Her aunt had placed Ascelin directly across from her at table, so she was able to glance at him by candlelight while the guests prattled amongst themselves and congratulated the both of them with comments that made her blush. His eyes were even more enigmatic by the warm glow of the candles, but she tried not to stare too directly. Though she only wished to speak to him, she was constantly drawn into conversation by the other guests who teased and congratulated her on her future life and expectations. They asked how many children she wished to have, and other such things; which she tried to answer without blushing like a girl. Some were even so bold as to ask if she was relieved to find a husband at the age of twenty-four.
It appeared Ascelin was being asked similar nonsense, with old ladies fluttering about and fawning all over him. It was during these observations that she noticed Miss Katherine Foley, the young, unmarried daughter of Lord Foley, watching Ascelin most intently. She had blonde, curled hair and brown eyes. She wasn’t bad looking, but appeared rather commonplace. The short conversations she’d held with the girl revealed her to be rather simple, shallow and easily distracted. But her gaze was very direct, coquettish even, as she watched Ascelin from down the table, attempting to catch his eye. Ascelin didn’t appear to have noticed her, or was choosing not to. But the sight of Miss Foley’s face sent an icy chill through her, which she supposed was her first experience of jealousy. She swallowed it down with another gulp of wine, and found that her head was swimming from what she’d had already.
The din of the room became overwhelming as the evening progressed and the guests dug further into their cups. Despite the cool fall evening, the dining room’s heat was stifling, so it was with great relief that Maryone saw her aunt stand to give toast to her and Ascelin’s union. It would likely mark a finality to the evening, and everyone would disperse to their rooms and individual amusements. Her aunt staggered a little as the blessing was given, clearly far gone with wine as most of the party. They were a raucous group, as their number was large. Aunt Everild had spared no expense in the planning of the event; likely to honor herself as well as the union, seeing it as a completion of her duties to a niece that, Maryone knew, her aunt saw as unusual and a bit of a trial.
As Aunt Everild spoke, all eyes were upon her. Her aunt spoke of their union with a sense of finality and honor, which Maryone absorbed mesmerized, dizzy and warm beneath Ascelin’s sharp look. It held a power over her - truly, it did - even more so than it had in the north. It blasted her body in a fearful, overpowering wave. She felt as if his feelings for her were filling her up, taking over her body and will. She found it hard to breathe, for each breath took him in even more.
Sudden clapping woke her from the haze with a start, and she broke eye contact with him as she smiled up at her congratulators. Ascelin, however, kept watching her. Her eyes fluttered back to him occasionally, their natural resting place, as she bowed her head gratefully to the party. Her aunt came and escorted her out of the room, seeing her safely to her bedchamber. She held Ascelin’s look as long as she could, before other guests blocked her view of his face. Her aunt led her up the stairwell, which was delightfully cool after the smoldering hall, while a maid followed them with a candle. At the foot of the step to her room, her aunt held both her cheeks and gave her an indulgent smile.
“That went very well, my dear,” she said. “Now sleep well, you’ve earned it.”
Then her aunt turned and sashayed down the hall triumphantly. The party was to stay all week to celebrate. The sense of reality it brought to her union with Ascelin thrilled her. It hardly felt real.
She ascended the step to her room and pushed the curtain aside, finding a fire already lit. She sat beside it, dazed, for some time; unable to do anything but let her mind and heart swim in the sensations that filled her. He was here, in this very house. She would see him again tomorrow. And soon they would be married. She would be his wife. She would have the opportunity to please him, to love him, to see him often and to belong to him. It seemed she would never feel alone again. It seemed that in him she had found her match - in more ways than one. It felt as if all between them flowed in a perfect balance. Something within them was perfectly matched. She’d known plenty of men, and fancied a few of them. But nothing compared to what she felt for him. She’d never loved anything so much, nor felt so understood, or sensed such true acceptance and regard from anyone. He loved her, truly; she knew it. He embraced all she was.
~
In the morning, her first thoughts were of him, and they remained fixed as she dressed, completed her toilette and strolled downstairs to breakfast. But she learned upon arrival that the men had gone out for a hunt before sun up, and were not expected back for some time. She was disappointed not to see him, but at least she could take pride in how well she looked today. Her aunt had spared no expense, quite showering her with finery; and she had to admit that she felt rather proud of her appearance. Miss Foley came down to breakfast a few moments later, her eyes looking sagged and purple underneath, as if she’d gotten little sleep.
“Was it a late night?” she asked Lady Foley, who was seated next to her, tucking in to a biscuit.
“Why, I should say so, my dear,” the woman fumbled over her words rather awkwardly. “For some at least. Lord Foley and I turned in rather early, compared to some.”
Maryone nodded and smiled at the woman, who seemed eager to return to her breakfast.
The day went by very slowly. She watched for him constantly, expecting his arrival at any moment; every conversation a farce that couldn’t hold her attention. By midday she’d worked herself up into an anxious frenzy. So she finally dedicated herself sincerely to a game of cards with Lady Ainsworth and Mrs. Dickson, desperately pulling her thoughts onto the task at hand. Every time Ascelin’s image came into her mind, and she found her thoughts floating off into the air, she’d drag them back to the cards in her hand and the stuffy jokes of the matronly women before her. Soon, the ladies gathered in the solarium for a light lunch, and everyone seemed to be clucking contentedly over the fine meal provided. She tried to invest herself in these events, but her thoughts were ever clouded, and her eyes turned to the grounds outside.
Time dragged on, and despite her best efforts, her mood darkened into an aching despondency. She’d hoped to see him hours ago, imagined that he felt the same, and couldn’t help but feel grossly neglected by his absence. It was silly, she knew. But her emotions revolted against her logic, wanting his presence despite everything. By late afternoon she’d moved through so many emotions that she fixed herself against his arrival, hoping now that he wouldn’t return, for she was angry with him and didn’t wish to see him. So of course, before long, the party returned - filthy, wet and overrun with the spoils of the hunt. The men dispersed, some to their rooms to clean themselves, some to a rear sitting room to warm themselves and rest before a fire.
Maryone found herself retreating to one of the smaller, less-used libraries. She was, though she didn’t like to admit it to herself, hiding. And yes, sulking. She disliked herself for it, but her emotions were so strong on the subject, it was hard to control them. And she didn’t wish to be found waiting for Ascelin with baited breath upon his return. Her pride chafed at the thought of being so easily found, waiting like a discarded doll. She huffed at the thought of it, while she chided herself for such emotions, as if watching herself from the outside.
After half an hour, she exited the library, unable to stay away from the object of her constant thought. She strolled down the hallway, the tension in her nerves building as she grew nearer to groups of company. He could be anywhere. She didn’t wish for her riled emotions to show. Of course he’d done nothing wrong, and she knew that. She didn’t wish for it to seem she was peevish.
When she entered the main gallery, many of the guests were talking, gentlemen and ladies included. As she entered, she spotted Ascelin standing in conversation with the blonde-curled Miss Foley. His back was turned, but she could see Miss Fole
y’s face, looking up at him with a coy, smiling, dewey-eyed expression. When Maryone saw this it capped her feelings of turmoil with even more misery that made her want to rush from the room. But she stopped in front of Miss Dickson, who was in seated conversation with a few other ladies, and composed herself. As Miss Foley registered her arrival, Ascelin turned and saw her watching them. She quickly averted her glance, and just as she did, felt a tug at her arm.
It was Captain Devin, urging her to come and see what had been caught in honor of her betrothal. He was slightly into his cups and pulled her - without acquiescence - out of the room to where the game was kept. He adjusted his wig once or twice as he pulled her around corners. She followed haphazardly, strangely relieved to exit the room, while anxious about leaving Ascelin and Miss Foley in each other’s company.
There was a group amassed to view the spoils of the hunt, many of the ladies cooing impressed sounds for the benefit of the proud hunters, despite knowing little of the quality of what was being presented to them. Maryone surveyed the spoils, smiled and nodded dutifully, and offered courteous remarks to Captain Devin as the rest of the room erupted into lively conversation. A pair of boots pounded up behind her, and she knew instinctually that it was Ascelin. She felt his close presence just behind her, as if he were breathing on her neck. But a shyness had risen up in her due to the rawness of her emotions, and she didn’t turn. Finally, a hand touched her shoulder, and it became unavoidable to acknowledge him. She turned, slowly, and he held her shoulder as she did. Looking up into his face, she couldn’t help but feel warmth and relief. If she averted her eyes, the cold feelings in her belly would remain, but his countenance burned them all away. She smiled and bowed her head.
“Milord,” she said.
“You are looking fine today, Maryone,” he said, his eyes searing her. “Very fine.”
He didn’t have the type of face that betrayed emotion easily, but she saw something flicker momentarily in his eyes, and couldn’t help but blush. From his manner, he seemed to wish to banish the formality between them.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling as she spoke his name. “Ascelin.”
His face lit up into a smile the likes of which she’d never seen before, and she dropped her eyes from the brightness.
“How was the hunt?” she asked.
“Quite fruitful,” he answered somewhat sardonically.
She sensed that he enjoyed such things little, but saw them as a necessary social formality. She also sensed that beneath his polite exterior were motives, ones he seemed both reluctant and eager to share with her. She might know them if she looked a little longer. But she couldn’t hold his eyes. They were too bright.
Just then, dinner was announced and the guests moved toward the door like a swarm of clucking birds. Ascelin stood still before her, studying her face as she averted her eyes shyly, then slowly lifted his arm to escort her to dinner.
Dinner passed in a haze of happy sounds, laughter and warm light. Maryone was content as ever to sit and steal glimpses of her intended. She longed for the moment when they might steal away to be in each other’s company again, and from the hungry look reflected in his eyes, she guessed he felt the same.
It was a warm evening, and after supper was finished, the guests spilled out onto the grounds and into the nearby garden, in a gleeful, stumbling humor. Ascelin kept her busy dancing when she wasn’t refreshing herself at the punch. Other male guests requested her hand for a dance, which Ascelin observed venomously, often stepping in and claiming her before they could.
The evening drove on, warm and lively, with the guests taking full advantage of the raucous spirit in the air. The moon had long since risen when she felt an old familiar twinge in her senses. In the middle of a dance, she looked up and saw Valefar standing at the edge of the party, his form strangely static amongst the merry-making. He held her eyes for a moment, their gaze meaningful, then turned and wandered off onto the darkening grounds. She knew that look - he wished to speak to her, and she must follow.
She fumbled to the edge of the dance floor, Ascelin watching intently from nearby. There she sat for a moment, realizing just how dizzy she was, and took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Ascelin approached, his solid form suddenly assuming and authoritative as it had been in the north.
“Are you alright, Maryone?”
She loved the way her name sounded when he said it, like a novelty. She nodded and took his hand, standing up next to him.
“Yes,” she said. “I... I think I just need to walk for a bit.”
Off in the distance, her eye caught a tiny light, one that it made no sense for her to see, for it was so small. It was the glow of pipe ember, disappearing off into the darkness of the grounds.
“Pray, stay and refresh yourself,” she said. “A moment or two of solitude should put me right.”
She’d hoped he would be satisfied with this explanation, but a confused, disappointed expression marked his features. She hated to inspire either of these emotions in the man she loved, but knew it was necessary; and with a heavy heart, walked off the dance floor. When she turned back, Ascelin was watching her longingly. His emotions weren’t easily read by others, but she’d grown to have a sense of him, to understand him despite the walls he built to disguise his heart. She’d learned to read it in every word of his letters. He could not hide from her. She hesitated at seeing his face so, but knew she must seek out Valefar. It wouldn’t take long, and she could come back right away. They had so much time to be together now.
As she stumbled off onto the dark grounds, the sound and light of the party grew dim. She made her way towards the labyrinth, where she’d seen the tiny light of the embers disappear. She knew it well enough to find her way through rather quickly, but it was still frightening in the dark. She found Valefar by the stream, on the other side of the old labyrinth. This far into the forest, away from the house, all was silent; and the forest loomed heavily. Moonlight reflected gently off the stream as she spoke to her strange friend.
“They’ve found you out, my dear,” he said, shadows of branches marking his face. “Their agent is here, even now, in your home. They arrived at your aunt’s request. You are nearly of age, but not yet. Catastrophic damage may still be done.”
Maryone shivered at the thought, the cool night air like the breath of ghosts around her.
“Who?” she asked, alarmed. “What do you mean? Does my aunt work against us?”
Valefar shook his head slowly, his expression calm but disappointed.
“Have you not sensed it?”
Maryone wracked her brain, trying to remember feeling alarm or uncertainty - or anything memorable - about any of the guests. But she’d been so enthralled by Ascelin, her senses overwhelmed by his nearness, that she’d seen nothing else. She shook her head softly, ashamed to admit her profound weakness for the man. But Valefar didn’t seem disapproving, only vigilant.
“I haven’t a name,” he said. “I only know that they are present. They are not always so easily spotted, but their presence is unmistakable.”
Maryone was frightened and confused by the whole thing. Feeling so much affection and simultaneously so much dread overwhelmed her, and she reached out to embrace Valefar. The thought that she couldn’t trust even her own aunt made her want to hide, to seek help and protection from someone who knew what was going on. Valefar patted her on the back supportively, and as she stepped back she heard a strange rustling. It crashed like the angry, thrashing movements of someone who didn’t wish to conceal their presence. It startled her, and she jumped as she pulled back from Valefar, assuming it must be a wild animal. But almost instantly, she knew who it was, for she felt a rent in her heart, and a shock of terror and panic cut through her chest.
Her legs felt almost too weak to move, but they spirited her towards him without a thought. She didn’t even look back to wish Valefar goodbye, only stumbled and raged over the landscape, through the labyrinth, nearly losing her way. She cal
led his name as loudly as she could, but a strong wind had rushed up out of nowhere. Clouds rolled in and blocked the light of the moon.
Finally, she found her way out of the labyrinth onto the open grounds; but the lights of the party no longer looked inviting. She ran all through the merriment, drunken revelers falling over her, trying to pull her into the festivities. She pushed them off, working her way around. A few times she thought she caught a glimpse of him, but never did.
She searched all through the house, the gardens, everywhere. But she couldn’t find him, and finally stopped in anguished desperation; guests swimming around her in a drunken haze. Their words and movements slurred in the strange, pale light. She was rather dizzy herself, from wine or terror she couldn’t tell. She leaned against a table, placing her head in her hands, anxious and uncertain what to do. She couldn’t find him and after trying once more, went inside and collapsed hopelessly onto a chaise.
~
The next morning, she awoke to her aunt’s face frowning down at her, the skin between her eyebrows marked with small creases. Her look was solemn, and it frightened Maryone as the events of the prior night swept back in an acrid wave. She’d found no repose in sleep, for her dreams had turned reality into a torturous, nightmarish ocean of feeling. The instant she awoke, she was snapped back into the events of the night before, forgetfulness hating her. Though she tried to remain calm, hoping for the best, a solid dread was settling in the pit of her belly. She searched her aunt’s face anxiously, wondering what the woman knew. Perhaps it was only disapproval at her state of malaise after such a wild night. Perhaps she was only concerned about that.
“Where is he?” she whispered anxiously.
Her aunt didn’t reply right away, only twitched her features in a way that communicated deep concern, and sent Maryone’s sense of dread spiraling. The silence terrified her.
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