“So do you,” Telaine said, not exaggerating. The dark red of the dress and the black of her hair set off Aunt Weaver’s youthful skin. Telaine again had the strangest feeling she’d seen her before. Someone she’d seen at a distance, perhaps? The Princess had a hundred “friends,” enough that Telaine might find dozens of people who resembled them. Maida looked like Elizabeth d’Arden, for heaven’s sake.
Past the crowd, Blythe Bradford’s father stood at the far side of the clearing. The townspeople had left a space, big enough for Eleanor and her children, minus Trey, to stand in a semicircle behind Mister Bradford. Next to them was a thin, dark woman Telaine didn’t know, who had to be Blythe’s mother. She and Eleanor were talking; from the stiff way Eleanor stood, Telaine guessed she wasn’t all that fond of Mistress Bradford, and Mistress Bradford responded to Eleanor’s conversation so tersely it looked as if the feeling was mutual. Unfortunate, if the two families had to meet often socially.
More townspeople were joining the crowd, chatting quietly, calling out to corral or silence children, but no one spoke to Telaine, and she shifted her weight, uncomfortable for the first time in many weeks. She felt like an invisible observer dropped into Longbourne, a witness and not a participant. She began to say something to Aunt Weaver, thinking if she spoke, she might feel less disconnected, but Aunt Weaver was talking to one of her many knitting circle friends. Telaine felt awkward breaking into the conversation when she had no idea what she wanted to say.
A pure, beautiful note rang out over the clearing. It seemed to come from everywhere at once, rich and full as if they were in a concert hall and not outdoors. It was so beautiful Telaine didn’t at first realize that voices around her were harmonizing with it, building to a chord that made her feel as if she were inside a symphony. Then she wondered, nervously, if she should join in. She was a terrible singer and would ruin the effect, but suppose this was something expected, something part of the marriage ceremony?
Just as she’d determined she should at least try, the high note ended, and the rest of the chord tapered off, not discordantly but deliberately beautiful. Silence pressed down, broken only by a cough and the wail of a baby, cut short. Then the crowd moved, rippling, dividing in half as if an earth mover were plowing a furrow through the clearing, pushing people to both sides. Telaine ended up separated from Aunt Weaver, standing by herself in a knot of people she didn’t know well, and tried not to feel abandoned.
A murmur went up at the far end of the crowd, and soon Telaine saw Trey and Blythe, pacing hand in hand down the aisle formed by the divided crowd, their eyes fixed on Mister Bradford. Trey wore a gray vest and trousers and a shirt as white as his mother’s efforts could make it. Blythe’s dress was a pale green wool that was a perfect replica of Elizabeth d’Arden’s fashion-setting gown. Nice work, Josephine. Blythe wore a circlet of autumn leaves in her dark hair and was radiant. Trey looked happy and a bit stunned.
They stood before Mister Bradford, still clasping hands. “We’re here to celebrate the joining of these two young people,” he announced, “and the joining of Trey Richardson to the Bradford line. Does anyone dispute?” Silence. Mr. Bradford extended his hand to grasp Trey’s right wrist, and Trey followed suit. “Trey Richardson, do you of your own free will give up all claim to the Richardson name, to take the name of Bradford to yourself and your children?”
“I do,” said Trey.
Tears were running down Eleanor’s face. Telaine felt a pang of sympathy for her. With the Bradfords having only one child, it made sense for Trey to adopt into their family, but it still couldn’t be easy for her to feel like she was losing her son as he gave up the family bond he’d been born with.
“Join hands,” Mister Bradford said, and Blythe took Trey’s right hand in her left. Telaine hadn’t realized Trey was left-handed. “Blythe Bradford,” Mister Bradford said, and stopped. When he spoke again, his voice sounded rough with tears. “Blythe Bradford, do you take Trey Bradford as your husband, father of your children and strong left hand for all your days?”
“Yes,” Blythe said. If she had been radiant before, now she out-glowed every one of the lights above her head.
“Trey Bradford, do you take Blythe Bradford as your wife, mother of your children and strong right hand for all your days?”
“Yes,” said Trey, sounding certain and strong.
“Then exchange rings, and your heart’s oaths.”
Blythe took Trey’s right hand and slid a ring that glinted, starlike, onto his middle finger. “Trey, I swear to be the strength to your weakness, now and for the rest of my life.”
Trey took Blythe’s left hand and said, “I’m yours, Blythe, strength to your weakness to the end of my days.” He slid a ring down her middle finger, then held her hand. Gold and silver shone.
“Do you gathered here witness these vows?” called Mister Bradford.
“YES!” roared the crowd. Telaine, caught off guard, remained silent. It’s not as if I’m one of them, she thought, and was surprised at how painful the thought was.
“Then as patriarch of the Bradford line, I declare this marriage sworn and sealed!”
The crowd cheered and shouted again, even more loudly, and Blythe and Trey both closed their eyes as the marriage bond took effect. Then Trey swept his wife off her feet and kissed her; she put her arms around his neck and returned his kiss.
Telaine met Aunt Weaver’s eyes across that divide. Alone in the crowd aside from Telaine, she was silent. There was some question in her eyes Telaine couldn’t read, let alone answer. Then Aunt Weaver came toward her. “Now there’s congratulations, and food, and song and dance,” she said, raising her voice enough to be heard above the crowd. “You might say a word to the bride and groom, if you can make it through.”
Telaine let herself be buffeted by the crowd rather than force her way through, and eventually it carried her past the bride and groom with barely enough time to congratulate them. The crowd spat her out near the circle of fairy lights, which was surrounded by folding chairs and trestle tables, some of them nearly bowing under the weight of the food they bore.
She sat down in a chair, feeling lonely and out of place. She couldn’t speak to Eleanor, who was caught up in the whirl of congratulations, didn’t want to talk to Aunt Weaver, and none of her other friends were visible. She got up and helped herself to a tiny cake. With her luck, eating food now would break some sort of shivaree taboo. She ate it anyway.
“What are you doing!” Maida Handly exclaimed. “You can’t eat now!” Telaine, chagrined, her mouth full of cake, tried to excuse herself, but Maida burst into laughter. “Just having a bit of fun with you,” she said. “The look on your face…!” Telaine glared at her and swallowed. “Looked like you were feeling a bit lost. Never been to a shivaree before, eh?”
“Our weddings, we have receptions.” Telaine wiped away crumbs. “This looks like more fun.”
Some men and women were gathering near a review stand made of boards stacked on trestles three steps high, and Telaine saw musicians tuning up to one side. She recognized violins and cellos, familiar to her from years of string quartet music, but there were other instruments she’d never seen before, and she’d never seen an orchestra, however small, include pipes and drums. Even some of the familiar instruments had strange shapes, as if they’d come from a foreign land.
“Singing first,” said Maida. “Then dancing. Then happen there’s a bit more singing.”
“Does everyone sing, like at the beginning of the ceremony? That was incredible.”
“That was nothing. Just tuning. No, tonight it’s only a few, but during the winter…you make sure you come to the tavern, that’s all I’m saying. We can shake the timbers if we try.” Maida hopped up and drew them both a beer. “You dance?”
“Probably not the same dances you do.”
“Not too hard. Happen you’ll like it.”
Telaine sipped her beer. It was darker than she was used to and she found she liked it b
etter than the pale stuff. “Happen I will,” she said. She scooted her chair closer to the table so Jack Taylor could make his way past it and sit next to her.
“Want to take a turn at singing?” he said, but the twinkle in his eye told her he wasn’t serious. “I play the fiddle as well as the pianoforte.”
Telaine shuddered. “You wouldn’t want to hear me sing.”
“Everyone sings, come winter,” Maida said. “Even if they’re bad at it.”
“I don’t know if I’ll still be here come winter,” Telaine said, and another stab of loneliness went through her.
Maida and Jack looked at each other, then back at Telaine. “We forgot,” Maida said, and then there was an awkward silence, because Telaine couldn’t think of anything to say to that. They’d expected her to still be here, but why? She was an outsider, however many friends she’d made; she belonged to the palace and that glittering world, to the life of an agent of the Crown. She’d finish her assignment, and return to that life, and they’d eventually forget her.
She looked away toward the review stand so she wouldn’t have to see whatever it was Jack and Maida were thinking. Garrett had taken a place there, with Ed Decker and four other men she didn’t know. Maida cleared her throat. “You’ll never have heard the like of this before,” she said.
The six men were talking among themselves. Garrett looked up and scanned the crowd. His eye caught hers for a moment, then passed on before she could acknowledge him. He said something to the other men, who nodded, then the six stood up straight.
Garrett’s eyes met hers again. He looked as if he were asking her a question, though she had no idea what, or how he expected her to respond. It was as if all her friends had conspired to confuse her tonight. Telaine smiled at him, but without real feeling; she was already working out a plan for sneaking away. Too bad breaking into the fort was even more insane than breaking into the manor.
Garrett opened his mouth, and that same pure tone that had silenced the crowd rang out, joined by other notes as the five other men harmonized with him, the lowest note being more of a rumble than a sound. Then they broke into song. The six-part harmony captivated her, so intricate and compelling that she didn’t at first register the words they were singing:
Come, my girl, and walk with me,
On some old hidden way,
We’ll laugh, and fight, and merry be,
And talk, just talk, all day.
Garrett’s eyes never left hers. It’s for me, she thought wildly, he’s singing it for me, why is he singing to me? She glanced around the clearing, looked back at Garrett, closed her mouth, which had fallen open in shock, and wrapped her fingers around the handle of her tankard, gripping it hard. The smooth wood was warm, an anchor preventing her from falling out of her seat in pure astonishment.
Come, my girl, and dance with me,
Out in the pale moonlight,
We’ll sway, and swing, and merry be,
And dance, just dance, all night.
She felt as if every light above her head was pointed at her. Surely somebody else had noticed? But no, they were all watching the singers. Garrett was the only one looking at her, and his eyes…she blushed at the intimacy of his gaze. She ought to look away. She couldn’t bear to look away.
Come, my girl, and love with me,
I pledge you all my days,
We’ll talk, and dance, and married be,
And love, just love, always.
The men ended on another intricate chord, and the audience cheered and clapped. Dazedly, Telaine clapped with them, barely knowing what she was doing.
Garrett held her gaze for a few seconds after the music ended, and once again she couldn’t understand the question in his eyes. Then he looked away, toward the other singers, and said something that made them laugh. He wouldn’t…they’re not laughing at me, are they? Would he do that? But they didn’t seem to notice her at all. Some of the men stepped down, a few women stepped up. Garrett remained on the stand. She’d never heard a voice as extraordinary as his before.
And he’d been singing to her.
Chapter Fourteen
Telaine looked away from the singers and prayed her face didn’t reveal her confusion to Maida and Jack. “Told you it was amazing,” Maida said. Telaine nodded. Who knew what might come out of her mouth if she spoke?
“I think I need another beer,” Jack said. He didn’t notice Telaine’s agitation.
“Me too. How about you, Lainie?” Maida said. Telaine shook her head. She buried her face in her tankard after they left, wishing she had a place where she could think. The noise around her was overwhelming.
The singers began again, this time with female voices soaring above Garrett’s tenor. She didn’t dare look at him for fear she’d catch him watching her again, singing to her again. This new song was an innocuous one about the seasons of the year, but suppose it had a double meaning? She drank again, deeply. Maybe the beer would wash away her confusion. Or, possibly, make her drunk enough that this evening would start to make sense.
So. Think straight, Lainie. He’d been singing to her, no question, addressing the words of the song to her as surely as if he’d stood in front of her and spoken them. Maybe he just meant to be friendly; maybe he’d seen how lost she felt and wanted to make her feel part of the celebration.
Telaine rubbed her eyes. Or, you idiot, he could have meant it exactly the way it sounds, as a courting song. But…Garrett? Her quiet, half-smiling friend who had never given her any indication he was interested in her other than as a stranger who needed help?
Unless…unless he had. If you replaced quiet with shy and stepped back a few paces, he’d done practically nothing but try to court her from the day they’d met. Stepping in to rescue her from Irv Tanner’s gang. Coming to see how she was settling in. Those flashing smiles. His unrelenting concern about her safety with Morgan. He’d even asked her to share a meal with him, for heaven’s sake. He’d done everything except come right out and tell her how he felt. So how could he suddenly gain the courage to be direct—indirectly direct, if that made sense—tonight? Because he knows where he is when he’s singing, she thought. And that’s an incredibly romantic way to court a girl.
Maida returned with a plate of food. “You should get some of this chicken,” she said, tearing into a leg. “It’s going fast.”
Telaine obediently got up and went to the food tables, which were, fortunately for her peace of mind, far away from the singers. She hovered over the chicken legs, but decided on a slab of ham instead. Her mind taunted her, You don’t want him to see you all greasy with chicken. She wanted to smack that inner voice down. She filled her plate automatically, even though her appetite was gone, then returned to sit with Maida.
She’d had plenty of admirers in Longbourne, but hadn’t thought to include Garrett in the group, hadn’t even considered trying to attract him, because…why? Because he was a friend, if a more formal one than Maida and Liam; she still called him Mister Garrett, for heaven’s sake. But now she was having trouble thinking of him as only a friend.
How did she feel, really? If he was only a friend, why did the memory of his song make her pulse race and her cheeks flame? Why did she look forward to seeing him; why did his fleeting smiles make her so happy? He’s never been only a friend, she thought. You just weren’t paying attention.
“No chicken? Too bad,” said Maida.
“Too bad,” Telaine said, grateful not to be alone with her racing thoughts.
Liam Richardson dropped onto a chair beside her. “Dancing starts soon, and I want to dance first with you,” he told Telaine.
“Liam, I don’t know these dances,” Telaine said.
“Not that hard,” Maida repeated.
“Don’t worry. Got a lot of men lined up to dance with you, make sure you feel welcome,” Liam said, winking. “’Cept Irv Tanner. Went all green when I asked him. Don’t know what you done to him, but I like the effect. He ain’t nearly as bullying since
you came to town.”
Telaine heard Garrett’s magnificent voice rise above the noise of the crowd, and shivered. “You cold?” Liam asked. She shook her head.
“Happen somebody walked over your grave,” Maida said.
“Hush that! No talk of death at a wedding, thanks,” Liam said.
The singing stopped, and the crowd applauded. Telaine joined in, once again with no idea of what she was applauding. “Now there’s dancing. Don’t go anywhere, Lainie, I’m coming right back.”
Maida winked at her. “There’s a man could make some lucky girl a good husband.”
“You looking to marry?” Telaine teased, trying to regain her calm. Maida laughed. The sound of the band tuning up again drifted over the crowd. Movement became more orderly as men and women sought each other out. Telaine couldn’t stop herself looking for Garrett. There he was, holding a beer and talking to some of the other singers. He was more animated than she’d ever seen him. Probably because she’d only ever seen him when he was trying, and failing, to talk to her.
“All right, Lainie, I asked ’em to start with an easy one,” Liam said, taking her hands and pulling her up from the chair. “It’s four steps, one, two, three, four. Then you change them a bit.” He demonstrated. “Now you try.”
Telaine took his offered hand and took a few tentative steps, one, two, and on three she accidentally hooked her foot around his ankle and nearly knocked them both over. “You sure you know how to dance?” Liam said.
“You go to a ball in the city and we’ll see how well you do,” she retorted.
“I’m teasing, Lainie. Let’s try it again.”
It can’t be as hard as the Capering Widow, and that nearly crippled me once. She paid attention to the beat, and after a few repeats of the steps, Liam said, “Let’s try it out there,” and led her to where couples hopped about to the rhythm of the dance.
Agent of the Crown Page 15