“Oh, but he is well now, your lordship!” Mrs. Frawley announced. She took the duchess’s hand and squeezed slender fingers with her own plump ones. “He is up and about, Lady Amberville. The clock struck twelve last night, and out of the bed he rose, demanding food and drink as quickly as I could prepare it for him! And this morning he danced through the house with me, celebrating Christmas, good health, and another forty-six years of wedded bliss! Oh, your ladyship, it’s a wish—”
“Come true,” Jourdian said, glancing at Splendor again.
“I am supremely happy for you and Mr. Frawley,” Splendor said softly.
“You may spend the day with your husband, Mrs. Frawley,” Jourdian announced, “for there will be no housecleaning done at Heathcourte today. You may have a day of leisure as well, Ulmstead.”
“Oh, but before you go, please leave the little crab with me,” Splendor entreated.
“Of course, Your Grace,” the butler replied. “I found it swimming around in a basin of water in the kitchen. It must have arrived at Heathcourte along with yesterday’s delivery of fresh fish.” He pulled the crab out of his pocket and set it beside the duchess’s glass of cream.
Delicious scurried sideways to the edge of the table and promptly fell off.
“Tell Tessie and all the rest of the servants that they, too, may have this day to themselves,” Jourdian added. “A joyful Christmas to all of you.”
For a moment, the domestics simply stared at the duke, astonished by his unusual generosity. And then, in an instant, the dining room cleared of all servants, each of them anxious to indulge in Christmas festivities with their families and friends.
“That was a very kind gesture, Jourdian,” Splendor complimented him.
“Yes, but did you notice that I waited until we had received breakfast before dismissing them?” He hoped to make her smile with that comment, but she merely picked up her sterling silver fork and began pushing grapes, orange sections, and cherries around on her plate.
“Splendor, something’s not right with you, and I want to know what it is. Last night you were happier than I have ever seen you. Dancing and floating all around. Giggling, smiling, and enjoying your first human holiday. And here it’s Christmas Day, and you act as though your world has shattered into a million bits.”
Shattered, she mused. An accurate description of the state of her heart.
She forced herself to meet his concerned gaze. “Might we go see my mare, Jourdian?”
“Is that what’s bothering you? The fact that you haven’t seen your second Christmas gift?” He stuffed three bites of eggs into his mouth, tossed his napkin to the table, and rose from his chair. “We’ll have a morning ride,” he said, assisting Splendor out of her chair. “I doubt it will be as pleasurable as the one we enjoyed last night, but we’ll give it a go.”
Without a word, Splendor followed him upstairs and changed into a blue velvet riding habit.
“Will you ride barefoot?” Jourdian asked upon seeing her naked toes peeping out from beneath her heavy skirts.
When Splendor slipped into the soft leather boots he’d bought her, Jourdian knew there was something very wrong with her. Until this day, she had adamantly refused to wear as much as a pair of stockings on her feet.
“Splendor,” he said, grasping her shoulders, “I insist that you tell me what it is that has you so distressed.”
She forced herself to meet his penetrating gaze. “I told you I slept little last night, Jourdian,” she said lightly. “I am simply weary.”
“Would you rather not ride this morning?”
“I want to ride.”
She still didn’t seem very enthusiastic, Jourdian noted. Wondering if a kiss might lend her a bit of sparkle, he drew her close and slanted his mouth over hers.
Splendor knew his intentions, but the strength his kiss gave to her would not change the fact that she would soon be forced to leave him and take away his son.
“You’re not shining,” Jourdian stated gruffly.
“Shining?”
“You always shimmer when I kiss you.”
Sweet everlasting, would the man never cease questioning her? “I’m—”
“Tired.”
“Aye.” With much effort, she smiled at him.
He saw straight through her forced grin, but could think of no way to make her tell him what was bothering her. And the fact that she was hiding something from him disheartened him.
Hoping her new mare would make her happy, he escorted her downstairs. “Look, Splendor. It’s snowing,” he said the moment they walked out of the house and saw the frosty bits drifting down from the sky. “The first snow of the year on Christmas Day. It makes one feel like smiling, don’t you agree?”
She wiped snowflakes off her lashes. “Aye.”
“Then why aren’t you smiling?”
Again, she feigned a happy smile.
Again he knew she was pretending. “I thought you liked nature.”
“I do.”
Her continuous lackluster behavior was beginning to wear down his patience, and he felt a prick of irritation. Saying nothing more to her, he led her to the stables. “Saddle the duchess’s mare, Hopkins. And make certain to use the saddle and bridle I sent down earlier.”
“Yes, Yer Grace,” Hopkins answered, his voice raw and rasping. Quickly, he led the beautiful chestnut mare out of her stall. “She’s a fine horse. Young and spirited, yet so gentle that a child could ride her. I’ve spent all mornin’ with her.” He laughed. “I feel like a lad with a new toy.”
He stroked the mare’s sleek neck, wondering when the duke and duchess were going to notice that his stutter was gone. “I hope Yer Graces can hear me all right. I’m a bit hoarse this mornin’. The bells in Mallencroft woke me up last night at midnight. I laid in bed grumblin’ about all the noise, and then I spent the rest of the night talkin’ to my dog. So many hours of one-sided conversation made me hoarse, it did at that.” Jourdian had never heard Hopkins talk so much. The man’s stutter usually kept him quiet.
The man’s stutter… What stutter?
Another wish come true, compliments of the Fairy of Heathcourte, he mused. “I imagine that anyone who suddenly lost his stutter would indulge in incessant talk.”
Hopkins grinned. “It’s gone, Yer Grace. I’ve stuttered since I first learned to talk as a child, I have, and now the stutter is gone. It’s a bloomin’ miracle.” Singing, he led the mare down the length of the barn where he and three stableboys quickly began to saddle and bridle her.
"Reverend Shrewsbury,” Jourdian murmured, still watching Hopkins. “The vicar was stuttering this morning. Did you give him Hopkins’s stutter, Splendor?”
“Aye, that is what I did.”
“Is that how fairies help people with physical maladies, by transferring the problem to someone else who deserves it?”
“Aye, that is how we do it.”
Jourdian started to nod, but stopped. “Do you mean you gave Mr. Frawley’s weak heart to someone?”
“Nay. A weak heart could kill its recipient. I would never do such a thing. Mr. Frawley was cured by another power. An almighty power who heard Mrs. Frawley’s prayers.”
“What about Ulmstead’s hair? And have you taken away the birthmarks on Tessie’s face?”
“I have not found anyone who deserves Tessie’s red marks, but Ulmstead’s bald head now belongs to—”
“Here she is, Yer Grace,” Hopkins said as he returned with the mare. After handing the duchess the reins, he left to ready Magnus.
“Your mare’s name is Autumn Fire,” Jourdian said, “which is the exact color of her coat and your hair, Splendor. I’d hoped you would like her, but you didn’t even smile when you saw her.”
“I am pleased with her.”
He saw not a single sparkle in her eyes, and her lack of enthusiasm hurt.
And angered him. He’d done everything he could think of to lift her sagging spirits, and she hadn’t responded. Well,
fine! If she wanted to continue to sulk over reasons she refused to share with him, that was just dandy with him!
He turned and walked out of the barn. “Enjoy your ride.”
“You will not ride, Jourdian?”
“I don’t believe I would enjoy the company.”
He marched toward the manor house, his anger growing with each step he took. What the bloody hell had happened to Splendor between last night and this morning?
Damn the woman for not confiding in him. For not giving him the chance to alleviate her worries. Her sadness. Her fear, or whatever the bloody hell her problem was. She’d forced him to talk about his troubles, hadn’t she? Yes, she had, but now that it was time for her to reveal the reasons for her own distress, she refused to comply!
He arrived at the house and went directly to his office, determined not to give Splendor another thought. Taking a seat in the chair behind his desk, he started to sort through a pile of business reports when a sealed letter caught his attention. The missive was sealed with a crest he recognized immediately as Percival Brackett’s. Dark foreboding slithering through him, he ripped the letter open and saw that it was dated December twenty-fourth. Yesterday.
Fury knotted his stomach as he read the lines of flowing script.
Jourdian,
I had thought to convey my best wishes to you upon the event of your wedding, but I now believe such well-wishing unnecessary. Apparently you are so enjoying matrimony that you have elected to spend more time with your bride than on your investments. Were that not so, my acquisition of the Gloucester orchards would not have been as simple to achieve.
A Merry Christmas to you and Lady Amberville.
Cordially,
Percival Brackett
Slowly, as if he could squeeze blood from the paper, Jourdian crushed the letter into a tight ball. “He got the orchards,” he fumed aloud. “From right beneath my nose, he got them!” Ramming his fingers through his hair, he bolted from his chair and stalked across the room, kicking a footstool out of his way. At the window, he felt sorely tempted to slam his fist through the sparkling pane of glass.
There was no good reason for Percival’s having acquired the lucrative fruit orchards.
None but one.
Jourdian clenched his teeth so hard that his entire head began to pound. He’d been acting the part of a besotted fool since marrying Splendor. No, since before then, he amended. Since meeting her in the meadow. Yes, from the moment he’d looked into her eyes while lying sprawled in that blasted field, he hadn’t been able to keep his mind on a single thing but her.
Thoughts of his father came to him. Memories of Barrington’s love for Isabel.
“Love,” Jourdian muttered. The very sound of the word grated in his ears and renewed his determination to keep the ruinous emotion at bay.
He took a deep breath and pushed back his shoulders. Things were going to change, he swore. Change drastically. No longer would he neglect his work, his responsibilities as the duke of Heathcourte. He’d toiled unceasingly to repair the damage his father’s obsession with Isabel had caused to the Amberville name and holdings, and he’d be damned if he would allow yet another woman to endanger them again.
As soon as Splendor returned from her ride, he would make it blatantly clear to her that she was not to disturb him in any way, shape, or form. He didn’t need her smiles, her laughter, her company, or anything else he’d been foolish enough to enjoy in the past.
He needed but one thing from her.
An heir.
Splendor reined in Autumn Fire beside a cold, bubbling stream that coursed through the woods that surrounded Heathcourte. After dismounting, she caressed the mare’s velvety ears and allowed the horse to drink of the fresh, sparkling water.
She thought about her ride. Hopkins had once told her that whenever Jourdian was upset or angry, he took Magnus out for a gallop through the countryside and the wild ride usually soothed Jourdian’s temper. In the hope that such a ride would do the same for her, Splendor had raced Autumn Fire all over Amberville land.
But she remained deeply troubled.
Dropping the reins, she glided over to a massive oak tree, and just as she sat down upon the snow-covered ground she saw a circle of flames appear above the rushing stream.
“Harmony,” she murmured when her sister materialized from within the ring of fire.
Wearing the jewel-studded satin cloak Emil had given her, Harmony neared the chestnut mare and swiftly tied the horse’s mane into countless elf knots. “Oh, that felt wonderful,” she exclaimed. “I haven’t performed a bit of mischief in… I cannot even remember!”
She waited for Splendor to scold her, but her sister remained silent. And then Harmony noticed Splendor’s tears. The diamonds glittered brilliantly upon the dazzling white of the snow.
“Well?” Splendor said, and sniffled. “Are you nay going to laugh, sing, and dance, sister? ’Tis what you always do when you see me sad.”
Harmony felt torn between good and evil. Her very nature demanded that she find happiness in Splendor’s sorrow, but another part of her—one she had only just begun to realize existed—drew forth from her a rush of concern.
“Why do you weep?” she asked, forcing herself to sound nonchalant.
A profound need to give voice to her heartache led Splendor to spill her woes. “I have conceived Jourdian’s son, and in one short month I must leave him and take the child away from him!”
“You’ve conceived? But ’tis wonderful, Splendor! The child will bring strength to Pillywiggin! I shall go inform Father immediately!”
“Wait!” Splendor shouted, flying off her spot on the ground and joining Harmony above the rippling stream. “Do not tell him, Harmony. I still have one month in the human world, but if you tell Father about the babe he will force me to return to Faerie at once! You heard what he said the day he told me I was to marry Jourdian. You heard him say that he would nay allow me to stay in the human world for any longer than was necessary!”
Harmony stared at her sister, never having seen Splendor so overwrought. “Are you saying you do not want to return to Pillywiggin?”
“Aye, that is what I am saying.”
“But why? ’Tis your home, sister! Where you belong!” Splendor turned away.
“Splendor?”
“I…I love Jourdian, Harmony, and I cannot bear the thought of ever being without him.”
At that, Harmony caught on fire again. She burned furiously for a long while before finally smothering her flames. “Will nothing ever change?” she shouted. “Will you always be the first, Splendor? The first to do, to have, and to understand everything there is to do, have, and understand?”
Spinning in the air, Splendor faced her sister again. “What are you talking about?”
“I wanted to be the first to know what love was!”
Her sister’s jealousy and anger stabbed into the last unaffected part of Splendor’s heart. A torrent of overwhelming emotions sapped every ounce of strength from her body, and she felt herself shrink and fall from the air into the sucking depths of the icy stream.
“Splendor!” Harmony cried. Cold fear nearly froze her solid, but hot determination sent her diving into the frigid creek. As soon as she felt the cold water engulf her, her magic turned her into a liquid form that enabled her to easily flow with the rushing current.
Beneath the water’s surface, she desperately sought Splendor. Down the stream she drifted, over the creek bed, and past piles of pebbles and bunches of water plants.
Endless seconds became endless minutes, and still she found no sign of her sister. Tears filled her eyes, the diamonds instantly seized from her cheeks by the swirling water.
Hope disappeared like a drop of dew attacked by a torrid sunbeam. Splendor was gone, and the profound sense of loss that clutched at Harmony’s heart at that moment nearly stopped its beat.
“Splendor,” she whispered, her whisper sending bubbles to the surface of the stream. Not
knowing what else to do, she started to emerge.
But a school of iridescent fish quickly surrounded her, nipping at her fluid form and then darting away from her. Confused by their strange behavior, Harmony watched them swim toward a mound of pebble-sprinkled sand. There they began pushing at the sand with their mouths and tails.
Harmony realized immediately that the fish were trying to tell her that Splendor was buried in the sodden sand. Her actions quicker than the rapid flow of the stream, she joined the fish and yanked her sister from the slurping silt. Holding Splendor close to her bosom, she sailed out of the splashing water.
After laying her sister on the bank of the creek, Harmony transformed herself into another sphere of fire and allowed her flames to reach out and lick at Splendor’s supine form.
The searing heat quickly revived Splendor. Gasping, she sat up and wiped away the wet hair that plastered her face.
“You stupid, balmy, ludicrous, irrational, dumber than a box of dirt ninny!” Harmony ranted. “How dare you frighten me like that! I nearly drowned trying to save you, Splendor! Had I a hint of sense, I would have left you in your underwater grave!”
Splendor quickly regained awareness and memory. “I—”
“You could have died!” Harmony shook her head in disgust. “And all because of a human! A human!”
“Jourdian,” Splendor whispered. “I love him, Harmony, and I—I have to leave him!”
“You can still see him every now and again, Splendor! You used to watch him all the time before you met him, do you nay remember that?”
“’Twouldn’t be the same. I want to live with him, and I know full well that Father would never allow such a thing.” When Splendor burst into diamond tears again, Harmony drew back her hand and slapped her sister full across the face.
“Stop that sniveling this very instant, Splendor, and listen to me!”
Shocked out of her grief, Splendor ceased to cry and gazed at her sister with an expression of bewilderment and hope.
“You are such a ninny that I am ashamed to call you ‘sister,’” Harmony snapped. “If the solution to your problem were a fire-breathing dragon, it would have leapt out and burned you to death!”
A Basket of Wishes Page 32