Lavender Blue

by Sandra Heath

  Lady Letitia, however, was unaware of such considerations. “May I remind you, sir, that boys of excellent character do not leave travelers stranded in the middle of nowhere with darkness coming on.”

  The steward ignored her and continued toward the entrance. “Please come this way, and I will conduct you to His Grace.”

  “Well, really!” Lady Letitia was incensed and considered making a battle of it, but, on seeing Anthea’s pleading look, she gave in. “Oh, very well, but the duke will hear of this fellow’s gross ill manners!”

  Sebbriz must have heard, but her ire was water off a duck’s back—or in his case a dog’s back—for he did not even deign to glance back as he reached the doorway and went inside.

  Anthea agreed with her aunt but was too eager to see Jovian to be much concerned about how his servants deported themselves. Jovian made her feel safe, and right now she needed to escape the uncertain darkness and its fearful secrets.

  They entered the great hall, where light was beginning to glimmer as several maids hastened to light some of the floor-standing candelabra that stood around. The hall rose right through the castle to the beamed roof. It had gray and white tiles on the floor and richly carved oak paneling on the walls. The floor was empty, but around the edges there was a sparse display of sixteenth-century chairs and tables, on one of which stood a tray with a two chalices and a jug, all beautifully chased silver.

  Sebbriz went straight to the tray. “Please allow me to pour you a refreshing cup of kykeon to welcome you across His Grace’s threshold,” he said.

  “A cup of what?” Anthea inquired.

  “Kykeon, my lady. It is a barley and honey wine flavored with mint, and here at Cathness it is traditionally given to visitors.”

  Lady Letitia would have no truck with stewards presuming to play host. “It may well be a local custom, sir, but this is the first I’ve heard of it, and before I drink anything at all, I demand to see the duke. Immediately.”

  “His Grace will come directly and in the meantime would expect me to greet you in a fitting manner,” Sebbriz replied, pouring the wine and bringing the chalices to them.

  “Fitting manner?” Lady Letitia snorted. “In my judgment there has been nothing at all fitting about your manner, sirrah!”

  “If I have offended, my lady, I crave your leniency, for I am a foreigner with much to learn of English ways.”

  “That is clear enough!” Lady Letitia replied tartly.

  Anthea accepted one of the glasses, for the man had apologized, and to persist with argument would achieve nothing except her aunt’s indisposition due to stress and ill humor. “Be mindful of your headaches, Aunt Letty,” she whispered discreetly.

  To her relief Lady Letitia accepted the other glass, although with another only too audible comment. “I would like to tell him what he can do with his wretched kykeon, jug and all,” she muttered wrathfully.

  “I’m sure a maiden lady should not say such shocking things,” Anthea replied, with a little smile.

  But Lady Letitia was still not quite done with the infuriating steward. “Do not dally around, fellow. My stepniece is missing, probably abducted, and I expect an immediate and intense effort to find her.”

  “A message has already been sent to the town, so that not only will Miss Pranton be sought there, but men will come to the castle to join the search from here.”

  “Already sent?” Lady Letitia was caught off guard, for Sebbriz had not been seen to send anyone anywhere.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Lady Letitia eyed him, then sipped the kykeon. “Why, this is truly delicious,” she declared, and to Anthea’s astonishment, drained the entire chalice and then indicated that she wished for some more. The smiling steward, smooth as ever, hastened to comply.

  The second drink went the way of the first, and then Lady Letitia yawned loudly. “Oh, goodness, I’m suddenly very tired,” she announced.

  “Aunt Letty?” Anthea was quite nonplussed by her aunt’s extraordinary behavior, but Lady Letitia yawned again.

  “I know it’s early, my dear, but I am absolutely exhausted and in dire need of a good long sleep.”

  “But Corinna—”

  “The steward has done all that can be done tonight.”

  Anthea stared at her.

  “I cannot stand around awaiting Jovian’s pleasure,” Lady Letitia went on. “Sebbriz, I wish to be conducted to my room.”

  It was too much for Anthea. “Aunt Letty, we must wait to speak to Jovian first. We cannot simply demand to—”

  “Oh, stuff and nonsense, my dear. You know Jovian will be only too delighted to extend us his hospitality—when he stirs himself to greet us, that is.”

  Sebbriz was already at Lady Letitia’s side. “Apartments are at your disposal, my lady,” he said ingratiatingly.

  “That sounds most agreeable.”

  Anthea was dismayed. “But, Aunt Letty—” To her shock, Sebbriz interrupted her by speaking to her aunt again.

  “Do you have maids, my lady?”

  “Our maids are in London, sir, suffering a most inconvenient dose of mumps.”

  The fact that he had so rudely broken in while Anthea was speaking seemed not to worry Lady Letitia at all. In fact, nothing seemed to worry that lady now, unlike a few minutes ago when nothing at all pleased her.

  Sebbriz was attentive. “Would you like one of the maids here to attend you?” he asked.

  “That would be most helpful, sir. I begin to see why His Grace leaves the welcome to you.”

  Anthea could not believe that her aunt had undergone such a complete change of heart about the slippery steward, for he was odious and impertinent and had richly earned a flea in his ear. But these were not ordinary circumstances. Anthea glanced down at the chalice of kykeon she had still to sample. Maybe this was no ordinary wine. Aunt Letty had begun to behave oddly from the moment she drank this dubious liquid....

  Sebbriz snapped his ringers at one of the maids. “Phoebe, you are to attend Lady Letitia.”

  The maid bobbed a curtsy. She was small, slender, and pale, with blond hair that was almost ash in color, and her eyes were cool and gray. Her gray linen dress was beautifully laundered, and the starched mobcap on her head was pinned in place just so.

  Sebbriz bowed to Lady Letitia. “You are to have the Buckingham rooms, my lady. I trust they will be to your complete satisfaction. They were prepared in 1509 for Edward Stafford, third Duke of Buckingham, and—”

  “I am aware of the facts, sir, for I have stayed here before,” Lady Letitia interrupted.

  “My lady.” He bowed again, but in a manner that was anything but subservient.

  Lady Letitia, as unlike her true self as ever, turned impatiently to the waiting maid. “Lead the way, if you please, for I cannot stay awake. Be quick now.”

  “My lady.” Phoebe hastened to light a candle from one of the candelabra, then conducted Lady Letitia toward an open doorway in the corner of the hall, through which could be seen a grand staircase.

  Anthea looked at her untouched chalice of kykeon and decided on no account to drink it. She was about to set it aside, when Jovian spoke again. “You are protected, so it is safe for you. Its purpose is to make you desire sleep, as things are to take place here tonight that neither you nor Lady Letitia should see. So drink it and behave out of character as she did.”

  Aware of Sebbriz watching and waiting, she raised the chalice to her lips and took a taste. It was indeed delicious, and she had no trouble at all in emptying the glass. She felt no effect beyond enjoying a refreshing and delicately flavored wine. The steward replenished the glass, which she immediately drank. Then she pretended to stifle a yawn. “Good heavens,” she murmured, “is it the air here? I vow I suddenly feel as tired as my aunt.”

  “An apartment awaits, Lady Anthea.”

  “I think that would be most agreeable. It has been a very difficult day.”

  “Of course, and you may be assured that in the meantime every
endeavor will be made to find Miss Pranton. If you should hear horses in the courtyard, it will be the search party preparing to set off to look for Miss Pranton.” The steward snapped his fingers at another maid. “Cynthia? Lady Anthea is to have the King Hal suite.”

  “Yes, Mr. Sebbriz.” The maid who came forward was so very like Aunt Letty’s that Anthea suspected they must be sisters. Maybe that was why their names had been chosen, for both were titles for the moon. Or maybe being named for the moon had other connotations here in Cathness. Anthea’s glance crept to a high window, through which the pale blue beams of moonlight now shone.

  Jovian spoke once more. “I am coming down now, Anthea, and I want you to go along with whatever I say. I will appear to be tipsy, but you are not to cavil about it because kykeon causes amenability. If you point out my failing, Sebbriz will know you are protected, and that will not suit my plans at all.”

  Almost immediately there was the flicker of candlelight from the grand staircase, and the sound of unsteady steps. Jovian came into view and entered the great hall. His hair was untidy, he wore no coat, his shirt was undone almost to the waist, and the candle in his hand was at such an angle that the leaping flame smoked and hot wax splashed to the floor. He gave a cheerfully inebriated smile. “Wha’s all this, Sebbriz?"

  “We have guests, your grace,” the steward replied. “Lady Letitia Wintour and her niece, Lady Anthea Wintour. Lady Letitia is tired and has retired to the Buckingham rooms. Lady Anthea was just about to retire to the King Hal suite.”

  “Ah, sw-sweet Anthea,” Jovian murmured, allowing his gaze to wander appreciatively over her. “Where is the d-de-lightful Corinna?”

  Anthea pretended to blink back tears. “Corinna has disappeared in the lanes near here, Jovian. She was snatched from us, and now Aunt Letty and I do not know where she is.”

  Jovian looked as if he had difficulty grasping what she’d said. “Corinna has disap—hic—peared? Good God.”

  “Everything is in hand for a search to begin, your grace," Sebbriz said.

  “Good. No doubt she’ll be f-found quick as a w-wink. Hic.” Jovian came closer and made a shambles of taking Anthea’s hand and raising it to his lips. “Did you know, Seb—hic—briz, Lady Anthea almost b-became my betrothed? We got on f-famously until she t-took offense at my liking for a little s-sip or two. Hic”

  Anthea gave him an amiable smile, then put her hand to her mouth as if stifling another yawn.

  Jovian waved Cynthia away, spattering hot wax in all directions. “You w-will not b-be required now, for I w-will escort Lady Anthea t-to her—hic—room.”

  Sebbriz nodded at the maid, who gave a quick curtsy and hurried away, but as Jovian offered Anthea a rather unsteady arm, the steward spoke quickly. “You must not be long now, your grace.”

  Jovian frowned and waggled the dripping candle at the steward. “Am I, or am I not the k-key to everything?”

  Anthea wondered what he meant.

  Sebbriz gave an obsequious bow. “You are, your grace.”

  “Then if I w-want to be—hic—a few minutes late, I d-damned well will be.”

  “As you wish, Your Grace, but the moon is up and you must be there.”

  “Just h-have my h-horse ready, and all will p-proceed as it should. Hic.”

  With that Jovian ushered Anthea toward the grand staircase.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  As soon as Anthea thought she and Jovian were out of earshot on the staircase, she halted. “Jovian, I—”

  “Not yet, Anthea,” he said under his breath. The candle flame leapt, and monstrous shadows rose against the paneled walls as he gripped her arm and forced her to keep ascending.

  “But—”

  “There are ears everywhere. Wait until we are in your suite.” Then in a much louder, completely drunken tone, he declared, “Apart fr-from mislayin’ your stepsister, d-did you and Ol’ Letty have an agree—hic—able journey?”

  “We didn’t mislay Corinna, Jovian; she simply vanished.”

  When they reached the top of the staircase, where the candlelight revealed a gallery hung with tapestries, Anthea was sure she saw someone draw swiftly out of sight into a curtain-draped doorway that was flanked by two suits of armor. Jovian saw it too and feigned losing his balance. “Deuce t-take it, my pins are—hic—treacherous tonight!”

  “Oh, do get on, Jovian, for I am desperate to rest my head a while,” she pleaded.

  “Would that y-you had always b-been as eager to get me to a b-bed,” he muttered, as he conducted her across the gallery toward a particularly impressive double door. “Behold Bluff K-King Hal’s suite!” he announced, as he flung them open with a grand gesture.

  Much more candlelight suddenly brightened everything, and it was a moment or so before Anthea’s eyes adjusted to the change, but then she saw the rooms she was later to learn had been used by Henry VIII during his 1535 royal progress with Anne Boleyn. They were the rooms she had seen from the courtyard and were every bit as splendid as they had seemed. There were highly polished wooden floors and oak paneling, rich furniture and tapestries, and paintings and portraits of all description.

  Stained glass in the oriel windows showed off the arms of families with whom alliances had been forged over the centuries. Green velvet curtains, undrawn and looped back, stretched from floor to ceiling, and matching velvet cushions graced the ornate Tudor chairs. Hooped chandeliers provided much of the light, but there were wall-candles too.

  Anthea untied and removed her bonnet. “These rooms have been prepared at leisure, not hastily opened in the last few minutes. Besides, I saw the lights from the lane.”

  “They knew you would come here.” Jovian closed the door behind them, then put a finger to his lips as he pressed his ear to the door. He heard a soft step outside, then silence as whoever was there listened as well. Most probably they were ear to ear through the iron-studded wood, he thought, as he gestured to Anthea to give some vocal indication that they were still behaving as before.

  She obliged. “Oh, Jovian, what marvelous rooms. I vow I almost wish I had married you after all.”

  “W-we’d have been dreadful together, my sw—hic—sweet,” he replied with a grin.

  The eavesdropper must have been persuaded, for the steps retreated once more. Jovian put his finger to his lips again as he went to draw all the curtains. Only then did he sweep her into his arms. The bonnet fell from her fingers and her fears began to melt away into the sheer joy of cherishing and being cherished by a man who was able to take her to the very borders of another world.

  He did not want the kiss to end, but he knew it must and pulled back to take her hands. His thumbs were strong and warm as he caressed her palms. “I will have to leave you in a few minutes, or they will come for me, and I don’t want to risk arousing their suspicions about anything at all, no matter how trivial.”

  For a few heartbeats she was still enveloped in the rich emotions that kept reality at bay, but then the chill facts returned. She searched his face. “But you are the duke, not Sebbriz or Sir Erebus Lethe. Why must you bow to their bidding?”

  “I will explain when I return later.” He pointed toward a section of wall paneling. “There is a secret passage behind there, connecting this apartment with mine. No one will know I am with you, so we will be able to talk to our hearts’ content, and I promise you will learn all there is to know.”

  She took a deep breath. “Is—is Corinna safe? And what of Aunt Letty? She changed so much that I was quite alarmed.”

  “Corinna will not be in danger until the day after tomorrow, when the moon is full, and Lady Letitia will not come to harm at all. Kykeon will make her sleep and forget things they do not wish her to remember. She will awaken in the morning and not remember anything about your stepsister’s disappearance. The kykeon not only induces sleep but removes chosen memories and inserts false facts in their place. She will believe Corinna stayed behind in London and that you are here so that I, on the wishes of your f
ather, can negotiate a match between you and Lethe. If the kykeon had worked upon you, that is what you would also believe. And you would accept it all.”

  Anthea stared at him. “Kykeon can do so much?”

  “Oh, yes, but I made you resistant by giving you lavender from the field here in Cathness.”

  “How does it make me so?”

  “I can resist kykeon and was able to transfer that ability to you through the giving of the lavender. The act of giving and accepting is always significant.” He exhaled slowly, before adding, “I then made even more certain of your immunity by adding a small sprig of rosemary to the bouquet.”

  “What difference does rosemary make?” she asked.

  “Rosemary is for remembrance, and thus counteracts Lethe, the River of Forgetfulness. You are therefore safe, except from pomegranate in any form. There is no protective charm or potion for that.”

  Anthea gazed at him. “When you say such things, I begin to fear I am losing my wits after all. It is so fantastic, so—”

  He put a gentle finger to her lips. “You are not mad, and neither am I. You did not imagine that we flew above the rooftops of London, that I somehow reached your window ledge without having to climb, or that you saw the hare that does not behave like a hare at all.

  "I really can speak to you in your head, and a sprig of mistletoe really can appear to be a narcissus, honeysuckle, a cornflower, or anything else. And I really can change the direction of a pleasure boat with just the power of my will. As for Lethe and his evil, well, that too is real. None of it is the product of lunacy.”

  “You said earlier that it concerns the myth of Demeter, Persephone, and Hades, but that is certainly impossible, for a myth is a myth, and therefore not fact.”

  “Nothing is impossible, my darling.” He turned to point a finger at a chair. His eyes darkened with concentration, and after a moment it shook slightly, rose about three feet, then floated motionless. “What do you see, Anthea?”

  She stared. “I see a chair that defies gravity.”

  “It does more than that. Now what do you see?” He made a circular sign with his fingertip, and the chair turned over and over as if upon an invisible spit. As he allowed it to sink gently back to the floor, Jovian looked at her, his eyes dark and unfathomable.