Icestorm

by Theresa Dahlheim

  Lise and Fiem had just returned to clear the dishes when Mistress Sabine came in at their heels. She looked like she had been punched in the stomach. Tabitha stared at her, as she normally would to see the governess in such a state, and Pamela ran up to her. “Mistress! Please tell us what happened, please!”

  “Wait.” Mistress Sabine gestured at the chambermaids. They all waited in expectant silence as Lise and Fiem stacked the dishes on a cart. Fiem was so slow. She moved like a cow. Finally they wheeled the cart out to the corridor and its dumb-waiter, and Mistress Sabine closed the sitting room door.

  Calm and still, but normal. Calm and still, but normal.

  “Please sit,” Mistress Sabine said quietly. When they were all seated at the cleared table and looking up at her, she rubbed her hands over her face. Then she traced the four rings of the Godcircle over her heart. “There is no good or easy way to say this. Sir Alain was murdered last night.”

  Tabitha gasped, and her gasp was lost among all the others. He is dead. My God, he is dead. He hit his head and I let him bleed to death. I let him bleed to death!

  Mistress Sabine held up her hands to the questions coming from Beatris, Pamela, and Jenevive. “This is what I know. Vern and Sir Alain share a bedchamber. Vern said that Alain’s bed was not slept in last night, and when he did not report to Lord Daniel on time this morning, they became worried. The outer guardsmen said that Sir Alain had not left the castle, but another guardsman said that after the gathering last night was over, Sir Alain passed him in the foyer and went into the library. Vern and Lord Daniel found him up in the attic.” She stopped. Her mouth twisted as if she had bitten into something sour. “Vern said he was … he … Alain had clearly been with a woman. The woman … Lord Daniel said that Alain could not possibly have hit his head so hard by himself. She must have hit him or pushed him into the wall, the ceiling in the attic. It split his head open and he bled to death.”

  Tabitha let the flush rise to her cheeks, let her heart pound, let her breath come short, let the sweat slick down her back. She could not do anything else. Fortunately, her reaction was normal. She was only a moment behind the others in swinging her gaze to Marjorie.

  “We teased you so,” Pamela whispered to her. “And all the while he had someone else.”

  Beatris laid her hand over Marjorie’s on the table. Marjorie was milk-white and her blue eyes were huge. Tabitha saw them grow even larger when Mistress Sabine spoke again. “Marjorie, Lord Daniel told me that Sir Alain wanted to court you. Did you speak with him at the gathering last night? Did he seem …” Mistress Sabine trailed off, as if she had no idea how to continue.

  Marjorie looked down at the table. A lock of her golden hair had worked free of her braid and now hung over her cheek. “I spoke to him,” she said, so quietly that they could only hear her because the room was so starkly silent. “But not for long. Not about anything.”

  “He did not seem angry, or upset?”

  Marjorie shook her head. “I don’t know him well. I don’t know him at all. We have never talked for more than a moment.”

  Pamela shook her head in astonishment. “How? How could he go up there with another girl after the way he was looking at you?”

  Marjorie just sat there with wide blue eyes and parted lips. Mistress Sabine sighed. “They are looking for the girl right now.” Her gaze turned to Jenevive. “Your cousin from Maisenblere offered his help in finding out the truth.”

  “What a surprise,” Jenevive muttered sarcastically.

  “He wanted to question the five of you,” Mistress Sabine said, and quickly added, “but the duke would not allow it. He told me to tell you all what had happened, and to ask you if you saw or heard anything that would help.”

  “Of course he would not allow it,” Tabitha found her voice to say indignantly. “It is completely improper.”

  “It is,” Mistress Sabine nodded firmly. “Lord Daniel questioned the kitchen servants. None of them knew anything. The guardsmen say that no one else passed through the foyer last night. But one of them said …” She shook her head. “He said he might have fallen asleep for a moment, but his dog would have woken him if anyone had come. He will be dismissed, of course. The chambermaids are being questioned now.” She looked toward the door where Lise and Fiem had just gone.

  Calm and still. Calm and still, but normal. “My God,” Tabitha murmured, making the sign of the Godcircle.

  “Did any of you speak with Sir Alain at the gathering?” Mistress Sabine asked. “Did he say or do anything out of the ordinary?”

  “I told him to go and talk to Marjorie,” Pamela whispered.

  “What did he say?”

  “That he would.”

  Mistress Sabine nodded. “Did anyone else talk to him?”

  Someone might have seen us. “I talked to him during the play,” Tabitha admitted before anyone else could point it out. “I went to the privy closet and came back during a scene. I asked him if he liked the play. That was all. He did not seem upset to me.”

  “I greeted him,” Beatris said. “But that was all.”

  “Me too,” Jenevive said.

  “All right.” Mistress Sabine took a deep breath and let it slowly out. Her face was very pale and what little she had for a chin was trembling. “I must tell the duke what you have told me. Please stay here.”

  After the governess left, Pamela kept shaking her head and saying plaintively, “I just can’t believe he did that.”

  “He is a man,” Jenevive cut her off acidly after the fourth or fifth time. “And men are pigs. That’s all the explanation you need.”

  “No,” Beatris said softly. Her frown was sad and puzzled instead of indignant.

  “I think he deserved it,” Jenevive declared.

  “Jenevive!” Beatris shouted, startling Tabitha even more than Jenevive’s horrible words. “Don’t ever say anything like that again!”

  “Why not?” Jenevive shouted back. “He took another girl up there, and he raped her!”

  Pamela gasped. Beatris stared at Jenevive. “Mistress Sabine did not say that.”

  “Why else would she have pushed him into the wall so hard that it split his head open?” Jenevive demanded.

  Beatris shook her head. “We don’t know what happened. Just because some people think he was with a girl, and they think he was pushed into the wall, it does not mean it’s true.”

  “Lord Daniel thinks it’s true,” Pamela said timidly.

  “We don’t know,” Beatris repeated. “I have hit my head on a doorway before and knocked myself out. It does not take much. He could have hit the ceiling beam just by standing up, then started bleeding, and if he was alone—”

  “Mistress Sabine said he was ‘clearly’ with a girl,” Jenevive reminded her.

  Beatris hesitated. “We don’t know what that means,” she said finally.

  “He was probably naked.”

  “Jenevive!”

  Tabitha’s face felt hot. She decided that it was normal for a young lady to blush at the thought of a naked man.

  “What?” Jenevive looked at Beatris defiantly. “Nothing is more clear than that.”

  “We don’t know what happened.” Beatris enunciated each word at Jenevive. “All we know is that he is dead. I, for one, am going to pray for him until I know for a fact that I should not.” She stood up from the table and returned to her seat on the floor by the hearth.

  “How charitable of you,” Jenevive muttered. Beatris ignored her, and all of them, by closing her eyes and resting her hands in her lap. Her right hand made the sign of the Godcircle.

  Tabitha wanted to go to her chamber, shut the door, and practice being calm and still. But she did not know if she should. Would it be normal for her to do that, or would it call attention to her? Would she look like she had something to hide?

  Alain was dead. He had been so gentle with her, and now he was dead.

  Nothing is normal about this. Her friends could not possibly guess what anyt
hing she did meant right now. She went to her chamber, and no one said anything. She shut the door, just to keep in the warmth from the fireplace of course, and she heard nothing from the other side. She sat at her dressing table and took out her braid so that she could brush her hair. She wanted a bath, but she did not want to be naked just after they had been talking about Alain being naked.

  Calm and still. Calm and still.

  She had just started to rebraid her hair when she heard the outer door open again. She let her hair fall, her fingers numb, suddenly certain that she had been caught. Maybe the guardsman had not been asleep and had seen her passing through the foyer, coming or going or both. Maybe her slipper had lost a bead and they had found it in the attic. Maybe the other knight standing at the back of the audience at the play had overheard her and Alain.

  But no pounding came at her door. She heard Mistress Sabine’s muffled voice. I have to know. It’s normal to want to know.

  Everyone glanced at her when she came out of her bedchamber, but then quickly looked back at Mistress Sabine and the woman with her. The other woman, who had a heavily wrinkled face and slight stoop, was dressed as a holy sister in a gray gown and a black cap and veil.

  “Tabitha, I was just introducing Sister Raula,” Mistress Sabine said, and Tabitha and Sister Raula greeted each other politely. Why was a holy sister here? Was she going to question them? Did she think no one would lie to a holy sister?

  “Sister Raula is a healer,” Mistress Sabine said. Tabitha suddenly noticed that Mistress Sabine looked even more upset than before, but in a different way. Her face was tight, and she held herself as stiffly as if she was freezing cold. “She is one of the sisters who tend to the women and girls who come to the cloister hospital. She is here to examine each of you.”

  Dead silence followed her words. Tabitha fought to control her racing heart. She felt as if she had been trying to control her heartbeat for the entire day.

  “Examine us?” Beatris finally asked from where she stood by the hearth. “Do you mean, question us?”

  Yes, of course, like Mistress Evonne’s examinations after lessons. But Tabitha’s relief did not last, for after a painful pause, Mistress Sabine shook her head. She did not seem able to speak, and Sister Raula patted the governess’ arm as she stepped forward.

  “His Grace the duke requested that I come here,” she said, her voice a little creaky. Her old eyes were sympathetic as she looked at them all. “The young knight was with a woman when he died. I know this is terribly indelicate, and I am very sorry to ask this of all of you. Every woman in this castle is under suspicion for this crime, for we have no idea who the murderer is. In order to eliminate all of you as suspects, his Grace the duke has asked that I confirm your virginity.”

  Tabitha cut herself off in the middle of a loud gasp, and she held her fists to her mouth in horror. But that was normal, because she could see all the others from where she stood, and they were all in similar poses, their eyes bulging in disbelief. Marjorie looked very close to fainting.

  “My father said that?” Tabitha asked in very real disbelief, and Sister Raula looked at her. “He would never ask me to do that. Any of us! This is very improper!”

  “I understand perfectly, Lady Tabitha,” Sister Raula said soothingly. “His Grace the duke was very reluctant to agree to this.”

  “It was my cousin,” Jenevive blurted. “He suggested it, right?”

  Sister Raula did not deny it. “Lord Maisenblere spoke to his Grace regarding the need for this. Again, I am sorry to ask this of all of you.”

  Jenevive made a loud, wordless noise of pure disgust, and she twisted her hand into her ash-blonde braid. “I am sure he is very eager to know the condition of my cherry.”

  Normally both Beatris and Mistress Sabine would have reprimanded her, but a ringing silence followed Jenevive’s rude words. Tabitha wondered if Lord Daniel was similarly concerned about the condition of Pamela’s cherry. She felt hysterical laughter climbing up her throat, and she sternly swallowed it down. What would her father say if he knew?

  What would he say, once he knew?

  My God. My God. My God. It was through sheer will that she stayed upright, that her face remained dismayed at the impropriety of it instead of horrified at what the holy sister would find. She could not think. She could barely breathe.

  “Lady Tabitha,” Sister Raula said gravely, “you are to be first. I am very sorry that I must ask you to do this.” She nodded toward Tabitha’s door. “Is that your bedchamber?”

  Tabitha managed a nod. Sister Raula gestured. “Please lie down on your bed. You will only need to remove your bloomers. I will be there in a moment.”

  “This is very improper,” Tabitha said, her voice so weak she could barely believe it was hers.

  “I understand, my dear. I promise to not make it more unpleasant than it needs to be.” The holy sister gestured toward the door again.

  Tabitha opened her mouth to protest again, but her voice had disappeared entirely now. She wanted to indignantly insist that the implication that they may not be virgins was deeply insulting. She wanted to refuse to do it. She was almost sure that Mistress Sabine would side with her if she did refuse. But her guilt strangled her and she could not make a sound.

  Sister Raula gestured a third time. Tabitha went back into her bedchamber and shut the door.

  Panic gripped her tighter and tighter. Her stomach hurt. She pressed her hands to her middle, but that made her gag, and she covered her mouth and swallowed, again and again, to keep from throwing up.

  Calm and still. Calm and still. Calm and still. And normal.

  How would she react to this if she had not been with Alain?

  The answer came immediately. She would do as the holy sister asked.

  She took off her bloomers and climbed onto her bed. She lay down on top of the blankets and stared up at the canopy.

  Even if Sister Raula gave her a chance to explain, what could Tabitha actually tell her? The truth? I wanted to kiss him so I let him bed me. Should she claim rape? But that would not work either, because it would only raise the question of why she had been in the attic if she had not wanted to be with Alain. Just admitting to being there would condemn her, even if Sister Raula found no sign that Tabitha’s cherry had been touched.

  Abruptly she saw the circle in her reasoning. If she finds no sign, I don’t need to admit I was there. Alain had been so gentle with her. Had he been gentle enough to leave no trace?

  What would Sister Raula be looking for? The maidenhead could be ruptured by other things, things besides … besides a man’s cock. Cock. His cock, my cherry. Tabitha shivered. She had heard that Khenroxan girls sometimes ruptured their maidenheads while horseback riding, since they rode astride and not sidesaddle. But Tabitha could not claim to have done that. Thendal girls did ride sidesaddle, and she herself had not ridden horseback at all after she had fallen from that awful mare when she was little.

  Please, God, she prayed, holding both hands in the sign of the Godcircle. Please. I did not mean to. I never meant to go so far. You know I did not. Please let Sister Raula think that I am still a virgin.

  A rash of heat prickled over her skin. She tried to ignore it, closing her eyes to focus her prayers. Please, God, I did not mean to. Let her think I am a virgin. Please don’t let her find anything. But even as she prayed, she could not stop thinking about Alain touching her. The itch spread down her arms and legs, and it tingled hot in her cherry, so much she could not separate pain from pleasure. Please, God, please, God, please …

  How could she pray to God and want Alain so much at the same time?

  Forgive me, God, forgive me. I should have done something to help him.

  Tabitha prayed until her head hurt. Eventually, the itch in her skin and the tingling between her legs faded. She felt so tired. What was taking Sister Raula so long? She could hear talking in the other room. What were they talking about?

  Calm and still. Calm and still.
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br />   Finally Sister Raula opened the door, wearing an apron and carrying a very small lantern and a leather pouch. Tabitha returned her gaze to the canopy as Sister Raula came to the side of the bed. “My dear, I am sorry about this. I know this is very difficult for you.”

  Tabitha nodded, but said nothing.

  “Then, if you would, please open your legs and lift your skirts to your belly.” Sister Raula turned the knob on the lantern as she brought it to the foot of the bed. The brightness made Tabitha wince.

  She winced harder when something cold separated the folds of her cherry. Metal poked and prodded her, and even when the holy sister touched her, it was nothing at all like Alain’s touch. It even hurt a little, and every time Tabitha flinched, Sister Raula said, “Nearly done, dear.”

  Nearly done. Just be done. Be done!

  Finally Sister Raula turned off the lamp. “There, dear. I am sorry I had to do that. But it’s done now. All is well with you. Go ahead and put your skirts down.” She put her lantern and pouch on Tabitha’s dressing table, then washed her hands in the basin and left the chamber.

  All is well.

  Tabitha lay there, and a tremor passed over her. Sister Raula thought Tabitha was still a virgin. Whatever signs or marks she had sought, Alain had not left them on Tabitha’s body. He had been so gentle, he had, somehow, not even ruptured her maidenhead.

  Thank you, God. Thank you thank you thank you.

  She put her bloomers back on. She sat on the edge of her bed and started to rebraid her hair again, though her arms felt weary and her headache had settled into a knot at the base of her neck. But she needed to think about what to do. She had to make sure that someone took the blame for Alain’s death. As long as the mystery remained unsolved, Tabitha and her friends would remain potential targets for anyone who wanted to damage her family’s reputation.

  It would have to be one of the servants. It was the servants who used the attic, so it made sense that a servant had killed Alain. Who among the servants would he have bedded? Someone young and pretty. Someone with whom he could have been in love. Tabitha would try to salvage his reputation, too, if she could. She had not helped him when he had been bleeding, but she could do this for him now. The rashness of a young man in love would be more easily forgiven than the casual lust of a knight.