Claire Delacroix (14 page)

I shook a finger at him, noting that his features had set to stone but not caring a whit if I injured his pride. “You may have been able to smooth your way with coin, but I had no such opportunity. I will not become embroiled in your schemes. I will not make matters worse by becoming guilty, as well. I will not be complicit in your crimes and I will not be an accomplice to murder.”

“Even if it means returning to Kinfairlie and poverty?”

I lifted my chin. “Even that.”

We stared at each other, adversaries in yet another matter. The fact was that I did not expect the issue to be readily abandoned. I anticipated a long battle of wills, one that would challenge my convictions. I assumed that Merlyn would bend his considerable charm to changing my thinking.

But he did not.

His weariness suddenly showed in his face: he looked older and more gaunt, more tired. It seemed the wound took more from him than he would care to admit. My guilt grew a modicum, fed by new doubts - was I unfair? What if he truly did mean to put his trade aside and repent of his ways? Should I not aid him in that?

Fitz noticed the change in Merlyn’s manner as soon as I did, and he stepped closer. “I know you have much to do this day, my lord,” he said briskly. “And I must return to the keep. Perhaps I shall see her ladyship back to the hall.”

Merlyn’s gaze met mine and I saw that he was not deceived by Fitz’s excuses before his gaze flicked away. “I have nothing more demanding to do this day than to sleep, and you know it well, Fitz.” He spoke dismissively, ignoring me.

“Shall I escort my lady to the keep?” Fitz said.

“If you prefer, Fitz. See that she is blindfolded, though, if you will.” Merlyn’s gaze burned into mine. “It would not be wise for Ysabella to ever find her way back to this place alone.”

His use of my name, instead of his usual endearment, stung as it was doubtless intended to. And so I was warned, not to return to this place in general and not to peruse Merlyn’s goods in specific.

Fitz apologized as he blindfolded me. He turned me a few times in place to ensure that I was dizzy, then laid claim to my elbow and led me stumbling from that chamber.

“This matter is not done, Ysabella,” Merlyn said quietly. Though I could not guess his proximity, the hair prickled on the back of my neck. I wondered whether Merlyn would come to my bed again to persuade me and could not bear to think of what I might surrender.

A wicked part of me looked forward to his persuasion.

Merlyn said nothing more, not so much as a word of farewell, and I felt oddly bereft of his presence as soon as Fitz marched me out of the small chamber. The air was colder in the caverns beyond and though I feared to trip, Fitz did not allow it.

* * *

We walked a long way in silence save for our footsteps and the murmur of the sea. I have no doubt that we doubled over our course and took a circuitous route, as well. We could have walked to Edinburgh and back for all I knew of it. I was footsore and in dire need of sustenance and still we walked ever onward.

It was only when we stood upon a level floor that felt to be wrought of wood, that Fitz halted and spoke to me. I could smell a fire burning and the cooking of a stew of some kind. My belly growled in complaint, indeed it did so loudly that I nearly missed Fitz’s murmured words.

“He thought you the only soul in all of Christendom that he could trust besides myself,” he said, accusation heavy in his words. “But you had to lie to him.”

“I did not lie to him!”

“He believes that you did and it is much the same. You should forgive him and trust him.”

“Forgive him? For using me to his own ends? For telling me but a small fragment of the truth, and threatening to reclaim Ravensmuir if I do not do his bidding?” I pulled the blindfold from my eyes. A thin line of light made its way beneath the panel before us and granted some illumination. I glared at Fitz. “I will not forgive him.”

“You should aid him.”

“I will not condone crime, even for my lord husband.”

Fitz shook his head. “You do not know all of the tale.”

“And no one intends to share it with me.” My tone was sour. “Does he not see the mire of his own thinking? He claims he needs my intellect, then treats me like a foolish child who cannot be trusted to see right and wrong in the details.”

“The man has been betrayed and you are nigh a stranger. How can you expect him to trust you?”

“Surely trust undeserved is what he asks of me! Truly, Fitz, I have already been betrayed by Merlyn. It is only sensible that I show caution in taking his errands now.”

Fitz studied me carefully and I had the sense that he too was disappointed in me. “Do what you must, lass,” he said finally. “But understand that you and I alone know of my lord’s survival, and if Merlyn is betrayed this time, he shall know who is responsible.”

The implication was clear. Fitz would never betray his lord, thus any such betrayal would be mine.

“If betrayal would lead to his demise, then I have nothing to fear,” I retorted, having no intent of being intimidated.

Fitz smiled coolly. “You should still have to contend with me, lass.”

His gaze hardened and I knew that I could expect no mercy from this man if he deemed me disloyal.

I flicked my gaze away from him. “May I leave, or am I to be a prisoner forever?”

Fitz lifted a latch and a small door, no larger than that of a cupboard, opened before us. I ducked through the opening, though was not immediately certain where I was. It was not the stables, for the other three walls here were wrought of thatch.

When I glanced back, Fitz had silently closed the opening behind me and I could not discern where it had been. No wonder I had not found it earlier! I leaned on the wood of that wall and felt along it for a moment, but could find no hint of the door. The light was poor, though, and I resolved to return later with a lantern.

I pivoted, and in looking again, realized that I was in one of the storage rooms in the wing that held the kitchens. I made my way around the sacks of flour and ducked beneath the herbs of previous summers still hanging from the rafters. I left the room and made my way down the stairs, entering the kitchen just as Ada entered the opposite door.

She smirked. “Did you find my lord Merlyn in the storage rooms? You were mistaken this morning in thinking you would find him alive. Perhaps it was the wine you found early this morn.”

Although it was tempting to prove her wrong, I was not yet prepared to betray Merlyn’s presence. I tossed my loose hair, noting how she watched it with suspicion. It was too sweet to torment Ada, after all the torment she had granted me and mine.

“You are right, of course - I found him dead,” I replied, giving her but a moment to look smug. “He was not a phantom as I had suspected, but a demon. It seems my lord Merlyn has indeed been dispatched to the underworld, as so many so oft did threaten.”

You must admit that my words were not strictly a lie.

Ada paled. “Do not utter such blasphemy!”

I strode toward her boldly. “Indeed, he is a demon of such rank that he has offered a wager to me. Would you like to know of it, Ada?”

She shook her head and her hand rose to her crucifix, though her eyes revealed her curiosity.

“A lifetime of my daily service to his memory was the term,” I whispered to her with great delight, “in exchange for an eternity of nightly service from him.”

She was shocked, though she savored the salacious detail. “Wicked woman!” she cried.

I laughed, well pleased with myself and shook my tresses again. “Is it true, Ada, that when a witch looses her hair, havoc will reign? I think I shall wear mine unbraided from this day forth.”

Ada crossed herself as I left the kitchen and I, I felt suddenly good for a widow recently bereaved and doubly threatened before breaking her fast. My mood had nothing to do with the fact that Merlyn yet lived, of that you may be certain.

* * *

You can imagine that after my journey through the labyrinth, I looked less than my best. I had not begun the day in my finest garb, to be sure, and after my encounter with Merlyn, I felt the need to lift my spirits. I knew I had made the right choice, yet I could not shake my sense that I had failed him.

Merlyn had once seen fit to outfit his bride, and he had made acquisitions with a customary lack of restraint and disregard for expense. I had seldom touched the garments then, but I hoped that the trunk might still be in the solar. Merlyn, after all, had been absent from Ravensmuir. If the trunk had remained tightly closed, then there might not be damage from moths.

The garments were wasted without a woman wearing them, and they had been a gift to me in the first place. I intended to share them with my sister, if Ada had not helped herself to the store in our absence.

I particularly wished to look more regal when next I encountered my troublesome spouse. I had no doubt that I would see him again and a person stands taller when garbed well. With Merlyn, I had need of every advantage I could muster.

He desired me, perhaps as much as I desired him. Perhaps I could use his ploys against him and win advantage in the promise of passion. The prospect lightened my step considerably.

The trunk was still where I recalled it to be. I flung back the lid, impatient with hope, and smiled. But one glimpse of that trunk’s contents and my old blue kirtle, mended so often and worn so long, I resolved to burn.

I selected an undyed linen chemise first, savoring as I once had the marvelous fine texture of its cloth. It was so much softer against the skin than the woolsy-linsey to which we were accustomed. I had always intended to buy myself one such chemise if we had the wealth to spare. That one luxury would sate me, though none might see it but myself.

But there were more luxuries than that to be regarded - indeed, the trunk was filled to bursting. I do not know how long I spent examining each piece and admiring its unique details.

Eventually I decided upon a gown of deepest green, the wool woven so fine that it slipped through the fingers like silk. The fabric alone was richer than anything I had known, but there were untold lengths of cloth in the fullness of the skirt. It hung in gathers, pooling around my feet, intended to do so as a mark that the wearer had no need to toil through muck or to labor at all. The sleeves buttoned from elbow to wrist with tiny ivory buttons that were fiercely difficult to fasten oneself.

I managed. The sleeves were cut long so that they gathered most attractively around the lower arm. The bodice fitted snugly to my sides, showing my figure to advantage, and for once I did not regret giving my meal to Tynan on so many occasions.

I donned a brocade surcoat which was shorter than the gown - it was fitted, with open sides and ermine trim, and ended at the curve of my hips. The brocade was thick with gold embroidery.

I recalled that Merlyn had once told me that this ensemble made my eyes look more green.”Bewitching” he had called me when I wore this kirtle to the hall. I thought to change it, then resolved that if he were bewitched again, he might well adjust his terms.

It seemed unlikely, but I would not change.

The lace stockings were still there, as were the gold-hued garters that Merlyn had once unfastened with his teeth. I felt myself blushing in recollection as I donned them. Some searching revealed the green leather “poulaine” shoes with their pointed toes. They were packed so carefully in the bottom of the trunk, stuffed with rags to hold their shape, that I knew I could not have packed them away. I would never have thought of such a trick.

Who had packed my garments? Who had folded them away with such care? Who had fingered them in my absence?

I pushed such fruitless speculation from my mind and combed out my hair, coiling it simply at the sides and tying it with a green ribbon before letting it hang loose down my back. I had no jewelry but still felt as lavishly garbed as a queen.

I turned at the shuffle of footsteps upon the stairs and smiled when my sister appeared.

Her eyes widened at the sight of me, then she bowed low, pretending I was some haughty noblewoman. “I beg your pardon, fine lady, I came to seek my sister and have interrupted you instead.”

I laughed and caught at her hand. “Ah, but I shall bestow lavish garb upon you as if you were mine own sister,” I teased.

Mavella plucked at the sleeve of my gown. “I remember this.”

“All of that garb is yet here.” I threw back the lid of the trunk but Mavella sobered, her gaze flicking over its contents.

She sighed as she bent and stroked the fine damask of one surcoat. “Ah, Merlyn,” she whispered, her voice thick. “He had an eye as to what would favor a woman.”

“You should choose something for yourself.”

“You would squander his gifts?”

“I would share.”

Mavella studied me for a moment before she spoke. “You have always had a sharp tongue, Ysabella, but your heart has always been tender. When you spoke harshly yesterday, I thought you mourned Merlyn in your way. But on this day, you are merry - there is a sparkle in your eye and color in your cheek.”

Caught, by my own blood.

I averted my face and tried to disguise my mood. “It is Christmas, a time of merriment, and we shall have a hearty meal this night for the first time in years. I but celebrate what good fortune has come to us.”

Mavella was unconvinced. “Is your grief so shallow as that?”

I gestured to the trunk, not wanting to betray Merlyn’s secret. “Choose a garment, any garment, and let us gather greenery for the hall.”

My sister did not move nor did she look away. “I thought you loved Merlyn.”

“No!” I spoke with a heat that only made her expression turn more thoughtful. “Merlyn was a scoundrel. I was well rid of him then and better rid of him now.”

“Is that so?”

“You know that it is, Mavella!”

Mavella shook her head. “I know no such thing. You left the man you loved for the sake of principle. You were right, if lonely, impoverished and unchallenged.”

“I do not regret my choice...”