Remembrance

by Jude Deveraux

  Dorothy sighed. “What has Talis done now?”

  “What makes you think my hatred has anything to do with him?” Callie snapped. “What makes you think I have anything to do with him?”

  Dorothy gave Callie a look that said everything. Personally, Dorothy was beginning to think that loving only one man was like having only one food to eat. It became quite monotonous after a while. “You think of him, dream of him, live for him, your every thought, your—”

  “Ha!” Callie said, but she turned away from Dorothy and attacked some wolfsbane with a hoe, her abrupt action causing Kipp to give a squeal and nearly choke Callie with his tail. “Well, if I did ever think of him, which I do not, it would do no good. He has no time for me. He spends all his time with other women. He dances with them, sings to them.” She narrowed her eyes. “He fetches for them.”

  As Dorothy watched, amusement growing on her face, Callie began to parody Talis and the many women who surrounded him. Callie deepened her voice. “Oh dear lady, may I help you carry that very heavy needle? May I be allowed to walk behind you and caress the stones your feet have touched? May I be allowed to breathe the air that you breathe? May I please kneel at your feet and allow you to use my body for a footrest?”

  Dorothy couldn’t help giggling. Callie was so funny. Even when she didn’t mean to be, she was quite amusing, which is why Dorothy spent her time with Callie rather than with her sisters. Also, there was something about Callie that attracted men; they liked her. Callie was completely unaware of this fact as her every waking—and probably every sleeping—thought concerned Talis, but daily, men and strapping boys found a reason to stop by the garden. Like as not, Callie would put them to work in the garden, which was why in a mere year she had managed to take something awful and make it into something beautiful.

  Callie was now mimicking a huge woman walking, a great clumsy oaf of a thing, and then she was a bigger-than-life strutting man (who could only be Talis) looking up at the fat lady and rolling his eyes in ecstasy. He was telling her she is as dainty as a fairy, as lovely as a moonbeam, as delicate as dandelion fluff.

  Callie jabbed at a harmless root with her sharp-edged hoe. “Talis has become a liar and an all-round worthless human being.”

  “I think he is just learning courtly etiquette,” Dorothy said, but she did not tell Callie her true feelings. What was happening with Talis and Callie had something to do with her mother, Alida, but Dorothy didn’t know what was going on. Why was it important for Talis to have lessons on every conceivable subject but not important for Callie?

  “Etiquette is to tell some fat ugly woman that she is beautiful?” Callie asked, but it wasn’t really a question.

  “If she is also rich, yes.”

  “Then he is a liar.”

  Dorothy continued hoeing for a while. She had become used to Callie’s anger. If she was not with Talis then she was angry at him for not being with her. “Have you ever thought that Talis might marry one of these rich women?” Dorothy asked quietly. “For all that he is my father’s favorite, he is a younger son. There will not be much money for him. Talis will have to marry wealth if he is to live well.”

  “Yes,” Callie said, her voice sounding like death. “I have thought of this.”

  Dorothy took a while before she asked her next question. Part of her wanted to know what was going on, but part of her wanted to stay out of it. Unlike Edith, who never suspected anyone of ulterior motives, Dorothy always thought that what people said had nothing to do with what was true. “Has Talis told you that he wants to marry you?”

  When Callie answered, her face was pale and she could barely be heard. “No.”

  At that answer Dorothy knew for certain that her mother was involved. She didn’t know what her mother was doing, or why, but she knew it was her mother. Alida loved intrigue. Loved to tell one daughter something and another something else. Dorothy had seen it many times. If Talis was not telling Callie every day that he was working to marry her, then there was a nefarious reason.

  Dorothy saw the way Talis looked at Callie, how he watched her whenever she passed. The most beautiful woman in the world could be in his arms, and if Callie passed, Talis would drop her. This was not just Dorothy’s observation but every woman’s who made a play for the beautiful Talis. All the women worked hard at taking him away from Callie. In truth, his love for another woman made him even more valuable, as he was unattainable.

  So, if he hadn’t spoken to Callie of marriage then there was outside interference. Honestly, Dorothy was terrified of her mother, but maybe she could help a little bit, because as far as Dorothy could tell, there was no reason why Callie and Talis shouldn’t marry and produce half a dozen children—and her father could pay for it. Maybe if they did marry it would inject some happiness into Hadley Hall.

  Dorothy hesitated at telling Callie a story because Callie was so very good at storytelling, but, tentatively, she started. “Did you ever hear how my third eldest sister got her husband?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “She went to bed with a man.”

  Startled, Callie turned to look at Dorothy and waited for her to continue. Second only to telling stories, she liked to hear them.

  Acting as though she weren’t smiling throughout her body, Dorothy continued her story. It was pleasing to get the attention of a practiced storyteller like Callie. “By the time our second sister was married, we knew our father was never going to get husbands for the rest of us. He complained incessantly about the money a dowry and wedding would cost. Most of us were too young to concern ourselves with this, but Alice decided to take matters into her own hands. One night after a hunt, she chose a man, sent a small keg of wine to his room, then, much later, climbed into bed with him. She had her maid, who she paid handsomely, run weeping to fetch our father, and there he found his daughter in bed with a man. The man was married to my sister before he was sober.”

  Callie took her time before answering. She had not missed Dorothy’s point. “That would never work with Talis,” she said slowly and it was obvious she had thought of this trick. “He has such a sense of honor. He says that a man cannot get married if he has no money. And, besides, he is not…interested in me. Whenever I get too near him, he turns away.”

  Dorothy tried to hide her smile. This was one aspect of love she did not envy. Callie always thought Talis did not want her, that he lusted after other women. But Dorothy had seen Callie stretch, her gown expanding across her newly formed breasts, and at the sight Talis’s face would turn white with desire. Dorothy had thought that if a man ever looked at her like that once in her life, she might die happy. Well, truthfully, to be safe, she’d rather like to have most of the men on earth look at her like that.

  But always, by the time Callie finished stretching, Talis had managed to turn away, and the next moment he would be furiously attacking another man in mock combat. As far as Dorothy could tell, Talis combated his lust for Callie with physical exercise—which is why he was always in a frenzy of motion, dancing, riding, hunting, practicing with his sword. Once, when Edith had said, “Does he never sit still?” Dorothy had laughed out loud. As long as Talis’s desire for Callie was unquenched, he would never sit down. In fact he was losing weight. No matter how much he ate, it wasn’t enough to balance all the exercise he was getting as he tried to overcome his lust for Callie. One woman said that Talis rose before dawn to swim in the icy river that ran not too far from the house. But that couldn’t be true; no one could stand those frigid waters.

  “Perhaps Talis needs a little encouragement,” Dorothy said. “Maybe a push over the edge.” Personally, she thought that the push of a feather—a feather guided by Callie—might break whatever hold Alida had over him. “Perhaps he needs the right place and time. If he…had his way with you, would his honor not force him to marry you?”

  “Yes…,” Callie said tentatively as she pulled Kipp from around her neck and held him in her arms to stroke his soft fur. “Do you think he really thinks of me as
a woman?” She wasn’t about to admit to Dorothy how many times in the last year she had tried to get Talis to kiss her. But every time, he had pushed her away, saying things like “I cannot bear it” and “You will drive me mad.” If he’d just tell her that he wanted to marry her and not one of those hundreds—nay, thousands—of women hanging around him, she would be happy. If he told her he wanted her she would be content, but he didn’t. He said nothing.

  Dorothy continued. “If one of your story ladies was in love with a man who was surrounded by beautiful women, what would your lady do?”

  Callie smiled. “She would force him to look at her.” She gave a malicious little smile. “Preferably naked.”

  Dorothy smiled. This was why she spent so much time with Callie. Callie had the courage to put into words what Dorothy felt. Perhaps it was because Callie had been raised on a farm, but at times she was so very…very unladylike.

  “I think she would…,” Callie began as she started weaving another one of her stories. At the sound of that special tone in Callie’s voice, Kipp closed his eyes in contentment and Dorothy opened hers wide in anticipation.

  Once again Talis was standing before her and again Alida felt love run through her heart. It always amazed her that in the last year she had come to love this boy perhaps more even than her husband did. With each day she could feel her strength leaving her, and she knew that the old witch woman had been wrong: She would not live out another year. She hid this knowledge from Talis, but every day she coughed up more blood. Only the herbs Penella gave her kept her from coughing in front of Talis.

  Now, as he did every day, Talis was telling her about his great feats of that day, how he had excelled at this and that, how he was the best there was at everything. Alida would have thought he was bragging, but the truth, according to the reports she asked for, was that he was actually better than even he said he was. She liked that he told her all about himself, liked that he was her best friend.

  Of course she refused to believe what that horrid old maid of hers, Penella, said, that Talis was telling her about himself to show that he had learned enough that now he should be allowed to marry Callie.

  “He enjoys my company!” Alida had spat at her maid.

  Penella had learned her lesson; she had learned that food and survival were more important than protecting anyone. So she kept her opinions to herself, but that didn’t keep her brain still. Truthfully, Penella thought it was disgusting the way Alida flirted with Talis; no one with any sense would think they were mother and son.

  On the other hand, Alida treated Callie as a mother would, always criticizing her, never wanting her to look too pretty. If Alida happened to see Callie and the girl’s hair was unbound, Alida nearly had fits.

  It was Penella’s opinion that Alida was using Talis to make up for the way John had ignored his wife all these years and the way her children, sick of being bullied by her, came to her only when they had to.

  “Come, sit by me,” Alida said, motioning to the sheepskin at her feet. She loved to have Talis sit on the floor at her feet so she could run her fingers through his hair while he talked. His daily presence helped to make up for the fact that none of her own children ever came to see her unless commanded to do so. It was a bitter taste in Alida’s mouth that her sons, whom she had done so much for, worked at avoiding her. As for her daughters, she sometimes thought they had no use at all for her. Sometimes she thought that Edith even hated her. And merely because Alida had saved her from marriage, that institution that in Alida’s experience gave nothing but misery. Better to stay unmarried and in your father’s house than to turn yourself over to a husband.

  Only Talis came to Alida every day and talked to her as she lay alone and weak in her room.

  “I want to marry Callie,” Talis said softly.

  Alida gave a great sigh. Now came the bad part. Every day the same thing. Every day he said the same words, asked the same question. And every day she wanted to tell him the truth. Talis was destined for greater things than to marry John Hadley’s daughter.

  “When you ask me if you may marry Callie, to me it means that you are wanting me to die, since you will be allowed to marry her after I am dead.”

  This statement did not shock Talis, since he had heard it many times before. “That is not true. I want to marry Callie because I love her and I want to be with her.”

  “Will you not have enough time with her after my death?”

  Talis did not turn to look up at her in sympathy at the mere mention of her death as he usually did, so Alida knew it was time to try another tactic. “Perhaps if she troubles you too much and you cannot keep away from her, I should send her to her father.” At that Talis turned a face filled with horror toward her. “Although I would hate to do that. You have not seen what Gilbert Rasher is like. He is a brutal man; I fear for someone as delicate as your Callie to be under his rule.”

  “No!” Talis burst out. “Do not send her to him. I will stay away from her. I will do anything to keep her here.” He turned his face away from her, not wanting anyone to see the look of desolation on his face.

  Alida stroked his hair. “It will not be for much longer. I will be out of your life soon.”

  Cupping his chin, she turned his face toward hers, then smiled at him. “Come and read to me. Do not be sad in these my last hours. Soon I will be under the cold ground and you will be happy then.”

  Slowly, as though he were in pain, Talis got up and went to a shelf where Alida kept her precious books. As she looked at him in the sunlight, she knew how much she had come to love him, and she was glad she was going to be able to give him what she could. She was fading fast and her death was coming soon; she could feel it. But before she died she wanted to see Talis at court. How she’d like to see him with the queen. The queen would like him so much!

  As Talis began to read to her, Alida stroked his hair. He’d soon forget the pale girl he thought he loved. In the glamour of the court, in the sunshine of the queen’s smile, Talis would forget everything that had happened in his past. He’d forget those rustic farmers he’d grown up with; he’d forget that girl who was not beautiful or rich enough for him.

  Yes, Alida thought, everything would work out well: Her own sons would inherit the property she had brought to her marriage, and this glorious young man would go to court, would entice the queen with his exuberance and love of life—just as he’d seduced Alida into loving him.

  Yes, she thought, it was time for everything to begin. She must send for Gilbert Rasher today.

  “And what do you care what I do all day?” Callie spat at Talis, her eyes flashing at him as though they were on fire. “What business is it of yours?”

  Watching them, Dorothy felt sick with the sight. Never in her life had she seen two people more in love than these two; they were the dream of every girl growing up. Talis thought only of Callie; Callie thought only of Talis. Yet why did they not see what everyone else at Hadley saw clearly?

  Now, Callie was, as always, hoeing in her garden, and, as always, there were five young men offering to “help.” Two of the men were quite good-looking, and one of the others, the farrier’s son, had a homely face, but from the neck down he was quite a sight to see.

  The only person who did not see all this pulchritude was Callie. These handsome young men came to her, hoping to win the hand of a nobleman’s daughter, yet all Callie saw was free labor.

  But when Talis arrived, he saw his beloved surrounded by men, as though she were a queen with her courtiers.

  The entire situation further convinced Dorothy that a woman should never love one man, at least not love him to the point where she could not even see the attentions of other men. Dorothy was sure that there could be a line between blind love and utter stupidity.

  “You are under my care,” Talis said stiffly, looking at the broad back of the farrier’s son as he bent over a hoe. All of the men around Callie pretended they weren’t listening, but they were. The only person not
listening was Father Keris, who was, as usual, asleep under a tree. Even that made Talis fill with rage. Why did not the old man protect the two young women in his charge? And why did she always have to have that damned monkey clinging to her? Never mind that he had given it to her. It was just that…

  “Under your care?” Callie said disdainfully, interrupting Talis’s thoughts. “And who made you my keeper? You are never here. You are always with her.”

  It took Talis a moment to understand who Callie was referring to. Which of the many boring, ugly women who surrounded him was she jealous of? Not that he’d ever tell her, but there were times when he was so bored by their inconsequential talk that he thought he’d go mad. With Callie he could be himself; he could be lazy or sad or happy or silly or whatever he wanted to be. With these other women, he had to pretend to be what they wanted him to be. Always he had to be courteous and courtly and strong.

  “My mother?” Talis asked, his eyes wide. “You are jealous of the time I spend with my mother?”

  “Is she your mother?” Callie asked softly. “She doesn’t look like you.”

  Talis was aware of the talk, but what did it matter whose mother she was? He could see that she was dying, could see that she was eaten with loneliness, and he knew that he was the only one to visit her voluntarily. He also knew that if he were allowed to marry Callie, he would probably do just what she feared and abandon her.

  “She is—” Talis began, then cut himself off. He couldn’t tell Callie that Alida was dying.

  “There is something you aren’t telling me,” Callie said, and he could tell she was on the point of tears. “We never used to have secrets from one another.”

  How very much Talis wanted to tell Callie everything that he had sworn to keep secret. He did not understand why he could not tell Callie that he wanted to marry her. When he asked Alida why, all she said was that Talis would never look at her again if he made it known that he was to marry Callie. And then Alida would have to die alone. How could he turn down Alida’s last request? Wasn’t it a mortal sin to refuse a person’s dying request?