Shana Abe (38 page)

But then he would see her as he was seeing her now, a slight figure framed against the window. No matter what she said, no matter how free her spirit, she was still a woman, his beloved, and his responsibility. She was small and delicate, determined and yet seemingly unaware of her own fragility. She had survived the journey to Wolfhaven, but it had not been easy on her. He had seen the signs of exhaustion in her from the beginning but had been incapable of changing their path once it had begun.

She needed pampering, not a week-long rough ride. It had not been, after all, long a period since they had arrived here. He would not risk her health on such a routine trip as this. Chances were very good it would snow, perhaps several times, before they reached Ironstag, and so they would not have the luxury of time in putting up full tents at night, with all the servants and cushions and fine foods that she deserved.

Still, it was not an easy decision for him to go without her. He couldn’t take her, he didn’t want to leave her. The best he could do was surround her with the thick walls of the castle and a contingent of his men while he was gone. She would be all right. She had to be.

Her face was pensive as she stared up at him now, the amber light in her eyes bright in the warm stroke of the sunlight.

Damon gave up his lecturing and instead pulled her into his arms. “If you would allow me to go with
you,” she said, muffled against his chest, “you need not worry about all the things you have forbidden me to do.”

“I told you, we will go together in the late spring, perhaps, or early summer. When the weather is fairer and we may travel at our leisure. Remember, Aiden will remain here to supervise while I am gone. You must go to him if there is any trouble.”

“There will not be any trouble, husband.”

“No, because you will obey my commands. Won’t you, wife?”

“Hmmph.” She rubbed her face into him, sweet and pliant despite her protest.

“Solange. Have I told you yet today how much I love you?”

She turned her face up to his. “I believe you have, my lord, but only once or twice. It has not been nearly enough.”

“I do love you, my wife, more than all of this earth itself.”

“And I love you, my husband, more than all the stars above.”

Through the panes of the glass window came the faint sounds of men shouting good-naturedly at each other, and horses stamping their hooves against the stone courtyard.

“They are waiting for me,” he said regretfully.

“I will be waiting for you as well,” she replied.

He kissed her, wishing all over again that he did not have to go. She kissed him back with her whole heart, clutching the shoulders of his leather jerkin, wanting to hold this memory with her until he returned.

“Damn,” he breathed, breaking away. The men outside were shouting for him now. There was no time for what he really wanted to do. Someone would be at their door any second.

“Have a safe journey, beloved.” She had a saucy smile.

“I will, if I am able to concentrate on anything but you,” he said bluntly.

As if on cue, there came a heavy knocking on the door. “My lord?” It was Braeden’s voice. “The horses are growing impatient. The men have bid me to come and ask you how much longer you will be.”

“Tell them I am coming now.” Damon reached down and brushed a strand of hair from her face that had escaped her elaborate braid. She sighed and patted his arm reassuringly.

“Do not fear, my husband. I will follow your instructions, at least until you come home to me.”

“I know you will. And I will be back sooner than you think.”

She walked him down to the outer bailey, where a group of people had gathered to see the men off. Damon mounted and saluted her good-bye, and then they were gone in a moving army of horses and men past the portal. Solange watched until she could see nothing of them any longer, until the sterling trunks of the woods enclosed them completely.

Mairi stood beside her, watching as well. At length she turned to her. “Come, Solange. Let’s go work on the plan for your garden. A good distraction is what we need today.”

“It is not my garden, it is our garden.”

“Wolfhaven’s garden, then.” The group of people had already split up and gone to their various chores. The two women walked alone into the castle.

I
t was odd how the days seemed so empty without him. It was odd because it was such a new feeling to her; even the years without him had not seemed so vivid with loss.

She supposed it was because she had grown accustomed to his company again, but rather more his loving company. It made her dreamy, something she had not indulged in for a good while. The sewing circle of women had become used to her frequent pauses in mid-stitch, the faraway gleam in her eye.

And she in turn had slowly become accustomed again to the casual company of others. She had not wanted to go back to the circle until she felt fully prepared to interact with these women, but Mairi had insisted that she join them the day after Damon had left, saying it was her duty now, as the mistress of the castle, to demonstrate a social grace to others.

Solange had conceded that point with much doubt. Part of her was still terrified of those others, illogically, stupidly, she scolded herself, but still, terrified.

It had taken time and repeated exposure to them to convince that shaken part of herself that these were not the women of Wellburn or Du Clar. Planning the garden and the Christmas party had set the roots to easing her fears. Everyone had been cordial and helpful; no one had an unkind word that she heard.

It opened up that shrunken space in her, let it blossom slowly beneath the honest congeniality of the people surrounding her now. Mairi’s insistence on the sewing circle had shown an uncanny perception of what Solange needed and would not take for herself. The women there were gentle with her, gradually growing bolder with stories and jokes until Solange was laughing openly with them, encouraging them to tell more until the light failed or it was time to attend to other duties.

Mairi didn’t even have to convince her to visit the nursery. She wanted to go on her own, and was placidly welcomed by the mothers and nurses there.

The children were more enthusiastic in their welcome.

“Lady Solange! Lady Solange! Are you here to take us to the field?” cried Bertram, bouncing up and down on his mother’s lap.

“Why, no, I’m afraid not, Bertram. The field will have to wait for another day.” Solange sat down on the floor beside William, who had been playing with a toy sword.

“Why not, Lady Solange?” A little girl ran up to her and tugged on her sleeve. “I want to go see where my tree is going to be again.”

“Yes!” said another girl. “I do too!”

“Me too!” said William, staring up at her hopefully.

“The field has not changed since we were last there,” Solange laughed. “And you all remember where your trees will go, I am certain. But if you like, we could bring out the chart, and I can show you on the paper where each of you has marked your spot.”

This plan was met with resounding approval, and so Mairi produced the chart and the children pored over it, each declaring their own tiny dot of land the best, the most beautiful, the highest, the lowest, the closest to the castle, the farthest from it, or any other title they could think to bestow.

Children climbed up on her, over her, around her, all seeming to want her attention, her affirmation of whatever they could think to ask her. She answered as many questions as she could until their mothers took pity on her and announced it time for their supper. In a flurry of small, plump arms and legs they left her for the table set up just for them.

“Do not be offended by their fickle affections, my lady,” said one mother. “Cook promised them each a pudding at the end of the meal.”

“A pudding! Well, naturally they would run for that. I would as well.”

How cozy it was, she couldn’t help thinking. How nice, to grow up with all these companions, sharing meals, and toys, and adventures. It made her wonder why her own childhood had been so lacking in these things, except for her constant companion of Damon.

“A rare handful, isn’t it?” asked Mairi, surveying the group fondly.

“A rare treat,” Solange declared, “to see so many happy young faces.”

“Don’t be fooled, Mistress,” called out one nurse who had overheard the remark. “More than half the time they’re busy fighting, if they’re not all the best of friends.”

One by one the mothers left to seek their own meals, leaving Solange and Mairi to follow. They walked slowly down to the main hall.

“You know,” said Mairi, “I was thinking about the schooling of the children. They neither read nor write. There hasn’t been anyone here to teach it to them, save the marquess, and of course he is much to busy for such a thing.”

Solange looked at her askance. “You know how to read and write, I notice.”

“Barely. I learned what I did from my father, and only infrequently, since most people disapproved of it. I had to beg him quite horribly for the lessons I did receive, on the basis that I wanted to learn the spellings of plants and something of gardening.”

“Something should be done to remedy this,” Solange said.

“Aye, and you are the woman to do it.”

“You are a woman full of excellence, Mairi.”

“Only practicality.”

“Excellent practicality, then. I think it a delightful idea to teach the children to read. Do you think the mothers will mind?”

Mairi laughed. “Mind? They are far more likely to join in the lessons. You’ll see.”

It took not even a day for word to get out that the marchioness was going to hold lessons for the children. She made plans to begin the next morning, in fact. As Mairi wryly pointed out, one of the benefits of being the mistress of the castle meant she could establish a domestic routine anytime or anywhere she wished.

But nothing had prepared her for the sight that greeted her that morning as she walked into the schoolroom, laden with scraps of paper and a box full of quills and ink bottles.

Sitting in a neat half-circle on the rug in the center of the room were the children, all quiet and large-eyed. That they greeted her happily without running to climb on her was a surprise enough. But behind the children were over a dozen adults, mostly women, with a sprinkling of men as well, sitting on benches or on the floor.

Solange stopped at the entrance, afraid there had been some sort of trouble. She couldn’t imagine why all these people were here, unless it was to protest her plan.

Mairi stepped forward. “We are all ready, my lady.”

“Ready?” She saw no looks of anger, only anticipation, mingled with a sort of embarrassment from some of the adults.

“Ready for your lesson, of course.” Mairi came up and took some of the materials from her hands. “I warned you,” she whispered.

“Oh. My lesson. Really?” She surveyed the crowd. “You all wish to learn to read and write?”

“Yes, my lady,” called out Carolyn. Many of the others nodded.

“Well. I see.” Solange walked over to the table that had been set up for her, where Mairi had already put the box of quills. She stared down stupidly at the paper scraps in her hands.

What was this feeling that came over her, this bittersweet ache that flooded her chest suddenly? It left her dumb and blind, but it brought a kind of strength with
it, a hot, welcome feeling that made her look up at the faces in spite of herself.

No one was mocking her. No one was laughing at her. Everyone she saw had only a look of patient hope.

“I’m afraid I didn’t bring enough paper,” she said into the silence.

“Then we shall get you more,” said Mairi.

And they did.

The lessons progressed slowly, for Solange was unused to teaching as much as any of the other adults were unused to sitting in a schoolroom. Of all of them, the children fared the best, being both enthusiastic and easily accepting of ideas just beyond their grasp, for such was their world.

As the days passed, the classes grew, and a routine became established. Solange was given the comfort of knowing that a good many people had come to depend upon her for something that only she could supply. For the first time in her life, she was learning to become a part of an extended family, and thus closer to the life Damon had created.

She had been able to convince almost all the women, and a few of the men as well, to address her by her given name rather than by title, and in turn she learned each of theirs.

It made life at the castle much more comfortable. It was not her imagination, she told herself, that people were calling out greetings to her as they passed now. Women were coming to her for advice. Even Cook sought her out to consult on the menu for the night of the men’s return.

The days now were brisk with a biting wind that
scattered the brown leaves left on the ground and left her cheeks apple-bright from the ride she wheedled Aiden into allowing her to have every so often. He would always accompany her, however, with two other men, the three of them surrounding her.

She was more than a little annoyed with them all, even though she knew they were acting only on Damon’s orders. Despite his progress, she supposed, he was still overprotective of her. But these rides with the men beside her smacked too closely of the supervision she had endured at Du Clar, the stifling restrictions that had been forced upon her for years.