Lady Trent

by GinaRJ

  There was an assortment of sandals to choose from, also. Now, these she was particularly grateful for today seeing as to how she’d accidentally stubbed her toe on the nightstand the evening before. No way would she have been able to comfortably wear her little black boots.

  Three guards were assigned to her and travelled from a distance while she strolled along a walkway admiring the gardens. There were statues and fountains and every flower imaginable. It was an admirable, colorful scene which the sparrows seemed to enjoy equally as well.

  The walkway was paved with brick, in some places stone, and others pebbles that had been flatly embedded into the ground. It was a generous walk, but the scenery was never the same. The trail led all the way from the left of the palace to the right, and she could hear the faint sound of the ocean’s waves from beyond the stone wall that encircled the grounds. She stopped here and there, taking a flower by its stem, touching the blooms of roses and petunias to her nose, inhaling their sweet, pleasant scent.

  Midway the passage she came across a strawberry patch and could not resist plucking one of the ripened pieces of fruit. While she savored its sweet flavor, a voice called out to her. She would not have expected to be greeted there by Lord Trent, himself.

  She could not help but smile back at him as he approached. Upon reaching her he extended his hands to take hers. She considered again how very solid and handsome he was, even at the age of forty-nine. She imagined he must have been a very dashing young man.

  “You certainly add to the beauty of this scene,” he complimented.

  “You flatter me.”

  “I speak the truth,” he kindly corrected, and acknowledged the strawberry patch for himself.

  “You’ve stumbled upon me indulging myself.”

  “It is well if you do so. Such is the reason for these. Up ahead you will find apple and peach trees and berry bushes of all kinds. And some other kind of tree. It bears an attractive fruit that has yet to be seen in any other place or even named for that matter. But it is restricted.”

  “Poisonous?” She guessed.

  “I only know that a servant of my grandfather’s many years ago decided to be the first to taste it. He claimed it was the tastiest fruit he’d ever bitten into. Unfortunately, he later died. The tree is left alone to simply be admired. I do, however, suspect its fruit has been used to…Well, there may be those who have taken it upon themselves to end life prematurely.”

  “Perhaps the tree should be destroyed.”

  “Perhaps,” he simply agreed, redirecting his attention to a nearby rosebush. He plucked one of the flowers and handed it to her. Smiling she accepted it. A palm to her back, he guided her onward. They walked along, several guards now following from a distance behind them.

  “I supposed you would not return until later. Tilly said you had a matter to attend outside the city.”

  “Tilly?”

  “The maiden assigned to me.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. Forgive me. I am not well acquainted with the names of those who serve the palace. But, yes, I attended the matter. It was quickly resolved. A mere spat between two farmers. Brothers,” he added.

  “I see.”

  “I ordered breakfast be served in your room. I thought you would prefer it opposed to dining alone at the table. I trust my orders were followed.”

  “They were,” she assured him.

  “And how does it appeal to you? Being served?”

  “That is a peculiar question.”

  “I do not think so,” he quietly commented. “After all you are accustomed to serving others, not the other way around.”

  She mindlessly plucked at the rose’s leaves, dropping fragments onto the ground as they went, and toyed with the stem while thinking upon his statement. “True, my calling requires that I serve others…not the other way around.”

  “I have taken much thought to this calling of yours. Until recently I had not actually considered the Sacred Vows, that is to say the procedures of them and those who pledge to honor them. I have now become better acquainted with the Orders. People such as yourself claim to be required to serve but to never be served. I cannot help but think—are there not times when we all require the service of another whether in spirit or mind or body? Are we not all in danger of requiring a helping hand at some point or another?”

  “I imagine you consider this proposition a means of service not only to the people of Westerly but to me as well? You should be aware, Lord Trent, that I am quite content to be as I am. I have no desire whatsoever to be liberated…if that is at all what you would consider to be a foremost benefit to the proposition.”

  “You should also be aware, milady, if not for you I would not have offered this to the citizens of Westerly.”

  “Without me your assistance would doubtfully have been requested to begin with,” she pointed out.

  He almost grinned at her profile. Placing his hands together behind his back and his gaze to the ground ahead of them, he thought heavily upon what she had said.

  “This lack of self-regard…it is not a trait I am accustomed to.”

  “Then you have not spent a great deal of time with the clerics.”

  “Well, Sister Camille is a rightful and distinguished member of the Sacred Sisterhood.”

  “I would not doubt it, only it appears things are done so much differently here.”

  “I must admit, I find myself tempted to instill in you some sense of regard that I feel you deserve. You do not express any urge to be liberated and seem completely content to dedicate your life to this calling you are so adamant about—this impresses me.” He paused a moment before asking. “How does one receive it, this sort of calling? Is it a voice or a thought, or a simple desire that was placed into the heart to begin with?”

  She thought for a moment, her mind taking her back. “I was very young,” she recalled. “Eleven years of age. My parents had died the Year of The Plague and I’d been left to care for my siblings. Sister Agatha claimed I would one day take the Sacred Vows, and a stranger who came into town, merely passing thru. He clarified the same. Ultimately the calling came to me while I was praying for my siblings and for the citizens of Westerly. I had realized how very poor and excluded they were in comparison to what I had learned about those of other places, and also very much in need of spiritual guidance which to me had become of foremost importance.”

  “I suppose we are all in need of guidance one way or another,” he said, and she said nothing. His expression had become very serious. He kept quiet for a while, and then out-of-the-blue stated, “You are very beautiful, Rachel, beautiful in heart and naturally as well. Before, when I thought of you, I could not envision you at all. With every attempt my mind became blank. Now I have met you. I am all the more infatuated. It seems unfair that any deity or purpose; anything at all should keep you from becoming my wife.”

  “You should also then consider the citizens of Westerly, how unfair it would be for anything or anyone at all to keep me from continuing with them.”

  “Unfortunately, I am not a deity to make demands, only requests.”

  She stopped and turned to look at him. She parted her lips to speak, but before she could he’d lifted a hand, a grin touching his lips, and gently stroked her chin.

  “You were going to scold me,” he figured, dropping his hand, “for insinuating that if it was my ability, I would certainly demand it.”

  “I perceive that you are accustomed to having things the way you want them…to having your orders followed no matter the extent or the cost.”

  “I cannot argue that, milady. Not at all. But I understand how necessary you have become to the people of Westerly. Your commitment to this calling seems essential to them. You speak as if it is essential to you. Not because of any obvious shortcomings.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Many young ladies decide to take the vows because of outward misfortune. Their appearance leaves them with little or no prospect at finding a h
usband. Think of someone such as Camille, for instance.”

  “Sister Camille is a lovely woman,” Rachel defended, “even despite being…well, advanced in age.”

  “Oh, she was a lovely young woman, and still is lovely in so many ways. She took the vows in secret, and later claimed that she did so because the reasons were also secret. But then there are those who have chosen the Vows, well, for apparent reasons so to speak.”

  “Unfortunately, in some instances, that has been the case. Very few, one can only hope.”

  “Quite certainly not yours,” he commented.

  “Lord Trent, your compliments are—“

  “—the truth,” he interrupted, “yet they make you uneasy. Perhaps you feel you haven’t a right to be proud.”

  “How does one ask a man who is accustomed to saying whatever he pleases to guard his tongue?”

  “I imagine they would simply ask. The request could either be honored or denied. In your case, if you wish it, I will remain silent the rest of your stay.”

  She could not help but smile at this. She inhaled a deep breath and they began walking again. “You speak of pride, Sir, which may only lead to egotistical affections and a regard for vain things. I don’t concern myself with outward beauty, even like this.” She raised her hands and examined herself. “Under no circumstance would I have given in to such a façade.”

  “Yet you did under these circumstances, if you could call it a circumstance. You were not forced.”

  “Not in the slightest, although there was some pressure. When I insisted upon wearing what I’d brought along for the occasion, it was so strongly opposed. Why, one of the maidens began to have a very difficult time breathing. The other actually went so far as to wrestle my clothing from me.”

  He laughed at this. “They were simply seeing to it Camille’s orders were followed.”

  “I suppose it practical that I adorned myself suitably.”

  “I would have received you no matter what.”

  “Sister Camille was the one to bring a specific ‘appearance’ to my attention.”

  “She was merely going by protocol.”

  “I cringe to think of my friends back home seeing me this way. It would surely shift their opinion of me.”

  “I’m afraid I do not understand,” he admitted.

  “I would rather be viewed from the inside out, not the other way around. This has proven beneficial over the years for me and for those I am personally acquainted with.”

  “Ah, I see. Yes, that does make some sense. After all, such was the manner in which I formed my opinion of you. Not by way your appearance, for I hadn’t a clue…only that you were not elderly as your name implies. No, my opinion had nothing to do with any façade as you call it.”

  She felt pleased to have proven her point.

  “Tell me,” he began, “have you ever been proposed to?”

  “Prior to this? Not since the age of twelve when Jonas Arum asked me to marry him.” The memory to this day made her smile. “He was but a child, himself, but certain we should be wed when I became of age, even with my siblings in tow.”

  “And how old was he, this Jonas?”

  “Merely fourteen, but he pretended to be every bit a grown man.” She appreciated the memory. “I have not since then been proposed to.”

  “I find that remarkable. Do you have some ailment or flaw that you’ve disguised from me?”

  She laughed at the playful insinuation and corrected, “Not at all…only the citizens of Westerly understand and reverence my calling, Lord Trent. Even strangers who have ventured into town on and off over the years whether to stay or to go—they, too, have understood it. The people respect my calling. They respect me.”

  He brought his steps to a gradual halt and turned so that they faced one another. His expression and voice were very serious when he asked, “Have I disrespected you in any way?”

  She did not have to think before answering. “No, not at all.”

  “And I would not,” he vowed, adding, “ever. That is my promise to you. And you mustn’t forget the other. I meant what I said…every word of it, even down to your virtue and the keeping of it. I would not pressure you to lose it. Do you believe me? If not I will spend more time between now and tomorrow evening trying to convince you of it.”

  “You needn’t trouble yourself. Although I do not comprehend a man such as yourself inviting such an arrangement, I do believe you. I think you mean well.”

  He pleasantly studied her until a sparrow flew overhead catching his eye. He inhaled a slow deep breath, and she found herself deciding once and for all that Jacob Trent was a reasonable man.

  “This afternoon and evening I will be entertaining two very dear friends. They are visiting this day and departing on the morrow. It is getting close to time. I should go and prepare myself. My hope is that you will join me.”

  She began walking back with him, agreeing to do that very thing. She recalled the entire conversation they’d shared after they had separated, he to his quarters to prepare himself, she to hers to do the same. Of course, Tilly assisted in selecting the most appropriate garments: a peach-colored gown that belled out below and trailed behind, a silk shawl to match, fastened together in the front by a small gold buckle in the shape of a dove. But this time when Tilly insisted she do so, she refused to look at herself in the mirror, for she was by now exhausted with guilt. If she appeared anywhere near as attractive as she felt…well, those reminders of humility and modesty would surely vex her.

  The afternoon went well and on into the evening. She was introduced to the duke and duchess of Tarot, an extravagant middle-aged couple. All thanks to Tilly, her entrance was a successful one. The maiden had let her in on a little secret.

  “The duchess is known for making strict comparisons between her own and the looks of other noble ladies. She judges herself most harshly. You should not be too impressively adorned…for her sake, milady, and Lord Trent’s. The bond between him and the duke are most valuable to him.”

  But there was absolutely nothing less than impressive in the entire wardrobe…only tucked away in her two suitcases that had not been unpacked.

  She and Jacob were a distinguished couple, standing side by side, she in her elegant gown, he his breeches, vest and waistcoat, a scarf draped about his shoulders; an impressive outfit in itself. He secretly acknowledged that some advice must have been given, and he appreciated her all the more for taking it.

  The duchess of Tarot’s gown was as equally stunning as the jewelry she proudly donned: a golden necklace with a diamond locket, pearl bracelets, diamond rings on fingers and in earlobes. If Rachel was not mistaken a shadow of appreciation crossed over her features as she realized Jacob’s companion had not purposely set out to exceed her.

  Rachel had wondered how Jacob would introduce her, and was pleased when he did so simply by her usual title. The duchess raised a curious brow at this. “Rachel the Elder,” she slowly repeated, “of Westerly. This name I have heard.”

  She would later elaborate as they sat alone in the parlor, after the two men had left them alone without an excuse, speaking in private side by side as they exited through the doors.

  Rachel had handled herself with ease at the table where dinner was served and wine along with it. Unlike her companions, she chose water and tea instead. She noted a hint of disappointment in Jacob’s eyes as her refusal of the wine became symbolic of that fact that she would, indeed, decline his proposal.

  They spent the entire afternoon and much of the evening with the duke and duchess. The visit seemed mostly due to some instruction from the emperor although little time was spent discussing whatever the matter was. Jacob and the duke often talked quietly between themselves, and eventually left Rachel and the duchess alone although in the care of two guards who stood by ever prepared to protect if the need arose.

  “May I ask what brings you to the Great City?” The duchess asked with her usual soft, skillful voice. Her monotone rare
ly changed, she never truly smiled, and her expression rarely altered. She was quite sophisticated and elegant, and Rachel inwardly disagreed with her fears—she was unlikely any less attractive than the other noble ladies, and she felt like saying so.

  “I had assumed you knew.”

  “I know that you reside in Westerly, my darling, and that you are an advocate of the Sacred Sisterhood. Your name has been associated with the continuance of that pitiful community. You are commended as having an ability to govern a people who would elsewhere be denoted for variable causes.”

  “I am hardly a governor of the people,” Rachel reasoned, thinking these descriptions equally as stunning as Father Nelson’s. She was fast starting to wonder why and how anyone at all was aware of her. “Westerly is not governed by one person alone. We have a mayor and a sheriff, and a priest who takes part in the administration of the town. And we all work together.” She paused a moment before asking, “How have you heard these things?”

  The duchess sat like a queen now, her back straight and the fingers of one hand holding gently to the stem of her wineglass. “Did you not know? The emperor at one time considered eradicating the town altogether and using that land for some more valuable cause—what exactly I assure I don’t know. I do not participate in political conversations, nor do I care to know much about them. Clearly, he decided against it and left things as they are. Surrounding nobles have also made requests for it, and still do, which he ultimately denies.”

  The duchess had obviously paid more attention to political conversations than she realized…or cared to admit. It dawned on Rachel that the conditions of Westerly, although noted and recognized, were simply and bluntly overlooked and ignored.

  “The priest of Tarot Palace once made mention of you. Yours is not a title one forgets. I cannot recall his exact reason. But now we sit face to face. Nobody had mentioned how very lovely you are…and young—only that you are quite dedicated to those poor, dear people and your town of birth.”