by GinaRJ
Now, Zaria was the most interesting of the three by far. Unhurried like Roselyn, but dedicated like Tilly, she pampered Rachel…not with a fuss. She was sociable, but not overly so, and quite the clever one. Rachel realized she was likely the smarter of the two, and sometimes felt as if she could read her mind.
Zaria spoke with a slow, seductive-like voice and she had the most wicked-looking eyes. It was just appearance, for there was absolutely nothing wicked about her, although she was, Rachel perceived, capable of seducing guards and even visitors of choice. She did not seem at all ignorant when it came to matters of the heart; which she insisted Rachel was about to get her first true glimpse of. Understandable since for the first time in her life she cared about a man enough to marry him.
Now, Zaria stood beside her early the evening of the engagement announcement. From a secluded balcony overlooking the front lawns she and Rachel observed the throngs of guests who’d gathered for the event. The violinist was already playing, and the servants distributing drinks amongst them.
“I’ve never seen so many beautiful people in one place at one time,” Rachel commented.
“Have you ever seen so many people in one place at one time?
The outer yard was crowded with the attending citizens of the city—a mixture of well-to-do, middleclass and some poor. Nobles who’d travelled from both short and not-so-short distances, mingled in the inner yard. She spotted the duke and duchess of Tarot who’d just shortly arrived, which gave her a sense of comfort. Others she did not recognize or know, but judging by their tranquil behavior she felt at ease and looked forward to being introduced to them.
“I see mostly wealthy and arrogant men,” whispered Zaria, “most of whom would gladly trade their wife for a single night in the arms of a young, voluptuous maiden. As for beautiful,” Zaria began, “You’ll have a closer look in a short while and see otherwise. The garments may be striking, milady, but the faces of these…one may understand exactly why they vie to outdo one another with use of fine apparel.” ”
“Outward beauty is not all that matters.”
“Tis simple for you to say, milady, as age and nature have been kind to you. Some of these, well, even I have a heart that goes out to them.”
Rachel’s eyes continued to skim over the people. She wondered who they all were. As if reading her mind, Zaria began pointing them out to her; couple by couple, man by man, woman by woman.
Rachel eventually blocked out her voice; not intentionally, but she’d unexpectedly spotted a particular gentleman standing off to himself, merely watching the people in an obvious state of content.
“That man there,” she pointed out, interrupting Zaria. “There by the fountain.”
“Ah, that would be Sir Marcus Wren. I did not think he would be here…not that he does not care.”
“Who is he?” She seriously wondered.
“A very dear friend of every notable noble in New Ebony, including the emperor. I thought he was away tending to affairs of the Southern Commons.”
“The Southern Commons?”
“My, but you have lived a secluded life. Come, your Lord Trent will wish to introduce you to his guests and to make his announcement.” She took her hand, guiding her away. “You will be properly introduced to Sir Marcus as well, which will serve to my advantage.”
“We have met,” she explained as they strolled along, “The day I first arrived…in Harp.”
“Then you know him already.”
“There were no introductions, Zaria, only late in the evening he was spying on me.”
“And taking great pleasure in doing so, I would imagine.”
“Oh, you do say the most terrible things.”
“Have you never so much as indulged in common conversation?”
“That depends what you call common. I am respected in Westerly. People do not mention these so-called common things in my presence.”
“Well, milady, you are no longer in Westerly. In a few weeks you shall be wed to the noblest man in all of New Ebony. Everything will change. You will change.”
“No, Zaria, I will not.”
“Fortune changes people, and power. You shall see.”
“He is wealthy, not me, and I will never consider myself in any position of power.”
“And the manor? What about it?”
“What manor?”
“You do not know about the manor?”
“What manor, Zaria?”
“Orland Manor.”
“Orland Manor,” she repeated, giving her head a gentle shake. “What is it?”
“Perhaps I should let Lord Trent explain it to you.”
“No.” Rachel stopped them both and turned to face her. “Tell me.”
Zaria inhaled a deep breath and exhaled slowly, as if dreading to go into it. “Orland Manor is a small estate with a manor house and lands. It is placed into the hands of whoever becomes lady of the Great City. When you become his wife, Orland Manor becomes yours.”
“I don’t understand.”
Before she knew it, Zaria had taken her hands, urging her to look into her mysterious, dark eyes. “Such an arrangement works in Lord Trent’s favor, just as it does any other noble who counts for that matter, more commonly and specifically the Higher Nobles. To have his lady effectively overlook a place no matter the size of it…well, it is very significant. A noble with a wise wife is considered all the more wise for choosing and having her, and the eyes of the emperor are upon them all. Tis that simple.”
Rachel quietly whispered, more to herself than anything “why did he not mention this?”
“There is but one agreeable way to look at it. The residents will be in good hands, will they not?” She took her by the elbow and ushered her along. “So, you see, there will be changes. Not only because of the manor, but you are human, are you not? A woman soon to be wed to Lord Trent, aging but very handsome and strong. Such things draw passion from a woman. Trust me, milady, once you have been made love to, you are never the same. Now, I have noticed your practices. You drink only water or tea and eat very little.”
“You must remember my calling, Zaria. To shun gluttony and the fruit of the vine has come quite natural to me.”
“You cannot say you do not plan to drink or to eat for pure sport, or even to please your husband.”
She found it impossible to think of ever becoming a glutton or a winebibber much less a lover.
Zaria cast her eyes upward while she strolled along beside her. “You are in a sense stubborn, milady, to reject even minor pleasures. Those of lovemaking…I do not think you shall withhold it from your husband. I wonder now as we speak what you normally did for sport. It would seem you have lived a very somber and quiet life…a dreary one.”
“A peaceful life,” she recalled. “As for sport, well, human nature is amusing in itself. If I watched this crowd long enough I would find plenty to laugh about.”
“That I will not debate,” she said, and led her the rest of the way. By now, Jacob had positioned himself near a platform that’d been specifically designed for this purpose. He was glancing about, obviously searching for her. Zaria led her directly to his side.
“Ah, there you are.” He took her hands and dropped a kiss upon her forehead. “I see you got my gift.”
She raised a hand to touch the diamond necklace he referred to. “It is very beautiful,” she complimented. “A surprise.”
“I hope you like it.”
“It would be a lie to say I do not.”
“I intend to bequeath you with all the fine ornaments this world has to offer.”
“Then you shall spoil me and I will be good for nothing.”
“I shall spoil you until you insist upon it.” He motioned for Caleb to come closer. “Now, stay put here,” he told her. “I will have the harkers silence the people with their horns, and after I have announced you, Caleb will escort you up to the platform.”
She nodded, feeling suddenly nervous. Her chest began to rise
and fall while her heartbeat quickened. Zaria took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Jacob stepped up to the platform, the harkers brought the crowds to silence, and he began making the announcement. It was very simple and to the point.
“First, I thank you for coming to take part, and stand in as witnesses to this public announcement of my engagement to wed…and to meet this remarkable woman who has certainly stolen my heart. With great pleasure I introduce to you Rachel Pimbrook, also known as Rachel the Elder of Westerly…my soon-to-be bride…the future Lady Trent.”
Caleb led her up onto the platform and Jacob took her gloved hand, turning her about to face the people, and they all began to applaud. She felt a great sense of relief that her trembling legs had not caused her to fall, and then that the people seemed pleased with her. She cast her eyes from one happy, content face to the next. She smiled back at them, relieved that the applause was genuine, at least so far as she could see. Some of those from the outer yard—the city—called out, cheering and bellowing out their enthusiasm. She smiled at this, and then up at Jacob who was equally pleased by the response.
He waved a hand to silence them all. “Now,” he began, “Now I want to propose a toast.” A glass of wine was offered on a silver platter, not just to him but her as well. He continued, “To my lovely bride-to-be. May she be exceedingly happy here, and come to call this home so long as life grants it.”
They all raised their glasses to toast, and she to take her very first sip of wine.
Afterward they were properly greeted by their noble guests: earls, lords, dukes—men who patted his shoulder, shook his hand, and kissed the top of hers. The ladies were all well-mannered. She’d long since learned it was very proper to accept and give a simple kiss on the left and then right cheek.
After a while the man Sir Marcus, whose dazzling green eyes were sure to captivate any onlooker, came up to greet them.
“Rachel,” Jacob began, “you recall my friend.”
“I do,” she agreed, her mind taking her back to the brief discussion between them. “I believe he was spying on me in your stead. But no proper introductions were exchanged between us.”
“In that case…Rachel, Marcus Wren, Marcus…Rachel.”
She allowed him to take her hand on which he dropped a soft kiss. “Milady,” he greeted, his green eyes peering into hers. She could see clearly into them now unlike that particular night when it’d been too dark to see. “As you realize,” he began straightening himself, “I was correct in pledging all was well.”
“That you were,” she replied to him, and then to Jacob, “he was faithful to keep the truth to himself when I questioned him.”
“Marcus is a very faithful man,” he properly returned. “I would trust him with my very life.”
Marcus extended a hand. “If it is well with you,” he said to Rachel, “I am going to steal away your handmaiden…just for a time.”
Zaria cast Rachel a sly, sidelong glance. Marcus guided her away. At the same time, she and Jacob turned their backs to the people and made their way to the head of them and two massive chairs that’d been arranged specifically for them. Yet holding her hand, he waited for her to be seated, and then claimed the chair at her left.
She immediately spotted Zaria and this Marcus character. They’d gone off to themselves to quietly converse. Zaria was amused by something he’d said. She brushed him flirtatiously on the shoulder and laughed. At that point, the musicians began to play their instruments: flutes, horns, drums and harps, and some keyed instrument she’d never before seen.
“Marcus is quite a lady’s man,” Jacob praised, “and also my dearest friend.”
“Is he a spy by trade?”
“If ever a noble is in need of one, specifically a Higher Noble which is these days on a rare occasion. He is mostly a regulator of common affairs amongst the nobles, and of political matters. He helps maintain peace in New Ebony, specifically amongst the Higher Nobles. We all have access to fairly large armies. It’s important we are at peace with one another.”
“These political matters…are you as heavily engaged in them as he is?”
“As engaged as you are in spiritual ones.”
“Then I will not see much of you.”
“Would that please you?”
“No.” She honestly replied, “not at all.” She stared ahead, and covered her mouth with a gloved hand when one of the guests from the outer yard tumbled over the partition separating it from the inner. He fell onto the other side, clamored back onto his feet and began to dance; a peculiar dance which made her laugh. Jacob gently squeezed her hand, grinning at her amusement. The guards were quick to detain him, pushing him thru a gate in the partition and back to the other side.
For some reason this caused her to remember the manor. Her smile faded and her gaze lowered. “You are troubled,” he regretfully replied. His expression became reassuring. “You needn’t suppress your thoughts. What is it that bothers you?”
“You had not mentioned the manor.”
“I see someone has gotten to it in my stead.”
“The handmaiden.”
“Then you have questions.”
“The first is why you did not tell me. Of course the first could answer the second. And then the third. What will become of Westerly?”
“I’m afraid you’ve confused me. But I sense you have come to conclusions without my answers.”
A servant came along, offering them a glass of wine. She’d already had one and accepted a second.
“Well, it would make perfect sense,” she told him. “If a noble lady’s character is expected to be…well, I hate to use the word dominant, but that is what the view appears to be.
“I dreaded you would assume this of me since you do have a sort of reputation for being able to administrate, and the quality to do so is not to be taken lightly, not so far as the Higher Nobles are concerned. Our wives are committed to their own place, although in reality most of them have little to do with the goings-on in these manors and villages. You will adapt to it.”
“I did not govern Westerly, nor did I try or intend to.”
“If this is so,” he began, “why do you worry what will become of it without you?” He paused a moment staring upon her profile while she thought his words over. “You see?” He came to say. “You are worried as to what will become of them without you. That is a proof of the significant role you’ve played in keeping peace and order amongst them.”
“Then I should be given Westerly opposed to this manor.”
“Westerly is a two week journey by carriage, the manor merely three hours under normal conditions. Besides, the lady of the Great City has been ruling Orland for decades…centuries. It is a tradition that must be kept. It isn’t so great a deal, although very significant. You may even speak with the duchess of Tarot; she has a manor of her own and could confirm the simplicity of the position. Orland Manor is home to only a few, not like here. You shall adapt to it.”
“How many?”
“I cannot say for sure the number of them, although a census is frequently conducted. It has been a long while since I have had the slightest dealings with it. The manor functions on its own, and for two years without proper governance...well, according to our traditions.” He patted her hand as she rested it atop the armrest. “No need to fret. It is a simple place. Most of its situations are handled by the local council. Father Nelson goes on occasion to see to the religious affairs of the community. He will accompany you your first visit, along with your handmaidens and plenty of guards to see to your safety.”
“When will I go?” She asked without looking at him.
“So soon as we are wed, shortly after.”
“Will you go as well?”
“I regret my failure to mention it now seeing as to how you’ve become so troubled by it. But, no, I’m afraid not. None to worry. You will be well, and the council will acquaint you with the position. My other wives had little to do with the affairs of th
e manor. They merely listened to the goings-on amongst the people, and if something was complained about in excess, they changed it.”
“I see,” she understood.
“I hope you will not be uneasy the remainder of the night because of it. All I can do to ease your mind is make this one promise…that I called upon you for one reason and one reason only. It is just as I have said from the beginning.”
She thought a moment before smiling over at him, and gave his hand a gentle reassuring squeeze. His face glowed with relief and they together watched their guests.
After being entertained by troubadours and musicians, dances meant for random maidens and fellows were conducted. These were intended to entertain, and could be quite provocative. The participants were mostly handmaidens and squires who’d attended with their masters and mistresses. Zaria was one of these, which did not surprise Rachel in the least. She’d broken away from Sir Marcus, and chose Nicholas as her partner. Strange to see him dressed in average clothing opposed to the usual armor.
He and Zaria, as the other partners, knew each move by heart. The music played, and they danced…often very leisurely, from a distance and then together, staring one another in the eye with every turn, with every graceful step, sweep and twirl. Afterward the nobles applauded. Rachel had to agree…it was quite entertaining. She and Jacob joined in the applause.
There were more dances meant for the noble couples, simple and well organized. She at first refused Jacob’s attempt at getting her to join him, but then accepted although fearing she was not experienced enough to participate.
She hadn’t danced in years, since she was a child. At first she was clumsy, but as they moved from song to song, she fit in well. It all came back to her; although some of the dances she did not know at all. After having first watched, and then joining in, simply doing what everyone else was doing, she did well and soon experienced the carefree feeling she remembered from so long ago—before the age of ten when she’d happily partook in events of celebration, whether for a holiday or such events as marriage. Although rare, the citizens of Westerly did know how to celebrate an occasion.