Bessie (17 page)

She’d almost forgotten the joy of having the sun on her face, instead of experiencing it through fabric. She stood for a moment at a window, enjoying the sunshine without being fettered by material. It was so stupid. She’d already been forced to wear the weeds for two solid months at court and what had she done since? Sentenced herself to more with her obstinacy.

Bessie looked out on the gardens and counted fifteen workers. Uncle Francis hadn’t argued over them. He probably never stepped outside the castle. The colors were so much more vivid, the air filled with zest. The world sparkled through the clean glass at her nose. Bessie sighed and leaned into it.

“Well. I have to say it’s a pleasure to see the real you, my lady. Will wasn’t very poetic in his description. I’ll have to speak with him.”

“Byron!”

Bessie swiveled at the same time she shrieked the name. Devon’s youngest brother was perched atop a low shelf. He’d probably been reading, as the book in his lap testified. He might not have meant to surprise her. She was beginning to think it another family characteristic they all seemed to share. Or perhaps that’s what came of living with so many.

“I startled you. Forgive me. And...don’t flee. Please? I’m not of a mind to tell anyone, especially Devon. He never pays me much attention, anyway. Besides, I’ve known everything since Will saw you.” 

“Every...thing?”

“Everything,” he agreed. “I know you are a beauty. You are rich. Landed. Well-connected at court. And you are hiding all of that from my eldest brother because he is a dimwit. Am I leaving anything out?”

Bessie laughed. She couldn’t help it. Byron jumped down, making dust rise as he landed.

“I found out years ago this is the best place to avoid everything. I’m not surprised you found it, too. And everyone thinks I’m reading.”  He said the last in a conspiratorial fashion and lifted the book in his hand.

“Aren’t you?”

“I shouldn’t. It’s another fault of mine. Perhaps the greatest one.”

Byron was another duplicate of Devon. Just like James. And Will. And Henry. His skin was paler, his eyes were lighter, and he was probably the leanest of them, but that was probably due to his age. He was still extremely handsome. He’d create a stir in any setting. Bessie didn’t have to feign disbelief.

“Surely you jest.”

“Would you like me to list some of them? I’m not very strong. I was sickly for years. I’m...terrified of heights. I’m a failure with weaponry. My hunting skills are nonexistent. I’ve yet to bag any game. It’s my cursed sight! I can’t see well enough to hit anything I aim at. What else? Oh. I have a terrible seat. I’ve only tried to ride once. I hurt my legs. Both of them.”

“How did you manage such a feat?”

“The horse threw me. Uncle Francis banished me to my room for a sennight.”

“If I had any esteem for your uncle, it’s waning. Where was Devon when this happened?”

“At court. And don’t start pitying me. I actually like staying in my room. Besides, Alicia pities me enough. Why do you think I avoid her, too? So. Now you know. James says I’ll never marry. There is no woman that would have me.”

“Oh. That James is rapidly joining your Uncle Francis in my regard. Tell me. How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“I thought Olivia was that age.”

“She is almost seventeen. We’re but ten months apart. She’s older.”

“Sixteen is fairly young to be wed, Byron.”

“Regina says she’s old enough and she’s barely fifteen.”

“A woman is different.”

“I know. I’ve heard all about it. A man has to be mature. He needs abilities. To show he can support a family. Provide food for the table. Shelter. Let’s see. That means he has to keep his seat on a horse. Possess good hunting skills. Be strong enough to wield a sword...or at least a scythe. There is more. I can’t recollect it at the moment.”

“Not all women look for such things.”

“Did you?”

“Me? I wasn’t looking, at all.”

“But, if you were...what would you look for?”

“I never gave it much thought.”

“But if you were?”

He was certainly determined. That was obvious. Bessie spent some time gathering her thoughts. She’d never truly considered it. Something told her this was a momentous occasion. Not just for him, either. She addressed her words to the window.

“You say women want what you call ability? Perhaps. But I think I’d rather have a spouse I could talk with. A man who wouldn’t treat me as chattel. Or beneath him. Oh. He’d also need to allow me quite a bit of freedom. I’m very used to having things a certain way. I’d...also want a faithful man. One I could trust. My maid says I long for the moon.”

“I’d say you found it.”

She turned her head to look up at him. Smiled. A moment later, he returned it.

“Byron, if you spoke with Will, you know my plan...with regard to you Hildebrands.”

“You wish to be rid of us.”

“That is not my goal. Why, if any of you wish to stay here and unwed, speak up. I’ll abide your wish.”

Byron flushed. Since he was fairly pale, it was especially noticeable. And completely endearing. “I do not wish to remain unwed...if a woman could be found,” he finally replied.

He glanced toward her. Bessie tried not to smile before he looked away. “I don’t think it presents much of a problem.”

“Even with my faults?”

Bessie sighed. Cursed their uncle silently. Then James. “I think we need to draw up a different list about you, Byron.”

“What kind?”

“One that lists your talents, of course.”

“I haven’t any. I told you.”

“Well. You are persistent. That’s one. I know you’re a learned man. You read. You might also be talented in the other arts. Poetry. Music. Dancing.”

“I play the lyre. And I can carry a tune.”

“You sing?”

“When no one else is about. I also have a head for figures. I’ve been keeping tallies on the family stores for years, what little there was of them. And,” he dipped his head and blushed even more severely, “I’ve also penned some poetry.”

“Really?”

“I’ve never told another soul.”

“I am honored,” Bessie replied.

“Oh. What’s the use? These aren’t marriageable qualities. I should become a scribe. Or a steward. If all else fails, I suppose I could join the clergy.”

“You shouldn’t denigrate your talents, Byron. I am quite overcome. It’s quite a list. But you also forgot a few.”

“I did?”

“Oh, yes. Since you’re a Hildebrand, and it’s a family trait, you are also a very handsome man. You are already eye-catching, but dressed in court attire I can only guess the stir you will cause...especially when I add in your charming turn of speech and manner of deportment. Why, any lady would be honored to be your spouse. I look forward to finding one deserving of it, too.”

“You do?”

“Most definitely. I promise.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Byron was right. The library was the best place to be.

Bessie finished dusting a book and tucked it beneath her arm for adding to one of the stacks of them she’d set on the floor. There were more volumes than she’d guessed. She regarded her haphazard-looking stacks. Due to the floor’s slant, she’d had to build a pylon of tomes to keep the entire affair from sliding toward the window.

Byron had been gone what seemed hours, and the sun’s trajectory was warning her. She needed to return to her chamber. Prepare. Find another head covering. She hadn’t much time before supper.

She was humming to herself as she climbed back down the ladder. Placed the book atop a stack. She wrapped the shawl about her head, and pulled a section forward, preparatory to covering her to the chin again. The door opened. Without thinking, Bessie turned. And Devon walked in.

Oh no!

He secured the door behind him before approaching. Bessie was three steps back up the ladder as he reached the nearest pile of books. And she’d climbed the rungs backwards. This was the most ignominious moment of her life. It had to be.

“I cannot believe my eyes,” Devon spoke first.

Bessie had known this moment would come. She knew she’d have to somehow explain her conduct at the joust, and later – the stable. As more and more of his siblings found out, it would become impossible to continue hiding it. She’d hoped for more time. A bit of preparation. And a much more favorable setting than a disorderly library, a ragged dress, and a lot of dust.

“My lord! You...startled me.”  She didn’t have to disguise her voice. It didn’t sound like her, at all.

“I was looking for my brother.”

“Your brother?” 

Something was odd. Devon wasn’t acting any differently. He didn’t exhibit anything like surprise. Or outrage. Or even annoyance.

“Byron. He’s usually here. I’m not complaining. If I’d known you were in the library, I’d have been looking for you instead.”

“You would?”

“Oh yes.” 

It felt like they were saying one thing but meaning something else entirely. He took a step nearer, put a foot on the bottom rung of the ladder and just stood there, looking up at her. His proximity had a devastating effect on her breathing. Her wits. Her ability to speak.

“Do I frighten you?”

“N-no.”  It didn’t help that she’d stammered the word.

“Not even a little?”

His eyebrows lifted. The sun hadn’t yet set. He was standing in a shaft of light coming through the new window glass. It highlighted and defined. It wasn’t possible to be more handsome than Devon Hildebrand. Bessie couldn’t prevent the sigh. His head tipped as he heard it. That was even more disconcerting.

“Your hair? Is it the same?”

“The...same?” 

“May I see?”

At her hesitation, he smiled. At that gesture, her heart stuttered. Stupid thing.

“I won’t do anything more. Unless you ask, of course. You have my promise. Just like before.”

Bessie dropped her gaze to her hands. She’d considered several explanations, trying for one that wouldn’t get her humiliated and punished. She’d even considered using a combination of excuses. All of them true. All of them unconscionable.

She could say she’d done it to test him, but she shouldn’t start with that one. That deserved punishment. Banishment. Perhaps even a beating.
No
. Devon claimed he’d never do that. She’d probably be set aside, though. Far from him. Without recourse.

She could tell him she’d wanted to attract him, alter his opinion of her. Experience his kiss. And more. That might be best, but it was fairly implausible. Because once she had those things, she’d run from him.

Perhaps she’d say she wanted to surprise him. But that should have been done in privacy. Without resorting to vulgar exhibitions. No lady deserving of the title would have deported herself as Bess had at the joust!

There wasn’t any obvious excuse to start with. And all of them led to despair and humiliation. Exactly as her maid had foretold.
Oh! Why did Roberta always have to be right?

“You are very beautiful. I’m not surprised you hide.”

He was confusing her. He should be angry. Curt. She tugged the shawl ends apart with trembling fingers. She hoped it wasn’t as noticeable as she suspected.

“Your husband would be forever watching over his shoulder otherwise.”

“My...husband?”

Bessie pulled the material from her head, wadding it as she did so. She held it between them, looking down at it without really seeing anything. It didn’t seem possible that he didn’t know her identity. Could he be tormenting her? Was that it? He wanted her to squirm before he exulted in his knowledge?

Nothing else made sense.

Or, did it?

She was in shadow. He was awash with the last of the daylight. Still, she wasn’t that lucky.

“Forgetting him, are you?”

“Uh...no.”     

“So, tell me. Are you still of the same mind?” he asked.

“The same mind?” she repeated automatically.
He knew
. He was simply dragging this out before making her confess. Her heart started hammering. Her fingers went icy.

“About turning me down the other night.”

“What?”  The word was a strangled sound as it left her throat. For the briefest moment, the ball of material she held went to a blurred mass of cloth.

“At the tourney. You remember.”

“I...can explain.” Bessie mumbled. Oh no. Her eyes started to burn and her nose itched. She was going to cry. That would be beyond mortifying.

“Oh. Allow me.”

Dread was a debilitating emotion. Bessie collapsed onto a ladder rung. She hadn’t much choice. She felt dizzy. Her knees were shaking.

“But first, let me say that my wife must care nothing for me.”

Shock was an even more incapacitating thing. Everything felt like it had stopped in order to share the sensation. For a long moment she couldn’t hear anything except her own pulse. She no longer felt any urge to weep.

“What...did you just say?”

“Isn’t it obvious? She knows of my interest. And yet...here you are. Your hair truly does resemble fire. ’Tis lovely. And very rare.”

The ball of material gave her a strange sort of courage. But she couldn’t stare at it all eve. Bessie pulled in a breath and lifted her gaze to his. Her heart stopped. Fell. And then restarted with an even stronger, heavier rhythm. It startled and weakened. Someone should have warned her that love was beyond dread. And shock. It was the most devastating affliction of all.

“Here. Give me your hand. I’ll help you down.”

He’d moved closer somehow. She shook her head.

“I cannot hold you up there.”

“Hold me?”

His smiled widened. Her heart did another swoop.

“In my arms,” he specified.

“You shouldn’t!”  She’d tried for a terse, shocked whisper. That went awry. She sounded breathless and nervous, and something even worse. She’d sounded more than a little interested.

“Now I’ve found you, you’d be surprised at what I should. And for how long.”

“You looked for me?”   

“Does that gladden your heart?”

“Yes. I mean, no.”  Bessie bit her tongue. It didn’t help. The words were already out.

He chuckled. “No one claims to know a woman with hair like yours. You are bright to keep it hidden. Or, your husband is. Actually, he’s not bright at all. Only a fool would seek work here after observing the tourney.”

“Work?”  Her voice stopped. She couldn’t think of one thing to add.

“He’s not here?”

“I...didn’t say that.”

“See? I am right. The moment I saw you I suspected it. Your husband is one of the new workmen. That explains your presence. And my comments about my wife. She is incredibly bright, yet sometimes so foolish. Why would she put you beneath my nose? I cannot comprehend it.”

He reached without warning and pulled her off the ladder and right into his arms. The shawl fell. He didn’t let her feet touch the floor. He just stood there. Holding her to him. Her arms were along her sides. Her nose pressed against his neck. It felt unbelievable. Amazing. Bessie had never been held like this in her entire life. She’d wondered what it felt like when he hugged Lizzy in the hallway.

Now, she knew.

Devon’s warmth permeated everything. The arms about her felt strong. Safe. She’d never felt so secure in her life. She shut her eyes to absorb it.

“Your hair smells nice.” 

The whisper of his breath tickled her earlobe. It brushed stray hairs across her skin. It also created an entirely different sensation. The calm, comforting one dissipated, replaced by something much more potent. Vital. And urgent. She couldn’t define why. She was afraid to try.

“You must...set me down.”

“Why?” 

Because I can’t stand this!

“There is not one blemish to mar your skin, even up close. I’ve never seen the like.”

“You mustn’t...say such things.”

“Who is to say me nay? You?”

“Please?”  She meant to sound authoritative. Instead, she sounded intrigued. Rapt. And slightly worried. It matched how she felt. Exactly.

“Ask me for something you want.”

“I...just did.”

“Ask me for something I want, then.”

Bessie pulled back from him and forced her eyes open. He was very close. His eyes glowed like the emeralds they resembled. Her heart felt like a caged entity. Her breath caught before each release. Her lips parted.

“I think I shall let you kiss me this time.”

Her jaw dropped. “What? No. I...couldn’t.”

  Each word accompanied a glance to his lips and back. He was so close! So unbelievably tempting.
Wait. What was she doing?

“Are you saying you don’t want to?”

“No. I mean yes.”

Devon’s lips touched her forehead. Bessie started shaking. It was accompanied by his shudders. Something wondrous happened. Something vast. Warm. And perfect. It spread through her entire body, enveloping her with a blissful feeling. She’d never felt anything like it. Then he pulled back. His eyes narrowed. He set her down slowly. He waited a bit before opening his arms in a large gesture. And then he stepped back. His boot brushed her stacked books. One fell. Another. A third. Bessie watched them, and then looked up to him.

“Tell your husband to guard his property better. The man needs a sword shoved through him. What am I saying? If anything like that happens, you’d leave. And it took forever to find you.”

“It’s been...three days.”

“Time is a vast span when placed against longing. Perhaps you agree?”

Bessie didn’t dare answer. Or move. She’d thought Byron gifted with words. Devon was rapidly demonstrating it could be another family trait. No wonder Mirabelle Bryant had been in such raptures.

“Don’t hide your hair. Please? At least, not while you’re here. At Hilde.”

“Why?”

“Because I ask if of you.”

“But...why?”

He sighed heavily. “Because you’ll be easier to spot. And I must be this fool my wife calls me to want that.” 

He spun and walked away. And she watched him.  

~ ~ ~

“Why would I want to send an order for red wigs again?”

“Just send my note, Roberta. And make certain there are enough of them.”

“Enough for what, may I ask?”

“Enough to cover each servant woman’s head. Yours included. That should come to thirty-three.”

“Why stop there? Why not cover all of the women?”

“My husband knows his sisters aren’t redheads.”

“You’re probably right there. So, what do we poor servants owe such an honor to?”

“It’s just a wig, Roberta. Wearing it will not kill you.”

“You’ve gone and jumped off the cliff, my lady. I wouldn’t have thought it possible before, but there you have it. His lordship knows we’re not redheads, either.”

“That won’t matter.”

“You want redheaded servant women running about your estate now? I’m going to fetch Augusta, I am. Perhaps she can talk some sense into you.”

“I have a very good reason for this.”

“This should be good. And what might it be?”

“I am disguising myself.”

“By disguising all of us? Why can’t you simply wear a table linen like usual?”

“Oh, I’m not giving up my weeds. Not yet, anyway. I won’t be doing that until after the masque at Stansbury.”

“I had heard you were changing this gala to a costume masque. And I did ask myself why you’d do such a thing. It lacks sense. But then I remembered. You have lost yours.”

“Roberta.”

“The Hildebrand ladies are quite a sight. They’ll not be hard to espouse, even without dowries such as you are set to offer...but what do you do with such a gift of beauty? You hide it. What sort of spouses are you looking for? Blind ones?”