tear trickled down Meg’s cheek, Martin applied his handkerchief and wrapped his arm around his daughter. Miri hunkered down beside her and took her hand.

The little girl regarded her gravely, with eyes far too old for that pale little face. “Do you think I am very wicked, Mistress Cheney? I’m the one to blame for Maman’s dying.”

Miri stroked the girl’s hair back. “No, child. I believe you did your best to save her. Sometimes, no matter how much we love somebody, we can’t help them. Not unless they’re willing to do that for themselves.”

Meg frowned. As wise as she was, it was a lot for a little girl to absorb. She ran her hands up to her neck. “I always hated that medallion Maman made me wear, but—but it’s a little scary having it gone. It’s like I could always feel her, know that I had someone.”

“Well, now you have somebody else, and I can give you a far better charm than that medallion.” Miri produced the locket from her pocket and draped it around the little girl’s neck.

Meg examined it and traced her finger over the etching of the wolf. When she looked up at her father, there was a blinding smile that entirely transformed the child’s face. Miri thought, she’s going to be a dazzling beauty someday. Martin is really going to have his hands full. But she kept that reflection to herself. Wolf was already nervous enough as it was.

At that moment, Simon came out of the barn leading Martin’s horse, and Madame Pascale emerged from the house with the provisions she’d packed for their trip. As Meg made her farewells to Carole, Martin turned to Miri and Simon.

“Well, farewell, witch—” He stopped to correct himself. “Aristide. I’m forever in your debt, monsieur. I, of course, trust that you will entirely forgive me if I don’t embrace you in parting.”

“Not at all,” Simon said, stepping back, “I’d be far more grateful to you if you didn’t.”

“I would still have to be vexed with you, and say you stole my Lady of the Moon, but I’m afraid she was never mine to begin with.”

“Nor was she mine.”

“These ladies of Faire Isle, they follow their own hearts and make their own choices. And it’s clear to me that she has made hers,” Martin said sadly. “I trust I don’t even have to tell you to take good care of her.”

“I’d hardly do otherwise. I wouldn’t want you turning up in my stable again.”

Both men smiled and shook hands. Martin turned at last to Miri, his heart too full for a moment to say anything. He clasped her hand. “My dearest friend. You know if you ever need me . . .”

She nodded, tears sparkling in her eyes. “I’ll be fine. You have someone else who needs you far more now.”

Martin brushed a kiss upon her cheek, then he swung up on his horse, lifting his daughter in front of him. The child looked adoringly up at him as they cantered down the lane, Yves racing after, waving his feathered cap in farewell.

Carole and Madame Pascale returned to the house. There were more arrangements to be made for Carole’s own journey back to Faire Isle and the babe who waited for her there.

Miri found herself alone with Simon as she had scarce been since they had returned from Paris. For a long moment their gazes met.

“Well,” Simon said, “now, my lady, when do you want to set out? I know you must be eager to get back to Faire Isle.”

“Yes, I will want to be there to greet Ariane when she returns home. And of course, I have got to get Carole back to her son. Simon, I wish you would come with me.”

“I hardly think that I would be welcomed there.”

“But it was because of you that the Lady will be restored to Faire Isle and I want everyone to know that.”

“You expect too much of people, Miri. I’m glad that I was at least able to put something right, but to imagine that I could ever be forgiven and welcomed there is just too much to expect. And yet, I know Faire Isle is your home. Where you belong. Where you’ve always wanted to be.”

Miri shook her head. “I thought so once. I remember Ariane saying she hoped I’d find what I was looking for when I returned to Faire Isle. But it wasn’t on Faire Isle. All I was seeking on the island was my past. But my future is right here with you.” She held out her hand and he still looked as though he scarce dared to reach for it. So she caught his instead.

“In case you didn’t recognize that for what it was, Simon Aristide, I’m asking you to be my husband.”

He smiled, one eyebrow rising a fraction. “You ladies of Faire Isle are disconcertingly bold.”

Miri refused to be daunted by his teasing. “One of us had to say it and I could tell it was not going to be you, my very reluctant suitor. You’ve never even told me that you loved me. It’s a fortunate thing that I’m so very good at reading eyes.”

Simon brought her hand up to his lips. “I do love you, Miri. I always have.” He smiled as he drew her into his arms.

“Because I’ve always been your greatest weakness?”

“No, dear heart,” he murmured, pressing his lips tenderly to hers. “My greatest strength.”

About the Author

S
USAN
C
ARROLL
is an award-winning romance author whose books include
The Bride Finder
and its two sequels,
The Night Drifter
and
Midnight Bride,
as well as
The Painted Veil, Winterbourne,
and most recently,
The Dark Queen
and
The Courtesan.
She lives in Rock Island, Illinois.

Also by Susan Carroll

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INTERBOURNE

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HE
P
AINTED
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EIL

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HE
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RIDE
F
INDER

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HE
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IGHT
D
RIFTER

M
IDNIGHT
B
RIDE

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HE
D
ARK
Q
UEEN

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HE
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OURTESAN