by Guy Antibes
Wells laughed. “We’ll look forward to that. I always thought Brightlings was a little cramped.” He rumpled Seb’s hair.
“Hey. All I want is my own room,” Seb said. Sara’s brothers had shot up. Enos now looked like a proper young man at nearly sixteen, but didn’t look as much like his father as Seb did. He nearly had reached the age Sara had been when her mother died.
Seb’s shoulders were beginning to broaden and his baby face had begun to thin with the gauntness of adolescence. She’d tell them the truth about their real mother after this gathering so they wouldn’t find out from village gossip. They were all orphans now, at least Sara felt like an orphan after her Belonnian experience.
Sara and Wells had found correspondence in the Head Councilor’s home, which Ben had taken over. There were multiple refusals of his request for transferring the estate money to a personal account and they located more money than she thought possible in boxes scattered throughout the house. Perhaps Wells wouldn’t have to search very hard. She met with Nona and Wells to make sure the tax money would be returned soon after she left for Obridge. Any bribe money that Ben collected would go into a general fund for the village to use to pay for an accommodation for a road going north and south through Belting Hollow.
“Here it is,” Sara said, handing a sheaf of documents and a large box to Nona at the tearoom. “The estate’s money and the taxes. He hadn’t spent much of his hoard. You can distribute this anyway you want, but it appears that he made some attempt at documentation. I’ll leave it for you two to sort out.”
“I’ll take care of the estate, Sara,” Wells said.
“There’s more than enough to buy seed and livestock and please get the land working. You’ve got three horses that Willa and I rode from Parth for a start.”
Wells smiled and kissed Sara on the forehead. “Thank you, Duchess. I’ll make you proud of me.”
“You’ve never let me down, before. Your knife instruction saved my life.” She put her hand on his shoulder and pulled him into a hug.
The carriage arrived to take Sara, Willa, and her brothers as far as Obridge.
Natti brought up two baskets to her. “Do you remember when we hired June to do the shopping? Dear June.” Sara squeezed Natti’s hand.
“Good luck with the tearoom. If you ever need employment, you know who to ask.”
Natti gave her a hug. “I won’t need to, now that you saved Belting Hollow twice. Maybe this time it will stick.”
Sara felt her face color. “I didn’t save the village, you all finally realized what you could do as a town. But please, don’t take the law into your hands like that again.”
Nona lifted her right hand. “I swear we won’t again. Enough of the villagers have come to me to apologize after the euphoria of eliminating the tyrant wore off. We haven’t finished healing inside and I think that might take a long time.”
“Neither have I,” Sara said. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully put the last years behind me, but trials make us what we are. Now I’ll have to find out who I am, won’t I?” She smiled at Nona and climbed into the carriage. As they rode out of Belting Hollow, the villagers lined the roads to wave goodbye, including her old enemies, Panna Wells and Anna Bark. Did the villagers wave out of appreciation or were they happy to see her depart?
She didn’t really know. The way they attacked Ben, the instant they knew he wasn’t the Squire any longer, disturbed her. The villagers had so much respect for his title that they put up with his tyranny, but once he didn’t rule them, they didn’t waste any time. Did they give her a lesson about the nobility in general or a lesson in basic human nature? Either way, Sara couldn’t rid herself of the taint of being responsible for Ben’s death nor of that last minute when he called for her help and she couldn’t do a thing.
~
During the ride to Obridge, Sara broached the subject of their mother, only to find that Ben had already told them the previous summer that Sythea wasn’t their real mother. That took a burden off of Sara, so for the rest of the trip they talked about old times before her mother had died. Those were as precious to them as the experiences were to her and they treated her just as they had before—their big sister. Ben hadn’t successfully poisoned them against her, although they told her that he had tried. Their time spent together on the ride from Belting Hollow gave her a sense of hope for their futures.
When they rolled into view of Obridge, she could see that it hadn’t quite recovered from the Red Swallow rebellion. Dark streaks from the hot oil, poured down from the tops of the city walls a year ago, still decorated the city’s walls, but some of the fields where the Red Swallows had camped were now turned over and ready for seed.
The carriage turned into the Abbey Precinct. Her stepbrothers got out and shook her hand. Sara couldn’t treat them as she did three years ago. She wanted to hug them, but perhaps they were too old for such a thing? She watched them stand before her as young men and let a few tears fall from her eyes. Despite her worry, they both approached and gave her hugs before disappearing into the school building.
She looked at Quarters and wondered if she should walk through the Foyer. Enos would be attending the College next fall. How could he have grown up so fast? She told him that he’d have to take Practical Mathematics and felt like Klark’s father when she did.
“Willa do you want to walk around for old time’s sake?” Sara looked at the College buildings and sighed.
“No. Colleges belong to the young and I’m anything but inside. I found that out in Parth. I don’t think it’s time for you either. Time to put all that behind you.”
She’d follow Willa’s advice. “I want to have something to eat atThe Purple Pig, though, and then we’ll head south.”
After a decent meal, that just didn’t have the magic it used to, Sara stayed long enough in Obridge to formally declare Wells as the executor of Brightlings and approve of his access to the estate’s bank accounts. The mayor came out of his office to greet her and get the latest news. They parted with his deepest thanks for Sara saving the city last year.
She entered the coach station, a few buildings away from City Hall. “Do you have a Brownhill coach available? I want to hire one for Stonebridge.”
“I do. It’ll cost extra.” The man eyed two women dressed in common clothes.
“How much? I can pay now.” Sara pulled out her purse and paid the man’s fee on the spot and signed the hire document with her new name: Sara Goldagle, Duchess of Goldfields. That would put him in his place and it did, as his eyebrows rose when he read the signature. Sara laughed as they left the station.
“Flaunting your title?” Willa asked, squinting at her.
“Not a good practice is it? I stand corrected. Never hesitate to remind me that I’m just Sara Featherwood.”
“You’ve never been just Sara Featherwood, but I will do as you command, Duchess.” The squint disappeared.
~~~
Chapter Twenty-Four
Stonebridge
The countryside seemed brighter and more colorful. Sara knew it wasn’t so, but she felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from her back. Ben’s hanging would forever haunt her, but Ben Featherwood rested with two of his three (at least) women. She hated to include her mother in that select group, but Sythea had made the choice to marry the man.
Wells would make a better father to her brothers in their teenage years. She had confidence in the former mining supervisor and that helped her to put the unpleasantness of the past behind a bit, enabling her to look confidently forward to the future. Now that Brightlings would be built the way she envisioned, she could, at long last, set aside Belting Hollow as a problem in her life.
Now how to set up her future? She lifted the cover of the armrest and looked at Brownhill’s crest burned into the wood. What to do about Klark? Before she tackled Goldfields, she would deal with her next problem. She didn’t know how to approach him. An apology for missing Winter’s Rise, but aft
er that? She looked at her wedding finger. She didn’t want a ring around it just yet, but she yearned to feel the carriage whistle around her neck.
“Mooning?” Willa said as she worked on a bit of knitting. Sara would prefer to have her nose firmly planted in a book, but she had no books. Nothing except for her mother’s journal and deciphering would be a lost cause in a shaking carriage. Perhaps she could talk the new Grand Duke into paving the road with milled stones between Obridge and Belting Hollow. She’d even contribute funds to do that.
“I am. I admit I was thinking about Klark, but then I thought that perhaps, if my funds permit, contributing to the construction of an eastern road between the Obridge and north through Belting Hollow.” She smiled at the thought of Panna Well’s objections to making Belting Hollow a crossroads. Sara could do it on her own and would. She laughed at the thought.
“Admirable. I’d rather have my insides gently massaged by cobbles rather than thrown from front to back and side to side by ruts and runnels.”
“What should I do about Klark?”
Willa put her work down. “I wouldn’t cast him aside. He’s a very good match for you, I think. A bit impetuous, perhaps, but I’d be keeping him.”
“But I don’t want to marry, yet,” Sara said. However she did want to wear the carriage necklace again, in the worst way.
“Then don’t. I’m not married to Plant, but we have an understanding… and I’m no mistress, either.” She shook her finger at Sara. “I wouldn’t put it past him to ask me, though.”
Sara had wondered about that. “I think a frank talk will work best.”
Willa said, “I thought you had a frank talk and that didn’t work out very well.”
That brought out a bit of defensive thinking, but Sara rejected it. “We were speaking frankly to each other, but neither of us listened.”
“What about your interpretive communications?”
“It takes a dispassionate attitude and Klark and I are too… passionate about our goals. If he would only understand that I’m not ready to become my mother.”
Willa picked up her knitting. “I thought you laid your mother to rest, finally, in Belting Hollow.”
“The journal.”
Her friend laughed softly. “So that’s going to reveal the ancient secrets of making the right decision? I’m not convinced your mother succeeded in that vein by marrying Ben Featherwood. In fact, I’m of a mind that she made a colossal error.”
Sara agreed with Willa. Her mother had made a tremendous error. “What does a woman do when she’s pregnant?”
“Make bad decisions? I know that a lot of poor thinking goes on when an unmarried woman confronts a man about a child in her belly.”
“But my mother never confronted the father. At least I don’t think she did so and that’s what I hope to find out.”
Willa looked out at the countryside. “What does this have to do with Klark?”
“It doesn’t. It’s about laying my mother to rest.”
“Ah, yes. You’ll have to work on both of those at the same time, now that you’ve decided to stay in town while I scout out your little cottage.”
That made Sara laugh. “Yes, my little cottage. It will be your new domain, Willa. All of it. I have Wells at Brightlings and Willa at Goldfields. I do believe my physical affairs are in good order.”
“Now we have to get your emotional affairs in the same shape, right?”
“Right,” Sara said. She found herself looking forward to it.
~
Stonebridge held two sets of memories—her visit with Anton and her escapade saving Duke Northcross. She wondered what new memories awaited her now that she had a house in the city. The fields, trampled by soldiers last year, boasted a glimmer of green as they drove through the outskirts. The city gates remained rusted into place. Perhaps the new Grand Duke would finally take them down.
Stonebridge looked to be in better shape than Obridge, with clean and shiny streets. Spring flowers in hanging baskets adorned street posts and many of the residences. She’d not been here at this time of year and the colors dazzled her.
The driver entered through the gate of the Goldfields town house. Sara exited the carriage and stood in front of it. Her house. This beautiful dwelling would be her residence in town. She shook her head at the thought. The door opened and Banna hurried down the steps.
“You’re here safe and sound. How was your trip, uneventful?”
Sara lifted her left forearm. “Battle injury.”
“You fought your father?”
“No, but he’s no longer a concern. I didn’t send you a letter and would rather explain our trip in every sordid detail.”
Willa hopped down. “Banna, it’s good to see you. Have you started on your book?”
“We arrived less than a week ago and are still making sense of our belongings. Our trip lasted forever! I’m just glad we didn’t have to deal with a house of furniture. What’s inside is so much better. You haven’t seen your house yet?”
“No, but I am more than happy to begin my residence by engaging in a wonderful conversation with an old friend.”
“Getting older by the minute,” Banna said. “Come in, come in. There is plenty of room for all.”
Sara wanted to close her eyes and open them once she stood in the middle of the foyer, but she couldn’t do that so she looked at the floor. When she stepped through the door, she looked up and beheld a palace. A crystal chandelier burned with a hundred candles twenty feet in the air. Her eyes followed the chain that went from the chandelier through a pulley and down to where it was secured at the side of the room.
The walls were painted with bucolic scenes. She’d have to examine them later. Banna took them through every room on the bottom floor. A ballroom took up the back half of the house that made Brightlings’ ballroom seem like a common barn. Windows rose from the floor to the ceiling where they terminated in double arches. The level of detail and opulence rivaled anything she had seen in Parth.
Hedge wandered into the party, munching on an apple with his other hand in his pocket. “There’s an icehouse in the basement. These apples aren’t half bad. Like the digs?”
Banna kept astounding her with the townhouse. Her personal chambers were huge. Willa took a bedroom close by. Even it had a bathroom attached, like the Duke’s guesthouse. Her trunks stood in the center of the room.
“The house is heated by a series of flues that run underneath the floors, so the only fireplaces you see are for decoration, not heat. There’s a kitchen in the basement and a small kitchen on the second floor.”
“What’s above my bedroom? It looks like there are four floors.”
“Bedrooms and storage rooms. Except for two bedrooms facing the road, the fourth floor is stuffed with furniture.” Sara loved to see her friend so excited and let her go on.
“Have you met the Grand Duke?” Sara asked. She didn’t even know who the replacement was.
“We are invited to the palace the night you get back. The Grand Duke, himself delivered the invitation. He said you could dress as best you could, knowing the circumstances. He’s quite a nice man who knows what he wants. I think you’ll like him.”
Sara would have to let her curiosity cool until the evening. “Can I rest in my bedroom for a while? My life’s been in a whirl. I probably need to see a healer tomorrow.”
“I’ll find one right now,” Willa said. “They will take a look at your arm before we attend the Grand Duke.”
Sara found her way to her chambers and climbed atop the huge bed. Perhaps she’d take a smaller room. Willa’s looked nice—perhaps if there was another that size.
She felt like a queen in the room. Remembering Hansfeld’s desire, to have her as a consort, she shivered. Sara much preferred the way events played out, even with the tragedy of Meldey’s death, which was unavoidable, and the string of bodies from Okalla to Stonebridge. A shock of guilt ran through her as Ben, hanging from the tree came to mind. She la
id back and willed herself to review laboratory procedures so she could sleep.
Willa woke her. “Master Ivytree is here to attend you. Shall I bring him up?”
Sara blinked sleep from her eyes. “Yes. There’s a table by the window that should work.” She rose and stretched, not knowing how long she slept. Rolling up the sleeve of her blouse, she viewed the bandage. A few spots of blood showed underneath the last few windings. That seemed encouraging.
Ivytree rushed into the room. “Is this the patient?” He reminded Sara of a hummingbird with his eyes constantly blinking.
“I am and this is my wound.” She waved her arm.
The final round of bandages stuck a little bit and Ivytree pulled out a little vial with a ball on the end. “What’s that?” Sara said.
“It’s something new called an atomizer. It pulls a little of the liquid up and the air puffs it out into a fine spray. I put water in it to ease off bandages like this. That way the bandage is only moistened.”
“Wonderful,” She turned to Willa. “Could you see if Hedge knows about these?” It reminded her a little of the fire weapon in that it used air as the propellant of the liquid.
The spray moistened the bandage a bit on each winding. Soon the bandage was off and Ivytree examined the wound.
“Good work,” he said. “I see you had some work done on this wound after some inflammation or festering? The stitches are exquisite. Who may I ask did this?”
“Nona Stepper. She’s the healer in Belting Hollow.”
“I know Nona Stepper. She thought a lot of herself while she trained in Stonebridge.”
“I think she’s shown she can do a creditable bit of healing.” Sara had confidence that Nona would do more than physical healing in Belting Hollow.