by Lisa Cach
“She decided that as suitable punishment for his crime, Bartholomew should have his precious son taken from him, and put into the home of poor crofters far away. Tisk’s child was placed in the boy’s stead, a changeling, ever the worst fear of a human parent. Any parent but Evangeline, who was glad enough to make the exchange. Knowing that her daughter’s life would be a hard one, Tisk left her one gift, which she carefully explained to Evangeline.
“ ‘The child shall have one boon, a wish of her choice to be granted by the fairy folk. Tell her of this, when she is old enough to understand and to use it wisely.’
“Evangeline was a good woman, and she raised that child as her own. When the girl was old enough, she explained the gift and the truth of her birth to her. Life in Bartholomew’s castle was not easy, and many times the girl wished to escape, but always she knew that she had that boon. It gave her strength, for she knew that if ever life got bad enough, she could use it. The unendurable became bearable, for she knew it was her choice to endure, not her sentence to do so.
“The years passed, and she was married to a man who proved to be far less wicked than her father, and while not all that she could have wished for, she had found a comfortable enough life for herself. She bore children, and no matter the hardship that came her way, she held tight to her boon, and she never used it.”
“Why not?” Elle asked, watching the young woman walk along the shore of a lake. “Wasn’t there anything she wanted?”
“There were many things. She was always afraid, though, that someday she would need it, if not for herself, then for someone she loved. And as she grew older, she began to see another truth.
“We cannot forsee what will happen to us. We cannot forsee when a calamity will transform into a blessing, or a blessing into a calamity. What if she used the boon, and despite her good intentions the results were evil? It seemed the wisest course not to use the gift her fairy mother had given her.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” Elle said, “for you just might get it.”
“Yes, that was her fear. She grew old and watched the tragedies of her family, and chose not to alter so much as a single event.”
“That’s the end of the story?” Elle asked. She had reached the edge of the final tapestry, where a woman sat in a window, her face older than it had been in the garden. A breeze moved her hair, and then died down, and the tapestry returned to being mere cloth on the wall. “That’s not much of an ending.”
“But it is interesting, do you not think?” Lady Annalise asked. “Most fairy stories tell of wishes granted and fulfilled, not a wish that is never used. Do you think you would have used the boon, had it been granted to you?”
Elle smiled. “I sincerely believe I would have been too foolish to resist.”
Elle stepped from the secret door out into the front hall and found a flurry of activity.
“Ellie!” a female voice called joyfully. “Oh, I am so happy to see you!”
Elle barely had time to focus her eyes upon Louise before her ersatz sister was upon her, hugging her and showering her with kisses. “Louise. What a surprise. What brings you here?”
“Your brother-in-law and a coach, if you want to speak literally,” Louise laughed, gesturing to Henry’s younger brother, Frederick, who was being assisted from his greatcoat by a smiling Thomas. “An invitation from your husband and the unbearable situation at home, if you want the more figurative truth.”
“Henry invited you? He didn’t tell me.”
“Of course not, silly. He wanted it to be a surprise. He wrote to Father, saying that he was certain you would enjoy the company and implying that he might be of help in finding me a suitable match. I think he said that last part only to prod Father into permitting my visit,” Louise confided. “Father would love to marry me off for less money than he had to expend to get the earl of Allsbrook into the family.”
“Weren’t you involved with some young man? George something or another.”
Louise took on a tragic expression. “Father found out, the day after you left. ’Tis why I have not written. I have been too overcome by my loss.”
“Yes, I can see the grief is still subduing your spirits. I take it George wasn’t up to battling for your hand.”
Louise wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I have had an awakening in regards to poets. They are more interested in putting words together than in honoring the sentiment behind those words.”
Elle laughed.
“We have so much to talk about, Ellie,” Louise sighed. “I am so happy to be here. I thought Mother’s fussing was going to be the end of me, now that she does not have you to worry about.”
“I’ll have Abigail bring you to your room, and then later we can have a long chat, after you’ve recovered from your journey.”
As if sensing her summons, Abigail appeared at Elle’s side and led Louise off up the stairs. Elle watched them, her put-on smile sinking at the corners. How long would it take Louise to figure out that all was not as it once was with her sister, without an impending wedding to distract her?
“Do I call you ‘sister’ now?” a male voice asked her from behind.
Elle turned to Frederick, who was much as she remembered him from the day of the wedding, and still apparently consumed by an irrational dislike of her. He was the same age as she was supposed to be, eighteen, but her seven years of hidden seniority negated any threat he might pose. She could handle him with her eyes closed.
“Lady Eleanor will do for now, Frederick, and welcome home. Thank you for escorting my sister to me: I am relieved to know she was in such capable hands.” There was nothing like good manners to ruin a bad attitude.
“The pleasure was mine,” Frederick said, frowning at her, and then his face softened. “Your sister is a delightful young lady, so gentle of heart . . . with the eyes of a doe.”
“Do you by any chance happen to write poetry? I’m certain she would love to hear some, if you do.”
His face colored slightly. “I must find Henry. If you’ll excuse me, Lady Eleanor?”
“By all means, brother Frederick.” He sauntered away, but his lanky frame lacked the grace and confidence of his brother’s. He’d be a piece of cake.
“You wanted a word with me, Lord Allsbrook?” Louise asked.
“If you have a moment.” Henry stood and gestured towards a chair in his office. He had forgotten he had invited Louise to visit, what seemed like a lifetime ago. His mind lately was capable of focusing on nothing but Elle. “Did you have a pleasant journey?”
“Quite pleasant, thank you,” Louise said, seating herself. “Your brother made a charming escort. I would like to take this opportunity, if I could, Lord Allsbrook, to thank you again for inviting me to visit, and so soon after the wedding. You cannot know how I have missed Eleanor.”
“You two have always been close, then?”
“Yes, although perhaps not always amicably so. We had awful rows when we were children. I think we have learned since then to accept each other’s faults.”
“You knew that she did not want this marriage.”
Louise colored slightly. “We discussed it. She did not know you, after all. And what girl wants to have her husband chosen for her with no regard to her own wishes?”
“An understandable position. One day she is happily ensconced in the home she has known all her life, and the next she has been whisked away by a stranger, to live far from those she knows and loves. I think Eleanor might be in need of a bit of familiar female company.”
“Has she been nervy, then? She always could be irritable, and she was ill shortly before the wedding, you know. Father did not give her a chance to effect a full recovery.”
“So she was not her usual self?”
“I do not see how any young woman could be, at such a time. But do not fear, my lord. I see clearly enough what you are asking. If my presence can in any way ease Eleanor into her new life here, then I will be most happy to listen to her concerns an
d lend a sisterly shoulder of support.”
After she had gone, Henry sat and rubbed his face. He was sorry he had sent for Louise. His wife was like no one he had ever met, and their relationship frustrated him to the point where his jaw ached from the constant clenching, but he did not need her sister to know that Elle had all her faculties intact.
Lately, he had been the one losing his grasp on reality.
“I almost think you like her,” Frederick accused.
Henry cast a bland eye on his brother. “Is that so unforgivable in a husband?” It was late, and the rest of the household had retired. They sat alone by the fire, cravats undone, enjoying the quiet.
Freddie’s company was not the only reason he was in the drawing room instead of his bedroom with his wife: For the past few nights, ever since Elle had brought him to his knees with the skills learned from other men, he had been avoiding joining her in bed until he was certain she would be asleep. He did not know if he was afraid of her or of himself. All he knew for certain was that he had no idea what he felt.
How could he berate her for the knowledge that had brought him yet another sexual encounter the likes of which fantasies are made? And at the same time, how could he either accept or forget her decidedly checkered past?
“She does not seem quite as bad as I had thought,” Freddie admitted. “Although her sister is much more to my taste.”
“I noticed.”
“Do you think she did?”
“I would not worry about it.” While Freddie had been moon-eyed over Louise, Louise had had eyes only for Lawrence Peabody and had plagued him with questions and flirty comments throughout dinner and the inevitable hours of socializing in the drawing room. Lawrence, his mind filled with drainage systems, had been oblivious.
The most curious element of the evening, though, had been Elle’s behavior towards her sister. From his talk with Louise, it sounded as if they were close to one another. Elle, however, almost seemed uncomfortable near her sister. He even got the sense she resented Louise’s presence.
Freddie gave a loud yawn and stood, clapping Henry on the shoulder. “I am to bed. I must have my wits about me, if I am to capture the heart of the fair Louise before you force me back to school.”
Henry grimaced. “Lord save us from poets.”
There was no point in delaying any longer. He went up to his own room and was surprised to see Elle asleep in his bed, one of the new beeswax candles burning low on the bedside table. It looked like she had tried to wait up for him, judging by the book lying open on the covers.
He left his clothes in his dressing room, and came back to the bed, standing and watching her. She looked both vulnerable and strong, a Greek goddess caught sleeping. An ancient sculptor could have used her as his model, for there was something timeless about her. He smiled, looking at her hair spread wildly about her head. She never wore a sleeping cap.
She stirred when he climbed in beside her and woke completely when he pulled her to him. To his dismay she looked vividly awake. He did not want to talk about what had happened the other day, if that was what she was here for. He would like to forget all about it and go on as if there were nothing wrong between them.
“I haven’t had a chance to talk with you all day,” she said. “What with Louise, and all.”
“We can talk in the morning,” he murmured, burying his face in her hair and trying to look tired.
“Don’t be so wary. I’m not going to bring up the issue. I wanted to tell you about Lady Annalise.”
He raised his head at that.
“I went to go see her today, and she was a hundred times more alert than the last time I spoke with her. She told me the most remarkable story, the one that follows the tapestries in her room.”
Lady Annalise could not have. “She used to tell me that story as a boy. Refresh my memory, will you?” He wanted to hear what details she had. If Elle were making it up from her own very fertile imagination, he would know.
He listened to her retelling and to the accurate details that she added to the tapestry illustrations. The longer she went on, the clearer it became that Lady Annalise had indeed been speaking to her. Elle had not lied.
He felt a wash of relief, accompanied by a twist of confusion. What was Lady Annalise up to, ignoring him when he came to visit? When Elle finished he dropped his head back onto the pillow and made an explosive sound with his mouth. “I do not understand what that old woman is doing. I went to see her, and she would not speak a word to me. But she tells you her favorite story!”
“Well, you’ve already heard it.”
“Very funny.”
“Don’t be cross about it. She might have her own logic for what she does, and there’s no reason not to humor her. She has little enough to amuse herself.”
Women, he reflected, could never be counted upon to be reasonable. “Do you know, when I was very little I used to believe that Lady Annalise was the fairy child left with Bartholomew’s wife?”
Elle’s eyes grew big, and her lips parted.
He laughed, genuinely amused, and blew out the candle. He slid down under the covers and drew her close, enjoying the scent and softness of her, too tired to wonder if even that pleasure was one he should forgo if he could not accept her warped sense of morality. “Perhaps she still has her boon and will pass it on in her will.”
He was almost asleep when he heard her answer, spoken softly in the dark.
“No, I think she used it.”
Chapter Twenty-one
“Ellie, is everything all right?” Louise asked.
“Everything’s just fine. Why do you ask?”
They were walking along the shore of the lake, the house in the distance. The late spring air gave warm hints of the coming summer, the sun shining brightly overhead, and the wind pulled and billowed their skirts. Louise stopped and turned to Elle and grasped her hands.
“You do not seem yourself. I have been here nearly a week, and I have yet to see a sign of the old Ellie. You are so quiet with me, and so engrossed with domestic details. Are you trying to hide something? Are you unhappy here?”
Poor Louise. She truly loved her sister. How would she feel if she knew Eleanor was dead? “Henry is a good man. He may not always see things my way, but he is never unkind. If I seem different, it’s because life is different for me now. I have new responsibilities, and I’m not yet so accustomed to them that I feel capable of frivolity.”
“Are you in financial difficulty?” Louise almost whispered the question.
“Whatever makes you ask that?”
Louise gestured to the dress Elle wore. “These gowns. They are not what one would expect to see on a countess. What happened to your others?”
“They were horribly uncomfortable. I should have Charlotte make you up one of these. You’ll see. They’ll be all the rage in a few years,” she said, doing a little pirouette to show off the gown. It had a high waist, short sleeves, and a skirt just full enough to make walking easy. The material was a lightweight white cotton, printed with small light green and gold flowers in narrow vertical stripes.
“You would tell me if all was not well?”
The woman would not give up. Elle squeezed her hands, then released them. “Of course I would. You’re my sister, aren’t you? Come, don’t you have better things to do than worry about me? There’s your charming Mr. Peabody to discuss.”
Louise smiled, distracted. “If you could just find a way to persuade his lordship to pack Frederick back to school, perhaps I could make some progress. How can I win Lawrence, with that puppy chasing me from room to room, spouting bad poetry? Lawrence will think I have encouraged him.”
If it hadn’t been for Louise’s romantic fascination with the shy engineer, Elle didn’t know what she would have done this past week. Each day that went by had Louise casting her more and more puzzled, worried looks, as Elle behaved in a manner inconsistent with Louise’s memories of her sister. At least with Lawrence around, Louise paid
less attention to her.
Louise’s hat suddenly disappeared from her head. She screeched in surprise, and Elle gaped at Frederick, prancing about in front of them, his prize dangling from its ribands in his hands.
“Give that back,” Louise demanded, swiping at her hat.
Frederick skipped beyond her reach, pleased with his attack, his hair ruffled by the wind and making him look even more boyish. “What reward will you give me, if I do?”
Elle rolled her eyes. The last time she had seen such a courting gesture had been in junior high.
“Do not tell me,” Louise snapped. “You want a kiss.” He had messed her hair while yanking off her hat, and the wind was finishing the job.
Frederick’s face lit up. “Mademoiselle, it would be an honor.” He stepped forward, his hold on the hat ribands loosening. Louise made a grab for her hat, Frederick jerked away, and the wind won the debate, catching the wide flat brim of the hat in a sudden gust and sending it sailing out over the lake.
Louise turned on her suitor. “You idiot! Look what you have done! My favorite hat, and you have sunk it.” She looked like she wanted to hit him.
They all three watched the hat settle upside down on the surface of the lake, skimming along like a boat under sail. Frederick’s face was scarlet with humiliation. “Look, ‘tis not sinking. I can retrieve it for you.” There was a pathetic begging tone to his voice.
“See that you do.”
He turned and ran along the edge of the lake to the small wooden dock. Elle watched in some amusement as Frederick set about his frantic hat rescue mission.
Louise herself regained some of her humor at his obvious distress. “I do not think I have ever seen skin turn quite that shade of red,” Louise giggled from behind her hand.
Frederick obviously lacked a certain degree of skill with a pair of oars. One oar escaped the oarlock and fell into the water as they watched. Frederick spun in circles, retrieved the oar, and promptly lost the other.