Lady Trent (21 page)

“A number of things.” She hesitated before
forcing the words from her mouth. “Natural things. Affection.”

Camille studied her closer now, seeing now
what she meant. She leaned back, a peaceful glow in her eyes.

“I see,” she came to say. “I see.”

“You could not possibly understand this,
Sister Camille.”

“I think perhaps I do,” she otherwise
insisted. And for a time fell silent. “Yes, indeed, I was in love
for a time. Madly so. His name was Franklyn Ulysses. He was the son
of a noble man, not a Higher Noble, mind you. But quite prominent
nonetheless. He was determined to become a man of war.”

“Is that how he died? During a war?”

“So I was told. I never knew for certain,
only that he did not return. But his family was told he was dead
and mourned for him, as did I. Only I could not mourn as they did,
openly. Few know of this. Jacob Trent, to this day. Of course Lady
Trent, Jacob’s mother, knew of it and was dear enough after so many
years had passed, when they decided to hold a memorial for him, to
insist upon paying her respects, and to take me along so as to take
part.”

“Why was it hidden?”

“His father had already arranged his marriage
so he could not tell anyone about me. Only when he returned he had
planned to. His body has not been delivered, even to this day. Of
course, one cannot help wonder if he is truly dead. To this day I
wonder. I think of him. I imagine he may one day walk thru the door
and greet me…perhaps even…even hold me in his arms.” Her eyes
became very sad.

Rachel felt her anguish and forgot her
own.

Despite it all, Camille smiled again. “See? I
may understand more than you realize. You may speak your heart,
whatever is in it. I doubt you are merely speaking to hear yourself
do it.”

“Did you remain virtuous?” She asked and then
with apologetic eyes said, “I am sorry.”

“You needn’t apologize. I am pleased you have
come to me with whatever is troubling you. Just as the citizens of
Westerly once came to you. Yes, indeed. I did remain virtuous. Had
he returned such would not have been the case.” Her eyes dazzled
while she clutched her arms to herself and cast her gaze up to the
ceiling. “I had such passion for the man.”

“Passion,” Rachel repeated, thinking of what
she’d witnessed between the couple in the garden. Curiosity once
more took hold of her.

Camille cast her a sidelong glance. “Now you
are being diffident, Lady Trent.”

“Diffident?”

“Modest.”

“Truly, I am not.”

“You are married to the most noble man in New
Ebony, the most dashing as well, if I do say so myself. He is still
even after all these years the catch of the eye. And even more-so
now since he made this change for the better. You are wed to this
man, Rachel the Elder, and you tell me you do not know what passion
is?”

“I know, yes,” she quietly admitted. “But I
am not accustomed to its nature. Just as I am not accustomed to
these other things, although some of them I seem to be growing into
quite well.”

“Neither was I nor have I since. It is a
beautiful thing when properly handled, this type of affection. You
needn’t scold yourself. You are by nature a woman. You have fallen
in love, married. It is well if you wish to make love to your
husband.”

“Camille,” she quietly scolded, glancing
toward the door to be sure nobody else had heard. Camille silently
laughed. She sat back, simply admiring her.

“I suppose these are the sort of qualities
that cause Lord Trent to love you so much.” There was a short
pause. “But how long will a husband withstand the withdrawal of his
wife?” She came to ask, having grasped the truth of matters from
all that’d been said. Rachel stared into her wise old eyes and then
down at her hands in lap. “It was agreed upon,” she quietly
replied. “That I would not be forced or persuaded to lose my virtue
in the case I wished to return to my calling or…or to marry
again.”

“And which of those would you prefer?”

“To return to my calling, of course.”

Camille’s gaze became rather pitiful. “Once
one has experienced such things as these you’ve mentioned, and love
and passion and even excess of wine, it is complicated to partake
of the Sacred Vows.”

“But if one remains chaste.”

“I was not married like you, Lady Trent, or
in any such position…one that will certainly, not that it has not
already, arouse all sorts of feelings and emotions, ones you have
perhaps battled with all your might. One must always be exactly who
and what they are, Rachel the Elder, nothing else. But I assure
you, I have experienced desires, these that you have up until now
been alien to. I may wish to visit this place Westerly some time. I
am curious as to how it could truly keep one so sheltered as it
obviously has you.”

“I was not sheltered,” she defended. “I
simply had convictions and morals.” The word “had” stood out to
them both.

“And you still do,” Camille reassured,
“Otherwise you would not be here. But you must face the
consequences of what you’ve become…of who you now are. Now, I do
not believe for one moment that you were ignorant, not only in
matters pertaining to spiritual life but natural as well. After
all, you did have an entire community relying upon your advice, or
so I have heard. As for these feelings…do not be so hard on
yourself, Lady Trent. You are entitled to them.”

While her words sank in, Rachel studied
Camille, her calm peaceful composure…her confidence. This was
something she did feel entitled to, and found herself smiling
softly upon the realization.

One of the maidens came in and made the
announcement that a visitor had arrived, so they both stood. “I
suppose I will be on my way.”

“You may linger a while longer while I tend
to this guest, if you wish.”

“No, I must return.” She offered a hug and
said her good-byes, rushing home in hopes her husband would soon
return, and safely.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When she did return, she noted a barrage of
guards with their horses near the front entrance of the palace—a
sure sign Jacob was home. While in search of him, she came across
Percival midway a hallway and stopped him to ask, “Has my husband
returned?”

“No, milady,” he said frowning heavily upon
her, “he is still away.” He seemed very troubled by something or
other.

Her brows came together and she asked, “Is
something the matter?”

“Sir Marcus has returned,” he told her,
glancing at the floor for a time.

She felt strange hearing the name.

“Oh?” She barely shook her head. “Is
something wrong? Is he well?”

“He has been injured and has wounds. They are
being tended to.”

“I see.” She adapted to the idea, or appeared
to. And when he was gone, she travelled the distance to the
quarters Marcus normally occupied during any such visit.

The first room was empty, but from the room
adjoining, his bedchamber, she could hear him fussing.

“No more of that,” he was saying. “I am in
pain as it is. Why cause more?”

She came nearer and slipped inside, and stood
there a moment before she was realized. Mable at once noticed her
and stood upright…and then Holly whom she automatically despised
and could not help it. Marcus lay propped up in the bed, a pained
expression upon his face.

She put her chin in the air and came nearer.
“I just heard of your return and of your injuries. I thought I
would see for myself that you are well…in my husband’s stead,” she
added. “He is away.”

He tried to conceal a wince but it was
noticed. “Yes, I am well. Just in some pain,” he admitted.

She spotted the cause of it…a rather
deep-looking gash in his calf which Mable and Holly had been in the
process of bandaging. Without an explanation, Rachel slipped out of
the room, returning sometime later with a remedy to help ease his
pain. His leg had by then been successfully bandaged. His help was
still fussing over him. Rachel nudged them out of the way and eased
down to sit on the edge of the bed. “Here. Drink this.”

He did, and in a very short time felt some
relief. “Ah.” He closed his eyes and relaxed. “That is better. Much
better.”

She glanced up at the two women. “You may
go,” she said, and when Holly hesitated she commanded “Go!” and she
loathed from the room in little hurry.

“You are beginning to appear a different
person,” Marcus commented, looking her over.

“What do you mean?”

“Or shall I say simply that I see you have
adapted,” he laid his head back on the pillows, eyes closing. “I
have been away over a month.”

She considered his words. Yes, she had
changed. Constant skin and hair treatments and pampering and the
finest clothing probably had made a big difference. She had not
really considered it until then.

“Edison would have perhaps been so generous,
were he here. Whatever the remedy, I am grateful for it.”

She noticed the basin, and dampened a cloth
using it to wipe a minor cut on his shoulder. “You should thank
yourself,” she told him. “The herbs you brought from Port
Templeton…with a touch of wine.”

“Then they weren’t useful to him,” he dreaded
to say.

“It wasn’t necessary to use them all. He
became well a short time after you departed.” She bent to get a
closer view of his cut. “At least this one is not deep,” she
commented and straightened her upper body. “What exactly
happened?”

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you with the
recollection of it, or even myself for that matter.”

“An accident?”

“No.”

“Were you attacked?”

“What was it you once said…some inquiries are
best left unspoken?”

He managed to get a smile from her. “I am
just curious, Sir Marcus, as you always claim to be.”

“Although peculiar they may be, I am pleased
you recall our conversations.”

“I remember all conversations…which can be
rather disturbing at times,” she added. “It appears you’ve been in
this shape before.” Judging from several scars: a few on his bare
chest and shoulders, one very close to his heart.

“There is but one difference. This time I did
not return with my assailant’s corpse. I did, however, wound him.
So if you see a man roaming about with a missing eye and perhaps a
finger…”

She shook her head at him. “Why do you do
this? You could have a more secure place, a trade…even an estate.
But you choose to wander about under hire, facing the enemies of
those who hire you. It makes no sense. Does it pay so well that
it’s worth the risk?”

“I get paid very well.”

“The money would do little good if you were
destroyed as it appears you nearly were.”

“You make a valid point,” he said. “And yet
continue to prove yourself the wisest woman I have ever met.”

“Perhaps you haven’t associated with the
proper kind.”

“I will not argue that, milady.” He shifted
to make himself more comfortable. “You don’t understand my
exertions. Otherwise you would not urge me to abandon them. Far be
it from me to explain. It would seem a great deal like
bragging.”

“How so?” She seriously asked.

He changed the subject. “It is rumored all
about that my friend is the happiest man in all the world.”

“My, but word does travel.”

“Quickly,” he commented. “Of course I would
not have expected to hear any other report. I have also caught wind
of a second report, that you acquainted yourself with Orland
Manor…and that you handled yourself quite well. Again, not that I
would have expected otherwise.” He was terribly serious now. “But
how have you handled this…being here? Jacob’s wife?”

“I have adapted quite well,” she told him.
“Jacob even lets me give to the poor in the city.” She smiled. “He
seems to enjoy watching me do it.”

“Perhaps since any other in your place would
have set her heart upon other things…to fulfilling her own
desires.”

That word caused her movements to nearly end.
Her face became very somber as she asked, “What sort of
desires?”

“Finer things which you are not so prone to
think about. Apparel, jewels, furnishings. Elaborate social events,
and even land on occasion.”

“As for apparel…I cannot see where I could be
any more blessed. Also with jewels, not only gifts from Jacob, but
from the noble wives. I am forever receiving gifts of gold and
silver. I cannot even keep up with having a suitable location to
store them. As for land…well, Orland Manor is plenty enough. And it
is understandable that a lady would spend money on social events.
The people are worth the expense.” She lowered the cloth back into
the water, dismissing it. “I’ll leave you alone to rest,” she said.
“You must get well. According to my husband, there is to be an
event in not only his honor but yours as well in the near future. I
only recently learned that you will turn thirty-five the very day
he becomes fifty.”

“My honor,” he mocked. “In light of this, I
have no honor.”

“Your pride has been damaged.”

“Just a bit. But it can be remedied. Now this
has taken your mind from what’s most important to you. Are you
going to ask about my quest on your behalf?”

Yes, of course. How had she forgotten?

“A successful transfer,” he said before she
could ask. “I even remained longer than intended.”

“The residents are the most gracious you’ll
ever meet.”

“That they are. A peculiar people, I would
call them. Your gift was received almost as if I was the one to
have proposed it.”

“It arrived safely by your hand. I imagine
they were grateful.”

“Grateful, they were. Very grateful. Agatha
was just as you say, a trustworthy woman. She appeared very mature
in age. I started to ask, but did not feel it my place to do
so.”

“She is ninety-seven.”