by Jo Beverley
Though I have my own horses at regular stops along the road to Scotland, I could not risk that I be tracked by my use of them. As a result, I had to say good-bye to Hoof and Thunder when they clearly grew tired from their exertions (rewarding them well, of course, with pieces of dried apple and good stable provisions), and use horses unknown to me and unfortunately not as fast.
I believe I brought them to their best speed, however, as I know horses well, and these were inclined to do as I willed and with a good nature. Still, the persistent worry nagged at me that it would be much faster for two men on horseback to travel than a man and a woman in a curricle, however well sprung the carriage and however willing the horses.
For all my worries and concerns, however, I found myself greatly relieved upon marrying Arabella. Relieved that the problem of her reputation was no longer a concern, of course, and that we could concentrate our efforts on the mission of the Grail.
I admit it is a comfort as well, and to be frank, giving up the notion that I will ever be a competent Grail Knight is another relief. I had not liked the designation when I was told I had it, but duty was duty. Once we are relieved of the Grail and the spear, both Arabella and I can retire to my family’s estate, and can have a good life there. That I feel uncommonly cheerful at the prospect of attending to my horses and at avoiding further inconveniences such as spies and being shot at is further evidence that I am wholly unfit for the job.
Yet I do not feel chastened at all by marrying Arabella, but positively jolly. I had thought I would have to give up hope of a family life, for I have been taught that purity is the tradition for a Grail Knight, but now that I have cast off that designation, a whole new world has opened up for me. I may not adhere to absolute chastity, but I am more than happy to be chaste in our marriage.
And . . . selfishly, there is also the tradition I have heard of (not confirmed, however) that the Grail Knight must at some time give up his life for the Grail Guardian. As much as I am glad I have married Arabella, I am also glad I will probably have a good long life, as long as anyone might expect.
Which no one can expect if we do not ensure that we speed posthaste to Rosslyn Chapel.
I decided to hasten as much as possible, and Arabella, bless her, did not protest. We gathered as many provisions as we could depend upon not to spoil, and for the next eight hours drove on the Great North Road as fast as the horses would take us. We stopped only long enough to change horses and to take brief refreshment, and as a result, probably traveled a good hundred and twenty-five miles in that time.
Had we not felt pursued, I am sure our journey would have been more enjoyable, for the clouds were considerate enough not to drop any rain on us, and even allowed the sun to shine. I found Arabella to have a good sense of the ridiculous, and she is far more intelligent than I had first given her credit for. I am ashamed I misjudged her; I suppose it came from not coming to London much and not knowing whether those mentioned in the society page were as frivolous as they sounded. I should say I did not pay much attention to their activities, as military concerns and my duties as the Grail Knight had occupied my time more than the doings of the ton.
I am tired and will end my writing here; though the Grail has done much to heal me faster than anyone with even a strong constitution might expect, my wound still causes me to tire easily. I am looking forward to my bed, and not least because Arabella will be in it with me.
Speaking of beds—one other thing I must note. There are times when a bright light shines around us when we . . . are together there. I do not know what it means or whether Arabella has been aware of it. I am not sure how to approach her about it; I must be careful of her sensibilities, as she was of course untouched when we married, and mentioning it as something associated with our intimacies might embarrass her.
It’s awkward, but I shall try to be as delicate as I can about it. I may not have had much experience with the fair sex, but at least I know that one must approach these things with care and consideration.
—W. Marstone
April 18, 1806
I am not entirely sure whether to be annoyed at the shimmering light that surrounds us or not. I cannot deny it is a great deal of fun when Will and I are in bed together and kissing and touching each other all over. It was even enjoyable when we tried to do it in a chair. But I do not believe I am mistaken in thinking that each time we are in bed—well, even when we are in a chair—the light becomes brighter.
Will has not mentioned it, but surely he must have noticed. While Mama was right in saying the marriage bed could be enjoyable, she never said anything about shining lights. If the glow was the natural result of a man and a woman touching each other, then a certain modesty must require that our activities not be advertised, or at least not much more than a squeaking bed frame might (although the last time we encountered one such, Will took such slow and gentle care to keep it from squeaking, I was hard put not to make noises myself).
If the glow is some extraordinary event, then it is even more important that it not be advertised.
It has become quite distracting. Last night, Will was kissing my breasts, making me feel extremely breathless, and the glow began to brighten the space inside the bed curtains. I had drawn them closed—as well as the window curtains—for fear that the light might be noticed by anyone who could be passing by outside. I closed my eyes, and for a short while it sufficed, and indeed intensified the sensations Will was giving me as he moved his lips between my breasts and down my stomach. I clutched his hair as he descended lower, for what he was doing seemed exceedingly daring as well as excruciatingly intense. But even with my eyes closed, I could tell the glow had grown much brighter, for it was as bright as the sunlight and as annoying as when the morning light strikes one’s closed eyes when one would rather be asleep.
Except I did not want to be asleep; I wanted Will to be inside of me again, and not to think about glows and what it all might mean.
“Will—oh, ah!—Will . . .” I tried to speak, but it was difficult, for he had not only kissed all the way down there, but was doing something indescribable with his fingers, indescribable because it made me temporarily lose my mind.
The light became even brighter.
“The light—” I gasped.
“Mmm?” He began to kiss his way up my stomach to my breasts again.
“The—oh!” I could not say more. He had risen above me, and I daresay he did not see the light then, for his eyes were tightly shut, and then he entered me and I could not think of anything but him, and him within me, and the touch of his hands and lips. All I could do was hold him tightly, clutching his hips with my legs so that we might be joined as deeply as possible. The light around us flashed, as bright this time as lightning, so that I was glad I had closed my eyes, for I am sure I would have been blinded had I not.
He sank down upon me and I held him close, kissing his neck and shoulder, unwilling to let him go. I dared open my eyes, and the light about us had dimmed, but still glowed as if a full moon had taken up residence inside the confines of our bed.
“Do you see that, Will?” I asked.
He kissed me deeply and said, “I see only the most beautiful woman in the world.” We had not parted, and he began to move within me again, but though I wished very much to move along with him, I shook my head.
“Stop, oh . . . Oh, stop, please.”
He slowed but instead of moving away from me, he pulled us to our sides, holding me close. “Yes?” he said, and kissed my neck.
“The light—do you see it?”
That made him stop and look at me. “The light?”
“Yes. Every time you service me, a glow appears around us.”
He looked pained. “Service.”
“Is that not what you do?”
“I am not a horse,” he said. “It is called ‘making love.’ ”
I smiled at him. I liked that it was called making love. So much better than service. “So, when one makes love is it us
ual for a glow to appear?”
He parted from me, and I thought I saw an expression of relief pass over his face. But then he grew thoughtful. “You see it, too?”
“Yes, it’s very bright and hard to miss, although I was not sure whether you saw it, for your eyes were very tightly closed a few minutes ago.”
He smiled and let his finger drift lazily across my breast. I shivered, then realized the glow persisted, for I should not have been able to see his expression at night with the bed curtains closed. I lightly slapped his hand away. “Of course you see it, and right now, too, for I can see your silly grin from here when I shouldn’t at all. What does it mean?”
His brow furrowed. “I don’t know. Nothing in my training as a Grail Knight mentioned anything like this. I, ah, was supposed to—”
“Remain pure, I know.” I thought of when it first happened, and how it appeared each time after that. “I think . . . I think it becomes brighter every time we make love.”
“I have not noticed a change,” he said.
“Well, it isn’t a great deal of brightness each time, just a little.” I pondered it—was it progressive, or was the brightness a random thing? “Perhaps we should take note of whether it becomes brighter or not.” I reached down to touch his . . .
I do not know the word for it. I shall have to ask him sometime. Regardless, his response was quick, and the light did indeed seem brighter than the last time. Just to be sure, we made love once more, and yes, it was even brighter.
“What do you think?” I asked, after I caught my breath at last.
“Marvelous,” Will said.
“No, I mean the light.”
“That, too.”
I sat up and eyed him sternly. “Will! This is serious.”
He sighed. “Very well. It did change and become brighter. I still do not know what it means.” He sat up as well, gathering up the pillows that had scattered across the bed and on the floor, and putting them between us and the headboard (not the pillows with the Grail or the spear in them, of course—that would not be right). He looked about the enclosed bed, at the darker corners of the space, at the narrow distance between us, and then took my hand in his and squeezed it. For one moment the light seemed to pulse brighter; then it faded again. He looked at me, his brows raised in surprise. “It is coming from us.”
I swallowed nervously. “It’s a good sign, isn’t it?”
“I hope so,” Will said. “It’s light, not darkness, and it reminds me of—” He let out a slow breath. “It reminds me of the light that comes from the Grail whenever I look at it.”
“Me, too,” I said. “That is, I don’t see that kind of light from the Grail, but I do see it from the spear.” I looked at him hopefully. “Perhaps we were meant to marry, after all? Meant to make love?”
He grinned, then sobered. “That would be a very convenient thing to believe. All I can say is that I hope it is so. Meanwhile . . .” He took me into his arms again, and settled my head on his shoulder. “Meanwhile, we must sleep, and be on our way as soon as it is light. The sooner we arrive in Rosslyn, the better.”
I nodded, and pulled the bedcovers over us again as we settled down on our pillows. For one moment the light pulsed around us again, and I allowed myself to take hope from it.
However, it took me quite a while before I could sleep, for it did not grow dark again within the bed curtains for some time, and I never could go to sleep very well with light shining in my eyes.
We left the next morning at dawn. I could see Will was tired still, and after a few hours on the road, I offered to drive. He was extremely reluctant at first, for I am sure he believed I could not handle a curricle and pair. However, I impressed him enough with my skills so that he permitted himself to take a nap as I drove. I could not help glancing anxiously at him from time to time. He still seemed pale from his injury, and though the Grail had helped him heal quickly, he had lost quite a bit of blood and had suffered greatly from the fever.
Will does not know it, but I have tried and tried to get the Grail to heal him completely. Every morning before I remove the Grail from our room to the curricle, I hold it in my hands and wish and pray that it may rid him of his continuing illness. If he is not a good enough Grail Knight, as he claims, then I cannot be much of a Grail Guardian, for as far as I can see, it has not done much more to speed his recovery.
The Grail does appear more beautiful to me every morning, but it does not glow as bright as the spear. Perhaps the Grail does not like me much. Well, if it is going to be that way about me, a designated Guardian, then I do not feel obliged to like it in return.
I must end my writing for now—we stopped at an inn to secure more provisions, and dared sit for an hour to have our luncheon. Will shall be taking the reins again, and I am certain he shall pick up speed to make up for the time lost in spending an hour here.
—Arabella
Chapter 5
IN WHICH THE GUARDIAN AND THE KNIGHT TRAVEL VENTRE À BOUE.
April 19, 1806
It wants only this to make our situation worse. We gained the Scottish border near evening—well past it, in fact, a few miles past Melrose. I had decided to go a shorter, though rougher, route through the middle of Northumberland, and then it began to rain, and rain in earnest. A bolt of lightning, panicked horses and a deep rut in the road was all it took to tip over the curricle.
I seized Arabella as I released the reins and tumbled to the grass—rather, mud—by the side of the road. Pain coursed through my arm, and I hoped I had not opened my wound again. I saw she was well enough, so I released her and went to the horses—a difficult task, as the muddy road made for uncertain footing and the horses were rearing and neighing in fear. But I managed a good hold on the dominant horse’s bridle and willed as much calmness as possible to the gelding and spoke in soothing words until both he and the mare at his side settled themselves.
My arm ached, but I could not attend to it then. It was clear the curricle’s axle was broken and the body smashed. I worked to release the horses from their traces and glanced back at Arabella. I was glad to see she had assessed the situation correctly: She was already gathering what she could out of her trunk, had tossed a few of her hats to the side of the road, stuffed the Grail into one of her bandboxes and was carefully wrapping the spear into a shawl and putting it into a pillowcase. She tied two ends of the pillowcase with a good, sturdy knot so that it formed a handle.
As a result, by the time I had finished examining the horses for any injury, Arabella was ready to ride on the gelding, the younger and sounder of the two horses. The mare had to trail behind us; the horse had not sustained a severe injury but did have a slight tenderness near her ankle. I did not want to strain it further by burdening her with a rider.
Arabella had found a stump on which she managed a good foot-hold, and I lifted her up, holding my foot at an angle so that she could step upon it and swing herself up behind me. She smiled reassuringly at me as she took my hand, and I could not help seeing the bruise near her chin as she did so. I hated that she had been hurt, but admired her fortitude.
As we continued to travel, I could feel Arabella shivering behind me, for all that she pressed herself closer to me for warmth. The rain was chill to begin with; as the sky darkened further into evening, the rain became sleet. We had to find shelter soon; I did not want Arabella to become ill. I cursed myself for not changing to a traveling coach along the road, but I had wished to travel swiftly, and my curricle was the fastest carriage I knew of, a compromise between a slow, heavy coach and riding on horseback.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw a light in the distance, and the gelding must have sensed my emotion, for he picked up speed. A large building loomed: We were clearly on a gentleman’s estate, and if he was inclined to be hospitable, we would soon find respite.
It took three loud knocks on the door to bring a footman to the door. He was about to refuse us, for our bedraggled state could not have recommended us to
a respectable household. But a child’s voice cried out from behind him and I could see a dark-haired boy who ran up to the door and peered around it. His eyes widened when he saw us. “Are you angels?” he asked.
“Walt, you rascal, come here!” A male, gently accented Scottish voice sounded beyond the two at the door. “It’s well, Rob; I’ll see to who is there.” The footman obediently bowed and moved aside.
“Look, Da, there’s angels!”
A large, robust man opened the door wider and peered out at us. “Aye, well, if they are, they’re angels unawares. Come in, come in! It’s a nasty sight out there, and a shame to keep man or beast out in it.”
Little Walt looked at his father gravely. “Da, you said angels can be disguised—or is that just a story?”
Walt’s father grinned. “It’s true enough, my boy. And if you would go up for your supper, you will see one, I’m sure.”
The boy looked puzzled. “But there’s only Mama up there.”
“And what better angel is there than your own mama? Go now.” The man waved us farther into the hall as the boy skipped up the stairs; then he turned to the footman. “Rob, get some rooms ready for our guests, and tell your mistress to find some clothes for them as well.” He eyed me up and down. “Aye, you look about my size, though I’m afraid I have about a stone’s weight more than you.”
The gentleman did not ask us our names, but ordered warm blankets and tea for us straightaway, for which I was grateful. He went before us—limping a little and favoring his right leg, I noticed—into a small library in which a warm fire blazed in the hearth. Arabella was shivering violently, so I hastened her near it, pulling up a chair for her near the fireplace and pulling off her half boots as quickly as I could so that her feet would be better exposed to the heat. The footman had already taken my greatcoat, but the wetness had soaked through most of it, and I was in not much better state than Arabella.