Twilight of a Queen (13 page)

“But to those of us who consider ourselves daughters of the earth, marriage is supposed to be something more, a sacred rite, a profound union. Not for profit or position or even security. A man and woman should wed only for the truest love.”

Ariane’s gaze dropped to the ring encircling her finger, a plain metal band, very old and engraved with strange markings. Her face softened and it was obvious she was thinking of her husband.

Anyone who saw Ariane and Justice Deauville together could not doubt the depth of their love, passion tempered by the stronger more enduring steel of friendship.

Jane rubbed the spot on her left hand where her own wedding ring had once been, a costly golden circle of rubies and diamonds. She had seldom worn it, and put the ring away altogether after her second husband had died. A wealthy wine merchant, Sir William Danvers had been a kindly man but thirty-five years her senior. She’d learned to esteem him, but there was no denying that the prime reason for her marriage had been to salvage her family’s waning fortunes.

Her first husband, Richard Arkwright, had not been as pleasant as Sir William. Dickon was a sickly, peevish boy, but as her guardian had acidly informed her, a young woman who was despoiled could not afford to be selective. A boy as young and inexperienced as Dickon could easily be fooled, unlikely to notice on his wedding night that his bride was not all that she should be.

Two marriages, one to cover her sins and one for wealth and security. Most of the world would not fault her for either reason. But as Jane observed the glow on Ariane’s face, she experienced a stab of shame and envy.

But the light in Ariane’s eyes dimmed as she folded her hands together and resumed her tale.

“My mother adored my father as he did her. Or so we all believed. Their love story was the stuff of legends; Evangeline, the beautiful and learned Lady of Faire Isle, and the Chevalier Louis Xavier Cheney, one of the boldest and bravest knights in all of France. Their wedding was a
splendid event, their marriage much celebrated. A
conté de fée
come true.”

“But like any fairy tale, there must always be a villain, an ogre or a bad fairy or a wicked witch. And my mother had hers close at hand. When she was young, my mother was intimate friends with Catherine de Medici.”

Jane gaped at her. “The Dowager Queen of France? The woman that Meg refers to as the Dark Queen?”

“That is one of our politer terms for the woman, but yes,” Ariane replied with a taut smile. “Well may you be surprised and perhaps wonder at my mother’s lapse of judgment.”

Jane tried to demur but feared her shock must be all too evident.

“I don’t blame you for being astonished,” Ariane said. “But believe it or not, Catherine and my mother had much in common. Neither of them was comfortable at the French court, Maman simply because she hated all the falsity of court life. Catherine because she was despised by the French people, scorned and mistrusted for her Italian lineage.

“And my mother and Catherine shared a strong interest in all the ancient lore and knowledge. It was natural they be drawn to each other. But my mother was a true daughter of the earth, studying the old ways in order to promote peace and healing. Whereas Catherine had a darkness in her, an insatiable craving for power and a ruthlessness to match. Their falling out was as inevitable as their friendship had been.

“Whatever affection or admiration Catherine might have felt for my mother soured into hatred and envy until
she considered Maman her enemy. When she decided to strike against my mother, of course being Catherine, she homed straight in on Maman’s most vulnerable spot. Her great love for my father.”

Ariane twisted her head to regard Jane. “Have you ever been to the French court?”

No, that had been more to Ned’s taste, Jane nearly replied. Her pleasure-loving, ambitious brother had made frequent trips to Paris whenever he could find a valid excuse to obtain a visa.

But thoughts of Ned threatened to unleash a hail of Jane’s own unhappy memories, so she merely shook her head and said, “I am like your mother; the glitter of court life has never held any attraction for me.”

“You are the wiser and better for it. Likely then you don’t know about Queen Catherine’s
Escadron Volant
.”

Jane frowned, translating into English. “Her
flying squadron?”

“Precisely. Beautiful birds of prey, a cadre of seductive young women. Catherine employs them to spy, to seduce and weaken her enemies. She set the most skilled of these creatures, Marguerite de Maitland, to work her wiles upon my father.”

Jane cut an uncertain glance toward the man on the bed. “You mean Xavier’s mother?”

“So he claims. Marguerite was a dazzling beauty, irresistible by all accounts. Still my father should never have succumbed to her charms, not if he had truly loved Maman.

“He hurt my mother so deeply. She might not have been as devastated if it had been a onetime lapse. But the
affair went on and on, Papa absenting himself to Paris more frequently. He nearly bankrupted our family setting that Maitland woman up in her own establishment, showering her with money and jewels.

“Not that my mother cared about that, it was Papa’s frequent absences, the betrayal of their love that nigh killed her. Catherine’s scheme for revenge might not have succeeded in breaking my mother’s spirit, but she certainly broke her heart. She shattered the peace and happiness of our entire family.”

Ariane’s voice shook with anger. She drew in a deep breath before continuing in a bleaker tone. “I never understood it, Jane. If you could have but known my mother. She was a truly remarkable woman. All who knew her adored her.

“Even if Marguerite was enhanced with all the seductive perfumes and cosmetics Catherine concocted for her sirens, I could not fathom what spell that Maitland witch could have cast to keep such a strong hold on my father, to lure him away from us.

“It appears the great mystery is explained at last.” Ariane swallowed, her bitter gaze focusing on Xavier. “There lies Marguerite’s magic. The son my mother was never able to give my father. I am only astonished Papa could have kept him secret all these years. I am sure Catherine never knew of Xavier, because if she had, it would have been one more stake to drive into my mother’s heart.”

Ariane stared at Xavier, her calm features set into hard, angry lines, an alarming expression most unlike the Lady of Faire Isle. Jane suppressed a strange urge to step protectively in front of the sleeping man.

Instead, she rested her hand upon Ariane’s arm. “I can understand your resentment, but whatever your father or this Maitland woman did, surely your brother cannot be held to blame.”

“Half brother,” Ariane insisted. “I daresay he may be guilty of enough sins of his own. I pride myself on my skill in reading eyes, but this Xavier is infernally good at protecting his thoughts even when half out of his mind with pain. Surely not the behavior of an innocent man. He strikes me as rather a hardened and dangerous character.”

“Meg said nearly the same thing.”

“What!” Ariane exclaimed so sharply that Xavier stirred even in his potion-induced sleep. Lowering her voice, she demanded, “What do you mean? What did Meg say?”

Jane already regretted mentioning the matter, but with Ariane’s fierce gaze trained upon her, she had no choice but to explain.

“Meg reacted most strangely to the sight of Captain Xavier. She didn’t even want me to help him; just let him be swept back out to sea.”

“That is very odd behavior for Meg. She is usually quite tenderhearted unless—” Ariane scowled. “She has not been meddling with that crystal again, has she?”

Jane was loath to bear tales against Meg. Ariane was still weighing her decision over who would succeed her as the next Lady of Faire Isle and Jane had no wish to damage Meg’s chances. But neither could Jane bring herself to lie.

“I believe Meg may still have the gazing globe in her possession.”

The Lady was not fooled by Jane’s hedging. She vented an exasperated sigh. “I wish the girl would leave the cursed
crystal alone, though I do understand the temptation all too well. I have experienced the lure of the shadow world myself. But no good can come of such an obsession.”

“Can you not command Meg to surrender the crystal or destroy it?”

“I could, but that would ultimately do Meg little good. The choice between light and darkness cannot be forced upon anyone. I can offer her my advice and guidance, but a young woman must learn at some point to employ her own reason, to make her own decisions.”

“Oh,” was all Jane could think to reply. For most of her life she had been accustomed to being told what to think, what to believe, what to do. She was not sure whether she was disconcerted by Ariane Deauville’s revolutionary views or intrigued by them.

“Did Meg give any specific reason for why she shrank from helping this man?” Ariane asked.

“Nothing logical. She merely said that Xavier is dangerous, that he will bring only trouble.”

Ariane pursed her lips. “Meg could well be right. Where has the man been keeping himself all these years and why now did he suddenly decide to turn up on my island?”

Jane did not believe that Xavier had decided anything, that he had been no more pleased to wash up on Faire Isle than Ariane was to have him. But since the Lady did not appear in a particularly reasonable mood at the moment, Jane kept these reflections to herself.

As she retrieved her medical chest, Ariane commanded, “Keep an eye on him, Jane. If you notice anything at all amiss with the man, send for me at once.”

Jane nodded uneasily, realizing that Ariane was talking
about far more than signs of fever. After Ariane had gone, Jane hovered by the foot of the bed, regarding her charge for a long time.

She had always been so cautious of strangers or admitting anyone new to her acquaintance that her brother had frequently teased her about it.

“Jane even requires the rabbits to furnish a written character before they are allowed to enter the garden,”
Ned was wont to laugh.

Jane smiled sadly at the memory. Perhaps Ned was right and she had learned to be overcautious. But she had learned at a tender age how easily a woman’s trust could be betrayed, especially by a man.

She certainly ought to be ill at ease, keeping watch over a stranger who made both Meg and the wise Lady of Faire Isle so wary. Jane would have been hard-pressed to explain why she wasn’t nervous at being left alone with Xavier or the strange, almost proprietary interest she took in the man.

Perhaps it was because she had been the one to mount guard over him and shield him from the incoming tide. She was the one whose hand was bruised from his pain-wracked grip, the only one who appeared to have noted the fear beneath his sarcasm and cursing.

Xavier stirred and shivered in his sleep, and Jane hastened to draw the coverlet higher over his bared chest. Very likely she was a fool, she thought. But as he lay there so pale, and helpless, he did not appear dangerous to her.

Louis Xavier Cheney merely looked lost.

ARIANE PERCHED ON A ROCK, STILL WARMED BY THE AFTERNOON’S
sun. Her knees drawn up to her chin, she watched her son playing on a nearby sand dune. His chubby legs churned, his curly head thrust forward as he toddled away from his cousins, Gabrielle’s two youngest girls.

Lucia and Ninon overtook Leon, each girl capturing a hand. He lifted his legs, swinging between them and squealing with delight. Seraphine hovered nearby, grinning as she kept a watchful eye over the children.

Gabrielle’s eldest daughter could be arrogant and intractable at times, but Seraphine had a more tender side and was fiercely protective of those she loved.

They presented an enchanting tableau, Gabby’s willowy, fair-haired daughters and Ariane’s sturdy little son. Even as she smiled, Ariane’s eyes misted as she thought of what it must have cost Gabrielle to send her daughters away, out of war-torn Navarre.

“You’ll keep them safe, Ari,”
Gabrielle had written, the words not a question or a command on Gabrielle’s part, just a soul-deep understanding and trust between sisters.

“I will,”
Ariane had written in return, although she knew such a pledge was unnecessary and perhaps even a little rash.

She had experienced enough of the uncertainties of life to know how disaster could strike in a heartbeat, despite all one’s best intentions and vigilance. But for this day in time, her nieces and her son were hale, happy, and safe.

Normally, Ariane would have savored such a golden moment, but Xavier’s arrival had cast a shadow over her.
She hugged her knees close to her, wishing it was her husband’s strong, reassuring arms she felt closing about her.

Justice Deauville had once been the Comte de Renard, but his marriage to Ariane had cost him, his title stripped away by Catherine’s vengeful son when King Henry had mounted an assault against Faire Isle. Justice’s estates were the price he had paid for daring to love a woman suspected of being a witch.

Ariane had been more distressed for his loss than Justice was himself. A man of the earth, his tastes and needs were simple, a field to sow, some books to read, a good strong horse, and Ariane to draw close to his heart each night as he fell asleep.