The Snow White Bride

by Claire Delacroix

  Alexander immediately crossed the floor and embraced her. “I know, Isabella. There is no malice within you.”

  “But something dire could have happened!”

  “But it did not, and so the matter rests.”

  “But you…”

  “Are more hale than expected, it is clear.” He held her shoulders and gave her a stern look, much as their father would have done. She knew he would hear no more of it. “Now, I understand that you surrendered your silver ring to Ceara.”

  Isabella fidgeted. “It seemed the least I might do to make amends.”

  “It was kind of you and I regret that I have no ring with which to replace it.”

  She touched his signet ring. “Except the one that I replaced.”

  Alexander shook his head. “I mean to keep it on my hand from this day forward.”

  “A good thing that is, for I do not have another silver ring.” They shared a smile and she touched his hand again. “It was kind of you, Alexander, to ensure that they two had the chance to speak.”

  “Ah, well, I tired of Matthew sighing at the sky whenever I went past the mill,” he said with a wink. “As did his father, to be sure. That pair only needed a nudge to set them on their course.”

  Characteristically, Alexander took little credit for what he had done, though he saw it as his obligation to do it.

  Isabella looked down at the floor, uncertain how to begin. “I wanted you to know that Eleanor defended you boldly, just as a lady should defend her spouse, and that I regret that I never saw your side of matters.”

  “Did she?” Alexander regarded her with interest.

  “I did not realize how fortunate we are to be so at ease at Kinfairlie, not until she told of her own fate.”

  His gaze sharpened. “And what was that?”

  “She was wedded at twelve, against her will, to a man who had seen more than sixty summers!” Isabella could not contain her horror. “And he was cruel to her, of this I am certain.”

  “And wed thence to Ewen Douglas,” Alexander mused. Isabella could not keep herself from grimacing. “No wonder she expects so little of men and marriage.”

  “She must think you too good to be true,” Isabella teased, though her brother seemed to find the suggestion sobering.

  “Possibly so.” Alexander crossed the chamber, clearly thinking, and Isabella was loath to interrupt him. He pivoted suddenly and fixed his gaze upon her, then smiled. “I would ask a favor of you, Isabella.”

  “Anything!”

  “Do not be quick to make a pledge without knowing what you promise,” he chided, just as their father had done. Isabella had always been too impetuous with a promise, so their father had always said.

  “What then?”

  “What I ask of you is simple: I would ask you to tell me if there is a man who claims your heart. Or even if there is one you yearn to meet, then tell me of it, and I shall see it done.”

  She caught her breath. “Will you see me wed against my will?”

  He regarded her, solemnity in his gaze. “You cannot remain at Kinfairlie forever,” he said gently. “Nor should you desire to do so. Choose a spouse or I shall be compelled to choose one for you. It is my duty as your guardian.”

  Isabella nodded, understanding the fullness of what he told her. “Is there a date by which you would wish me to choose?”

  Alexander spared a fleeting glance to his ledgers, a concerned glance that made Isabella’s blood chill. “Of course not,” he said with that easy confidence she knew so well. Once such a tone from Alexander had disguised a jest. Now she did not know what to make of it. He winked at her. “But know that you are young and lovely and men are more readily enamored of youthful virgins.”

  Isabella propped her hand on her hip, her ire rising in defense of her new sister-in-law. “Oh, does that mean that you will not love Eleanor, simply because she was wedded before and thus no longer virginal?”

  “No!” Alexander’s smile broadened and he shook his head. “No, I do not anticipate such a dire fate as that.” His old humor made his eyes sparkle.

  “You did not come to the hall this afternoon,” she ventured.

  “No, we did not.” Alexander held her gaze unflinchingly, Isabella, who had a fearsome curiosity about intimate matters, dared to ask, though her cheeks burned with her audacity.

  “I did not quite see what you did this morning and I was wondering what exactly…”

  “And you should not have seen as much as you did.” He tut-tutted in mock disapproval, which would have reminded her more of Anthony if his eyes had not shone with such mischief. “A maidenly gaze should not fall upon some sights, Isabella Lammergeier.”

  “But I am curious!”

  “And your curiosity will be sated on your wedding night, as is right and good. Is that not sufficient incentive to choose a spouse?”

  “You turn every detail to your objective!” Isabella said with a laugh; then they smiled at each other in understanding.

  Anthony rapped on the portal, then pushed it open, halting on the threshold in surprise. He held a heavily burdened tray and his features were alight with something that might have been called joy on another face. Alexander and Isabella both fell silent.

  “I beg your pardon, my lord, but I believed you to be alone.”

  “Even you can err on occasion, Anthony,” Alexander said, and Isabella found herself smiling. Her brother winked at her, then held the door. The castellan crossed the chamber and fussed with laying out the meal, his manner indicating that he would not leave shortly.

  He must have something to tell Alexander. Isabella excused herself and hastened to the chamber that the sisters shared, smiling all the while. Whatever complaints Alexander had had about his nuptials would seem to have been addressed, and his happiness ensured with Eleanor.

  All Isabella had to do was consider all the men she had known, then decide which of them she wished to know better. Alexander spoke aright in one matter—there was a sole way to sate her curiosity about what happened abed between man and wife. Eleanor’s comments persuaded Isabella that it was time for her to know the truth.

  That old harridan Jeannie was lurking in the kitchens, muttering aspersions, her very presence driving Eleanor to do more and more. She had not intended to remain so long, but Jeannie’s comments pricked at Eleanor.

  When Eleanor insisted that the last of the wine be saved for Alexander, Jeannie had cackled. “She means to have it for herself, just you wait and see.” The crone had made this accusation in an undertone that had carried to every ear.

  When Eleanor discussed the replacement of the strewing herbs in the hall with the maids, Jeannie had muttered, “She means to ensure that I have no plants at my disposal, but she does not know the location of half of them.”

  When Eleanor suggested various sauces for the venison, as the cook was clearly tired of endeavoring to fashion something new from the same ingredients, Jeannie snorted. “She will command your every gesture, just wait. We have found a harsher mistress than ever we had in a laird.”

  Those in the kitchens became increasingly awkward, though Eleanor chose to ignore the older woman. She knew from her own experience that it was her public challenge that irked Jeannie. She had questioned Jeannie’s abilities—and rightly so, in her estimation—before the entire company. That could only lead to fewer souls at Jeannie’s door begging her aid.

  Fewer souls pressing coin into Jeannie’s gnarled hands.

  Eleanor’s suspicions were proved when she reviewed the inventory with the cook. “Mind she does not meddle with your stores!” Jeannie cried. “It is treacherous, indeed, that we have one so acquainted with poisons in our laird’s own bed. Will any soul who is fool enough to defy her find himself dead?”

  “You should not tolerate her nonsense,” the cook said gruffly.

  “She is vexed and it is better that she speak of such vexation than act upon it,” Eleanor said.

  “Do you mean to share your counsel
at Kinfairlie?” the burly cook asked.

  Eleanor nodded. “Such knowledge is better shared than veiled in secrecy. This is what I was taught. I will aid whosoever asks me for assistance.”

  “And this is what Jeannie fears,” the cook said. “Few will go to her door now that you have questioned her abilities; fewer still if you provide the same counsel without threat or mystery.”

  Eleanor granted him a sharp glance. “I was right to question the intent of any soul whose deeds threatened my husband’s life.”

  The cook nodded as he fidgeted with the keys to the stores. “True enough, my lady, but I would not have old Jeannie casting her venom at my back, not for any price.” He showed her how the inventory was stored, then carefully locked the portals behind them. Eleanor was pleased to note that a number of effective herbs were kept in the keep proper, as well as a measure of spice. Once they were done, the cook offered Eleanor the keys. “These would be yours to govern now, my lady.”

  Eleanor accepted the ring of keys, welcoming their weight in her hands. She was Lady of Kinfairlie in truth, her administration over its household assured by her husband as was right and good. She smiled at the cook, unable to hide her pleasure.

  “I hope you will be happy at Kinfairlie,” he said.

  “I hope as much as well,” Eleanor replied, then shook her head. “Though it has seemed thus far to be a place too good to exist in truth.”

  “Oh, we have our share of warts in this burg!” he said with a laugh, then coaxed her back into the kitchens. Jeannie, mercifully had made herself absent, and Anthony was making the final preparations for the tray he intended to deliver to Alexander.

  Eleanor hastened to the castellan’s side, ensuring that there was sufficient cheese and meat, then sniffed the wine. “It has faltered since last night. Were there not a dozen cloves in the inventory? I would see its taste improved for my lord with one or two of them.”

  And so it was done, Eleanor taking the wine herself into the storeroom to add spices. She even mulled the wine slightly, thinking only of Alexander’s pleasure, and savored how Anthony sniffed appreciatively of its aroma when he lifted the tray.

  She would show herself useful to her spouse, to be sure.

  * * * * *

  Alexander wondered what mission kept his wife from his chamber. He had hoped that Eleanor would return with the repast, that they would share it, perhaps abed, and that he might unfurl more of her secrets. Instead, Anthony fussed over the wick of a lantern, clearly intent upon remaining in the solar.

  Alexander, for his part, sat again before his ledgers, considering the merit of Eleanor’s suggestions. It was true that he charged many of the fees she noted, but they had not been increased since his father had laid claim to Kinfairlie’s seal. If he added a half a penny to each of these fines charged by his court, for example, the sums worked much better. He did not wish to burden his people overmuch, but perhaps there was truth in her assertion that people would pay willingly for what they perceived to be advantages.

  And he liked the notion of a fair very much. It could only be good to bring merchants from afar to trade upon his lands, to leave pennies in his coffers that did not come from the hands of his own tenants. He would have to ask Eleanor for more detail of how such matters were arranged.

  Anthony cleared his throat and Alexander glanced up to find his castellan beaming. That man held a lantern filled with oil and, at Alexander’s nod, replaced the one before Alexander that was nigh empty. Anthony made a fuss about trimming the wick, as he never did, so that Alexander knew the older man had something to say. “And what troubles you this evening, Anthony?”

  “Nothing, sir, nothing at all.” The older man smiled primly. “It is simply that I must congratulate you, my lord, upon your excellent choice of a wife.”

  “I thank you, Anthony, for your felicitations.”

  Anthony straightened, sparing a glance for the tray he had laid aside. He shook his head, as if marveling, and against all expectation, his smile broadened. “I never thought to have to ask you this, my lord, but might you put your ledgers aside, the better that I could lay out your repast?”

  “Surely my lady intends to return and do as much?”

  “I am not certain, my lord. She is quite busy in the kitchens.”

  “But the meal has been summoned. There is bread and cheese and cold meat here to suffice for any man, and certainly more than ample servings for the lady and myself.”

  Anthony’s eyes seemed to twinkle. “Ah, but the lady seeks to bring Kinfairlie beneath her administrating hand, which is clearly a competent one.”

  “Truly?” Alexander was intrigued by this.

  “Truly,” Anthony said with satisfaction. “With a dozen kind but firmly uttered words, she has the cook contriving a new sauce for the venison, and he had been complaining just before her arrival that venison was a waste of his considerable talents. She has mustered the maids to begin a thorough removal of the strewing herbs, giving instruction this night for the task to be completed in the morning. The ostlers were yet savoring their holiday measure of ale in the hall, and she amiably persuaded them to muck your stables on the morrow to such cleanliness that one will be able to eat from the very floor.”

  “Mercifully, we do not have to do so, as we have tables,” Alexander muttered, but his castellan did not laugh.

  “The lady has a gift for lighting a fire beneath those who would do as little as possible, to be sure,” Anthony asserted. “Further, the meals are planned for the remainder of the holiday season. Should you or your guests choose to hunt, my lord, there is a list in the kitchens of what could be added to any given meal, depending upon your success.”

  “That is well done.” Alexander deliberately closed one of the books of accounts and stacked it in his trunk with such apparent concentration that he hoped the older man would leave him alone.

  Anthony did no such thing. “And—though surely I need not convince you of the lady’s charms!—she has retrieved your ring, against all expectation.”

  Alexander found his castellan shaking a finger at him, that man’s manner as admonishing as that of an affectionate grandfather. Alexander blinked, but the newly garrulous Anthony shook his head benignly.

  “A man should be mindful of his treasures, my lord, that is what I have always been taught. You were careless, if I may say so, and have been fortunate, indeed, in having your ring returned. What a woman of resource you have wed!”

  Anthony smiled broadly, a sight so rare that Alexander could not believe this was the grumpy castellan he knew so well.

  “And further,” Anthony continued, “in a mere day, the lady has convinced you to willingly spend time at your accounting. I, as you well know, have spent a year endeavoring to achieve the same ends, my lord, and can only salute the lady’s persuasive abilities.” The older man winked most unexpectedly. “Of course, if you do not mind me saying as much, a lady has other weapons in her arsenal against her spouse than I could ever hope to wield.”

  Alexander blinked. “Did you make a jest, Anthony?”

  That man waggled his silver brows and winked again. “I confess, my lord, that I have not your experience with such matters, but I did indeed make an attempt at humor.”

  “Then the lady has wrought a considerable change in this hall, to be sure.”

  Anthony laughed, and Alexander was certain he had never heard the older man do as much. “She is a marvel, of that there can be no doubt. Would you care for wine, sir?”

  Alexander shook his head in revulsion at the very prospect. “I have no taste for it, not after last evening.”

  Anthony frowned. “But it is the last measure from the cask, my lord. My lady insisted that it be saved for you, as is right and proper.”

  “Then it will be wasted, for I cannot so much as think of drinking it.”

  The older man pursed his lips and considered the pitcher. “But the lady Eleanor troubled herself mightily with seeing it spiced for your taste, my lo
rd. I would not have you insult her efforts, however inadvertently.”

  “Then I shall pour it from the window and compliment her upon it. I cannot drink it, Anthony. My innards roil at the very prospect.”

  “Sir! To spill it would be a waste of considerable expense.” Anthony looked alarmed, but Alexander shrugged. “I did not bring ale, my lord, upon my lady’s instruction, but I would willingly return to the kitchens and…”

  “There is no need, Anthony.” Alexander claimed a piece of bread and yawned mightily. “In this moment, I am so tired as to have little appetite at all.”

  “That is a shame, my lord ” Anthony frowned at the pitcher of wine in his concern, clearly vexed.

  “Did you try the wine last evening, Anthony?” Alexander asked on impulse. “It is a most excellent vintage and has kept beyond expectation.”

  “You know, sir, that I never indulge my taste for wine.”

  “It is Christmas, Anthony,” Alexander said kindly. “I insist that you lay claim to this pitcher and savor its contents for yourself.”

  “Sir! I could not so forget my obligations. I pride myself upon ensuring that no foible troubles you, my lord, and…”

  “By your own admission, Anthony, my lady has the administration of Kinfairlie well in hand. You might allow yourself one night of respite.”

  The older man considered the wine, a yearning in his eyes. “I once had quite the taste for a fine wine,” he said.

  “Then go, I insist upon it. No one will be the wiser that you savored this delight instead of myself. You might be so kind as to advise me in the morning as to its flavor, the better that I might compliment my wife.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Leave the meal as it stands, Anthony. I shall either eat alone or await my lady’s company. You need not trouble yourself further with me this night.” Alexander stood and yawned again. “Indeed, I may be asleep before long.”