The Wolf of Harrow Hall (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 7) (14 page)

Guilt fled next, giving way to panic, as I heard a creak that must have been Master Merryk getting up from his chair. He said, “I should look in on her one last time this evening, to see if she requires anything else. Her health is much improved, but there is a pallor to her cheeks that was not there before she took ill.”

“I thank you for your solicitude,” Phelan replied.

I, on the other hand, most certainly did not thank him for it. I knew I must be gone at once. Gathering up my skirts, I fled down the hallway and thence to the stairs, which I rushed down so precipitously I almost tripped, and only saved myself from a tumble by grasping the handrail. And then it was down to my room, and a mad rush to climb out of that gown and have it safely stowed in the wardrobe.

The covers had barely settled themselves beneath my chin when I heard a knock at the door. “Mistress Sendris? Are you yet awake?”

“Y-yes,” I called out.

Master Merryk entered the room, his gaze immediately going to me where I lay in bed. His eyes narrowed. “Are you quite well?”

“I — yes, that is, I thought I had improved a good deal today.” I didn’t dare pull the sheets and blankets and embroidered coverlet any further up, for then they would have covered part of my chin. All I could do was hope that the dim candlelight in the room would not reveal too much of my expression, which I was sure must have been as guilty as that of a child who’d been caught stealing sweets from the larder.

“Hmm.” He came closer to the bed, and laid a hand on my forehead. “You seem quite flushed, Mistress Sendris, and your breathing is somewhat labored. I hope that your fever is not attempting to reassert itself.”

Of course it wasn’t. No, the only thing truly the matter with me was that I had just rushed down several flights of stairs and had run down a long corridor to get here before he did. I could not confess to such a thing, so I only said, “Well, I did get up and walk to the window earlier, so I might see if there were any signs of the snow letting up. Perhaps that was it.”

“You should not be getting out of bed,” he told me, voice stern. “You must be guarding your health, so you will recover that much more quickly.”

“I am sorry, Master Merryk,” I said. “I will be more careful from now on.”

“Good. Now sleep, and we will see how you fare on the morrow.”

I nodded, my expression as meek as I could make it. That response seemed to mollify the steward, for he offered me a faint smile and let himself out. Once he was gone, I shut my eyes and allowed myself to release a relieved breath.

That had been far too close. I must take more care in the future, for I did not want to jeopardize the connection that had begun to grow between Phelan Greymount and myself…even if that connection was based on secrets he apparently did not wish to reveal to me.

A
lthough Phelan had intimated
in his conversation with the steward that he planned to speak to me sometime the next day, I had no true idea of precisely when. I did not wish to have this momentous discussion — whatever its topic might be — while I was lying in bed, wearing a chemise and with a shawl draped around my shoulders. On the other hand, he would surely find it suspicious if I were up and about, and dressed as if I had known he was going to come see me.

Surprisingly, it was Master Merryk who came to my rescue. When he brought me breakfast, he asked if I was feeling better, and if I thought I might be able to sit up for a bit. “For I believe his lordship would like to look in on you,” he said, “but would not wish to do so while you were still in bed.”

Clearly, Phelan had held his tongue about the way he had come to my aid when I was consumed by that nightmare, and had said nothing about how he had sat on my bed and held me until I was calm once again. Not that I had really thought he would divulge something of such a personal nature, but I could not help but be relieved that those moments were ours alone, and nothing anyone else knew of.

“I think I can manage that,” I said, “as long as it is not too lengthy a visit.”

“No, it should not be overly long.”

This reply only piqued my curiosity that much further, although I knew I should not question Master Merryk on the subject. Whatever it was that Phelan wished to say to me, I would find out soon enough.

I said that sounded very well indeed, and the steward left soon after, telling me that his lordship would be up in an hour or so. As soon as he had gone, I went to the wardrobe and got out the wine-colored dress I had worn so briefly the night before, thinking that Phelan should get some chance to see me in it.

Once again I went through the ritual of brushing my hair and pinching my cheeks to give them some color. Despite my agitated start to the evening, I had slept well enough, and thought my appearance had improved, with most of the hollow look gone from under my eyes. As I stared at my reflection, I wondered again as to the purpose of Phelan’s visit. A suspicion had begun to grow in me, one I did not want to give conscious thought to, for if I were to let that suspicion grow into a coherent shape, I might see it for the ridiculous thing it truly was.

When he knocked, I went to let him in calmly enough. I did not want him to see the anticipation that had begun to rise in me, even though I tried to tell myself it was entirely without cause.

“Bettany,” he said, a warmth in his voice that seemed to send thrills all through my body. “You are looking remarkably well.”

“Thank you, Phelan,” I replied. “I am feeling much better.”

“I can see that. So it seems that Master Merryk’s strictures have had the desired effect.”

“It would seem so.” I gestured toward the hearth, where I’d placed the room’s one upholstered chair, and the plain wooden one that accompanied the dressing table. I could only hope that I sounded natural enough, for I did not want Phelan to see the trepidation that had entered my thoughts ever since Master Merryk had arranged this meeting. “Would you like to sit by the fire?”

“That sounds excellent. After you, my dear.”

Out of instinct, I began to make my way toward the wooden chair, for of course it would not do to take the better one when it should have been reserved for his lordship’s use. But he lifted an eyebrow at me, and I ducked my head before offering what I feared was a foolish smile, then sat down in the upholstered seat.

Smiling as well, he took the hard little chair opposite me. He was so tall that he appeared to dwarf the fragile piece of furniture, which had clearly been fashioned with a lady’s smaller frame in mind. Once he had settled himself, he said, “I suppose you are wondering why I wished to speak with you this morning.”

“Is it a cause for wonder?” I asked. “I had only thought you wished to check on my condition, and see for yourself how improved I am.”

“Well, that, yes.” For the first time he appeared somewhat ill at ease, a condition so unlike him that again a suspicion grew within me, the one I hadn’t dared to give a name. “And something else.”

“Indeed?” My mouth felt dry, and I wished I had asked the steward to leave a flagon of cider and some cups for us. I had the pitcher of water provided for my personal use, but only the one silver goblet, and that didn’t seem to suit our current situation at all.

“Indeed.” Phelan leaned forward and took my hands in his. Although we sat fairly close to the fire, his fingers felt nearly as cool as mine. But I thought that not so very extraordinary, considering how cold most of the castle was, and how long we had labored under the effects of this unending storm. “I know we have not known one another for so very long….”

“Some nine days,” I supplied.

A flash of a smile, one that warmed in a way the fire could not. “Ah, I see you’ve been keeping count. Yes, nine days. Some would say that is a very short span, but it has been enough to convince me.”

“Convince you?”

His fingers tightened around mine, even as his eyes met my gaze. We sat there for a long moment, neither of us speaking. And yet in those dark depths I saw another flash of gold, echoing the leaping flames of the fire beside us. “Convince me that I wish to have you with me always. Bettany, tell me that even when this storm breaks, you will remain here with me. Tell me that you will stay here and be my wife.”

For the longest moment, I could not find the strength to respond. I could only stare at him, at the fine long nose, the thin but beautiful mouth, the strong lines of his jaw. It was as if I had never seen him before, as if those words he had just spoken had thrown his entire face into sharp, perfect relief.

So it seemed those mad suspicions of mine were actually correct.

When I replied, my voice shook. “You would ask this of me, Phelan? But you are a great lord, and I am no one.”

“I believe you said that to me the first time we spoke,” he said. “I did not believe it then, and I most certainly do not believe it now. You are not
no one
. You are Bettany Sendris, the choice of my heart. Do you deny me that choice?”

In those words there was a hint of the arrogance I had heard when we first met. But that did not bother me. Why should a man of his birth and his looks and mind not be somewhat arrogant? Indeed, hearing that self-assurance was something of a relief. It meant he had not changed so very much…even if he had changed enough to consider taking a low-born young woman for a wife.

“You know I cannot deny you,” I said. “Perhaps it is not ladylike for me to speak of such things, but there are many who would say I am not a lady at all. So I will tell you the truth, Phelan Greymount. I will say yes to you, and stay with you. Not because you are a great lord, or because I will become the lady of this castle. It is because you kissed me, and I knew from our first kiss that I could be with no one other than you. Does that make me shameless?”

He laughed then, and stood, pulling me to my feet as well. “Honest, rather, and I can think of no other quality more valuable in a wife.” A pause, and he looked down at me, eyes glinting. “That is, besides passion. And I have kissed you, and tasted you, and know that you are certainly not lacking in that quality, either. So kiss me now, my darling, and seal our pact.”

With one swift movement, he drew me against him, his mouth claiming mine. We kissed for a long while, kissed as we should, with the heat of the fire warming us, and a different and even more splendid heat coursing through our veins. After a long moment, we broke apart, and he smiled down at me. “We will begin with the preparations at once.”

And it was only then that it truly came to me that I was to be Phelan Greymount’s wife, and the lady of Harrow Hall.

P
helan had spoken of preparations
, but truly, I did not know precisely how grand those preparations could be. It saddened me to think that I should be married without my grandmother present, and although I tried to tease my betrothed and tell him that I would not disappear the moment the storm finally ended, he would have none of it, and insisted that the wedding should take place as soon as possible.

“As soon as possible” meant the day after next, apparently, a prospect which did little to ease my roiling thoughts.

“And I would have had it even sooner than that,” he told me, “if it were not that Master Merryk has said you should have that extra day to make sure your strength is all that it should be.”

“You must thank him for his solicitude,” I replied, knowing I must sound fully in possession of myself, even though my body seemed to run both hot and cold at the thought of being his bride. “For I know I would wish to possess my full strength on the day I become your wife.”

“This is true. I would not wish for you to become too easily wearied.”

No, I supposed he would not. I was a young woman of little experience, but I knew enough to guess what Phelan was thinking about. He would not want a wife who was exhausted on her wedding night.

At the thought, a small shiver passed over me, one that had very little to do with the chilly air seeping in around the edges of the window, where I had paused once more to see if the snow had yet decided to stop….which of course it hadn’t. I had kissed Phelan, and knew the effect those kisses had had on me. I could only imagine what it would be like to be completely intimate with him, to know what it was to be his wife.

When he left me after that particular exchange, I found myself wondering once again about the “curse” he had spoken of, and how he was so certain that marrying me was the one thing he could do to break it. Not that I even believed in such things; the wizards and witches of yore might have hurled such things at one another during their magical battles, but those with such power in their veins were long gone, with only we simple mortals left behind. There were those who did seem cursed in one way or another, like Lahrn Westover, whose cows always seemed to want to wander off and disappear for days, or have their milk go bad — or give birth to a two-headed calf on one noteworthy occasion — and yet I’d always thought they were merely the object of some spectacularly bad luck. A curse, a
true
curse, in the manner that Phelan had spoken of his, was something that simply should not exist.

And yet I dared not question him on the subject, for then I would be revealing that I had listened in on his conversation and heard things that most assuredly must have been meant for Master Merryk’s ears only. No, the best I could do was reassure myself that, whatever this curse might be, Phelan had also stated most clearly that he desired me, thought me beautiful. He wanted me, and wished to spend the rest of his life with me. What woman could question such simple ardor?

But it was not so simple. I knew that, but I felt myself powerless to stop the tide that seemed to be sweeping me directly into Phelan Greymount’s marriage bed. For who was I, after all, save a simple young woman of mean birth and few prospects? If there had been anyone from my village present to hear my protests, they would have laughed until they cried. Who would be foolish enough to refuse marriage with such a great lord?

Not I. If I had disliked him or found something objectionable about his person, perhaps then I might have tried to assert myself…not that such protests would have done any good. The Phelan I knew was not the sort of man to force himself on a woman, but if his character had been different, I doubted he would have scrupled at such a thing, if the woman in question had something he wanted. And no matter what else I might think on the subject, I could not deny that I had something Phelan wanted. What that something precisely was, I had no idea, and I rather doubted he planned to tell me.

The morning of my wedding day dawned, and a bath was brought up so I might prepare myself. My breakfast that day had been more than usually sumptuous, with fresh-baked bread and crisp bacon and a saucer of delicious spiced apple compote. When he’d brought me my meal, the steward had apologized for the utter lack of a serving woman to help me prepare for the momentous event, which would occur later that afternoon.

“It does not seem fitting to me that the future Lady Greymount should be left to fend for herself,” he said, “but of course there is no one here who could take on the task.”

“You needn’t worry yourself over the matter, Master Merryk,” I replied. “I have never had a serving woman to assist me at any time in my life, and I fear I would only feel awkward if one were here to help me now. I can manage very well on my own, I assure you.”

In answer, he had smiled at me, and yet I thought I saw him wince slightly, as if he did not care to be reminded of my lowly origins. Very well. I could not change who I was, and Phelan did not seem to mind. That should be the only thing of importance in this situation, not the steward’s opinion of my birth.

But he merely said, “That is very good to hear. His lordship did bid me bring you this, that you might wear it this afternoon. It belonged to his mother, and it was his wish to see you in it.”

With that he took a flat box from where it rested on my breakfast tray and lifted the lid. Inside was a diadem of silver, delicately wrought with thin rays of metal rising from a slender band, and from each of those rays dangled a crystal that danced and sparkled in the firelight. I had never seen anything so lovely in my life, and my breath caught. Phelan expected me to wear that beautiful ornament, I who had never even owned a copper ring?

Of course he does,
I thought then.
For you are to be the lady of Harrow Hall, and no doubt will have many fine things. You will simply have to pretend that you are accustomed to such luxury.

“It is very beautiful,” I said. “Thank his lordship for me and tell him that I will be honored to wear it.”

“I will,” Master Merryk said gravely. “And now I shall leave you to your breakfast. Lord Greymount will see you in the great hall at four o’clock this afternoon. I will bring you there.”

“Thank you.” How could I sound so calm? Inwardly, I was quivering with nervousness…and anticipation. Beneath that anticipation, however, I could not help experiencing a stab of worry. So Phelan intended to have the ceremony in that enormous hall I had seen when I stumbled upon his men eating there. Did that mean his men-at-arms would be in attendance, witnesses to our joining? I did not think I cared much for the idea of such an audience at our nuptials, but then, I realized he might not have much choice. Perhaps it was better that they see our joining, and understand that I was now the lady of the castle, not some stray Phelan had taken in and given shelter from the storm. Very well, I was that stray…but now I would be so much more.

Master Merryk took his leave of me then, and I forced myself to sit down and eat, even though my appetite seemed to have deserted me for the moment. I did not want to face those men again, even with Phelan at my side. But I knew I must. Surely they would not be so foolish as to do or say anything untoward while the lord of the castle was present.

Or so I tried to reassure myself. When the two young men brought up my bath, I fancied that the glances they sent me were more curious than ever, but I knew that reaction was due to my own nerves more than anything else. I took as much pleasure as I could in that bath, for it did feel good to get warm all the way down to my toes. This time I had not been provided the bar of yellow soap that had come with the bath on the other times I had used it, but a bottle of a liquid that smelled of chamomile and mint, and which was wonderfully refreshing.

There was really only one choice for my wedding gown. All of my borrowed dresses were lovely, and yet there was the one I had thought too fine to wear, and had left pushed to one side of the wardrobe. Now I drew out the gown of blue and silver, with its collar of white fox fur, and laid it reverently on the bed. The fact that it was a style long gone out of fashion mattered nothing to me; it was beautiful, and far lovelier than anything I had ever thought I would wear on my wedding day — not that I had really expected to wed at all, considering my dismal experiences with the men in Kerolton.

The dress had gotten slightly musty, and I left it to air out while I went and sat by the fire, twisting my wavy hair around my fingers so it might dry into ringlets rather than its usual unruly mass. I had taken such care in the past on one or two occasions, such as the midsummer dance in the village square. Most days I did not have the leisure to spend so much time on my hair, but I wanted to look as perfect as possible for Phelan. I wanted to look like a lady.

Once my hair was dry, I went to inspect the gown. The wrinkles had relaxed somewhat, and I thought it should pass muster, especially in the gloomy expanses of the castle’s large ground-floor hall. I drew it on, thankful that this gown laced up the side, most likely because of the large fur collar. The soft fur settled against my neck, warming me, and I carefully disposed my hair over it, not wanting to muss the curls I had so carefully created while I sat by the fire.

The only thing left was the diadem. I stood in front of the mirror and then gently placed the ornament on top of my head. The silver work was so delicate that I barely felt it resting against my hair, and I vowed to take care and not accidentally dislodge it while I was moving about. I had no hairpins or other means to secure it, but I thought as long as I didn’t move too quickly, it should stay in place.

And then I stood there, gazing at my reflection. Surely there was no way anyone would be able to tell that I had not been born to wear such garb, for I knew I did not look at all like myself. A stranger stared out of the mirror at me, an elegant young woman with carefully arranged curls and a certain sparkle in her dark eyes that was echoed in the glinting crystal drops of the diadem she wore.

Would Phelan even recognize me? I barely recognized myself.

There was no use looking out the window to see the angle of the sun. I had already pushed the curtains aside and glanced out earlier that day, and, as ever, the snow still fell, swirling around the towers of Harrow Hall, continuing to build up on every side. I doubted one could even push open the main gates of the castle, so buried were they. Indeed, I was rather surprised that Phelan intended to have the ceremony in the hall, located on the ground floor of the structure as it was. But I did not pretend to know very much about the castle’s layout, save the barest idea of where his rooms lay in relation to my borrowed chamber.

I swallowed, realizing then that his suite would also be mine after this day had passed.

Master Merryk had left me an hour candle, that I might know the exact time when I should descend to the hall. He had apologized for that makeshift as well, explaining that he would be busy with preparations, and so could not be spared to come fetch me. I accepted this explanation readily enough, even though at the time I did wonder why he could not send one of the manservants to come and get me at the appointed hour. But no matter. In a way, this was better. I did recall enough of the castle’s layout to remember how to get to the hall, and descending alone would allow me a chance to compose myself as best I could without having to put on a brave face in the presence of a stranger.

A glance at the candle told me that the hour was almost here. I went about the room, tidying up everything I could, making sure that my borrowed books sat in a neat stack on the table where I had left them. After the ceremony, I would have no reason to come back here, except to fetch such items I might need. But this would not be my room any longer, and I wanted to make sure it was as ordered as when I had first come here.

The wax dripped down to the line drawn across the candle’s surface. I could not delay any longer, but must go to meet my soon-to-be-husband.

It was as if in a dream that I left my chamber and closed the door behind me. Flames flickered in the sconces along the walls. Not too many, just enough to safely light my way. The uncertain light only heightened my sense that this could not be happening, that I must have conjured all this up while in some sort of fevered dream.

But the cold stone floor felt real enough beneath my feet, and so did the icy bite of the air against my face. In my haste, I had quite forgotten to take up my borrowed woolen mantle. For a second I hesitated, wondering if perhaps I should go back to fetch it. Then I decided not to waste the time, that the hall had a great fireplace, and most likely would be filled with people for surely Phelan would wish to have witnesses to our nuptials. That chamber would most certainly be warmer than these corridors. And after that….

Well, after that I would have Phelan to keep me warm.

Nevertheless, I hurried down the stairs, heavy skirts held in my hands so I might not trip. The activity did help to warm me, although I made sure my descent was not so precipitous that I risked dislodging the precious diadem I wore.

When I swept into the hall, I almost stopped. For I did not see the crowd I had been expecting, but only several men — Master Merryk; a tall, lean man-at-arms whose elegant cloak and burnished breastplate seemed to indicate he was the leader of the household guard; Phelan himself. Where everyone else was, I had no idea. Perhaps Phelan had decided it would be better to only have a few witnesses after all, and not subject me to the scrutiny of the rest of his men.

As soon as he caught sight of me, he moved in my direction, hands outstretched. “My Bettany! How beautiful you are!”

A great fire was roaring in the enormous hearth, but it was not its heat that sent a flush to my cheeks. “Thank you, my lord. I did want to please you.”

“Oh, you have.” His eyes raked me up and down, and I had little doubt what was passing though his mind in that moment.

And why should it not? I would soon be his wife, after all, and there was certainly nothing wrong with having impure thoughts about one’s wife. “You are looking very fine today as well, my lord,” I responded, hoping I sounded dignified and gracious, as befitted the lady of the castle.