by Diane Darcy
Smiling, the queen waved her over. “Lady Cara, come and help us with the bride!”
Cara surged forward, and took her place behind Princess Melisande. “Well, ladies, I’ve been considering what to do, and I think I’ve dreamed up the perfect hairstyle.”
Excitement shown in the eyes around her. And it felt like she needed to make an occasion of it.
She weighed her words carefully and then cleared her throat. “As Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, love of beauty is taste. The creation of beauty is art.” She grinned as she looked at the delighted faces surrounding her. “Let’s create some art!”
Shining eyes, and the squeals of excitement let her know that women, no matter the time, were much the same.
Girls just wanted to have fun.
About an hour later, the bride was ready.
Cara pinned big barrel curls in place on top, wove the longer strands into a loose French braid rounding her head, added a messy bun at the crown, and long, loose curls around her face and hairline that dangled over her shoulders to her nonexistent chest.
A golden crown with rosettes was carefully set atop, and with her face lightly made up, she was gorgeous, like a Calvin Klein model, young and stunning.
The queen stood, motioned everyone back, and did a slow circuit around the girl. Princess Melisande’s gown was a vivid jewel-blue, decorated with pearls, gold threading, and a two-piece gossamer overcoat which opened to reveal the gold braided belt hanging from waist to floor.
The queen finally nodded and smiled at Cara. “La perfection.”
Cara gave a modest nod.
The queen shooed Millie into a chair and told her to sit still, and the princess froze in place like it was her job, giving the rest of them time to get ready.
The queen was next, and when she took her seat, she called for more water.
Cara exchanged an amused glance with Gillian.
They were all drinking water like it was an elixir, which, of course, it was.
Cara spent the next hour fixing the queen’s hair and makeup, helping the ladies darken their lashes, and brighten their lips and cheeks.
The queen was in a great mood, and Cara winked at her several times, drew a few blushes from her, as the queen smiled and chatted, in her element.
Honestly, if she hadn’t been so busy being a queen and all, she’d have been a great addition to Cara’s team in Hollywood.
When everyone looked amazing, Gillian helped Cara touch up her makeup, as the queen sent word that it was time.
Starting with Queen Eleanor, and then Princess Melisande, the wedding procession slowly made its way downstairs with Cara and Gillian taking up the rear.
They could hear the crowd quiet, and when they reached the top of the stairs, Cara watched the king smile at the queen and kiss her hand, before holding his arm out to the bride.
The crowd below was dressed in finery, with rich colors, and a lot of silk. Tunics, linen shirts, and belts for the men. Embroidered dresses, mantles, and cords for the women — as well as some crazy headdresses. Everyone, male or female, wore jewels.
It sort of reminded Cara of a Hollywood premiere.
King Henry and the bride took the lead, going outside, which Cara hadn’t expected.
“Where are they going?”
“To the chapel,” Gillian whispered.
As soon as the king and queen’s immediate party disappeared, the colorful crowd surged forward, leaving Gillian and Cara on the stairs for a while, until they were able to make their way outdoors.
Kellen waited for Gillian, which gave Cara a bit of a pang.
Wallace should be here.
They made their way to the chapel and stood outside with at least half the crowd, the building too small to accommodate everyone.
Tables of food were set up outside, and she could see the gates were open, and villagers stood back, the men holding hats in hand.
Taking it all in, the castle, the courtyard, and colorful crowd, Cara couldn’t help being impressed.
If this had been a Hollywood production, someone would be winning the Academy Award for Best Production Design, and Best Costume Design.
The crowd quieted, and she could hear someone speaking, probably the priest, and she glanced around for Lady Helena and her girls, but couldn’t see them.
Perhaps they’d made it inside.
Gillian was clinging to her husband’s arm, whispering to him, making him smile, and once again, Cara couldn’t help wishing for Wallace.
She glanced toward the dungeon wall, and from this vantage, could see hands clutching the bars of a tiny window.
Her lips parted. It was Wallace, she was sure of it.
She took one step toward him, before Gillian grabbed her elbow and shook her head.
Cara subsided. Her friend was right, this wasn’t the time, or the place, and she didn’t want to make a spectacle of them both by doing what? Laying on her stomach and grasping his hands?
She settled once again, but her heart pounded, and she couldn’t help slipping glances toward that small window.
The next time she looked, the hands were gone.
She couldn’t imagine how he felt right now; alone, trapped, disgraced. Her heart ached for him.
After a long while, where Cara occasionally caught a Latin word or two of the ceremony, the king came outside, the queen on his arm, and he was obviously in a good mood, smiling, waving, as he gestured to the bride and groom who stepped out after them.
As the crowd parted to make room, she got a good look at the well-dressed groom, older than his child bride by probably fifteen or twenty years.
Yikes. But, when in Rome ... she reminded herself.
“’Tis certainly a day for romance, do you not agree?” King Henry shouted out.
And of course, everyone agreed with the king.
“We have good weather, a beautiful blushing bride, and a handsome, honorable,” he stressed the word, “groom.”
Everyone laughed as the king chuckled, and Cara caught that the joke was directed at the groom, unable to consummate the marriage until his bride grew up.
He’d better not.
“But,” the king lifted his hand, obviously having fun, “as it is a day for romance, and as I’m feeling so generous, very generous, by the way, did everyone hear the titles and properties I bestowed upon our young couple this day?”
Everyone agreed the king was very generous.
He looked mock-humble for a moment and then smiled and waved his hand once more. “Of course, of course. Think naught of it. At least until come tax time!”
Once again everyone laughed, though Cara felt it might be a bit more strained that time.
King Henry looked at his queen. “As this is a day of romance, a wedding, I am reminded of my own marriage, to my own beautiful bride.” He took Queen Eleanor’s hand and kissed it.
“That would be two brides I have thought of this day. If I make it three, would that not be a lucky number?”
People looked at each other, and Cara glanced at Gillian, who just shook her head and gave a light shrug.
A chill ran down Cara’s spine, like a premonition.
“I have decided that it would be an excellent idea to combine two of our noble families, thus ending a blood feud, and instead, looking toward the future! “Sir Rupert Dinsdale! You will come forward now!”
A tall, broad-shouldered man, moved through the crowd until he stood before the king who gestured for him to join him.
When he turned, he was revealed to be good-looking, maybe a little shy about the attention, but a good sport all the same.
This was Rupert the Brave?
This was Wallace’s enemy?
She’d been expecting evil incarnate, and this guy just wasn’t it.
The king continued. “And now, for the surprise! Lady Amelia Wolfsbane, please join us.”
Cara searched until she saw Amelia pushed forward by the laughing crowd, to the point she stumbled into the spot next
to Sir Rupert Dinsdale, who caught her gallantly.
The crowd loved it.
Cara had a clear vision of the king’s face, and he looked benevolent as he said in a loud voice, “Lady Amelia, I understand your betrothal agreement was broken.”
Amelia nodded shyly.
“Then good fortune is smiling upon you. Weddings always bring out the romance inside me, and, as of this moment Lady Amelia Wolfsbane, you are betrothed to Sir Rupert Dinsdale.”
He took both their hands, put them together, and then smiled at the crowd. “Is that not wonderful? Do I have your agreement?”
As everyone clapped and cheered, Sir Rupert, still holding Amelia’s hand, went to one knee before the king and bowed his head. It took a moment longer for Amelia to dip down into a low curtsy.
The girl’s shoulders were tense. She was probably in shock. Cara was, that was for sure. “I just can’t believe this. What will Wallace say?”
Gillian’s shushing made Cara realize she’d said the words aloud.
And what about Lady Helena? She hated the Dinsdale family with a passion. And for her daughter to marry into it?
Cara’s stomach twisted.
Was this because she’d spoken to the queen about Wallace?
Had the king decided he couldn’t free him, but desired to throw his queen a bone in the form of a romantic betrothal, unexpected and seemingly wise?
She felt sick.
And not just that, but something prodded her memory. The day she tried on the necklace, she’d read the history, and she was pretty sure that Sir Rupert’s bride, Lady Amelia, was once given the Heart of Eternity necklace.
And now Rupert was betrothed to Amelia?
So ... if Amelia ended up with the necklace, wouldn’t that mean one of the Dinsdales really did steal it?
She glanced toward the small dungeon window, but the crowd was moving toward the food and it was no longer visible.
When Kellen indicated they should go, Cara silently followed her friends, and when they went inside the keep, sat on a bench beside them, trying to catch her breath.
She should never have spoken to the queen. It was like she’d been sent back in time to utterly ruin the Wolfsbanes. If time travel was real, perhaps magic was too? Perhaps Lord Dinsdale was some sort of warlock scurrying through time, until he’d found the one woman most likely to bring wreck and ruin to this family.
Servants buzzed about placing food on tables and refreshing drinks. She glanced around the crowded room. If she thought the tables outside were bulging, it was nothing compared to the tables in the great hall. Fresh bread, different types of meats and stuffing, fish, fruits, and vegetables of all kinds.
Gillian patted her hand. “This will work out somehow, I just know it.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t look at the other woman, could tell from her tone that even Gillian believed all was lost.
She also didn’t search for Lady Helena, as she would have no words of comfort for her.
She had utterly failed at what she’d set out to do, made things worse, and had no idea how to even start to fix them.
She wanted to go home.
She’d once considered this time period so romantic, but the truth was, medieval times sucked.
Chapter 32
Wallace punched the wall as hard as he could, letting loose a roar of anger.
He paced back and forth in the small space, slammed himself against the iron bars, once, twice, before turning around and sinking against the wall of his cell, feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
Lord Dinsdale had not lied.
Amelia was now betrothed to Sir Rupert, and by the king’s will, no less, and even if Wallace were free at this moment, there was naught he could do about it.
The thought of mingling Wolfsbane and Dinsdale blood turned his stomach.
Out of jealousy, they’d murdered his father.
There was no forgiveness for that.
The king obviously saw this as a way to end the feud, he probably thought he was acting shrewd, clever.
Wallace clenched and unclenched his bleeding fist tightly, wishing one or both Dinsdales were in front of him now, and he could release his anger against his enemies.
What must his mother and Amelia feel at this moment?
And how weak he must look to Cara. Would she leave if she found a way home? Glad to see the last of him? The relief he felt that she did not have the necklace, did not have a way home, shamed him.
When she’d called down to him, hearing her voice, it had about killed him to be so powerless, unable to go to her.
He shoved at the bars of his cage.
Did the king mean to keep him here until after the wedding? Or until after they’d all left? Mayhap he truly would just hang him and end his misery.
His goal, to come here, to fight Sir Rupert and regain his honor and lands, would not come to pass.
He tilted his head back against the wall and felt the anger drain out of him, and an emptiness take its place.
The pressure of the last years, losing his father, their lands, and trying to keep it all together, hit him anew.
It all felt so hopeless.
So pointless.
As if, perhaps, he was born to be punished.
Thoughts of Cara flitted through his head, her smile, her warmth, the way she seemed to have brought him back to life.
Was she yet more punishment? One more joy of his to take away?
Perhaps he’d done something horrible to merit such rough treatment? Left a deed undone, or, perhaps killed a man in battle, someone whom God favored?
He supposed he’d find out in the next life.
He raised a knee, rested an arm on it, and bent his head.
Perhaps he should wish for the next life to come sooner, rather than later.
An hour later, the wedding supper started to wind down, though the musicians continued to belt out one merry tune after another.
Cara barely touched any food.
She knew she hadn’t been good company for Gillian and Kellen, and was glad the place was crowded, and they had others to talk to, so she didn’t have to pretend she was okay.
Gillian cast her several worried glances, but let her be.
It was loud, people coming and going, inside and out, the wedding celebration obviously the successful party everyone had looked forward to.
The tables, five long rows, squeezed together, didn’t leave a lot of room, and she waited until it cleared out a bit before excusing herself to sit beside Lady Helena and Dori.
Lady Helena stared toward the front of the room where Amelia and Rupert had been invited to sit near the king. Rupert appeared to be flirting with Amelia and, as they couldn’t interfere, she pulled Lady Helena’s attention away.
“What are we going to do?”
Lady Helena’s expression was defeated as she shrugged. “I do not know.”
“Might I ask you for this dance?”
When Lady Helena glanced up, Cara did as well, only then realizing that a man was bowing before her, his hand held out.
She glanced to where the tables on the far side were being taken outside, and a small group was beginning some sort of intricate dance Cara would have no idea how to follow.
The man before her, young, red-haired, confident, waited for her to join him.
Cara shook her head, only wanting to dance with Wallace. “Sorry, I’m sitting this one out.”
With a look that said, your loss, the man continued on to find a more likely partner.
“Cara, how could you?” Dori hissed across the table.
With a shrug, Cara bent her head back toward Lady Helena, wishing at least one of them could come up with a plan, when they were interrupted once more.
“I beg your pardon.”
She shot an irritated glance at the elderly bejeweled gentleman hovering over them, ready to turn down yet another dance partner, when he said, “King Henry wishes to see you.”
Cara glanced at Lady Helena and swallowed.
Lady Helena gave a quick nod as Dori gaped, and Cara slowly rose to her feet.
She followed the man, probably a noble sent to do the king’s bidding. They weaved through the crowd, sidestepping a chatting couple, a laughing pair of ladies, and bumping into a few other people sitting on the benches as they squeezed past.
Eventually, they made their way to the wedding party, and her guide bowed to the royal pair, and moved away as Cara dipped into a low curtsy.
She shot a quick glance at Amelia, who sat straight, stiff, and proved she was her mother’s daughter by giving nothing away in her expression.
“Stand up, stand up, let me get a look at you,” the king insisted.
She stood before the king, who looked majestic with his bejeweled tunic, red cape, and the golden crown atop his head. His hair and beard were dappled with gray.
He looked her up and down, finally saying, “My Lady Queen has told me the most astounding story, and from the sadness in thy face, I cannot help but wonder if it is true?”
Cara could tell she was meant to respond, but had no idea what to say. “Your Majesty?”
The king, queen, and the entire wedding party laughed like she’d told the greatest of jokes.
The king, still smiling, said, “Lord Wolfsbane strikes me as a large, rather angry man, somewhat like the wolf his family is named for.”
Again, she had no idea how to respond.
“Oh, come, come. My Lady Queen has informed me that there is a love story to be had here, and one that I, myself, played a part in.”
She glanced at the queen who gave her a meaningful look and nodded as if to tell her, well, go on.
She finally grasped that this was her big chance, and she was blowing it!
Of course, you’re blowing it, said a nasty voice inside her head. Wallace’s life was at risk, and if his story continued the way she’d heard it, he’d get hanged for treason or something.
And that would be her fault, as well, if she didn’t get this right. Fear tingled through her, freezing her in place. So far everything she’d done had just made things worse, so ... she had nowhere to go but up.