The Chocolatier's Wife

by Cindy Lynn Speer

  “Well, if that’s the best he can come up with,” William muttered. Tasmin glared at him.

  “But that is for another night. I know someone who is going to be very, very sorry this night.”

  He sighed and slipped his mask back on. Tasmin picked up the cap, shook it, and put it on his head. “Will you dance with me, anyway, my dear?” he asked, straightening it.

  “I suppose I might as well. The better to see what harm you managed to do yourself since last we met.”

  He led her onto the floor, bowed to her, then took her hand in his and began the dance. “You knew! How did you know? I told Ayers... ”

  “To avoid me. You cannot fool me, sir, I know you. I know you in my bones.”

  “I have no idea if I should be delighted or terrified.”

  “Try determined to be more careful.” She looked around when he spun her, located Lavoussier, then turned back to William. “I thought I would die when he went after you and you were not yet, well, you.”

  He spun her again, and then pulled her close. “Do you know what happens in just five days?”

  “Let me guess. The world ends? Dolphins fly over the town?”

  He glared at her, fidgeted in place as she walked slowly around him. “If you can’t remember, then I suppose it’s not that important,” he said lightly.

  Step to the left. “Perhaps I am worried that you might still send me home, and am determined not to place my hopes?”

  His hands were on her waist, and they stepped closer to each other. When others stepped away, they stepped closer again. “How could I send you away? After all, you know me, if not in your heart, at least in your bones.”

  “Let us go somewhere where you can shed that ridiculous mask,” she whispered, and he led her off the floor.

  The garden was too cold for most people to attempt, so there they found relative privacy. She pulled the fur of her mantle closer, regretting the fact that though her skirt was many layers, the wind was able to get through them because the cloth was floaty and fine. The cold lights bobbed in the trees and lined the railings. He went to the bridge and looked closely, finding a space where a cold light belonged, then carefully removed one from his copious pockets and returned it.

  She laughed. “Are you mad? I mean, truly?”

  “I am not ready for bedlam yet.” He took her hand and led her into a dance along the path. “Have I told you how utterly perfect you look tonight?”

  She removed his mask and set it on the edge of the bridge, then slipped her arm through his. He jingled softly as he moved with her, and she found herself enjoying just being with him, even though she was still a little displeased.

  “Have I told you that if I am supposed to keep an eye on someone so you can sneak off and get yourself into trouble that I like to know it? Will you never tell me things ahead of time?”

  He gave her a gentle smile and said, “But as a husband, I must protect my wife from all dangers. I did not wish you to be implicated.”

  “Apparently I am. He looked ready to clap me in irons. But why worry about protecting me? You have nothing to prove and we must work together, William.”

  “I do have things to prove.” He turned her so her back was against his chest, his cheek to hers. “You may still leave. Many women would be overjoyed to have the chance to escape their marriage.”

  “Do you really think so?” She did not believe it. No one wanted to be alone, and most lived for the idea, dreamed for it, that they would be wed.

  “I am beginning to believe so, yes.”

  “Would you take this way out? Would you have me go? Would you be sad if I did?”

  “No, no, and I do not think I could bear it.”

  “Because of duty,” she said, pulling away and turning, spinning until she was as far as their arms would allow.

  “If I were a man for duty, my sweet, we would not have the troubles we do now.” She spun back, her chest to his.

  “You are sad,” she said, frowning. “At first you were relieved, even a bit victorious. But now you are unhappy. Have I made you so? I would not go, I promise.”

  “That makes me quite happy,” he said.

  “Then tell me?”

  He sighed, and said, “Do you know the saying about those who listen at doors hearing things they would rather not?”

  She nodded, swaying with him to the music.

  “The same holds true for those who rifle through desks. Please, let us leave it at that.” He kissed her temple, and then rested his jaw against it. “It is our first Magister’s Ball. I have a beautiful woman in my arms, and when midnight comes I shall be allowed to unmask her. Let us enjoy it, and not think of sadness.”

  She smiled. “I know how to get to the choir balconies, above the dance floor.”

  “We could pinch some food from the buffet. It will be warmer there; despite the fact the place is open to the sky.”

  “Actually, ‘tis quite sheltered for the singers. And no one else can get up there, as long as we are careful that they do not see.”

  So it was, after they made themselves plates and William concealed glasses, and wine, and treats in his pockets, she led him to the place behind the thrones, placing her hand against part of the wall. She pushed her thoughts into the ice, unlocking the crystals so that the door to the upper gallery could be pushed aside and then shut again.

  The gallery was warmer, and they emptied his cloak’s pockets and lay it on the snowy balcony floor, huddling under her cloak for warmth. After awhile she ended up in his lap, for the cloak would not otherwise easily cover them both, and he leaned against the side of the gallery to support his back. They could easily see, through the ice wrought vines and flowers, the people below, but they could not be seen. For the first time, ever, they were able to sit and talk, truly talk, not of the problems they were trying to solve, but of their lives. He asked her questions and listened to the answers, responded, and then asked about other things.

  “I have never felt so thoroughly listened to in all my life.” She fed him a little piece of cake.

  “Nor I. I hope we shall be able to do this often, but hopefully in front of a fire. Ah, look, there is Lavoussier.”

  She grinned. “We could drop bones on him.”

  “My dear, a businessman of my standing would never resort to such a thing. Besides, you’ll find the peach pits easier to aim.”

  She laughed and buried her face against his neck just as the clock tolled midnight. There was a cheer as people unmasked and were kissed.

  He reached up and undid the ribbons that held her mask in place and slipped it off. “Exactly whom I was hoping to see.” He kissed her then, as the palace of ice echoed with laughter and cheering.

  Chapter 22

  Junair 7th,

  Gold Mn. Qtr. 1792

  Dear Tasmin,

  I have decided that I tire of the sea, and have settled again in my home city. Since I still need some occupation, I have decided to open a chocolate shop. No, not a confectionery, but a place strictly for chocolate.

  As you know, I have seen it prepared many ways on my travels, but I have also collected books of recipes, molds, and paraphernalia. I think that it shall make people happy, an idea that I quite like, and it shall make a good profit for us. The work shall not be too taxing for either of us, and I believe that you will find that mixing chocolate is not that different from your herbs and potions. Of course, since I have set upon this desire without asking you, you may choose another way to occupy your time. I shall support you utterly in any choice you make, as I hope you will support me.

  Yours,

  William

  Light day dawned bright and soft. Tasmin opened her eyes slowly, looking out the window over Cecelia’s shoulder. The sun was coppery gold, so intense that she had to shut her eyes for a moment against it. Cecelia snored on like a
hibernating baby bear, just as she had been when Tasmin had finally tiptoed into her room in the very early morning hours. Five hours of sleep seemed hardly enough, now that she was trying to convince herself she would be happier out of her warm bed than in it, and she turned over and snuggled into her pillow again.

  Below, someone dropped a pan, and the snoring stopped abruptly. Tasmin decided to pretend she was asleep.

  A huge yawn, a sigh, and then, “If you had gotten to your bed at a proper time, you would not be suffering so now.” A nudge to her back, not too gentle, destroyed the notion that she might be able to pretend to sleep.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, dear, I’m sure you just lost track of time.” All innocence, Tasmin was.

  “I have no sense of humor this time of the morning.” Cecelia leapt out of bed, taking the covers to the floor.

  “I agree!” Tasmin jumped up, the cold like the biting of foxes, and beat Cecelia to the chamber pot.

  As they dressed, Cecelia asked, “What are the Light Day services like, here? Are they overly long?”

  “That is hardly a politic question. I must wonder if they are very short, where you come from.”

  “Where I come from, the observance is a morning of fasting at home, in remembrance of those who died in the great battle, then an afternoon of feasting and celebration to commemorate God smacking sense into all and ending it.”

  “Gods smite, dear, they don’t smack. And I don’t recall any of either being involved.”

  “Of course there was! Men only listen to violence and pain. Especially back then.”

  “You have a point.” She wiggled into her corset, and Cecelia came and tightened the cords. “To answer your question, we will leave for the observances, listen to the speech prepared by the new Bishop, pray for the new year to be a kind one, then come home and spend time in contemplation, much like your people, and then we shall finally get to feast and exchange presents.”

  “May we sit together? I will nudge you if you fall asleep.”

  “I shall be honored, but I am certain that the speech will be a stirring reminder of our duties to God and each other and an adjuring that we use this new year as an opportunity to become better people.”

  “William will be so pleased.”

  “Let me get that.” Tasmin tightened Cecelia’s laces, tying them neatly. “You are quite right. We should sit near William so we can watch him fidget. He’s a man, so he will have to stand the whole time.”

  A maid came to the door with a reminder that they had to leave for the cathedral soon, so they stopped teasing and hurried. Tasmin dressed herself in green wool with pale green jacquard facings on the jacket and cuffs. It was not exactly the thing to wear, but if she was to sit on a block of ice for two to three hours, she was determined to be warm. Cecelia wore a sunflower gold dress with black cord decoration, and as they walked out of the house to join the rest of the family, Tasmin felt as if she was half of a rather striking pair.

  “There can be no help for it, but they must be kept separate. William, stand on this side of the gathering, Tasmin will stay on that side. As long as the main body of the family acts as a separator, all should be well.” Henriette’s voice was sharper than the early morning air. Cecelia nudged Tasmin, who was trying not to laugh at how silly such care seemed, especially considering where she had spent most of the party last night. Tasmin sought William out with her eyes alone. He wore the same blue clothes he’d worn the first time she’d seen him outside of jail, and she thought he looked very nice, straight and tall and very blue-eyed, if also very solemn. He winked at her from behind his mother’s back. She coughed into her mittened hand to cover a smile and joined the procession at the back, arm in arm with Cecelia. From then on, she knew, she and William would act the polite strangers. She could tell that Henriette didn’t like the fact that Cecelia had such a place of honor, that was certain, but unmarried women were allowed to have a companion, a chaperone and close friend who was also a servant, so that the lady need never be alone.

  Behind them the rest of the family’s servants, along with Ayers, trailed. Someone started singing the “Dirge of the Dark,” which, when done well—and the man, whomever he was, had a very bardic voice—was an exciting tale of the last battle before the Lord of Light came and prevented the races from destroying each other.

  Henriette and Justin walked arm in arm. Though there was a formality to them, always, you could see that there was also a bond between them, and it gave Tasmin much more hope for her future with William than looking at Bonny, who was trying to keep space between herself and her husband, despite being on his arm, while Andrew gently steered her around ice puddles and held her arm as if it were something precious and delicate. There was no sense, really, in comparing relationships. They are what they are, made according to experience.

  The night before, the palace had been a place of romance and magic. Today it had changed. Pews had raised up across the floor, religious symbols and friezes now decorated the walls, and the twin thrones had become an altar. As they entered through the tall doors purposely frozen open at an angle so that only two could go through them at a time, Tasmin saw her aunt and the others at the back. Her aunt gave her a quick smile before focusing on William, obvious for who he was since he was the only one who walked in by himself of the group.

  “Who is that?” Cecelia whispered.

  “My aunt. She and those with her made this place.”

  “They have great magic,” Cecelia said in awe. “Will they stay long?”

  “Traditionally, the town only pays for them to stay until noon, when the observances are over and they change this place back a little for the final ball. My aunt may stay until my wedding, but the rest will probably move on.”

  She took a seat next to Henriette, Cecelia on the end. Henriette glared at William, who accidentally managed to get himself situated behind Tasmin. “Don’t look so, Mother. Father stands behind you, Andrew behind his wife. ‘Tis only fitting I take my place here.”

  Cecelia tugged on his arm, and he bent over to hear her whisper for just his and Tasmin’s benefit, “What will she complain about when you two are finally wed?” He laughed, his cheek brushing Tasmin’s for a second as he straightened.

  I am happy, she thought with a bit of amazement, as the new Bishop, an earnest looking young man, rose and went to the altar.

  He had no scrip, no book. He gave everyone a calm smile.

  “I am Bishop Augustine Darrow, and my ship settled in to port but an hour ago. My voyage, like the voyage of any life, was filled with hardship. Toil that seemed to be for nothing; pain, and suffering, and loss. But here I am, exactly where I am supposed to be, in my appointed time. Proof, indeed, that if we let our lives be dictated by the Lord’s will, we shall find ourselves precisely where we should be. All we need is patience, and faith. Now, let us pray the prayer that King Alistair prayed on the day of the Last Battle.”

  Tasmin took a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing her mind not to wander, but to concentrate on the prescribed words. She could hear the low rumble of William’s voice behind her. Beside her Cecelia spoke softly. The prayer in her land must have been slightly different, for she stumbled as if trying to guess the words, so that Tasmin found herself praying the more slowly, so that her friend would be able to take cues from her voice.

  “It was darkness that brought me here,” the young Bishop said, “but it will be light that helps me to remain.”

  “Amen,” Tasmin said fervently, and William squeezed her shoulders.

  It did not take them long to return home after that, and Tasmin regretted it in a way, for they retired to the parlor to all sit in quiet contemplation.

  “You are welcome to join us,” she said softly to Cecelia, “or you can use the fact you aren’t actually a relation as an excuse to slip away. No sense in both of us being bored out of our minds.”
/>   “Do you mind? It’s not as if we can talk.”

  “I think you should retire to my room and sew something. I know there must be some mending that cannot wait another second,” she said with a smile, and watched as Cecelia bowed and quickly left.

  William was stripping his gloves off and putting them on the table next to the door. Their eyes met in the mirror, and he gave her a comforting smile. Her reply was a sigh as she went into the parlor.

  The only seats were on the sofa between the two women, a chair by the door, or a rocking chair by the window. She took the rocking chair, even though it had no padding, with a grateful heart. There were two chairs and the sofa arranged around the fire, and the other men had taken the fireside seats.

  William followed her in and settled into the chair by the door, looking thoughtful. They all let the silence take them over, the room filled with the bittersweet scent of wood smoke and the crackle of the fire. She wondered how she would avoid feeling sleepy, for the room, while not precisely toasty, was warm enough, especially in the current outfit she wore, and she felt her head wanting to bob.

  “In the North, I hear,” William said, “they discuss things during this time, family member to family member, so that contemplation is not just a self-centered thing, but a chance to bring thoughts and worries out into the open and see others’ perspectives.”

  “How very interesting. Pity we are not in the North,” Justin said in his raspy, rarely used voice.

  There was a long pause, and silence settled again. Tasmin thought that Justin had succeeded in silencing William, which she thought was rather sad. Her thoughts went wandering again.

  “Very well, since I am not going to be allowed to ease into this, I must ask my dear sister-in-law most directly, if you knew the chocolates you were delivering to the Bishop were poisoned, or if you were just duped into being the delivery boy because you fancy yourself in love with Lavoussier?”