Wild Bells to the Wild Sky

by Laurie McBain

  "A group of village boys cornered Tristram in the stables and started a fight with him. They called him names and insulted our mother. They ganged up on Tristram and were beating him. He was only trying to defend himself. I don't know what would have happened if we hadn't come along when we did and stopped it," Lily was explaining when the heavy doors to the great hall were swung open to admit a tall, cloaked figure.

  Lily recognized that long-legged, impatient stride and felt her cheeks becoming hot with an uncontrollable blush as she stared at the quickly approaching figure.

  "Thank goodness you have returned safely. I've been worried sick about you. Looks like a blizzard brewing out there. We might be stranded here for days."

  "Simon?"

  Simon Whitelaw grinned widely as he came to stand before Lily, his black eyes full of undisguised admiration. "Lily. And, I vow, more beautiful than ever," he greeted her. Pulling off his glove, he took her cold hand in his and bowed with gentlemanly courtesy. Lily felt his breath warm against her skin as his lips just barely grazed her hand. She was surprised to feel his hand tremble slightly.

  "But where--" Lily began, looking behind him for another figure to come striding into the hall.

  "Where have I been?" he asked, misunderstanding her query. "They told us you and Tristram had gone into the village. But that was hours ago. Hartwell Barclay sent that big fellow after you, but when he didn't return, I became worried lest you'd lost a wheel off the cart or become stuck in the mud. Devil of a lane," Simon explained good-naturedly. "Ought to do something about that Master Barclay," Simon suggested, and although he addressed Hartwell courteously enough, there was an underlying lack of respect in Simon's tone of voice.

  Quinta Whitelaw had caught that tone and gave her nephew a disapproving glance. Hartwell Barclay might be a pompous fool, but it was not Simon's place to remark upon it

  "Look, Simon! Look what Tristram gave me for my birthday!" Dulcie cried, her small hand easily guiding the pup by his blue collar until he came to rest before Simon. "Sit!" she ordered and giggled when he did as he was told.

  "Well, what have we here?" Simon exclaimed, squatting down beside her and showing proper admiration for the ungainly pup. "What is his name?"

  "I don't know."

  "He must have a name, Dulcie. I've never yet met a decent dog without a proper name." Simon said so seriously that Dulcie patted the pup reassuringly.

  Dulcie frowned as she met the pup's expectant gaze. "Raphael. That is what his name is. Raphael. He'll always watch over me like one of the archangels," Dulcie sighed, pleased with her choice, and apparently Raphael was pleased too, because he yawned and stretched out at her feet. Resting his chin against his paws, he gazed up at her lovingly.

  "Ruff for short, eh, Dulcie?" Simon said with a chuckle.

  "You're silly, Simon," Dulcie admonished, a serious expression on her young face as she stared thoughtfully at her dog. "I do love this blue ribbon around Raphael's neck. Do you think we can keep it on him all the time?" she asked. "It makes him look so pretty."

  Simon shook his head regretfully. "By the time Raphael's full grown, we most likely will not be able to find a length of ribbon long enough to tie around his neck. As big as a bull this lad's going to be," Simon pronounced, eyeing the pup's big, clumsy paws and the track of mud leading from the entrance.

  "I had better go see to Tristram," Lily excused herself, starting toward the steps, but before she had reached them she turned and glanced around expectantly. "Valentine?" she asked.

  "He sailed just after Christmas. Probably somewhere off the coast of Africa by now, if you can believe what he says about the Madrigal's destination," Simon said with a conspiratorial wink. "I wanted to sail with Valentine, but my mother has such an aversion against it that I can't even bring the subject up. Even Sir William hasn't had any success convincing her that I am quite capable of making my own decisions. Besides, there is none better to be sailing with than Valentine and the Madrigal's crew. But try to convince my mother of that, and she becomes distraught. I've never seen her become so agitated. Whenever Uncle Valentine comes to call, she gets nervous. I sometimes think she suspects he is going to kidnap me and force me to serve aboard his ship," Simon said, and although he was smiling, there was a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

  "Your mother has already lost one man she loved very dearly," Quinta reminded him. "You are all she has left of Basil. And I suspect that she is more concerned about Valentine's safety than annoyed that he chose to become a privateer. She has always been very fond of him. And should she ask my opinion, I will tell her that I agree with her decision completely. And it won't do you any good to glare at me, Simon," Quinta told him. " 'Twas enough to lose Basil and now to have to worry constantly about Valentine. Had I my wishes, you would be one Whitelaw never to set foot outside of England"

  Simon sighed. What was the use in trying to convince them? "I know, Aunt Quinta, and I respect your feelings and Mother's, but I am eighteen," Simon responded. "I am a man," he added more quietly. "She, and the others"--his eyes lingered on Lily's red hair for a long moment--"should realize that."

  "How long will Valentine be away?" Lily asked curiously, trying to mask her disappointment.

  "Months. He was gone almost a year last time."

  "I haven't seen him in over two years," Lily said, her feet dragging slightly as she started up the stairs.

  "You were ill with a fever last time he was at Highcross weren't you, dear?" Artemis remembered. "Valentine was very sorry he couldn't say good-bye to you. He is very fond of you. I know he thinks of you as if you were our youngest sister," Artemis said helpfully, little realizing what a slap in the face her words were to Lily.

  "You'll be interested to know, Lily, that Valentine has for the past few years-since he rescued you from the island-been plaguing a certain Spanish captain. He's been raiding the Main, then, with a hold full of treasure, sailing to Spain, where he raids along their coast, and then do you know what he calls out for all to hear, Lily?" Simon asked, his eyes glowing with admiration.

  "Valentine says to tell Don Pedro Enrique Villasandro that Valentine Whitelaw is waiting for him. If he has the courage, he'll know where to find him. Valentine's not one to boast, and the only reason I've heard about is that people are beginning to question Don Pedro's valor, both here in England and in Spain."

  Lily paused, turning around to stare at Simon, who was grinning in satisfaction.

  "The cowardly Don Pedro, your uncle by marriage and the man who helped sink your father's ship and leave my father abandoned in the West Indies. One of these days, Lily, Valentine will send that Spanish bastard to the bottom," Simon said. "I intend to be aboard the Madrigal that day," Simon vowed.

  "Simon, really!" Quinta shook her head at such bloodthirsty sentiments.

  "You and I both, Simon," Lily said, and meeting his ardent gaze she held out her hand to him.

  Simon grasped it eagerly

  "Promise me, Simon, you won't leave me behind if you do learn something about Don Pedro," she requested of him.

  "I promise," Simon readily agreed, not even thinking how he could possibly fulfill that promise.

  Quinta shivered, feeling as though someone had walked over her grave. If only she could convince them that their seeing of vengeance would not bring them happiness. It would not bring back Basil, or Lily's mother and father. Even Valentine seemed a stranger to her when he spoke of the Spanish captain. She could only pray that his revenge against the man would not destroy him.

  "Why don't I go with you to help Tristram, Lily," Quinta offered. "Now that Maire Lester is no longer at Highcross you may need some help in tending to Tristram's injuries. I would also like to discuss her departure," Quinta said as she hooked her arm through Lily's. "Rather sudden, was it not? I had hoped to have several discussions with her concerning childbearing. She seemed a most intelligent woman."

  "Lily?"

  "Yes, Simon?"

  Simon smiled, and for an inst
ant Lily thought he looked uncomfortable. " 'Tis good to see you again," he said almost shyly.

  "I am glad to see you, too, Simon," Lily murmured, recalling the very first time she had met him. He hadn't really changed much. Undeniably, he was a handsome young man. But he was still taller than average, and thinner that most. It seemed to be a physique common to the Whitelaw family, Lily thought as she remembered how Valentine had looked climbing the mast, his muscular chest bared to the waist. Simon also had the black hair that all of the Whitelaws seemed to possess. But he had inherited Basil's black eyes, the same as Dulcie. And staring at his hawkish profile, Lily realized that she would never be able to look at Simon without thinking of Basil. She wondered sometimes if Simon truly knew how like his father he was, not only in a physical resemblance, but in the gestures he made, and in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. They had used to tease Basil about that. Maybe that was part of the reason she like Simon so much. He was almost like a brother to her, Lily thought, her smile softening as she stared down at his familiar face.

  "I look forward to dinner, when we will have a chance to talk," Simon told her, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears that it nearly deafened him and he hoped he wasn't speaking too loudly.

  "You should consider yourself quite honored, my dear," Quinta said softly, a gleam of enlightenment entering her dark eyes as she glanced between the two young people.

  Quinta Whitelaw was not the only one to notice the tender exchange of glances between the two. Hartwell Barclay stood watching them with a growing unease. He sensed what Quinta had, that Simon Whitelaw was in love with Lily. Hartwell Barclay's fingers tightened into frustrated fists by his side. In the light of the wall sconces that red hair of hers glowed like captured firelight. Over the last two years, Lily Christian had grown into a beauty. Hartwell Barclay continued to stare unblinkingly. Chewing his thumbnail, he watched the way she smiled, the way she moved. Her cloak concealed the sway of her hips, but he had watched that seductive movement enough times to be able to imagine now how they moved. And those green eyes of hers, the way they glinted so mysteriously, so provocatively from beneath those thick lashes.

  Hartwell Barclay wiped his forehead nervously. He would not allow it. Simon Whitelaw must not be allowed to marry Lily Christian. If he did, then the Whitelaws would gain control of Highcross. They had wanted to do that all along. He would never allow that to happen. He would never lose Highcross. Highcross was his-and Lily was his.

  "Shall I accompany you? I might be of some assistance," he heard Artemis call to them.

  "Where is Raphael?" Dulcie's high-pitched cry broke into his reverie.

  "Raphael! You come back here!" Dulcie called to the pup, and to Hartwell's horror he saw the dog heading toward the corner of the hall.

  "Oh, no! Raphael, don't!" Dulcie cried out.

  "Assistance? What is wrong?" Simon demanded, pulling his gaze away from Hartwell Barclay, who was hotfooting it across the hall. "You are not ill, are you, Lily?" he asked.

  "No, 'tis Tristram. He was in a fight," Lily explained, touched by Simon's concern. "He took quite a beating."

  "I'd better come along," Simon decided, but when Quinta eyed him doubtfully, he spoke defensively. "Tristram will need a man to talk to."

  "I have some salve of henbane in my trunk. I'll have that woman prepare him a posset," Artemis suggested. "The poor little lad is probably chilled to the bone after that long ride from the village."

  "That will do wonders for him. You might give her your recipe, Artemis. I really don't think she uses the proper blend of spices or enough eggs. The last one we had here wasn't near thick enough for my taste. Until she gets it cooked, you might have her fill a drinking horn with some burnt wine, 'twill help the lad sleep better. But I will find the salve, dear," Quinta called back to her. "You needn't come back upstairs. I do not think Rodger would approve of you climbing up and down the stairs so much. You must remember your condition. You would coddle Tristram too much anyway. 'Twould embarrass the poor boy. You will have plenty of time to practice in the years to come," Quinta told her, smiling down at her niece.

  Lily glanced back at the two people standing so closely together at the foot of the stairs. Sir Rodger was whispering something in her ear, must to her delight. Frowning, Lily glanced at Quinta, a questioning look in her eye.

  "Oh, my dear! You don't know! Of course you are quite outraged. Scandalous behavior, is it not?" Quinta laughed, patting Lily's arm apologetically. "You were not here when we arrived. Artemis and Sir Rodger were we this summer. She is now Lady Artemis Penmorley. Is it not wonderful? But what a surprise, I must admit. No one knew, not even I, that the two of them were so inclined. Hardly ever a glance exchanged. Such mysterious goings-on. Why, I half thought 'twould be Sir Rodger and Cordelia Howard, but the woman cannot seem to make up her mind. Now, however, I do believe that she and Valentine will we before summer next. She came to stay at Ravindzara last spring and you couldn't separate the two for longer than a second. There must indeed be some truth to the belief that spring is a time for lovers. You do remember Thomas Sandrick? Well, he married Eliza Valchamps, Sir Raymond Valchamps's sister, that same spring. Quite a good match. We attended a magnificent banquet at Sir Raymond’s estate just outside of London. Elizabeth gave him the house and land. He saved her life. I know he is not a favorite of Valentine's, but he was a very charming host. I do rather enjoy his wit. Even Elizabeth attended. There were fireworks, plays, routs, and even a masque ball. He has recently inherited a fortune from a relative, and he was very lavish in his entertainments. Even Elizabeth was impressed. Quite wonderful. Do you know it is quite extraordinary, but with all of the acquaintances Sir Raymond must have, he always finds the time to inquire about your welfare, dear. Most thoughtful, but I believe he did mention that he'd met you here at Highcross years ago and that you'd enchanted him.

  "Well, enough of that gossip. Where was I, dear? Oh, yes, we were so amazed when Sir Rodger came to us and asked to wed Artemis. Actually, 'twas Valentine he spoke to. It was most unexpected. There has been a bit of awkwardness between our families over the years, I'll not deny that. And there is a difference in religion. However, all Valentine wanted to know was if Sir Rodger loved Artemis, and, more importantly, did she love him? There was, of course, no need to question the man's antecedents. I hardly think we could find a more gentlemanly courtier in all of England. And we all know how wealthy Sir Rodger is.

  "Well, it really has been such a whirlwind. But I have never seen Artemis so happy, nor indeed, Sir Rodger," Quinta said, her words droning on in Lily's ears as Lily tried to smile; but her effort felt stiff and unnatural. "We really must have you attend Valentine's wedding if he does marry Cordelia when he returns from this voyage. Perhaps he will have less desire to leave England with a beautiful, bored wife staying behind. And with Cordelia, he will certainly have reason to worry," Quinta said, but her laughter came less easily this time.

  Valentine and Cordelia Howard to wed by summer. Cordelia had been to Ravindzara. Lily bit her lip, her knuckles whitening around the packages she held to her breast like a shield against the pain caused by Quinta's casually uttered words.

  "Are you all right Lily? You're so pale," Simon asked worriedly.

  "Why, my dear, you are shivering. Why don't you go to your bed chamber and get out of those damp clothes. Simon and I will see to Tristram," Quinta ordered, her tone of voice brooking no argument. "You need a rest after that ride. I can see that you are taking far too much upon yourself. I'll have that woman send you up a nice warming posset. There really is nothing quite like it for fighting off a chill," Quinta told her with a comforting smile.

  Pressing her hand to Lily's forehead, she frowned. "You are a bit flushed, my dear. I really must have a talk with that guardian of yours. He really should have his head examined for allowing you to ride into the village on a day as foul as this one. He has a coach, he ought to use it for more than traveling into London once a year. Now, run alo
ng, and I'll make certain you've a fire in your room. Come, Simon," Quinta said as Simon continued to stand gazing after Lily. "I swear, sometimes this place is as cold as the grave" Quinta added uneasily as she glanced back at Lily's lone figure disappearing along the shadowy corridor.

  We have heard the chimes at midnight.

  SHAKESPEARE

  Chapter Sixteen

  THE STORMS OF FEBRUARY blew into March with a vengeance and proved false the old proverb:

  If Candlemas Day be fair and bright,

  Winter will have another flight,

  If on Candlemas Day it be shower and rain,

  Winter is gone and will not come again.

  It had been a chilling ride to the parish church on Candlemas Day to offer up candles in honor of the Virgin Mary. A fortnight into February, lightning struck the steeple of the church and burned it down to the square tower. And even the grumbling cook at Highcross had been anxious to rise from her cold bed and stir the banked fire in the great hearth of the kitchens for the preparation of the traditional pancakes on Shrove Tuesday.

  The narrow lane between Highcross and East Highford became impassable except on foot or horseback, and the waters of Little Highford threatened to rise above its banks. It had been with cold, stiff fingers on St. Valentine's Eve that Lily had written upon a billet Valentine Whitelaw's name and tucked it safely away inside her bodice. And shivering with the other maidens of the village, she had carried a garland of flowers, sweet herbs, and ribbons before the casket of the shoemaker's unmarried sister, certain her fate, too, was to die an old maid. Throughout the forty days of Lent, the Candlemas-eve winds continued to bring the icy rains of winter.

  Lengten-tide had been a long time coming, but finally it was spring, and already the days of April were becoming warmer and longer as they stretched toward summer. That afternoon had been uncommonly warm, and Lily had unlatched the window in her bedchamber for the first time in months. The soft breeze caressed her while she poured the steaming water Tillie had brought up from the kitchens into the large, wooden tub. With care, she measured a couple of drops of rose oil into the water. the rising steam carried the heady scent on an aromatic cloud throughout the chamber.