by Jody Hedlund
With her hand on the door handle, Grandmother paused. For a moment I thought she’d let my glib comment pass without response. But then she pivoted slowly, as though in thought, and narrowed her eyes at me. “Tread carefully, Sabine. Sources tell me that this family is not pleased with having to part with their collection. They are in fact rather disheartened at having to sell any of the art. You would be wise to be sensitive to their situation. Do not appear overly eager. In fact, I suggest that you refrain from any mention of purchasing items until after they have had the chance to get to know you and see for themselves that you are trustworthy.”
Grandmother’s words sobered me. If the situation had been reversed—if I had to give up anything from among my collection of artwork and relics—I surely would have wept until I drowned in my tears. The mere thought of having to part with any one of my treasures would have sent me to the brink of despair. What must the Windsor family be feeling at this moment?
“You’re right as usual, my lady. As difficult as it shall be, I’ll attempt to restrain my enthusiasm as I browse among the exhibits.”
“You will stay silent about your purchase considerations until they know you better?”
“I shall endeavor so—”
“You will refrain from silly, nonsensical comments and instead be charming?”
“Now, Grandmother, that might be asking too much.” I winked.
She snorted as though in agreement and swung open the door.
I followed her into the hallway and hastened to fall into step next to her. In her ebony velvet gown, trimmed in golden embroidered leaves, she was stately. She held herself tall with an inner strength I’d always admired. After losing so many people she’d loved—first her husband, then both of her sons—I would have expected the weight of all the loss to bend her. But somehow, through the years, she’d remained unbreakable.
I’d been too young at the time to remember the passing of my mother and too distant from my father to feel the effect of his death. He’d been gone quite often from our home, serving on the king’s court. The rare times he’d come home, he’d been formal and aloof, a stranger. When he’d died, I hadn’t cried, not even once. I’d been sad, but only because I grieved over the love I’d never had from him and now never would know.
Without Grandmother—and her constancy, firmness, and unswerving determination to always make the best of a situation—I’m not sure what would have become of me. I was grateful to have had her love, along with her model of courage. She’d held me in good stead in recent years. And I had no doubt she would continue to do so as long as I had need. For all her talk of trying to find a husband and pass me off onto someone else, she’d rue losing me as much as I would her.
Thankfully for both of us, I wasn’t planning on leaving her anytime soon.
As if to seal our kindred spirits, our footsteps echoed in rhythm down the long, dimly lit passageway. I lifted a hand to the strand of pearls and fingered them. Through the thin, silky layer of my glove, the beads were as smooth as the finest mink fur. “Thank you for allowing me to wear the pearls, my lady.”
“I am not merely allowing you to wear them,” she replied. “I am giving them to you. They are yours now.”
“Grandmother, I couldn’t accept them,” I started to protest.
She waved her hand and cut me off. “Nonsense. I have been waiting for the right moment to give them to you. I decided tonight is the perfect time.”
I knew I should continue my objection. But I was much too thrilled with the gift to genuinely argue with her or to try to decipher why she thought tonight of all nights was perfect. Instead I linked my arm into hers and squeezed. “You’re a dear.”
“That is utter nonsense too.” But a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Now just make sure you leave on your gloves.”
I TAPPED MY FINGERS ON THE TABLE AND FOUGHT BACK MY irritation. In the hallway leading to the kitchen, I could see the servants waiting to deliver our meal. Their faces were damp with perspiration and flushed from the stifling heat that radiated from the kitchen. The delectable aromas of the food wafted toward us regardless of the wait, tantalizing the guests with sage, onion, rosemary, and a dozen other scents mingled together.
The cook’s angry, booming voice called to the servants from the kitchen every few minutes. Cook likely had several courses timed to perfection, and due to the lateness of our guests, parts of the meal would now be either charred or too cold.
“My lady,” I whispered under my breath to Mother. “How am I to impress her with a meal that will soon be inedible?”
Just then the doors at the far end of the great hall opened wide, and Mother touched my arm to silence me. The older woman I’d met earlier, Lady Sherborne, entered first, her chin lifted, her shoulders straight, her luxurious gown trailing behind her as a sign of her wealth and status.
Out of respect, I pushed away from the table and stood. I was surprised to find that my breath stuck as I waited for the appearance of my bride-to-be, the young woman who would be the savior of Maidstone. I couldn’t deny that I’d wondered what she’d look like, that I’d prayed she would be pretty, that I’d hoped she would be someone I could admire. I’d bargained with God, telling him that if I was willing to go through with this scheme, the least he could do was reward my good deeds with a beautiful woman.
But even as I held my breath, a warning sounded at the back of my mind, reminding me that a beautiful and wealthy young woman would already have had dozens of proposals and wouldn’t be considering marriage to a man in my situation.
I braced myself for the worst, my body tensing in fear of what I would see.
Several long seconds later, the young woman entered through the double doors and started down the aisle after Lady Sherborne. A slender, somewhat tall girl. The brown of her hair wasn’t remarkable; neither was the dull color of her eyes. But her facial features were normal, with a slender nose and high cheekbones. She had a determined set to her lips and moved with graceful purpose. Other than the dusting of freckles on her face, I didn’t see any other major flaws.
I couldn’t keep from releasing an audible sigh of relief. Perhaps she wasn’t a stunning beauty like Mother. But at least she wasn’t pockmarked or grotesquely deformed. If I must have an arranged marriage, then at least I wouldn’t abhor this woman’s appearance.
I walked around the head table and approached the aisle. Mother followed closely behind. “Smile, Bennet,” she whispered. “Try to look pleased.”
Lady Sherborne came to a halt in front of me, and I forced my lips into what I hoped was my most charming smile. “Lady Sherborne, welcome again to Maidstone.” She sniffed and then stepped aside to wait for her granddaughter to approach.
The young woman coming down the aisle didn’t seem to be paying the least bit of attention to me. Rather, she was studying the stained glass window that graced the wall behind the head table. It depicted the martyrdom of Saint Vincent of Saragossa. She seemed to be reading the story told in the colorful pieces of sapphire and crimson glass.
“Lady Sabine,” my mother said from my side. “May I introduce you to my son, Sir Bennet Windsor?”
Even though Lady Sabine had stopped in front of us, her attention was still fixated on the stained glass. Her grandmother cleared her throat loudly.
“Do you have the other window?” Lady Sabine tore her gaze away and managed to land it upon me.
Her question caught me off guard. How did she know that there were originally two windows? “Unfortunately, my lady, I only have one, although I’ve searched far and wide for the other.”
“Yes, that is unfortunate.”
Her grandmother again cleared her throat and caught Lady Sabine’s gaze with a stern one. Lady Sabine formed a rather stiff smile and turned toward Mother. “Pardon my manners, your ladyship. As you were saying . . .”
Mother swept her gaze over me as though trying to direct Lady Sabine’s attention back to me. “This is my son, Sir Bennet.�
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I started to bow, but then stopped short at the sight of her pearls, at the strange bluish sheen. Surely it was just the way the light fell upon them. They couldn’t really be blue pearls, not when blue pearls were one of the rarest treasures in the entire world. If they were indeed that hue, then someone must have covered the pearls with a glossy varnish.
“I’m pleased to meet you, sir.” Lady Sabine gave me a cursory glance before her attention darted to the reliquary bust of Saint Yrieix positioned on a pedestal beneath the stained glass window.
I was accustomed to women doing a bit more fawning over me—at the very least looking at me with some appreciation. I wasn’t used to being almost completely ignored, and I didn’t know what to do next.
I glanced at my mother for her advice. She cocked her head toward Lady Sabine, and although I didn’t understand her silent message completely, I knew she was urging me to show the lady some courtesy and attention.
“I’m delighted to make your acquaintance,” I said, reaching for her hand. She wore long gloves that reached to her elbows. Nevertheless, I raised her fingertips to my lips and pressed a kiss against them.
She rapidly withdrew her hand and circled it behind her back, out of reach. Her already pale face turned a lighter shade, making her freckles more pronounced.
I straightened, my uncertainty growing. It seemed this woman not only found me unattractive, she also found my touch reprehensible. I could feel the grandmother’s censure upon me, once again warning me to charm the young woman. Mother’s elbow nudged into my ribs, reminding me of the same.
“Lady Sabine, I would be honored to have your presence beside me at the banquet tonight.”
“Very well, sir,” she replied, her tone resigned, as if I’d asked her to join me in mucking the stables rather than dining at an elaborate feast. I held out my arm, hoping she’d take it as the sign to join me. She hesitated a moment, but finally, very lightly, hooked her hand into the crook of my arm, allowing me to escort her to a seat next to mine.
“I promise to try not to bore you over much this evening,” I said as I helped push in her chair.
“That’s a relief to hear.” She replied with such seriousness, I didn’t know how to respond. As if sensing my confusion, she smiled. “I wish I could promise you the same, but I shamelessly admit that boredom is my surname. In fact, you should know that I answer to the name Lady Boring.”
As she spoke, her eyes lit with mischief that turned her irises into a symmetrical design of browns and greens. I again caught the glimmer of her pearls, but forced myself not to look at them. I certainly didn’t want her to think I was in pursuit of her wealth and money—even though technically I was.
“You’re in luck,” I said as I lowered myself into the chair next to her and nodded to the servants to begin bringing us the meal. “I tend to bore most of my friends with my mundane conversations. At least that’s what they tell me. So perhaps we shall get along quite nicely.”
“Or we shall simply put each other to sleep.”
I chuckled. “I shall endeavor not to put you to sleep, my lady. Therefore, please tell me what topics cause you to yawn the most. Then I shall do my best to avoid them.”
“You’re too kind, sir.” The mischievous glimmer in her eyes made the green and brown fan out into another fascinating but lovely pattern. “You’ll be safe if you avoid talking about the nesting habits of migrating terns. And also if you evade any mention of the secondary fermentation process of mead. I’ve recently had lengthy discussions about each and feel as though any more talk on such matters will be dangerous to my health. Although I may be open to a short discourse on the primary fermentation process, if you’re so inclined.”
I could only stare at her, completely speechless. Except for the spark in her eyes, her expression was serious.
“Other than those two topics,” she continued, “you have little chance of boring me.”
“Thanks for the fair warning,” I finally said. “As much as I’ve been wanting to discuss the nesting habits of terns, I’ll do my best to refrain.”
Her smile broke free, lighting up her face and making her almost pretty. “I thought it would be difficult to stay away from such an exotic topic, so I do appreciate your efforts.”
“I’m at your service, my lady.” I liked her wittiness and found myself rising to the challenge to join in the banter. “Perhaps you’d rather listen to my soliloquy on the architectural deficiencies of Norman-style castle foundations.”
“That sounds incredibly captivating.”
“Or we could discuss the ancient attempts to make gold by combining cinnabar, sulphur, arsenic sulphide, salt, chalk, and oyster shells. Did you know when this mixture is thrown onto mercury, it has the propensity to transmute that metal into gold?”
Her smile widened in clear appreciation of my carrying on the exchange. “I suppose you’d like to show me all of the gold you’ve made as a result of your alchemy?”
“I would be delighted to do so, but it’s still in the invisible state.”
She laughed then, a lovely sound that warmed my insides. The tension I’d been feeling all day eased from my muscles, and I relaxed in my chair. Perhaps spending time with this woman over the next few days wouldn’t be as difficult as I’d initially imagined.
A servant approached and poured warmed spiced mead into our goblets. Lady Sabine took a sip, swished the liquid around as though testing it before swallowing. She gave a contented “Um-hmm” that pleased me, since I’d instructed Cook try a new mead recipe today just for the occasion.
I took a sip as well, savoring the blend of cloves and nutmeg. The spices were rare and expensive, a luxury we wouldn’t have much longer. If spices were the least of what we stood to lose, I’d be happy. But I knew so much more was at stake, and I couldn’t ruin this opportunity to rectify all of our problems.
As dinner progressed, I became even more pleased at the ease of sharing conversations with Lady Sabine. I discovered that she could talk about almost any subject with knowledge and detail that surpassed my own, which was rare but certainly not unwelcome.
“I have to admit,” I said after the third course of frumenty, lampreys in hot sauce, and a jelly made in the shape of a lion. “I’ve been admiring your pearl necklace. Whoever painted the faux blue did an almost perfect job. The pearls appear authentic.”
She fingered the jewels through the gloves she hadn’t discarded, even during the messiest parts of the meal. “They appear authentic because they are.”
My hand froze halfway to my mouth, the spoonful of jelly wiggling in suspension. I couldn’t keep from staring open-mouthed at the pearls. “You cannot be serious.”
“I’m very serious,” she said softly.
“Real blue pearls?”
“As real as can be.”
The beads glistened around her neck in the light of the flickering torches that lined the hall, and I was tempted to reach out and touch them.
But again, as I had throughout dinner, I felt her grandmother’s calculated eyes upon me, watching my every move, testing me, and ultimately determining my fate. If I touched them, the grandmother would surely think I was calculating their worth. But I was more awestruck by the rarity and beauty of them than the monetary value—which was likely astronomical.
Lady Sabine fidgeted with the handle of her goblet, turning it around and around. “Now that I think about it, I probably shouldn’t have worn something so fancy to dinner. It must appear that I’m flaunting my money . . .”
Her honesty took me by surprise. “Don’t worry, my lady—”
"It’s just that I couldn’t resist when Grandmother pulled them out tonight and gave them to me as a gift. They mesmerized me.”
“Think nothing of it,” I assured her. “It gives me great pleasure to see something so rare and beautiful.” But even as I feasted my eyes upon the necklace, I couldn’t help but wonder if Lady Sherborne had purposefully given Lady Sabine the blue pearls tonight to
make a statement to me about their wealth and all that could soon be mine if I won Lady Sabine’s heart.
I almost guffawed at the notion. Lady Sherborne had no need to try to entice me to marry Lady Sabine. I was already desperate enough, with or without the blue pearls as part of the bargain. Unless Lady Sherborne was worried that I wouldn’t want to marry Lady Sabine. But why would she worry about that?
Lady Sabine might not be a ravishing beauty, but she was pleasant enough. Surely she’d had other offers of marriage, other noblemen interested in her. If anyone needed to worry about whether the arrangement would be fulfilled, or if anyone needed to impress the other, it was me.
My mind scrambled to find some way to indeed impress Lady Sabine. I had so little to speak of. Clearly, she wasn’t overly taken with my looks. What else did I have?
I snapped my finger with a sudden idea and pushed back from the table. “Come,” I said, standing and holding out my hand to her. “If you like rare jewels, then I have some others you may enjoy seeing.”
She practically jumped to her feet, her eyes widening in eagerness. “I’ll only go if you absolutely insist.”
I held out the crook of my arm to her. “Then I absolutely insist.”
She took hold of me. “As you can tell, I’m terribly hard to persuade.”
“Yes, I shall endeavor to beg a little longer next time.”
Her lips curved into a pleased smile, and I couldn’t keep from grinning in return. Before I could analyze what about her made me smile, a side door of the great hall nearest the buttery banged open.
“Where is she?” came a slurred shout.
My heart sank into a chasm of despair. Aldric. I knew it was him even before he stepped out of the dark hallway and into the light of the great hall. His hair was long and disheveled, his garments filthy and wrinkled, and his face mottled beneath the overgrown beard and mustache.
“Where did you take her?” Aldric shouted again as he stumbled in the fresh rushes. His voice echoed off the stone walls, cutting off the laughter and conversations of the guests as swiftly as a sword cutting into flesh. His voice was anguished and his severely bloodshot eyes were panicked. I wanted to be angry with him, but only pity welled up within me.