by Diane Darcy
She told Millie not to move, she held it carefully under the girl’s eyes, then said aloud, “Can you stay very still?”
Someone translated for the girl, and she nodded and did as Cara told her to.
The girl’s lashes were dark and thick, but Cara still added a little bit of coal dust to make them pop.
She had the girl blink several times and when no more fell to the paper, moved to the other eye.
“Can someone please explain to her that she’s not to touch her eyes or she’ll mark her skin with black.”
Someone explained to the girl quickly in French.
Millie nodded solemnly and by the time Cara blushed up her cheeks with the beet mixture, and used the rose-tinted oil on her lips, the girl looked pretty as a picture.
Cara stood back to let the others admire her work, and the ladies pulled the girl upright, and turned her this direction and that, and though Cara couldn’t understand their words, she certainly caught their oohs, aahs, and excited chatter.
The queen quickly sat in the chair next, her own gaze excited. She called out something to one of the other ladies, and within the minute, there were several other pots and potions being laid out on Cara’s new makeup station.
Cara smiled as her mind buzzed as she studied the shape of the queen’s face, felt her hair type, and came up with a new idea.
She knew her job, and knew when the top-billed leading lady sat in your chair, she better leave it looking better than anyone else.
Including the bride.
By the time Cara finished her work on the queen, the woman looked gorgeous!
Cara had gone with a slightly Baroque look, and using multiple leather ties, had forced the queen’s hair to stand up in twisted barrel rolls atop her head, turning it into a crown.
As her hair had been curled previously, she had taken those curls, turned them into fat barrel rolls, and laid them over one shoulder.
Even Cara was stunned at how well it turned out.
Another fifteen minutes doing her makeup, and the woman looked absolutely gorgeous.
When Cara was done, she took a step back, and again the entire room had gone silent.
The queen looked into the ladies’ faces, and smiled.
She stood, walked to the polished shields on the other side of the room, and looked at her reflection.
The shields weren’t much for viewing, but the queen seemed pleased enough as she turned this way and that.
“I would loan her my small mirror,” Gillian whispered. “But I’d never get it back.”
“You have a mirror?”
“What would you bring back if you had the chance?”
Cara nodded. “A mirror for sure.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“What else are you holding out on me?”
“Nothing I’m willing to share at this time.”
They smiled at each other.
After a moment the queen headed back toward Cara. “Thank you, my dear. Tell me, are you married?”
Cara shook her head. “No, not married.”
“Betrothed?”
“Oh, actually, yes, I am. To Wallace of Wolfsbane.”
The queen shook her head. “Oh, non, non, that will not do at all. The man is a disgrace, and has dragged his family down with him. Perhaps we can find you someone at court?”
Cara froze as she realized that the queen was giving her an opportunity to live at court so she could have her personal hairdresser with her. “Oh, I’m incredibly happy with Wallace. Over the moon, match made in heaven, he totally completes me.”
The queen didn’t look convinced, but didn’t argue. Cara looked at Gillian who widened her eyes.
It was apparently time to go and show themselves. Cara expected to be at the back of the crowd, but the queen gestured for her and Gillian to walk behind her.
Gillian’s brows rose, and the slight scowls from the other ladies let her know this wasn’t the norm, so the queen must be pleased.
Cara was feeling pretty good herself. If she could smudge a little soot and clay around and call it beauty, well, she was just joining a long line of cosmetics icons, wasn’t she?
She hadn’t planned it this way, but if she could become a favorite of the queen, perhaps she could convince her to help Wallace?
The long procession continued onward, through the doors, down the long, tapestry decorated hallway, and down the stairs.
“Be careful around King Henry,” Gillian whispered. “And of making Queen Eleanor jealous.”
Cara didn’t have a chance to ask for clarification as they were already on their way down the hall, single file now.
When they arrived down below, the queen was announced at the entrance to the great hall, and when she moved forward, and no longer hid the great hall from view, Cara saw that the king was in residence, seated upon a large chair as others swarmed around him talking and vying for his attention.
Gillian steered her elbow to follow the queen and when the woman was seated, they stood off to one side, and those that followed stood nearby, almost like they were in a wedding line. Women on one side. Men on the other.
King Henry stared at the queen as she took her seat beside him. “My dear, you look stunning.”
Looking pleased, she lowered her eyes demurely. “Thank you.”
The king continued to stare at his wife for a long moment, before reaching out, taking her hand, and kissing it.
Cara felt a warm glow of satisfaction. Nothing like having your work appreciated.
She glanced around, looking for Wallace, and finally spotted him standing with a group of men, looking her way.
She nodded.
He gave a slight nod in return and then broke eye contact when he responded to another man in his group.
Cara glanced around for Lady Helena and her daughters but they were nowhere to be seen.
“And who is this bright young beauty in our midst?”
The switch from French to English jarred Cara back to the conversation and when Gillian elbowed her, she realized the king was looking right at her and his gaze was a bit too warm.
She met the queen’s gaze and sent her an apologetic look before she curtsied. “Your Majesty.”
The queen finished the introduction. “Lady Cara Jones of Wales.”
“One of my subjects then.”
“Aren’t we all?”
The king smiled. “Your accent is different. Similar to Lady Marshall’s.”
“We’ve both spent time in Inverdeem, Your Majesty,” Gillian curtsied.
The king nodded, and gave Cara another once over.
“She is betrothed to Wolfsbane,” the queen inserted.
“Ah,” the information didn’t seem to surprise him. “And by all reports, she has lost her necklace. So, a double misfortune for her.”
Those around them laughed as if it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard and unexpectedly, Cara felt her cheeks heat with anger and she lowered her gaze.
She’d like to come to Wallace’s defense, but as she was still trying to get the lay of the land, and didn’t want to make things worse, she refrained.
Fortunately, the conversation moved on and Gillian released a breath. “That could have been worse,” she whispered.
“Better too, I would think.” No one, herself included, was standing up for Wallace, and she just about couldn’t stand it.
She glanced around. “Do you see the Dinsdales anywhere?”
Gillian looked apologetic. “I’ve never met them.”
“Should we go and join Wallace and your husband?”
“We’re not allowed to leave until the queen gives her permission.”
Cara glanced at Gillian to see if she was being serious, and the other girl simply shrugged. “When in Rome.”
Maybe she shouldn’t be in such a hurry to get away from the main players when she was trying to get Wallace an opportunity to fight again. She glanced at the king and queen in a new light. If they
were directors, and she was trying to get a position on a film crew? She’d listen to their concerns, their ideas, try to brainstorm and add her own, based on their vision.
She’d won jobs before by sending her resume, but had learned that the face-to-face meetings were always the better bet.
In fact, she now worked almost exclusively with a handful of directors that knew she was easy to work with, and would do her best to help bring their vision to life.
How could she use those same skills here, to make a difference?
She turned to Gillian, determined to have a bright cheerful conversation so as to attract the queen’s attention, and hopefully get called to her side, when, a pressure from Gillian’s hand against her back alerted her.
She glanced up to see Wallace coming toward the king and queen, a determined expression on his face.
She shook her head at him, and his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t stop his forward progress.
From the way everyone spoke earlier, they held him in contempt, and being a bull in a china shop wasn’t the way to go about it.
But it was too late. He was already there, making his bow in front of the king, and attracting just about everyone’s attention in the room.
For one horrible moment she thought that the king would ignore him completely, but finally, the king waved a hand. “Wolfsbane? You wanted something? Why does that not surprise me?”
Everyone around the king laughed, and sympathy filled her, making her ache for him. This must be so difficult.
He was a man worthy of the esteem of his peers, he was hard-working, concerned for his people, and the one who had been done wrong. This crowd should listen to him, respect him, and yet this is where things stood.
His jaw tightened and he didn’t look at her, and she thought it was intentional.
More pity welled up in her heart for him.
He didn’t deserve this.
Chapter 27
Aggression flowed through Wallace, but he did his best not to show it.
Amidst jeers and laughter, he bowed before the king until he saw the Monarch wave his hand in a leisurely gesture.
“Very well, very well, as if I do not know what this is about. But go ahead and speak your piece before you burst with it.”
More laughter.
Wallace straightened, ignoring the men and women gathered about. He could feel anticipation so strong among those present that it was almost avarice.
“My liege. As you know, I did not get a chance to fight Dinsdale and prove my innocence in Stirling.”
The king looked slightly amused, which wasn’t a bad thing. “This again? After I told you the matter was at an end?”
At least the king hadn’t shut him down completely. “The Dinsdales have stolen Wolfsbane property, and —”
“Your father’s land was confiscated when he turned traitor to his king.”
“Never! My father was ever loyal and I would be the first to know it! He would never speak against you, never fight against you, and was ever ready to send his men to battle on thy behalf.”
“You cannot rewrite history; your father was condemned as a traitor and a spy.”
Rage boiled up in Wallace’s chest, threatening to boil over. He could feel heat creep up his neck and into his face and tried to rein it in.
“And who whispered these words in your ear, pray tell? His loyal men? Men who knew him and served with him?” He looked out among the crowd. “Johnson? Davis? Miller? You knew my father, and fought beside him. You would know his loyalty better than anyone.”
The men looked startled to be put on the spot. They glanced at the king, at each other, and at Wallace himself.
Though one man did look apologetic, none of them said a word.
Bitterness crept into his heart. He felt sure that if his father had been in their place, he would have spoken for them.
Stood for them instead of allowing his reputation to be destroyed after his death.
The rage burning inside him leapt out and he couldn’t help but reprimand the men who’d not stood beside his father when he’d needed them.
“How can you face yourselves? You know my father was no traitor! And yet you stood by to protect your own skins, rather than standing up for my father! How can you live with knowing what has been done to me and mine because you stood aside and did naught?”
He looked at the king and a part of him knew he needed to cease, to close his mouth on the raw words wanting to rush forth. Anger at the injustices done to his family blasted the truth from him even as the king’s face tightened.
“How could you help but know that my father was maligned!”
“Enough!” The king yelled.
“You knew my father was innocent, and yet you listened to Dinsdale, his sworn enemy, and let him drip poison in your ear. And why? For the taxes he would pay you for transferring our properties to him!”
The king’s face was becoming mottled, and he stood and screamed, “I said enough! Guards, arrest him, and throw him in the dungeon! Take this further and I will see you hanged!”
Wallace was seized, and the crowd, now silent, parted as he was dragged away from the king.
And still, he couldn’t stop the words pouring from him. “You should have let me fight his son and let God truly choose between us! You leapt on an excuse to halt the joust! You filled thy coffers at the expense of my family! My father was no villain! Had I known that honor and reputation were for sale, then I could’ve paid you not to condone my father’s murder, not to allow our property to be stolen!”
He was almost out the door now, and glanced in Cara’s direction to see her stricken face.
Doubts arose within him once more, and he wondered yet again if she’d been in league with the Dinsdales, stopping the joust and foiling his justice.
He continued to fight as he was dragged out the door and around to the side of the house. Double doors were lifted, and he struggled as three men tried to force him down into the hole.
“We will throw you down and you will break your neck if you don’t cooperate!” one of the guards said.
Wallace tried to catch his breath. What did he care for that now? No doubt he’d lost what little he had left, leaving his mother, sisters, and Cara unprotected.
Another guard joined them, and between the four of them, wrested him down the staircase even as he fought with all his might.
He was thrown into a cage, and fell to his knees, and the door slammed shut and locked behind him.
He jumped up, swung around, and made a grab for the man’s keys, almost grasping them, but the man jumped back and laughed, and another plucked up a nearby bucket, and threw water in his face.
“That should cool you off a bit, especially come nightfall.”
Laughing, the men made their way back up the stairs, closed the double doors and locked him in.
As he grasped the bars, he tried to catch his breath, even as the chill started to creep in.
He glanced around, to find there was not so much as a chair in the small space, though it did abut a window, and he quickly crossed to it to see the courtyard, people going about their normal lives, even as he had ended his.
He punched the wall and got bruised, scraped knuckles for his efforts, shaking it out before turning around and sitting on the floor against the wall.
He knocked his head back against the stone wall once, twice, and then drew a deep breath, and settled.
As the aggression drained out of him, he kept seeing Cara’s face in his mind’s eye, stricken and disbelieving.
No doubt he was a fool.
A lack wit, and churl.
He should’ve held his tongue,
There was a reason Lord Dinsdale had been able to get the king to see things his way.
The man was a natural born opportunist, sly, manipulative, fluent in the language of court.
And what was Wallace? Wallace was a hammer, he was brash, loud, and he struck hard.
Cara had warned him,
told him to pull his punches, and play the game.
He’d thought it beneath him. And what had that gotten him?
Dinsdale still won, and Wallace had lost more than ever.
In fact, he’d lost everything.
Wallace was an idiot!
She’d told him, hadn’t she? Warned him he needed to be charming, or at least to pull his punches if he wanted his side of the story heard.
She stood in the receiving line, or whatever it was, and recalled Wallace being dragged off like a mad dog. Her heart felt like it was aching in her chest. The king had threatened to hang him! It rang a bell for her. Nate had commented on a hanging scene in the movie. Wallace? In real life? Or just a Hollywood subplot? She didn’t know and it was making her sick.
Gillian reached forward and took her hand and gave it a squeeze.
Cara swallowed, appreciating the sympathy, but all she wanted to do was run after him and make sure he was okay.
She blinked back the tears welling in her eyes, and let the conversation wash around her.
People shook their heads, talking about what a shame it was, and were generally being jerks about the whole incident.
Couldn’t they see Wallace was upset by the injustice of it all? It wasn’t fair and if all of these so-called nobles would take a moment and look at it from his side of things, they’d realize it.
So far, this followed the history books. Or at least a movie script. She was beginning to see why Wallace had earned such a bad reputation.
She’d heard before that winners wrote history. And if the history books said Wallace was hung for treason, was that what she had to look forward to next?
If she hadn’t taken off the necklace, perhaps she could have grabbed him and returned to her own time, saving him the indignity of not only losing everything, but getting hanged for it as well.
She sighed. Even if she could, she wouldn’t leave him to this fate without trying to do something about it.
She didn’t dare so much as look at the king or queen, but after a moment she just couldn’t take it anymore.
Her body thrummed, and she couldn’t just stand there as if nothing had happened. Wallace had been wronged, and he wasn’t just her friend, he was someone she had feelings for.