Secrets of the Night Special Edition (27 page)

A short walk took them to the main city stable, where Gaderian kept his own horse and hired one for her. After a few minutes of saddling and adjusting the stirrups, Fianna hitched her skirt up to ride astride, as she had always done. They were on their way to a place Fianna had never seen up close, but only from a distance. Leaving shops and warehouses behind them, it took them but a short while to reach the homes on the southern edge of the city, where three-story mansions graced the scenic landscape of trees and bushes, like a string of pearls on a beautiful woman. Fianna never tired of seeing this familiar view, the towering oaks and earthberry bushes, the lovely homes with their spacious lawns, some with iron fences, and their terra-cotta roofs. The wide dirt road twisted and turned, a slight elevation to the land as they rode south. A cluster of dark clouds drifted in front of a half-moon, casting the road in darkness.

"There it is," Gaderian said as his house came into view. And what a lovely mansion it was, as grand as any she'd seen.

A long graveled driveway led up to Gaderian's house, a three-story gray stone residence set on a vast acreage where oak trees and weeping willows dotted the land, and flower beds edged the grounds. Little else was visible in the dark, but early morning dew glittered on the grass. She looked forward to springtime, when the flower blossoms would burst forth in their glory.  She caught her breath, unsure if she'd still live here in the coming spring. Possibly Gaderian would tire of her, and that thought alone settled like a cold lump in her stomach.

Gaderian stopped by the steps at the mansion's entrance and dismounted, setting her satchel on the ground, then came around to her side and helped her dismount. "Wait here," he said, then led the horses along another graveled path to a stable at the far end of the property, a stone structure barely visible in the early morning light. He returned a few minutes later. "We'll stable your horse for you," he explained, "and one of my men will ride it back to the city stable tomorrow." With a worried look, he glanced up at the sky, now more blue than gray. "Let's get you settled in your own bedchamber."

Quietly, she proceeded up the stone steps with him, a hundred questions in her mind, but one foremost. "What will the servants think when they see a strange woman in your house?" And do you always bring strange women to your house? she wanted to ask.

"I'll leave a note before I seek my own sleeping quarters and explain that you're my guest." A wave of his hand opened the front door, and they stepped inside. Unable to see much in the dim light, she glimpsed enough to get the impression of wealth and opulence.

Beyond the entrance hall, winding stairs led them to the second floor, where Gaderian guided her down a long hallway and opened a door on the right. Preceding her into the room, he set her satchel on top of a wooden chest at the foot of the bed. The fragrance of fresh linens and potpourri scented the bedchamber.

He held her lightly by the arms. "Make yourself at home, dearest. I apologize that I will not be able to introduce you to my housekeeper, but I hope you understand my need for haste." He nodded toward the window, where a pink glow lit the west. "No doubt you will want to sleep now. As I said, I'll leave a note for my housekeeper, and by the time you rise, she'll have breakfast for you." He kissed her quickly. "I'll see you this evening."

She looked around the bedchamber, able to see now in the early morning light. A large canopied bed dominated the room, its bedspread a deep red velvet, and draperies to match. A large chest of drawers stood at the opposite wall of the spacious room, with a large mirror above it and a glass bowl of potpourri atop a lace doily. Overwhelmed by all of the night's events, she sank down on an upholstered bench that sat to the side of the wide window. She sighed, surrendering to her exhaustion, to the strangeness of her new home, and she wished Gaderian were with her now to share the time and the bed with her. But of course, she understood; he mustn't let the sunlight catch him. Where did he sleep? she wondered. In the cellar, no doubt.

For now, she was too tired to think, to do anything but sleep. She slipped off her shoes, then stood to draw her dress over her head. Clad in her linen shift, she pushed the bedspread back and crawled into bed. Time enough later to ask Gaderian all the questions that taunted her.

* * *

Hours later, Fianna awoke, disoriented as her gaze darted around the room. The events of the previous night came back in a rush: Angus's attempted capture of her, Gaderian's rescue, then their journey back to his home. Unsure of the time, she glanced around the room and saw an hour glass resting on the bedside table. Early afternoon; she'd had a long sleep. Shivering in the chill air, she pushed the bedspread aside and stepped out of bed, then opened her satchel to don her only woolen dress. After buttoning her dress, she stepped into her shoes and left to go downstairs.

There, she saw what she had missed in the early morning darkness. A splendid living room stood to her left and to her right appeared to be another such room, this one not quite so formal. The hall stretched the length of the first floor, and some other time, she'd love to see what rooms lay behind her, but for now, her stomach growled, her hunger getting the best of her. She stood in shy indecisiveness and saw nothing to do but go in search of food.

An older woman emerged from down the long hallway. "Ah, there you are. Mr. Wade wrote me a note, telling me to expect you to wake up sometime this afternoon, so I've been checking the stairs every now and then." She smiled. "I'm Birgit, the housekeeper, and I'll wager you're hungry." A short, plump woman clad in black, with gray hair, she had a friendly face, immediately relieving Fianna's mind, for if this was to be her new home, she needed a friend.

She swallowed. "Hungry, yes, madam–uh, Birgit."

"Well, then," Birgit said briskly, "follow me." She led her down the hall, past a large dining room on one side and a Treasury of Knowledge across from it. A few more steps took them to a smaller dining room. Birgit pulled out a chair for her. "Mr. Wade mentioned that you would want breakfast when you awoke, but I'm wondering if you'd rather have a late lunch, considering the hour."

Fianna sat down and drew the chair closer to the table. "Whatever is easier. A late lunch sounds fine, something simple." Her gaze took in the magnificence of the room and indeed, of the whole house. And this was the smaller dining room! A spicy fragrance scented the air, a pleasant surprise this time of the year.

"Very well. I'll be right back." She hustled off with no-nonsense, quick steps.

The highly-polished table held a place setting for one, with brass candelabras in the middle of the table, and a brass bell at her right. The soft, light green sheepskin rug, so thick her feet sank into them, matched the draperies at the wide window. Beneath the window stood a long table, a glass bowl of potpourri in the center, the source of the lovely spicy fragrance. The wooden walls of the room gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight, but the sun was sinking fast, since it was autumn. A large bronze plaque graced one wall, its curvilinear design barely visible at this hour, the only ornament she saw in the room. Within a couple moonphases, complete darkness would descend on the country at this hour. Two oil lamps dangled from the ceiling, casting a warm glow on walls and furniture.

The housekeeper returned with a steaming bowl of soup on a tray, along with a basket of warm bread and a glass of red wine. She set Fianna's lunch before her and stepped back, a questioning look on her face.

"If this isn't enough, you must let me know." She indicated the bronze bell. "Just ring the bell and I'll come."

"Thank you, Birgit, this looks fine, and I'm sure it's quite adequate." She caught the tantalizing scent of aromatic onion soup, and her stomach growled again.

"Well, then, if you're sure . . . I'll be back later to get your things when you're finished."

"Thank you." She dipped her bronze spoon into the bowl and took a tentative taste of the soup as the housekeeper left. The aroma and taste of bay leaves was another pleasant surprise, the best soup she'd had in a long time, or perhaps her hunger made it seem so. She reached into the covered basket and broke off a piece from the warm, fragrant loaf of oat bread, strong with the scent of yeast. She sighed with bliss; she didn't know what awaited her in this strange house or what her future held, but at least she would eat well, than the Goddess for small blessings. She sipped her wine, the best elderberry wine she'd ever tasted, and assumed it was homemade. As she ate and drank, the shadows in the room darkened, a chill in the air.

Finished with her repast a short while later, she left the dining room and trod up the winding stairs to fetch her shawl. In her bedchamber, she saw someone had been in her room while she'd eaten, for an oil lamp glowed beside her bed. Reaching into her satchel, she found it empty. She opened the dresser drawer behind her and found her clothes–the few that she had–neatly put away. They must think I'm a pauper, she mused, retrieving her shawl from the drawer and wrapping it around her shoulders.

She stood in silent reflection for a few moments as she absorbed the full force of her situation. She was living in a strange house with a man she knew little of, no matter how much she loved him. A vampire. In the name of all the gods and goddesses, how could she adjust her life to his, and would he try to reconcile his life to hers? No, of course not; how could he? A hundred questions sprouted in her brain, problems for which she had no ready answer. She wondered what the servants thought of Gaderian. Did they realize he was a vampire? Surely they must, if they never saw him during the day, and he emerged from the cellar at night. And what did the servants think of her? No matter what they thought of her or Gaderian, they obviously respected him, for she had seen no evidence of surliness or poor service in the little she'd seen of the employees so far.

Tightening the shawl around her, she headed down the long hallway and on downstairs, both hallway and downstairs rooms lit by oil lamps, for complete darkness had settled over the land. She wondered what lay in store for her, living with Gaderian. Something told her she would soon find out.

She stepped outside to wander around the grounds but saw little in the darkness, nor did she see anyone. First thing tomorrow morning, she'd go for a long walk to see the other houses nearby, get a feel for the area. A cold wind swept across the land, and trees and bushes tossed their leaves to the ground. Seeing little in the dark, she mounted the steps and headed back inside.

* * *

"I don't want you to go outside unless I can accompany you," Gaderian said later that evening, as if he'd known she'd stepped out earlier in the day. They sat in the small dining room–the same in which she'd had her late lunch–with Gaderian at the head of the table and she at his right. A plate of roasted chicken stuffed with almonds sat before her place, while Gaderian sipped white wine.

"What?" Her face warmed. For one stunned moment, she remained speechless, but then her indignation caught up with her mouth. "That means I can't go outside at all during the day! Am I to be a prisoner here?" Before he could reply, she went on, "What is the reason for this prohibition?"

He spoke calmly, as if unaware of her pique, or possibly too well aware. "I doubt if we've seen the last of Angus Kendall. There is nothing to stop him from discovering where I live, and he may well hunt you down here. No matter how loyal the undead are to me–and some of them remain a question–there are far too many of them who can't keep a secret. Gold talks, you know." He sipped his wine and set the glass down, giving her a look of stern remonstrance. "I can't take a chance on having something happen to you." He reached over and clasped her hand. "You mean too much to me."

She squeezed his hand in return but remained unmollified.  She swallowed. "I was looking forward to going for long walks, seeing the other houses and the countryside. I can't stand being cooped up." The chicken, tender and juicy, broke off easily with her spoon, and she raised a bite to her mouth. No matter how upset she was at his pronouncement, it would do no good for her to starve herself.

He spoke with a sympathetic but firm voice. "Believe me, I understand how you feel. I'd feel the same. Let us hope that
Kendall
will soon tire of his pursuit. But his kind doesn't give up easily, one thing I've learned in my life. Possibly I should have used stronger persuasion when I evicted him from the tavern." 

She reached for her wine glass. " 'Stronger persuasion'? Like what?"

He raised his glass to his mouth and smiled above the rim. "Roughed him up a little."

"Are you sure you didn't kill him?"

"Positive. The man is no doubt prowling the streets of Moytura now, trying to discover where you are."

She nodded, fearing she had no choice but to follow his suggestion about staying inside. "Very well, then. I stay inside. What shall I do, help the servants clean the house?" She couldn't keep the sarcasm from her voice.

"Hardly that, but I have quite an extensive Treasury of Knowledge. Didn't you see it earlier?"

"Not closely."

"Well, I think you will find that there is plenty of extensive reading material there." He paused, fingering his glass. "This one concession I will make. You can go riding as long as you have a groom with you."

Relief infused her. "Thank the Goddess for that! I've missed riding so much. The last few times I rode–to see you when you were sick, and to Magh Eamhainn–were not exactly pleasure trips. I would love to ride just for the sheer joy of it." She ate with more gusto now, chewing on the almonds and dipping her spoon into the steamed broccoli.