Summers at Castle Auburn (10 page)

 

T
HAT EVENING
, I crept down to the ballroom to watch the festivities. There was a long, narrow balcony overhanging one wall of the dance floor. This balcony was only accessible from the servants' corridors, as the railings were frequently hung with flags, banners, or great ropes of flowers. Elisandra had shown it to me on my very first visit to the castle, when I was six and she was nine and we were both too young to be invited to events. We had stretched out on the floor and peered through the railings for hours, watching the dip and sway of the dancers, the glances between lovers, the indecorous embraces, and the haughty refusals. Although Bryan knew about the balcony, he had never joined us there, but from time to time Kent had sat on the floor and watched with us. In fact, more than once, he and Elisandra had practiced their own dance steps in time to the waltzes played below.

Tonight I sat cross-legged on the floor and watched closely to see who partnered with Bryan. Naturally he was committed to Megan of
Tregonia for the first dance, and I studied her with a critical eye. Elisandra had called her insipid, and certainly, against Bryan's dramatic coloring, she looked pale and nondescript. She was fashionably thin, but to my mind her bare arms looked sticklike, not dainty, and her small face seemed gaunt and woebegone. Even her hair, a struggling brown, looked sick and undernourished.

Still, Bryan smiled at her and bowed most elaborately when the dance ended, and I had every reason to hate her.

I minded less when he danced with Elisandra, dressed tonight in a forest green that made her dark hair preen with luster. They seemed to have less to say to each other than Bryan and Megan, though they were obviously better suited to each other in their style of dancing. They never held each other too close, never missed each others' cues; they could have been two statues dancing, viewed now from one angle, now from another, caught for an eternity with all the sculptor's skill.

After that, all the silly girls of the castle and the surrounding countryside did their best to draw Bryan's attention by placing themselves in strategic spots on the edge of the dance floor, or letting loose their most winsome laughs just as the music ended. I swear I saw blond Lady Doreen bump Marian Grey aside with her hip, to make the younger woman look awkward and ungainly the minute Bryan turned his eyes their way. In any event, Doreen was the one with whom he chose to dance. But I had watched these events in the past; before the night was over, Bryan would have danced with every woman who had a pedigree. His uncle the regent demanded that measure of courtesy from him, and Bryan always observed it. Once I was old enough, he would even dance with me.

When I lost track of Bryan in the throngs, I looked for Elisandra and Kent. I saw them dance together twice, easily, comfortably, laughing at each other's observations. No one ever seemed to amuse Elisandra quite as much as Kent could—and once in a while, when she was with him, she actually relaxed her usual watchful guard. They had known each other since she was born; neither had ever lived anyplace else. I wondered what it would be like to know someone else so long, so well.

Elisandra was dancing with Dirkson of Tregonia and I had lost track of both Kent and Bryan when I heard a noise at the servant's door behind me. I spun around on my knees in time to see Kent come through the door with a questioning look on his face. This cleared up the instant he saw me.

“You
are
here. I thought I saw your little face peering through the rails,” he said. “Are you having fun?”

“Counting the girls Bryan dances with,” I said. “He seems to be enjoying himself.”

“He does like entertaining,” Kent agreed.

“And you? Are you enjoying yourself?” I asked.

He shrugged, and leaned his shoulders against the wall. He was not so tall as Roderick, but in his black formal clothes he looked almost the same height, heavier in the shoulders and more serious in expression. His dark hair had been styled tonight in some approximation of fashion, and all in all he looked rather imposing.

“I know what the purpose is, and I know how to play my part. There are things I prefer doing, but it is not hard, after all, to dance and smile and say polite things.”

“Sometimes it is,” I said, reflecting on my sessions with Greta.

He smiled, and the seriousness vanished from his face. “For you, it seems to be,” he said. “But Greta may civilize you yet.”

“Turn me into Megan of Tregonia,” I scoffed. “I don't think so.”

“No, I doubt you'll ever be entirely tame,” he said. “I wait for the day you turn the entire castle upside down through some passionate and ill-advised action. Elisandra says it will never happen, but I'm certain that it will.”

I could not imagine how such a conversation might ever have transpired; it made me feel peculiar to think of it. “How is your arm?” I asked, to change the subject. “Is it bothering you?”

He shook it twice. “A little. That was the excuse I gave my father, anyway, when I pleaded for a break from the dancing. He can't decide whether to be pleased or angry that I'm studying the sword on my own, so he can't tell how annoyed to be that I've hurt myself. But he permitted me to take a rest. So I came to look for you.”

“I'm glad you're teaching Roderick to write,” I said. “I would guess he's a quick learner. He's country-smart. I see it all the time in the village. Boys who don't have a chance to get real tutoring but who manage to learn things all the same. Girls, too.”

Kent nodded. “He learns fast. Kritlin thinks highly of him, I know. I think with a little education Roderick could rise quickly through the guards' ranks and be captain someday.”

Kritlin had been captain of the guard ever since I could remember. Kent's father trusted him absolutely and even invited him to the dinner table from time to time, when more exalted guests were not at hand. To rise to such a position would be an honor indeed for a young man from Veledore.

Before I had thought of a reply, the orchestra segued into a lively waltz. “Oh, I love this song!” I exclaimed.

“So do I,” Kent said, holding out his hand. “Dance with me.”

I had done it often when I was first learning my steps: Kent would partner first my sister, then me, and I too had always been at ease with him. But we were alone on the high balcony, no Elisandra nearby to critique my performance, and I was suddenly shy.

“You should rest your arm while you have the chance,” I said in a reproving voice. “I'm not one of the court ladies you have to impress.”

“You're one of the court ladies I wish to dance with,” he said, still extending his hand. “Come! Show me you haven't forgotten your steps.”

I shook my head. “You'll be missed at the ball,” I said.

He dropped his hand and swept his dark coat back from his hips as though about to sit on the floor. “Very well, then—”

“Don't!” I said sharply, and he froze in mid-bend. “The floor's dirty,” I explained to his look of surprise. “Look—I've got smudges all over my gown.”

Slowly he straightened, watching me all the while. “I won't stay if you don't want me to,” he said.

“I didn't say that,” I said, enunciating clearly. “I said the floor is dirty and you'll be missed at the ball. Did I say I wanted you to go?”

He smiled. “Then dance with me,” he repeated.

Silly to be embarrassed about dancing with a man I had danced with a hundred times in my life. I jumped to my feet and held out my arms. “Oh, very
well
, then!” I exclaimed. “I'll dance!”

He twirled me into his arms, and we romped up and down the narrow confines of the balcony with great energy. I was laughing so hard that all my embarrassment melted away, and once or twice I thought I might skid across the floor, tilt over the railing and go wheeling down onto the heads of the dancers below. We made it through the piece without serious mishap, however, and when the music ended, Kent bowed over my hand with a flourish.

“Thank you for the dance, kind lady,” he said.

I curtsied, having practiced this art for three days running. “You're most welcome, gentle sir.”

He kissed my hand with great flair, bowing again as he did so. I giggled and pulled my fingers free.

“I guess Bryan's not the only one who flirts with the court ladies,” I said.

“Ah, but I only flirt with some,” he said solemnly.

I waved my hands to encourage him toward the door. “Well, time to go back to those others, then,” I said. “Your father will really begin wondering where you are.”

He turned toward the door, but lingered on the threshold, seeming to want to say more. “You should not let just anyone kiss your hand, you know,” he said, the mock seriousness still in his voice. “Greta will tell you that. And definitely no kissing anywhere off the dance floor—in the gardens, for instance, or in empty hallways when no one else is near.”

“I believe she's covered that in one of her lectures,” I said demurely.

“Only old friends. Trusted old friends. Not already engaged to be married to one's sister or one's acquaintances.”

“I'll remember that,” I said. “Now go.”

Still reluctant, he bowed again and left. I turned immediately back to the railing and leaned over it, looking for my sister, looking for the prince.

It was silly and pleasant and even a little breathtaking to dance with Kent, of course; and I had been surprised and a little electrified when he kissed my fingers—but it was nothing like being kissed by Bryan. In your life there will only be a few circumstances that overset you completely, and for me that had been one of them, and no other similar experience, however exhilarating, could ever successfully compare.

 

T
HE FOLLOWING DAYS
were better because Dirkson and his tiresome daughter were gone, which meant my sister had more time for me. Two mornings, she joined me in her mother's parlor, and her soft instructions were easier to obey than her mother's curt ones. One afternoon, she and Kent and I played in the gardens that edged the northern wing of the castle. We took turns hiding behind the rich summer greenery of the shrubs and seeking each other out. More than once, gardeners and parties of court ladies were startled by our shrieking laughter and sudden eruptions into their midst. We nearly knocked down an old man I'd never seen before when we had a three-way race from the rosebeds to the lilac bushes. Kent won, and all three of us collapsed in a heap on the rich grass under a spreading oak.

Elisandra laid a hand to her chest and looked dramatic. “I shall grow faint,” she said. “My heart is pounding.”

Kent stretched out full-length on the grass, though Elisandra and I sat more modestly, our skirts spread around our ankles. He gazed at her critically, throwing an arm up to shield his eyes from the sun. Even the race had not disturbed her dark hair, pulled back in its usual coiled braid, or ruffled the habitual serenity of her face. “Your color's healthy, though,” he observed. “I don't think you'll die. Anyway, it's good for you.”

“Good for me to go yodeling through the gardens like the hoyden my sister is?” she asked. “I'm not so sure.”

“It's good to hear you laugh,” he amended. “You don't much, these days.”

She plucked a long blade of grass and split it slowly down the
middle with one perfect nail. “There's not much to laugh about,” she said.

“I know,” he said.

I was mystified. “There's plenty to be happy about!” I exclaimed. “That horrid Megan is gone, and Greta says I can join the dinners again. And tomorrow we're to go riding—”

Elisandra looked over at me with a sad smile. “But the summer is almost over and in a few short weeks you will be leaving again,” she said. “
That
I'm not so happy about.”

“But I'll write,” I said. “I always do.”

She reached out a hand to brush the softest of caresses on my cheek. “It's not the same,” she said. “I miss you so much when you go.”

“You could come visit me,” I said. “The cottage is small, but you could stay in my room. I'd sleep on the floor. My grandmother could teach you herbs, and then you could help Giselda when there's fever in the castle—”

She smiled again, this time with a little more sparkle. “Actually, I think it would be fun,” she said. “I could tie my hair back in a scarf and wear a patched cotton skirt, and walk into the village on market day.”

“Well, it's a lot of work, because Grandmother makes you memorize the names of all the plants, where you can find them, how to prepare them, what to put them in if you want to cover the taste, and what you should never mix them with. There's so much to know, and sometimes she's not very patient. But it's more fun than learning about the heraldry of the eight provinces,” I added darkly.

“Maybe
I'll
come,” Kent said. “You'll have to leave a map.”

We sat there awhile longer, talking idly, till the golden quality of the air told us that the summer afternoon was reaching its final somnolent hour. When we finally returned to the castle, we found we didn't have much time to clean up and change before dinner. Cressida rushed through Elisandra's toilette so she could help me finish mine. I was wearing a new royal blue dress that Greta had promised me if I was good. It made my dark eyes seem huge and my dark hair rich.