Roses & Thorns (3 page)

Angelique
doubted that he had mentioned that little scandalous secret to her prospective
suitor. It was something never mentioned outside the family, and she knew it
must have been a relief when Aloysius discovered her mother's lover hadn't left
some noticeable mark of paternity upon the daughter. Her eyes were the same
color as her mother's and her hair the same burnished brown as Ivan's. Of the
three of them, only Phillip had Aloysius' lighter coloring.

A
droll smile tilted her mouth as Angelique thought of Ivan. Not for the first
time did she wonder if perhaps he was her full-blood brother. There was a
certain amount of irony in that possibility, given Ivan's favored position. But
that was a private speculation that Angelique had never shared. Disgracing Ivan
would not change anything; it would only cause pain. So she had kept her
suspicions to herself. She was not one given much to vengeance.

Now
there could be money enough to reopen the servant's quarters, which also meant
more care for Mama. She knew Aloysius was wary of gossip, and he would find a
nursemaid or two for his wife merely to ensure that the rest of the city did
not accuse him of neglect. After all, such a reputation was not good for
business. And finally there would be fuel enough to keep this little room warm,
winter and summer both.

"Angelique?"

Her
mother's voice called the young woman out of her musings and she went to the
bedside quickly, her bare feet making little noise on the barren, wood floor.
She smiled, the tenderness she felt for her mother bringing a warm glow to her
face, and gently lifted the fragile woman into a sitting position. With
practiced swiftness, she plumped up the pillows and re-tucked the tattered
quilt.

"Do
you have time to talk with me today?"

"I
always have time to talk with you," Angelique replied with a smile, as she
curled a leg up under her skirts and carefully settled herself on the bed.

"Do
you still have the rose?"

"Yes."
She reached to the bedside table to retrieve it.

Her
mother's trembling hands took the slender sculpture. Her mother had been
fascinated by the rose ever since Aloysius' return. Angelique felt no need to
warn her of the thorns. She knew well of thorns.

"This
noble must be a tender soul."

Curious,
Angelique tipped her head, pushing the dark waves of her hair over a shoulder.
"Why do you say that, Mama?"

"The
detail." Fingers, joints thickened by arthritis, trembled beneath the
leaf. "Only a man sensitive to beauty would send this rose. One such as my
husband would have sent a less exquisite piece, a piece that was measured by
the weight of silver rather than the workmanship. A man like my husband would
find the silver more precious than the craft of sculpting it." Carefully,
her mother handed the rose back to Angelique. "What has he told you of
this man?"

"You
know what Aloysius has said, Mama. I've told you a dozen times."

"Tell
me again."

It
was then Angelique realized how much her mother wanted her to marry this noble.
It was not for the family business nor for the luxuries it would bring Mama,
but because she wanted to know Angelique would have all those things she could
not provide.

"Tell
me, Angelique. What did he say?"

"Well,
he's said a great many things." Gently, she took her mother's hand.
"He says the palace is a magickal place with walls covered in beautiful
tapestries and the finest carpets from the Orient covering the floor. He says
the woodcraft of table and chair, clocks and railings could not be finer in a
German Meister's shop."

"A
prosperous house."

"Yes."
Angelique smiled at her mother's child-like eagerness. "It is a very
prosperous house, Mama. Garments only of the finest spun silk, food prepared
with only the best ingredients and with most exquisite care. It is as
prosperous as the village and lands beholden to it."

"You
would never have want of anything."

"No,
never in such a wondrous place."

"And
the Liege?"

"Aloysius
says the Liege is honorable. One who keeps promises and has brought prosperity
to all in the land." Angelique's smile was strained as she remembered
there was no specific name, no specific anything attached to this suitor.
Aloysius' vagueness in describing the head of this household was legitimately
disconcerting. She knew it was likely this noble was balding, pot-bellied and
suffering from gout in at least one of his legs.

"But
he values people, he said?"

"Yes...
yes, he did say that." Angelique pulled herself back from her thoughts
with an effort. "He said this Liege was respectful even of his servants —
giving them little bows of acknowledgment and so forth."

"A
kind man." Her mother patted Angelique's hand. "And he would not beat
you."

"He
said he would not." Angelique swallowed hard; her mother knew of Aloysius'
temper, although they never spoke openly of it.

"Money,
position, a home of beauty. So much you could never have here, my love."

Angelique
moved nearer, slipping an arm around her mother's shoulders as tears threatened
to spill down her cheeks. "But if I left, I would not have you."

Angelique's
mother shook her head tiredly. "You will not have me forever, child. And I
worry that you will be too old for marrying if you wait for my death."

Angelique's
reply was a soft chuckle and a gentle hug. "Then I simply will not
marry."

"And
when the boys do?"

Angelique
shifted uncomfortably. The thought of being the kitchen maid to her brothers'
families had never been an appealing idea, but it was a realistic one.

"There
are many things that are uncertain in our lives, Angelique." Her mother's
eyes began to close. The effort of talking and sitting had begun to take its
toll. "It may be that marriage to an old pot-belly would be less terrible
than the drafts of the kitchen maid's attic room. But it may be more repulsive
to share your bed with someone like that than to scrub the hearthstones. You
must decide which you will risk."

"It
will be alright, Mama." Angelique fought her own tears as she settled the
thin, small woman back under the quilt. Her mother's frailty, her skin so icy
cold even on such a warm day, frightened her.

Her
gaze fell to the nightstand where the silver rose lay. In spite of Aloysius'
half-truths, Angelique knew what her decision would be.

It
seemed inevitable.

Although
it was midmorning, the damp mists of dawn still lingered. Aloysius paced the
parlor floorboards, muttering about the time and how he really ought to be in
town with his sons. It didn't seem right to him to leave his new shop without
its proprietor's care so soon.

But
when Aloysius had started to mumble about the blessings of a house that skirted
the city's edge, Angelique had fled to her mother's room. Her stomach was tied
in enough knots without being reminded of his own misgivings. And she knew that
he had them, even if he wouldn't voice them directly for fear of discouraging
her.

So
she had quietly taken her window seat above the courtyard and schooled herself
to wait. Her mother's faint snore was reassuring, and Angelique was relieved
that the sleeping powder had finally taken effect. She half-wished the woman
would awaken but they had said their good-byes at dawn, and it had been days
since her mother had slept well.

Below,
boards creaked under Aloysius' feet and she sighed. A breeze fluttered past the
tattered lace curtain. The scents of dust straw and sweaty horses mingled with
a green freshness from the meadows beyond. The soft coolness of the woods that lined
the road came to her too, and Angelique heard a bird begin a friendly squabble
with its neighbor somewhere. Spring was here at last.

She
felt vaguely sad at leaving. She had spent her entire life in this house. She
knew every worn piece of linen, every unraveled thread in the carpets, every
splintered edge of wood. It was familiar place, and her mother's room had
always been welcoming But this had never been her home. She had never felt she
truly belonged here. Aloysius and her brothers hadn't let her forget that she
disgraced them, and therefore herself, with her very existence.

Then,
suddenly, she had a choice. Since her decision to leave had been announced,
Aloysius and her brothers had begun to treat her differently, almost
considerately. The change amused her but it hadn't made her feel any more a
part of their family.

It
was strange, but as this day drew closer, Angelique had become aware of a
growing excitement that was replacing her initial anxiety. A faint hope formed
within her that somehow this new life would welcome her and she would find a
place where she could belong. She held onto that hope tenaciously.

The
clatter of horse and carriage across the cobblestone broke the quiet. Angelique
pulled herself up with a start and peered through the thin lace. Her eyes
widened at the sight of six matched grays and the white carriage. Aloysius
hurried out to greet the small man who climbed down from his seat beside the
driver. Her nerves fluttered as she realized the manservant was declining to
enter the house. It was time. She was actually leaving.

Hastily
Angelique stood, glancing at her dress and smoothing the blue-gray silk down
over the layers of petticoats. She had never worn a dress this fine, although
the fashion was simple as she was traveling. Since the journey would be two or
three days, she had declined Aloysius' offer of a hoop skirt or tighter corset.

She
picked up her heavy shawl. Hand-knitted and embroidered with small flowers
along the fringed hem, it was not very fashionable. But it was her shawl, made
by her mother years ago, and it was the only thing she was taking that truly
belonged to her. Her trousseau was to be a gift from her betrothed, Aloysius
had explained. All she needed to bring was the silver rose. She was to present
it to the nobleman herself as proof of her promise to marry.

Angelique
checked again to be sure the rose was in her drawstring purse. Then she touched
a quick hand to her hair; the silver combs seemed secure. The usual tumbling
mass of her hair was cooperating for the moment.

She
took a deep breath, a slow one since the little-used corset wouldn't allow any
other kind. Her eyes fell tenderly on her mother's sleeping figure. She
wouldn't risk a kiss but would remember the peaceful smile. It had been a long
time since she had seen that special smile on her mother's lips.

Aloysius
met her at the foot of the stairs. Angelique indulged him as he hugged her and
murmured something about how beautiful she looked. Then he was hustling her
through the house to the courtyard.

"Now
be tolerant, girl. All servants seem a bit strange at times. Just remember
you're the mistress, and everything will come out right."

Angelique
looked at him sideways, not quite understanding what he was talking about and
musing that he, of anyone, had little or no idea of how servants should be
treated. Given her personal experience with his rather absurd expectations, she
guessed their opinions were different on how any household should be run.

"Angelique,
this is Culdun. He's the palace steward."

"Good
day, miss." Culdun bowed politely, and Angelique tipped her head in
acknowledgment despite Aloysius' protesting squeeze on her elbow. "Your
father says you have accepted the terms of the proposal."

Angelique
swallowed hard. "Yes."

Culdun
studied her frankly, his dark gray eyes fastened or her face. As Angelique
looked back, she got the impression his eye had seen much and that he was far
older than he seemed. And she saw kindness, too. In that first instant,
Angelique knew that Culdun was an extraordinary man. Aloysius was right; he was
no mere servant. She thought she might like him, even if his little braid and
odd-colored eyes seemed strange to her initially.

"I
am to ask again." His eyes held her directly. "Do you come of your
own free will?"

This
time there was more determination in her answer "Yes, I do."

Culdun
appeared satisfied, and Aloysius finally let go of the breath he'd been
holding.

The
steward stepped back to open the carriage door, the coach steps unfolding at a
touch. "If you will, Mistress? Our escort is waiting."

Angelique
could see a half-dozen horsemen of Gulden's size beyond the gate at the road.
They were well-armed and sat astride sturdy beasts. The horses that had been
tethered beside the barn, which Aloysius had used to bring home the silk and
silver that were her bride price, waited there as well.

"Aye,
girl, it's farewell," Aloysius said. Angelique submitted to another brief
hug. "Be sure to write us now. Your mother'll be pleased for word."

She
nodded, pausing to look up at that window. Briskly, Angelique turned. She had
said her good-byes.

Culdun
offered a hand to steady her climb. He smiled encouragingly as she murmured a
thank you, but her sight was blurred with tears and she didn't see it.