Authors: Dee Brice
The Next Morning
Nearly six weeks after they left Marchonland, Willa and
Pippa returned with their husbands.
Urged from their bed by Aida’s commands to hurry, vexed by
their lady-in-waiting’s complaints about appearing below wearing tunics so
short their calves showed, the twins barely had time to rebraid their hair.
Risking life and limb, they clattered down the stairs still striving to tie
ribbons around each other’s thick braid. Recovering their breath if not their
dignity, the twins followed Gareth and Yvonne, Gaspar and Aida from the great
hall into the bustling bailey.
Rowena nodded toward the couples in front of them. “At least
Joan will cease carping at us. The royals are no more dressed than we are.”
Giggling, Edina whispered, “Their tunics are silk, ours
simple linen.”
“Ours are cooler. ‘Tis warm for such an early hour.”
“St. Christopher! ‘Tis not too early for Gerard and Edgar to
don full chain mail.”
Rowena blanched almost as white as her nightrail. “Or for
our parents to arrive days before expected.”
“Bartholomew’s balls!” Edina swore under her breath. She
looked about for someplace to hide.
“Too late.” Rowena sounded like a herald of doom.
Edina swallowed hard.
Too late, indeed. As if everyone in the bailey had been
struck mute, utter silence fell. The jostling crowd ceased to jostle. The
knights and men-at-arms formed a wide corridor down which rode their parents.
Gareth himself helped the twins’ mother to dismount. His
warm smile and cordial, words of welcome wrested a smile from Beaufort’s queen.
Yvonne offered a warm smile of her own to both rulers, apologizing to
everyone—royal and peasant alike—for appearing so informally dressed.
“We were too anxious to greet our most welcome quests.”
“And your sisters and new brothers,” Basil, King of
Beaufort, boomed in his most stentorian tones.
His voice seemed to break the spell of silence, the
enchantment that had held them motionless. His expression loving, Vinn lifted
Willa from the back of her gentle palfrey. Pippa practically jumped Banan’s
arms from the back of her powerful destrier. He frowned at her, but before he
set her on her feet, he kissed her soundly.
Yvonne and Gareth, Aida and Gaspar surged forward to greet
their loved ones. The twins touched hands then curtsied deeply to their
parents.
“I am grateful,” Beatrix, Queen of Beaufort, said softly,
“that this place has not stolen your manners.” Her tone censored them, but her
eyes—as bright a blue as her daughters’—twinkled. Waving them to rise, she
swept them into her arms. “My babies. My darling babes. Rowena with that
dreadful scar under her lip. Edina with her disgraceful freckles. Both to be
brides despite their flaws.”
King Basil cleared his throat. “If you bathe them in tears,
Beatrix, we shall have flaws
and
scandals to worry us.”
Reminded of their near-naked state, the twins blushed.
“We will join you once we’ve donned more appropriate
attire,” Rowena said. To her own ears she sounded shocked at her mother’s
discerning description of her daughters. Before this very moment, their mother
had never so much as hinted she could tell them apart.
Edina’s expression mirrored her sister’s astonishment.
They bobbed brief curtsies. Scampering up the steps to the
great hall, up the twisting tower stairs, they reached their solar.
Rowena slammed the door shut. Edina dropped the heavy beam
that barred the door to all intruders. Out of breath, they collapsed on the
window seat.
Lost in thought, Rowena rubbed the
dreadful scar
under her lower lip. As if she wanted to scour them away, Edina rubbed the
disgraceful
freckles
dotting the bridge of her nose and her cheeks.
“What’s
dreadful
about this scar is how I got it,”
Rowena said at last. “That crofter’s lad—what was his name?—hit me. Me! A
princess of Beaufort! I should have had Father banish him.”
“Gerard does not think my freckles
disgraceful
. He
counts them and gives me a kiss for each.” Edina giggled. “He loses count very
quickly. Besides, the only reason Mother finds my freckles frightful is because
she must hide her own.”
“No, banishment would have been too mild a punishment.
Father should have had him whipped. Better still, I should have whipped him
myself.”
“Whipped who, Rowena?”
“Mother has freckles? Where?”
Realizing they had heard only a portion of what each had
said, they burst out laughing.
“Do you suppose,” Edina mused, “Mother has always known who
is who? I must have been born with freckles while your scar—”
“Came when we were five.” Rowena swiped at her
laughter-caused tears.
“The lad’s name was James,” Edina said, wiping tears of
laughter from her eyes. “And you broke his nose as retribution. In my
estimation, having strips of coarse cotton shoved up one’s nostrils is
punishment enough.”
“And if our parents could tell us apart… Oh Edina, think of
all the years we’ve wasted, playing at being each other when we could have been
ourselves.”
“Think of the hours we wasted with Gerard and Edgar.
Pretending when we could have danced with them—”
“Or bedded.”
“’Tis enough to make me cry.”
Rowena brightened. “I remember now. Mother’s freckles are
all over her bosom. Which is probably why she always wears that lace amisse
around her neck and shoulders. Do you think we could tease her about how
frightful her freckles are?”
“Do you want to spend your life locked in our rooms at
Beaufort? Do you think Father counts
her
freckles?”
Stifling a laugh, Rowena nodded. “’Tis a romantic thing to
do.”
“Romantic? Father?”
“No, Gerard, you silly goose.” Rowena sighed. “Romantic
enough for me to wish for freckles of my own.”
Joan, already in the bedchamber, squelched further
speculation about freckles and scars.
* * * * *
Marchon Castle Great Hall
“This isn’t right,” Kerrie told Alexandre as they looked
down on the great hall. “The twins should be included in what the others are
discussing. After all ‘tis their futures at the center of it all.”
“Not every woman is allowed to choose her own fate, my
queen.” When Kerrie bristled, Alexandre took her hand. “Unfair though it seems
to you, I am certain Basil and Beatrix want what is best for their daughters.”
Kerrie hissed then said, “Basil reminds me of Gareth’s dead
father. He too is so puffed up with his own importance he cannot see value in
anyone’s opinion save his own.”
“Mayhap,” Alexandre said, his voice droll, “we can give him
a lesson in humility.”
Surprised by her husband’s sudden willingness to interfere
with the living, Kerrie gaped. Closing her mouth, she said, “Mayhap we can. The
twins look so miserable, Alexandre, I feel we must do something to ease their
pain.”
“Do you accept them then? Agree they are worthy to join our
family?”
Kerrie sighed. Nodding, she said, “They are whom Gerard and
Edgar want. If I demand choice for Rowena and Edina, I must grant the men that
same right.”
Alexandre chuckled. “But you still intend to teach Basil a
lesson.”
“Oh yes! Shh. I want to hear what they all are thinking as
well as saying.”
* * * * *
“I never realized before how very large this hall is,”
Rowena said as the last serving maids departed, stacks of pewter tankards in
their arms.
“We’ve never seen it this empty before,” Edina said softly.
She cast an anxious glance toward the enormous fireplace on the opposite wall
of the room. She and Rowena had been ordered—
ordered!
—to remain on the
dais until summoned to join the others.
Around the fireplace, a quiet conference took place. No one
had bothered to tell the twins what it was about. They no longer mattered—even
though their futures must be one of the topics being discussed.
Gerard often cast a solemn look at Edina.
Edgar—forever-cheerful ne’er-do-well—grinned at Rowena. Basil’s laughter
sometimes echoed off the stone walls, but nothing from the rest of the company
reached the twins’ ears.
“I wish Yvonne had insisted on including the twins,” Gerard
muttered. He kept his comments low and for Edgar’s ears only.
“I agree. Dowries, however, generally fall on wiser heads,”
Edgar murmured.
“Then why are we here?” Gerard’s wry comment fell like a
stone into a suddenly silent lake.
“Because you may be allowed to wed my—”
“No answer, Basil, is required,” Gareth assured his
counterpart. Flicking a quelling glance at his siblings, he signaled to a
nearby footman to refill their tankards. Mead for the ladies, ale for the men.
When the footman retreated to his post and out of hearing
range, Yvonne said, “I believe now is an appropriate time to have your
daughters join us.”
Basil puffed out his chest and emitted several blustering
noises. Beatrix’s hand on his quieted him.
Smiling sweetly at Basil then at Gareth, she addressed
Gerard and Edgar. “Ask your ladies to join us.”
They strode away like hounds scenting the fox.
* * * * *
“Unnecessary. Rowena is older, therefore she is heir to
Beaufort. When I die, of course.”
Willa cleared her throat. “That is not completely accurate,
King Basil. If memory serves, you promised—with my husband Lord Vinn and your
gracious lady Queen Beatrix as witnesses—that you would abdicate upon your
daughters’ marriages. Moreover,” she raised her index finger, effectively
squashing the king’s rant, “you said the choice of Beaufort was up to your
daughters.”
“That was before—”
“You
did
promise, Basil. Will you break your vow
now?” Beatrix demanded.
Basil turned an alarming shade of red. ““I may have changed
my mind. Now that I have spent some time in their company—”
As if an hour discussing falconry proclaims a man’s
worthiness
! Kerrie thought. Those below looked up as if she’d said the
words out loud. She grinned at Alexandre who flushed, apparently embarrassed
yet smiled back.
“I may reconsider abdicating. I may find more suitable men
for my daughters to marry. After all, Gareth, your brothers—”
Most likely you want to reduce your daughters’ dowries.
Basil’s face turned even redder but he went on. “Have no
land of their own.”
Willa interrupted. “Not entirely true, Your Grace. One of
them will have Serenity. In some parts of the world a duchy is considered as
important as a kingdom. Or should I say queendom?”
Only Alexandre’s hand over her mouth kept Kerrie from
cheering.
Basil leveled a quelling glare at Willa who smiled sweetly.
He said, “Serenity will need an influx of coin before it can support itself. I shall
not allow either of my daughters to live in poverty.”
“If I may?” Vinn looked at Yvonne then at Willa for
permission to speak. They nodded and Vinn continued. “Considering the years of
neglect Serenity has suffered, the castle and its immediate surroundings are in
good condition. The fields…” Taking Willa’s hand, he smiled at her. “Willa is
more qualified to discuss the fields than I am.”
“’Tis true the fields will need more consideration than the
castle does. ‘Tis also true that the crofters raise enough to feed their
families well. They also fed William’s troops and horses when he took
possession of Serenity.”
Bastard! Kerrie remembered the rapings and the murders
William had inflicted on her second husband’s family.
As if they felt Kerrie’s rage and sorrow, they all shivered
and crossed themselves.
“In short,” Yvonne said as if donning her queen’s mantle, “whichever
daughter chooses Serenity won’t starve.”
“And,” Beatrix said, looking as if she’d awakened from a
pleasant dream, “you did promise you would abdicate, Basil.” With her own sweet
smile beaming over Basil’s now-pale face, Beatrix added, “And later that very
evening—after we’d made exquisite love to one another—”
“Beatrix, keep quiet. I forbid you to say another word!”
“We talked about all the things we could do when freed from
the responsibilities of ruling Beaufort. You vowed to have a folly built by the
lake. A lovely little edifice that will give us privacy when we swim naked.”
Burying his face in his hands, Basil groaned.
“And then we made love again. And fell asleep in each
other’s arms. In the morning—”
Basil’s groans now sounding like a man being tortured,
Beatrix fell silent. She sighed wistfully, as if still caught in that delicious
memory. Smiling up at her approaching daughters and their betrotheds, she said,
“I so look forward to our retirement. Please, make your decision quickly.”
“Decision?” Edina fixed her questioning gaze on Gerard.
“As to whether we shall marry?” Rowena queried while
ignoring Edgar’s grin. “Or is it a mater of whom we shall marry?”
“That’s settled,” Gerard insisted. He touched a freckle on
Edina’s nose.
“Settled, aye,” Edgar affirmed as he traced the faint scar
under Rowena’s lip.
“Then why are we here?” the twins said together.
After recapping the abdication plans of the twins’ parents,
Yvonne said, “I believe I’ve covered the salient points.”
“Covered them brilliantly and succinctly,” Gareth praised.
“So now,” Yvonne added, “’tis up to you four to decide.”
“I believe the choice—” Gerard began.
“Falls to Rowena and Edina,” Edgar finished.
Yvonne cupped her ear. “Have I gone deaf or do my own ears
trick me?”
“My brothers seem to have learned from your example,
Yvonne,” Gareth observed. He kissed Yvonne’s palm, keeping her hand in his.
“I am not afraid of the hard work Serenity requires.”
Edina’s worried gaze settled on Rowena’s equally worried face.