She was Roxbury. She was Mooncoign. The ancient promise and ancient bond
beat in her blood, and from behind the sleep-pierced veil of her amnesia Sarah
understood it: she was the champion of the Oldest People, the human warrior set
to guard their lands from the intrusion of those who would seize them. That was
the responsibility that the Other Sarah had forsaken; the one that she – the
Other’s doppelganger – had so carelessly taken up. She, like her predecessor, had
rashly believed that there was no enemy tofght.
And she, like her predecessor, had been wrong.
The Sarcen Stones homed high and grey above her, the pillars of a city without
walls. In the waking world the stones were rough-hewn things, but in Ms dream
Otherworld they were tall silvery pillars of gleaming rune-covered crystal. Sarah
stood in their midst, before a block of stone through which was thrust an ornate
and glittering sword. It was a ceremonial sword – far too large for any human
being to wield. A sword for a giant.
But she was expected to wield it – to draw it from the stone and carry it against
the enemies of the People. Against the Terror; the. beast that paced just beyond
their borders.
They were watching her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see them,
standing among the pillars which bordered the circle. Rank upon rank of the
Oldest People, their bodies nebulous and insubstantial as mist, waiting for her to
keep her promise.
Only she was hot the one who had made the promise. Another had promised for
her – had plucked her from her own familiar world to keep a promise she had
never made.
Despite this, Sarah would not fail them. The fight was just, and she was ready
to take her part in it. But when she steeled her nerve and reached for the sword,
she could not grasp the jeweled hilt. It slipped through her fingers each time she
tried.
„You are not a part of the land.“
It was the man who had shown Sarah her other self in Mooncoign’s lake, but
now, instead of green velvet and golden horns, he wore a suit of cloth-of-silver that
glowed so brightly that she could barely look at him. Around his brow was a
chaplet of rubies, and as she watched they swelled and broke, running down his
face – not rubies, but blood.
„Until you make yourself a part of the land you cannot serve it. Nor will it
nourish you. Do not fail us, Sarah….“
„Wait!“ she cried. „I don’t understand!“
Sarah sat bolt upright in her bed, heart racing. She gazed wildly about the
bedroom – only the faintest of light filtered in through her windows, left open and
uncurtained in the summer heat.
„I don’t understand,“ she whispered, but she had no chance to chase after the
wisps of the dream. A shadow moved between the window and the bed and she
realized she was not alone in the room.
„Shhh!“ an urgent voice hissed, just as Sarah drew bream to cry out.
„Meriel?“ Sarah whispered in disbelief.
The phantom drew closer to her bed. It was Lady Meriel, clad in a long black
domino over the white silk ballgown Sarah had seen her in earlier this evening.
Sarah flung back the coverlet and scrambled out of her bed.
„What are you doing here?“ Sarah demanded, more harshly than she intended.
She moved toward the table, intending to light the candle waiting mere, but Meriel
was there before her.
„No!“ she hissed in an urgent undertone. „No light! Someone might see!“
„Who?“ Sarah demanded, instantly alert. She pulled the windows shut, then drew
the heavy brocade draperies over them.
„Uncle Geoffrey,“ Meriel said in a low voice. „If he should see a light – “
„It is all right now, Meriel – no one can see us,“ Sarah said. The heavy damask
draperies would certainly shield the light of a single candle from observation by the
street below – even if there were an intruder lurking in Sarah’s back garden.
„But he will know that I am here,“ the other girl said miserably. „Uncle Geoffrey
always knows everything – it is he who said I must scrape an acquaintance with you,
that your loyalty to the King would provide a good blind for – for what he would do.
He said you were cold and over-proud – but you were always such a friend to
me….“ Meriel's voice faltered and she could not go on.
„Never mind that now,“ Sarah said hastily. She abandoned the candle to cross the
room and take Meriel by the arm. Even through the thin silk of the domino, Meriel’s
flesh was icy. „The important thing is whatever brought you out like this – it is the
middle of the night.“
Meriel managed a shaky laugh. „It is nearly morning, and I am meant to be found
with the Prince at Vauxhall Gardens in one of the private boxes – to what end you
may well imagine! Uncle Geoffrey got the Prince to come away with him when the
party was over, and has put laudanum in his flask. Then when he was insensible I
was to go to him, and allow myself to be discovered with him – “ The younger
woman’s control broke, and she dissolved into a fury of silent weeping.
A spark of resolute anger kindled within Sarah, even as she urged Meriel to sit
down on the edge of the bed. It was a shabby trick to play on both Jamie and
Meriel, and if Jamie did not panic and marry her – If the King did not give in to the
scandal – Meriel would be ruined all the same, and all for her uncles’ greed and
ambition.
„But you have not gone to Vauxhall,“ Sarah said, her tone half-questioning.
„Uncle Geoffrey sent the carriage for me,“ Meriel said, her voice filled with grim
triumph, „but I did not let the door latch, arid when it was stopped behind a
brewer’s wagon down near the docks; I slipped out and let it drive on without me.
But then I did not know where else to go, so I came here.“
„You walked all that way?“ Sarah was horrified. She had heard tales of the bands
of roving young noblemen – Mohocks – who spent their nights serving up mischief
to anyone unlucky enough to be abroad. And down near the river even greater
danger abounded – Meriel had been lucky indeed to reach Herriard House, instead
of having her throat cut – or worse.
„I had no choice,“ Meriel said. In the darkness, she was only a faint shadowy
shape, and for a moment Sarah wondered if she were still dreaming. Everything
seemed so unreal here in the dark.
But it was real. For one brief pure moment, Sarah wished Wessex were here. As
cold and calculating as the man was, she was certain he would know exactly what to
do in this situation. Shoot Ripon and Mr. Highclere, perhaps, but certainly he would
know just how to whisk Meriel out of her wicked uncles’ reach.
Unfortunately, Sarah had not me least idea of where he could be found. Perhaps
the Dowager Duchess…
„I know it is too dreadful of me to burst in on you this way,“ Lady Meriel said
ruefully, as if only now realizing what she had done. „But I shall only be a charge
upon you for a short while longer. I have had more man enough time to consider
what I would do – Uncle Richard’s plans have been no secret to me this past
twelvemonth and more! – and I know, now, that I must go where he will never find
me.“
„Where?“ Sarah asked, fearing the worst. „Meriel, don’t be afraid – I can take
you into the country, to Mooncoign – “
But Ripon was likely to trace Meriel there easily. Ripon need only present himself
at Sarah’s door and demand her return, and Sarah – or her servants – would have
little choice but to comply. And try as she might, Sarah could not think of where else
Meriel could go once she had run away from her guardian.
„No!“ Meriel said, her voice rising above a whisper for the first time. „I shall go
to Mama’s family, in Spain. He dare not follow me there, and they will take me in – “
„Spain! Meriel, have you lost your wits?“ Sarah gasped. Only last December
England had declared war upon Spain, and Spain was now a French vassal state, its
exiled nobility fighting frantically – as was all of Europe – to free its people from
beneath the Corsican boot.
„My mother’s family is there,“ Meriel said. „I know my aunt Maristella very well,
and until my uncle Richard forbade it I would write to her every week. She will take
me in – and I will be done with both my uncles and their plots.“
Sarah tried to argue Meriel out of her mad plan – travel halfway across Europe in
the middle of a war? But English ships continued to call at still neutral Lisbon, in
nearby Portugal, and from there Meriel could probably find an escort to take her to
her mother’s family. Even the candles that Sarah finally succeeded in lighting did not
shed the light of Reason on the discussion.
„Sarah, I have no choice!“ Meriel burst out at last. „I do not dare go home again
– do you know what my Uncle Geoffrey will do to me? No?“
Meriel flung off the domino and tugged wildly at the bosom of her ballgown.
Delicate silk and lace parted, opening the neckline far enough for Meriel to push it
and the chemise beneath down a few inches. She turned her back to Sarah, and in
the candle’s glow Sarah could see an ugly red welt marking Meriel’s skin above the
line of her corset.
Lady Meriel had been whipped.
„Your uncle did this?“ Sarah said, aghast.
„Uncle Geoffrey,“ Meriel said. „I did not wish to fall in with their plans – to see
the Prince last night – but if I do not do as they wish, Uncle Geoffrey says he will
make me disappear to where no one will find me… and I believe he will. I have
money,“ Meriel went on, pulling a pocket from beneath her skirts that clinked
heavily, „and my mother’s jewelry. It will be enough to take me to Madrid,“ Meriel
said stubbornly. „And there are those who will help me, once I reach Dover. I know
those whom Uncle Geoffrey deals with – they have no loyalty above gold, and I
have gold.“
This put an entirely new complexion on matters, Sarah realized. She was not
satisfied of her own ability to hide Lady Meriel – not if the Earl of Ripon and Mr.
Geoffrey Highclere wanted their playing-piece back. But to leave Jamie to be
entangled in a web of Ripon’s spinning was unthinkable – not the least now that
Sarah had seen what they were capable of.
What to do… what to do…?
„You cannot continue to wear that,“ Sarah said decisively, gesturing toward
Meriel’s torn and mud-draggled ballgown. „Let me ring for Knoyle, get you a
suitable gown, and have the coach put to – “
„No!“ Meriel protested.
„But Meriel, however else will we get to Dover?“ Sarah said simply. „You say
you have friends there, but I think you need-friends here as well.“
It was still an hour before dawn as Sarah and Meriel entered Sarah’s well-sprung
yellow-paneled traveling coach. Unlike the ceremonial monster in which Sarah had
journeyed to Lord Ripon’s ball the night before, the yellow coach was a swift,
smooth-riding beauty, which would whisk its passengers to Dover in only a day.
Knoyle, her face a mask of expressionless disapproval, sat on the seat facing
Sarah and Meriel, bandboxes crammed with the most vital necessities tucked to
either side of her on the yellow velvet seat. A large hamper full of cold delicacies –
for every English traveler knew the unreliability of the table d’hôte at English posting
inns – occupied the floor between the travelers’ feet. All three women were
swaddled in thick warm shawls – despite the summer weather, the morning was cool
– and looked like so many bundles of laundry.
The door closed, and Sarah heard the coachman crack his whip out over the ears
of the team leader. A moment later the carriage began to rock over the cobbles in
front of the house. Behind her, Sarah heard the hoof-clatter of the outrider’s mount
as he took up his position.
It was hardly a covert or unremarked departure, but to travel without a.
coachman, a footman, and an outrider was to invite disaster along the way. And
Knoyle would be needed, not only to preserve Sarah’s reputation on the return
trip…
But so that she cannot be taken and questioned – however unlawfully – while I
am gone. A quality that Sarah had not realized that she possessed made her soberly
estimate the danger they were in, and not hold lightly Ripon’s power to do harm. He
knew that she was Meriel’s friend – once Meriel had vanished, Ripon would wish to
see what Meriel’s friend knew about it, and somehow Sarah was not as sanguine as,
as –
– as the real Duchess of Wessex would have been – – that her rank would
protect her from Ripon’s curiosity. The man was already conniving at High Treason,