by GinaRJ
She kept seeing the faces of the people, from the nobles and citizens during the announcement of the wedding, to the nobles and the citizens the day of the wedding, to the citizens of this very needy place, Orland manor. Was it not well to appreciate these new roles? Was it not well to be proud of where she was?
She decided on a breath of fresh air. She stepped out onto the balcony, the events of the past several weeks passing through her mind so swiftly she could not snatch any one of them to ponder for any extended period of time, only a second or two. She remembered Westerly and told herself to send a message immediately describing the new role she’d taken She had to tell them the truth. Yes, she must be honest and not keep any of this from them. How could she?
She was also bent upon sending someone there to help guide them with their situations. The question was, who? Who would replace her? Who would she trust? She suddenly wished she had someone like Jacob did. He had Marcus. Now she needed someone to trust as well…someone smart and wise and kind. My, but wasn’t that basically a compliment to herself and what she’d been all these years?
The face in the moon stared down at her as if in agreement. She smiled and looked away. This midnight sky was very clear. The air was perfect, not too hot or cool or damp. Just right. Perfect. The light of the moon gave access to the city, what could be seen from where she stood, and to the gardens.
She thought she saw some movement there, and leaned over, adjusting her vision so as to get a clear view. No, she had not mistaken. There was movement—of something not only Zaria had warned about, but Marcus as well. They both claimed lovers would meet in the gardens late at night. She now saw that they were correct.
She was at first stunned by the scene, but then intrigued as the young man and woman seemed so close to actually making love. They were tightly embraced, and kissing so ever passionately. The damsel’s head fell back and her companion’s lips sought her neck. She was clutching to him, now, while his hands held her hair as if to keep her in place. Her eyes were closed. Her lips parted. If Rachel was not mistaken, there was a sigh of pleasure. His lips had travelled down even further to the crevice between her breasts, and his hand moved to take her garment, moving it aside so as to expose one breast which his mouth instantly devoured.
Rachel did not realize she had been holding her breath until she turned away from the scene. Then she exhaled, thinking about what she’d just witnessed. She did not want to see anymore or to be seen seeing. Then again, as the memory of what was happening directly below replayed itself in her mind, she fought an urge to turn and to witness again the passion between the two lovers. The urge was so strong she hurried back inside, closing the doors behind her. She leaned against them, her chest rising and falling, her eyes searching the room mindlessly.
She thought of Jacob, imagined him holding her, kissing her, and her blood turned warm. How fond she’d become of him—and attracted, she had to admit. She placed a hand over her stomach as it began to burn.
“No,” she said quietly into the air. This couldn’t be.
Then the voice in the back of her head reminded her. She was married, was she not, and well able to experience what the damsel below was experiencing—and appearing quite delighted to be doing so.
She put a hand to her throat and imagined Jacob kissing her neck as the lover had kissed his damsel, and it was not hard to envision. For she imagined Jacob would be a perfect lover, that he would consume her with the very passion she’d just witnessed down below.
She began to pace, and when all else failed she sat at the desk and flipped open the very large book containing the Sacred Oracles, and she began to read. This succeeded. Before long she was calm and the thoughts of her head directed elsewhere. She yawned, rubbed tired eyes. Standing she made her way to the bed, lied down and slept.
At some point she was awakened by the heat of another body, a hand stroking the hair from her face. She opened her eyes to see a blurry image of Jacob seated on the edge of the bed. A lazy grin touched his lips as she noticed him.
She started to pull herself up, but he stopped her.
“No,” he softly persuaded. “You were resting well. I am sorry for wakening you, but I wanted to witness your livelihood for myself before retiring.”
Her eyelids fell. He kissed her on the check, a long, soft, lingering kiss as she drifted back to sleep.
******
That morning the first thing she did upon awakening was touch a palm to the cheek Jacob had kissed. She wondered what his plans were for the day. In the hopes of getting to him before anyone or anything else, she did not bother dressing. She yanked her arms into the sleeves of a robe and hasted from the room. Tying the front of the robe together, she scurried down the hall, toward Jacob’s private quarters. Edwin stood at the doors, not seeming to notice her. He stared straight ahead without so much as the blink of an eye.
She slowly opened the doors, instantly spotting Jacob in the outer chamber, dressed and ready for the day. He stood straightening his belt when she entered.
He grinned big at the sight of her, and held out his arms as she came toward him to both offer and welcome a warm embrace. “I see I’ve caught you just in time,” she said, pulling away from him.
He held her there at arm’s length. “I would have certainly found you before going my way.”
“I had hoped to have you all to myself for the day.”
“I find it reassuring to have such a lovely woman anticipate my company.”
“Will you be occupied all the day long?”
“Possibly so, my love.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m already falling behind. I was late returning. Now it’s the tenth hour. I should have been gone and on my way by now.”
“The tenth hour,” she repeated. “I didn’t realize.”
“I imagine we were both exhausted from our drudgeries,” he commented. “I spoke with Father Nelson briefly upon returning. He claims you were generously welcomed and that you handled yourself as if you were trained for the position all along. I’m glad of it. Being lady of Orland is no small matter.”
“I was very discontent with its present state.”
“Oh, I imagine so. I studied the proposals you handed to my advisory.”
“I hope you were not troubled by them.”
“No,” he warmly assured. “Quite the contrary. You judged the conditions of the estate well. As for your proposals, consider them done. I have already sent Winston with a reasonable amount to add to the treasury and also some guards to see to the prisoners, that they are properly supervised and handled during their labors. Also a draftsman. I see no reason why the estate cannot be restructured a bit to suit the age.”
She hugged him in response, and felt her body go limp there, as if she could stay there in his embrace forever. He stroked her hair and her back. She heard and felt him inhale and exhale a deep breath.
“Ah, Rachel,” he said quietly, very close to her ear. “How much I love you.”
She pulled away, feeling all the more disappointed to see him go. She wanted to be with him today…to be close to him…like the lovers in the garden.
Could the eyes truly give someone away so certainly? She watched his expression change, as if he too was considering the scene she’d beheld that night. A voice in the back of her head suddenly reminded her of the fact that he had experienced such a thing before. She had not.
He raised a thumb and caressed her cheek. She felt as if he would suddenly draw her to him, maybe kiss her, hold her. Touch her. But he did not. He instead turned away, as if to do away with whatever emotions were toying with them, and spoke as if to say just whatever came to mind.
“The manor has become very poor,” he commented.
“Yes,” she agreed. “The conditions of the homes and buildings are not good, and the people were so poorly dressed. There are some who are not poor, but they hardly seem to mind that others are.”
“Such would be the case in any domicile. Even here in the Great City
there are those who haven’t everything they need.”
“But it isn’t so,” she quietly began, “in Westerly.”
Lips pressed together, he came back to stand before her. “Rachel, not every man and woman intend to better themself. In fact, some prefer a handout opposed to laboring with their own hands.”
“And those who do. I mean, those who labor but haven’t the things they need.”
“I imagine any man who practices a skill or trade is able to provide for himself and his house.”
“It isn’t always so.”
“I had not considered it.”
“Will you consider it now?” She asked, and thought to mention her concerns about the community she’d left behind for this marriage. Something kept her from doing so.
He gazed thoughtfully down at her, raising his hands to caress her cheeks with his thumbs. “Of course,” he said and pressed his lips to hers. He drew away and she opened her eyes. His thumb took the place of his mouth, and he caressed her lower lip, a far away, cloudy look in his eyes. She thought he would speak, but he did not. He instead stepped back, taking his hands to himself and proceeded to straighten his belt. “Am I decent enough to venture out?” He asked, extending his arms.
She raised her hands to straighten the lapels of his shirt, and holding on to them said, “Of course, as usual.”
“Then I must be going.” He took her arms, kissed her on the check, and then stalked from the room leaving her feeling rather disappointed.
CHAPTER NINE
The journey to the Isles took nearly two weeks. Marcus was happy to arrive, but decided he would be all the happier to see his deed completed and the next embarked upon. He did not travel alone. Byron rode with him and some of his own men…Abe, Nicodemus, and Simon. These three were nearly as faithful to him as he was to Jacob. He could call upon them at any given time and they would never reject him. He paid them, yes, but considered them colleagues just the same. Trustworthy men such as they resided in villages and cities—all sorts of domiciles—and were stationed throughout all New Ebony.
These he’d called upon to travel with him to the Eastern Isles. They were familiar with the plot against Jacob and determined to see to it the guilty culprit, along with his plot, was abolished.
Marcus and his four accomplices were altogether greeted outside Norton’s castle by several men on horseback. Another had seen them from afar and made it known that Marcus Wren had finally arrived.
Duke Norton was an upright and stern sort of man, but not nearly as unfriendly as he appeared to be. He was acquainted with Jacob, although not to the extent of some of the other nobles. And although a noble, he was not a member of the class of Higher Nobles.
Marcus and his companions were escorted inside the castle, and into a room where Duke Norton sat looking as if he’d been sitting there in that same spot waiting for a very long time. He stood when they entered, and the doors were closed behind them.
Duke Norton did not ask about his own personal business just yet. He, too, was involved in trying to find out who was trying to kill Jacob; and getting paid well to do it. The emperor knew who to call upon when the situation called for it.
Coming up with a reason for the overall scheme was of utmost importance, Marcus had decided long ago. The true motive could surely lead to the enemy.
“The man I had taken into custody would not speak,” Duke Norton told him. “I gave him several weeks to comply. Even through torture, he would not answer me. I dread to say he was finally done away with. He is not alive.”
So much for that lead. Not that Marcus had fully expected to get any details from the prisoner. This had happened so many times. Men were taken into custody for speaking against the emperor, some of them claiming Jacob would draw his final breath very soon. They were questioned. They refused to speak. They were tortured. They still refused to speak. Subsequently they were put to death.
“Have you any word from the emperor?” He was asked.
“Not recent.”
“Have there been more letters?”
“Two that I am aware of. Amos has done well in keeping them from him. But I’m afraid Amos will stop doing this in time. He shows signs of guilt. The last message was all the more threatening. It is obvious that whomever is behind this was trying through that particular message to make him angry, to instigate a reaction which is what I do not want, nor does the emperor.”
“The lad shouldn’t speak now. Then he would be forced to admit keeping the threats from him all along. He would suffer his consequences. We all will when Jacob learns of it, and he will—with time.”
“He should by then understand. I hope.”
“I have something here,” said the duke, and reached into a pocket to remove a small parchment of some sort. “A message in code.”
Marcus took it from him, studying the peculiar markings and words…ones that did not make the slightest bit of sense, at least not to him. Pearce was the one in charge of decoding such messages. Unfortunately, Jacob hardly let the man from his sight except to tend to a matter of importance outside of the city…and it had to be important, indeed. He was skilled when it came not only to numbers and figures but to coding or decoding either one. But the enemy’s secret codes differed from those of Jacob’s and the noble’s. They bore nothing in common. Getting used to them was taking Pearce some time. But he was certain his solution for them was becoming more and more accurate.
Presently, very few were even aware of Pearce’s whereabouts. He was in hiding for supposedly defiling a maiden of fourteen, which both he and Jacob knew him to be innocent of. Pearce was not the kind of man to overstep such a boundary. But the girl’s father was convinced and seeking his life. Marcus was certain Jacob would get to the bottom of this during his absence. No matter the case, he could continue with his attempts at properly decoding these messages that kept springing up and landing into his hands, almost as if to have been purposely placed there. The situation left much to be desired…answers foremost.
“Where did you get it?”
“My prisoner had somehow hidden it upon his person.”
Marcus studied the confusing words and markings. “I will hand it over to Pearce,” he assured. “According to him, those last messages, the ones in code—to say the least, if properly decoded, insist his chief enemy may no longer seek his life, but that he be taken alive.”
“Alive?”
“That very message was blatantly conveyed in a letter that was intercepted at Port Templeton. The man caught passing it was arrested and is being held, the same as some of these others. I am starting to suspect a second or even third party. For some reason, it has gone from death to taken alive.”
“I imagine someone who has rights to the Great City.”
“A man should have more sense.”
“Or woman,” the duke commented, obviously referring to the female cousin.
“The emperor will give it to whomever he chooses. Besides that, if Jacob was to be murdered and anyone suddenly appeared claiming rights to the Great City, the emperor would not allow it so easily. The entire matter would be examined. As of now there is complete silence when it comes to who may be entitled to step up when Jacob dies, if anyone at all. I am not sure if this is because someone intends to speed his death and hide themselves from being accused of inflicting it, or if nobody truly knows who may be entitled to the position. That is, if this has anything at all to do with the position. I am not so certain. But now, murder is no longer the issue…but kidnap, which would surely lead to murder.”
“This makes me very uneasy.”
“Me, as well. It is one thing to think of him dead; another to think of him suffering by the hands of whomever is against him.”
“Proof of anything would be hard to come by if it was for the cause of the Great City.”
“It now seems more a matter of revenge,” said Marcus, and kept the rest of his thoughts on the matter to himself. Not everything was meant to be said. Not now. Not
to these.
He fell silent for a time, remembering Westerly and the money he’d been asked to deliver, which he yet felt honored to do. He imagined the look upon Rachel’s face when he would announce it had been accomplished. But he felt an urge to do something more. To prove something to her…as if any brave feat on his part would accomplish anything. What would it matter to her if he fought off an entire army of thieves to get the money to this Agatha character? And what would he care?
He had been bragged about, had he not? Jacob forever put him on a pedestal where he actually felt he belonged. But did she truly see and believe how very capable he was of handling just about anything at all, himself, let alone something that’d been placed into his care.
“How long will you stay?” The duke asked.
“Seeing as to how the prisoner is now dead I need not sail over into the Isles…and in light of this,” he referred to the letter now in his possession, “Not long. I must cut my visit very short as I have even other matters to attend. You will be pleased to know I have dealt with the Northerners. Both Lord North and Fleming are now at peace with you.”
“That easily?” His brows rose. Then he frowned heavily. “They have not dismissed their guards.”
“They will,” he assured him. “So soon as you dismiss yours.”