Hearts in Cups (34 page)

In the small room off
the nursery, in which she had dwelt all her life, Angharad lay on her bed and
contemplated the cracks and lines in her ceiling, wondering that they had
changed so little over the years. She felt tired with the lassitude born of an
overwrought spirit. Since that hellish night when she had been dragged back from
her elopement and summarily bundled off to Gwenth in the company of her
outraged and unforgiving mother, she had floated in the prison of her own mind.
Over and over, she had relived the bliss of the elopement and the shock and
pain of capture and sundering. When her father had returned from Pentarin she
gathered enough courage to ask what had become of Daffyd, but after roaring
angrily at her, forcing her to weep in fear and vexation, he informed her that
Daffyd was gone forever, making it abundantly clear that even if Daffyd was
still alive, she would never see him again. So, she had dried her tears and
folded into herself. Her resistance had become wholly passive. She allowed
herself to be sent to her grandmother's and allowed them to call her back. If
only I do nothing, she thought, they can do nothing to me.

The sun had sunk very
low on the horizon when a maid, lighting the fire in the nursery, peeped into
Angharad's room to tell her that Varenna, chief lady-in-waiting to her mother,
had come to conduct her to her parent's apartments. Angharad grew wary at so
formal a summons, but could not disobey. Standing, she shook the wrinkles from
her dress, the same dress she had been wearing since her arrival. Varenna gave
her a critical look when she emerged from her room and swiftly took up a
hairbrush to attack the snarls in the girl's long hair. Patiently Angharad
withstood the ministrations, realizing that Varenna was concerned about what
her mistress would think if she brought her daughter to her in such a
disheveled state.  Varenna quickly sent a little maid scurrying for a new
overgarment while she undid the lacings of the one Angharad wore. The girl
still did not measure up to Lady Varenna's standards when her toilette was
completed, but there was an appreciable improvement and Varenna did not dare to
keep her mistress waiting too long.

Meekly following in
Varenna's wake, Angharad plodded through the maze of hallways and stairs to the
ante-room of her mother's suite. The heavy door was crisply rapped on and
opened to reveal the duke and duchess seated at a small table. Another chair
had been placed in front of them for their daughter. Angharad curtsied
obediently before each of her parents and went to sit down.

With a wave of her hand
the duchess dismissed Varenna, leaving only father, mother and daughter alone
in the room. Dierdre appraised her daughter carefully, noting the changes and
omissions in her dress and grooming and, more important for what was to come,
the girl's face and demeanor. She seemed quiet and docile, which might mean
that her daughter's conscience had been at work, helping her to repent of her
folly. Dierdre hoped so; not many girls would be given the opportunity to make
an advantageous match so soon after such a scandal.

"Angharad, your
father and I have some good news for you," the duchess began, her voice
warmed by the pleasure of her tidings. "We have received an offer of
marriage for you from the new Duke Regent of Langstraad. Not all of the details
have been worked out yet, but as soon as they are, a wedding date will be
set."

About her, Angharad
imagined shadows reaching out with dark hands to smother her. Swallowing
convulsively, she managed to voice a small, but defiant, "No!"

Dierdre continued
speaking, ignoring her daughter's outburst of dissent. "We realize that
you hardly thought to receive such an offer so soon. You will not be a duchess
of course, as he is only a duke regent. However, you will have the dignities
and privileges of such an office until the true heir, one of Genvra Iscoed's
daughters, comes of age. Afterwards you will be treated as a dowager
duchess."

Angharad sat with her
face frozen into a mask, her eyes darting like those of a trapped animal
seeking escape. Into the void, Angharad wailed softly. "I can't do it!
Please, please don't make me! I don't want to be married!"

"Don't be absurd,
girl!" her father exclaimed irritably. "After Pentarin there was the
possibility that you would not receive an acceptable offer for several years,
or that you would be left a spinster. But instead of ignominy, you are favoured
with an offer that would be excellent regardless of circumstances; and after
your misbehavior, to receive such an offer is princely indeed. You fail to
realize how very hard these past two months have been on your family. I will
not let your self-indulgent foolishness ruin this opportunity for you!"

"But I don't want
to be married! I don't love him. I don't even know him!  Please, I don't
mind the thought of being a spinster.” She implored them desperately. “If you
don't want me here at court, then send me back to grandmother's house!"

"I tell you, you
have no choice in this matter!" Branwilde stormed, incensed with his
daughter's obduracy. "After all we have gone through, solely due to your
own lack of judgment, it is clear that you are not capable of making rational
choices. I am your father and I will dispose of your future as I see fit!

“You talk to her,"
he said to his wife, rising and making for the door. "Perhaps you can make
her see her duty. I have had enough of her nonsense!" So saying, he closed
the door angrily behind him and left Angharad to the hard mercy of her mother.

Dierdre regarded the
recalcitrant child who sat before her. She and Angharad had always been at
odds, neither understanding nor appreciating the other's point of view.
Dierdre's pride was in her boys and especially in Owen, who would someday be
Duke of Creon. She had never really wanted a girl child and when Angharad had
come into her life, she had been shunted off with nurses and expected to grow
up into a reasonable young woman who would marry to increase the holdings of
her father's duchy. Pride had been taken in her daughter's beauty and
accomplishments, but only because it increased the girl's chances of a
brilliant match. The sense of shame that Dierdre felt when her daughter had
disgraced herself and her family by running off with a common musician had
turned her ambivalence into something close to dislike. Only the reprieve
offered by the possibility of a match with House Langstraad had softened
Dierdre's aversion to the girl. All of this was read by Angharad in her
mother's face and she knew that all entreaty from that corner was in vain.

"You have two choices
before you," Dierdre announced coldly. "You may accept this offer by
the Duke Regent of Langstraad, or you will be married to Sir Hildreth of
Tillmoor Manor. He has also approached your father with an offer."
Responding to Angharad's shudder of disgust, her mother continued. "Yes, I
agree that he is rather old and not very attractive, but he is wealthy and
influential and therefore to be considered a suitable candidate. The choice can
be yours, since you want one, but you must make haste to decide. I will leave
you until morning to give me your answer." She rang the small bell that
sat on the table beside her. "Varenna will see you back to your
rooms."

The girl's face,
swollen and blotched with crying, lay against her grandmother's knee as the old
woman stroked her hair with a soothing repetition of movement. In many ways she
was glad that the girl had finally given way to sobbing out her anger and
distress. Now, when the flood abated, she hoped that Angharad would be able to
put the past behind her and look sensibly to her future. Murmuring sounds of
comfort and condolence, Alainne watched the candlelight play on the silky mass
of hair that fell forward covering the girl's face.

Angharad's flight to
her grand-dame's arms had been an instinctual one. The emotions that threatened
to tear her asunder after the meeting with her parents propelled her to seek
the only comfort that she knew of in this house. Bursting in on her grandmother
in a frenzy of outrage and unhappiness, she had been taken to the old woman's
knee to be listened to and comforted. Her wild crying had eventually ceased,
and now she sat on the little footstool feeling dull and drained.

"Here, drink some
of this," Alainne urged, putting a cup to Angharad's lips. She took a sip,
sputtered and was given the rest in one quick draught. "Now then, I think
it is time that you and I have a chat." Alainne spoke while lifting the
girl's face up and brushing back the veil of hair so that she could see her
clearly.

"They are forcing
me to marry!" Tears filled Angharad's eyes and threatened to spill.

"I know that there
has been an offer. A rather generous offer too, I am told."

The shock of this
admission dried the girl's tears. "You knew about this?" she
demanded.

"I was told about
it in the letter that your parents sent asking for you to return. I did not
tell you because I felt that it was something that they should make known to
you on their own," she replied carefully.

"But I don't want
to be married! They are forcing me into this without even consulting me!"
Angharad was indignant, both at the situation and her grandmother's prior
knowledge of it. "They want to trade me off, like a cow or a sheep, with
no say in the matter. I'm nothing but an object that they want to dispose of at
their whim!"

"Child,
child," was the gentle admonishment. "You have been living in a
romantic fantasy world, and it is now time for you to grow up."

"Do you mean to
say that you agree with them?" Angharad pulled up and away from her in
consternation.

"Listen to me!
Listen to one who is far older, and has seen much more of this world than you
have. No one is ever truly free to do exactly as they please with no regard for
anyone but themselves; especially not women, and not women of your station. I
have heard enough details of what happened to you in Pentarin to know that what
you tried to do was a selfish and foolhardy act, and bound to end as it
did."

"That is not
true!" Angharad bristled, her eyes kindling to anger. "I loved Daffyd
and he loved me. If we only had a few more days we would have sailed far away
from the Pentarchy and been happy together. The only reason that we are not
gone now is that father sent armed soldiers and dragged us back!"

"It was
ill-conceived and poorly done," was the flat response. "In doing what
you did you betrayed not only yourself and your family but that miserably
deluded young man as well. You brought shame on yourself and disaster on
him." Angharad's lips drew back in a grimace of recrimination. What her
grandmother said was what she had long since judged for herself to be true.

"The reality of
life for a woman in your position," the old woman went on implacably,
"is that marriage is not a contract of whim or fancy, but is a potent
method for extending influence and building alliances between families. Do not
fool yourself into thinking that marriage is a purely personal thing. Even
among peasants, marriages are arranged for the benefit of families."

"And were you
married off to whomever your parents chose without your wishes being
considered?" Angharad asked caustically.

"Do not try to
goad me child," she answered mildly. "I knew my duty and when I was
told that a match had been arranged between Kayn d'Aurilac of Creon and myself
I accepted it with the grace and dignity befitting such an offer. I admit that
I knew Kayn and was fond of him, but even if someone else had been chosen, I
would have trusted my parents and behaved as a noble woman ought.

"Believe me, your
father is not being intentionally unkind. He is a political realist, and with
the troubles that are now brewing throughout the Pentarchy it is wise for him
to take the advantage and cement as many powerful alliances as he can."

"Is that why Sir
Hildreth is thrown in my teeth if I do not capitulate?"

With a piqued
expression, her grandmother said: "That is an absurd idea, but I fear that
the threat is not idle. Take my advice," a hand came out and stroked the
softness of the girl's rounded cheek. "There is no way that you can win
this argument with your parents. If you refuse young de Medicat, they will
surely see you wed to Hildreth, and I do not think that he is above taking a
reluctant bride." She felt the girl stiffen beneath her hand. "At
least de Medicat is young and I hear that he is not ugly."

"No, he is not
ugly," Angharad admitted, "but he has a reputation for...
womanizing." Her face turned crimson as she spoke.

The old woman sighed.
"My dear, that is a charge that is laid on many men. It may even be true
in his case, considering that he is Alister de Medicat's grandson, but that is
not a good enough reason to reject him. Remember, this is to be a marriage of
state. You must put your personal feelings aside and accept the duty that being
a daughter of House Creon requires of you."

Angharad sat in pensive
silence, considering what her grandmother had said. She despised what she was
been forced by her parents and coerced by her grandmother into doing. Deep
within she felt the sting of betrayal that the one person to whom she had come
to for support had evinced instead. There was no one left to whom she could
appeal. She briefly considered running away, but the memory of her recent
attempt in that direction dissuaded her. Suicide also crossed her mind, only to
be rejected as equally childish and impractical. In the end she was faced with
the decision of bowing to her parent's will and accepting the duke regent's
offer, or going against her parents and being given to Sir Hildreth. There was
no true choice either way. Stiffly she got to her feet and looked down into her
grandmother's face. For the first time in her life she perceived the same
arrogant pride in the old woman's eyes that had always been manifest in her
father.