Music for My Soul (15 page)

She stared at him, her mouth half-open as if to speak, but no sound came out.

“I will see you on the morrow,” he said.

“
Au revoir
,” she answered softly, and he was gone.

Madeleine did not see Sir Garrett until late the next day, though she did spend time with Lissa. The girl and Evan had turned out to be inseparable companions, one not daring to make a move or take a step unless the other was nearby.

Madeleine spent a hopeless morning trying to help Hannah with some of the costumes. Several of them needed to be mended and all needed to be pressed in time for tomorrow’s opening performances.

“Madeleine, you are all thumbs!” Hannah chastised. “Go away from here! You are causing me more work than I had before you arrived.”

Madeleine gave Hannah an apologetic look and took her leave. She passed Farley, who wore his usual fretful look and bellowed loudly at his wife. “Now what’s to be done, Elspeth? You can’t replace talent like Benton.”

Elspeth snorted. “Benton’s talent is only marginal, Farley. ‘Tis likely someone else in the company could do what that foolish boy did.”

Madeleine interrupted. “What’s this about Benton?”

Farley grunted. “The young fool off and ran away with some chit he’d just met. Now where does that leave me?”

Benton designed and painted the backdrops the mummers used in their productions. She smiled at the big man. “I used to paint some, Farley. I did mostly portraits, but I’m sure I could help out however you need me.”

Farley captured her in a bear hug, practically cutting off her air supply. He danced around with her. “Did you hear, Elspeth? Madeleine has saved the day.”

“And who’ll save your ample ass if ye don’t let go o’ such a sweet morsel?”

Farley’s eyes widened and he dropped his arms from Madeleine. “Now, me dear, don’t go there again.” He grinned wolfishly at Madeleine. “She’ll be jealous o’ me e'en when I’m fat, old, and gray.”

Elspeth snorted. “Ye are fat, old, and gray, ye simpleton.” Yet she affectionately patted his rump. “Now, me wee girl, ‘tis a good thing ye ken a thing or two about paints, cuz Benton left things half done. Come, I’ll show ye everything to do.” She linked arms with Madeleine and led her off, Farley cackling behind them.

Madeleine pressed into service any spare body she could find. The troupe, used to pitching in and lending a hand to whomever needed help, was more than willing to aid her. Before nightfall, every backdrop had been completed and every prop was ready to go.

At twilight, she realized Lissa was still with her. The girl had been her shadow all afternoon. Madeleine reassured a nervous Annie that the child would be safe with her. She promised the servant she would return Lissa to the castle before the evening meal, though she made no promises how clean she’d be.

Despite her young age, Lissa proved quite adept with a brush. Madeleine found a few scraps of canvas and urged Lissa to draw something for her.

“Anything you’d like, Lissa. You’re free to put whatever you want upon the cloth.”

The child concentrated so her brow wrinkled, but within a few minutes she had a good likeness of Evan before her.

“That’s excellent, Lissa. You have quite a talent,” Madeleine praised.

“I can sing and I draw, Madeleine.”

Suddenly a shadow appeared on the page. Madeleine raised her head to find Garrett there, his head cocked to one side as he studied his daughter’s work.

“You did this, Lissa?”

“Yes, Papa,” she said meekly.

He crouched down and studied the sketch. “This is very good, Lissa. Very good, indeed.” He patted her head affectionately. “I think you draw and sing equally well. Why have you not shared this with me before?”

Lissa frowned. “You’re always busy, Papa. You go to London a lot. I don’t ever see you.”

Garrett ruffled her hair. “Then mayhap I will change that, my girl.”

She hugged his neck, a sweet smile on her face. “Madeleine draws, too, Papa. She’s even better than me.”

Garrett eyed Madeleine. “’Tis many talents you have.”

“Oh, I haven’t drawn in a long time, my lord,” she replied, conscious of her paint-splattered tunic and the strands of hair that had escaped her braid. “I only did as a girl. My own papa indulged me.”

“Show me something.”

“Why not?” Madeleine picked up a flat, sand-colored rock. She concentrated for a few minutes and then presented it to Garrett.

He recognized Lissa at once. In but a few simple lines, Madeleine had captured his daughter’s essence, the brightness of her soul. “This is remarkable. I insist you give Lissa not only singing lessons but drawing lessons, as well.”

“Once the faire begins, I would be happy to do so, my lord. We should be here for another two weeks or so, I’d imagine. I think Lissa and I could meet several times.”

“I insist upon being present when you work with her.”

“Why, my lord?”

“I have my reasons,” he said cryptically.

“She might be stifled by your presence. It may make her uncomfortable.”

“No, that won’t be a problem.” He looked around for Lissa, who’d quickly tired of the adult conversation and run off with Evan again. “Come, child, Annie grows impatient. She wishes to put you in a bath and fill your belly with meat and bread.”

Garrett swept Lissa upon his shoulders, and she squealed her delight. He raised a brow at Madeleine. “The faire opens tomorrow?”

She nodded. “I hope you will bring Lissa to see the mummers perform.”

Garrett took in the high color on Madeleine’s cheeks, the sweet curves hidden beneath her flowing clothing, the intense heat in her gaze as she met his eyes. “We wouldn’t miss it.”

And, as he’d promised, Garrett didn’t miss one performance that first day. Every time Madeleine took her place, he was there.

He’d sat spellbound, watching her, listening to her. It mattered not if she told of Beowulf and Grendel, or sang of unrequited love. Her music made him lightheaded and lighthearted.

During the other acts, he often found his mind wandering, fantasizing about making love to Madeleine. He knew his lust was wrong, knew he was still wed to Lynnette, but the thoughts continued nonetheless. He wanted Madeleine next to him in his bed, night after night. With each kiss and every stroke, he would break down and solve the mysteries surrounding Madeleine, until she was thoroughly his.

“Papa,” Lissa whispered loudly in his ear, bringing him back to the present.

Lissa sat in his lap, transfixed by the proceedings on stage. The play had all the classic elements an audience required, including this final, crucial sword fight between the hero and villain. Lissa wrapped her arms around his neck tightly as the swords clanged loudly against each other.

The audience gasped with each blow.

Finally, the villain stabbed the hero, who collapsed as the crowd groaned. Yet, while preening, the evildoer accidentally tripped and fell, striking his head. He was out cold, helpless, and the audience cheered the hero on, urging him to rise—despite his fatal wound—and finish off the rogue. Cries of anguish rippled through the crowd when the hero failed to move.

But, no, wait, the doctor appeared, and magically brought the hero back to life. The hero roused the villain for one more round and thrust his sword into him until he landed the mortal blow. The villain died, the hero lived, and the crowd went wild with applause.

Lissa bounced excitedly up and down. Garrett had no cause to calm her high spirits. She’d been still for too long. She jumped from his lap when Madeleine made her way over to them after all bows had been taken.

“Did you enjoy the performance, Lissa?” she asked.

“Oh, yes.” The little girl’s eyes were shining with excitement. “The best part was when Evan brought the sword out to the hero. Don’t you think ‘twas the best part, Madeleine?”

She laughed and squeezed Lissa’s shoulder. “Of course, sweetie. Evan did the very best job today.”

“You did, too, Madeleine. I want to sing just like you.”

“Then we must think on when to have your lessons.”

“Now, Papa. I want them now.” Lissa clapped her hands excitedly. “But I want to see the faire. Can we?”

“Let me check quickly on Gwenith,” Madeleine said. “She’s been doing so much better since we arrived at Stanbury. I’ll only be a minute.”

As she left, Ashby wandered up. “How did you like the little drama, Lissa?”

“I want to sing like Madeleine. I want to be a mummer.”

Ashby chuckled. “What would your papa say about you leaving him and traipsing about the countryside?”
  “Oh, Papa won’t mind. He likes Madeleine, and she does it.”

“He does?” Ashby murmured, raising an eyebrow at Garrett.

Garrett scowled. “Enough, Ash. Go off and find yourself some company. Yours is not required here.”

“Seems you’re in a great hurry to get rid of me, Garrett.”

“No. I only know how impatient you are when you could be looking for a pretty woman.”

“Fair enough.” He swept into a bow. “Good day, Lissa.” As Madeleine approached them, he bowed again. “And good day to you, Madeleine.” He winked at her, a roguish smile on his features.

“Good day to you, Sir Ashby.”

“Come, Papa.” Lissa tugged on Garrett’s hand. She took Madeleine’s in the other. “I’m hungry.”

Madeleine thought a moment. “You might want to sample some of the flatbread, Lissa. ‘Tis made with honey poured on top and sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar.”

“Oh, yes, Papa, let’s go have bread.”

Garrett purchased several pieces. As promised, the treat was sweet and filling. They visited several of the booths, taking in all the various trinkets and wares. Madeleine pointed out some of the cheeses that were especially good, and Garrett promised to have his steward come and buy several rounds.

A kitten suddenly crossed their path, stopping at Lissa’s feet and meowing plaintively. Lissa knelt to pet it, and the tabby scrambled into her lap.

“Sorry, my lord,” called a heavy woman, waddling in their direction. “He escaped from the bunch.” She bent to take the kitten, but Lissa shook her head and held onto the furry creature tightly. It began purring loudly.

“He likes me, Papa! Listen.”

Garrett leaned down and heard the noisy purring. He gingerly stroked the kitten under its neck. Looking at the woman, he asked, “How much?”

The woman named her price and Garrett removed a coin from his purse, tossing it to her.

Staring at the coin and then him, she stammered, “’Tis much too generous, my lord.”

Garrett gave her a rare smile. “This kitten has found a good home. Go find a place for the rest of his litter.”

The woman thanked him profusely and went on her way.

“Thank you, Papa. I shall love him forever and ever.” She nestled the kitten under her neck, and he playfully licked her ear, causing her to giggle.

“What shall you name him, Lissa?” asked Madeleine.

“I shall call him Luke,” she informed them.

Garrett sucked in a breath. “Why would you choose a person’s name, Lissa? Why not Patches or Scratch or—”

“Papa,” interrupted Lissa, “his name is Luke, like your brother. Aga told me you loved him very much, and I shall love my Luke even more.” She kissed the kitten on the top of his head and began skipping away.

“Madeleine!” Edgar came hurrying toward them. “There’s a bit of a problem that requires your attention.”

Chapter 14

Madeleine pushed through the small crowd that had gathered near a stall selling fritters and fruit tarts. She saw what had to be Evan sitting on the ground. At least she assumed it was Evan.

“How did he get his head stuck in a bucket?” she asked, trying to bite back a grin.

Edgar shrugged. “I don’t right know, Madeleine. You know our Evan, though. Where there’s Evan, trouble’s bound to catch up.”

“Mmmppmmpphh!” The muffled sound came from beneath the bucket.

Edgar tapped on the surface. “I brung Madeleine!” he bellowed. “She’ll be getting’ ye out in no time.”

He turned back to Madeleine. “Won’t let no one near him. Keeps pulling up on it and falling down. I knew ye’d know what to do.”

At that moment, Evan fell back upon the ground, feet kicking wildly as he tried to extract his head from the bucket.

“’Tis Madeleine, Evan,” she said in the calmest, most authoritative voice she could muster. “Quit squirming about and sit quietly. I want to see how tightly you’re wedged in.”

He obeyed her immediately, his small chest heaving as she reached her hand inside. The wooden pail sat firmly wedged around his head, mashing his nose to one side and his hair was warm and damp.

“You’re a brave lad, Evan,” she said, patting his shoulder. “We’ll get you out. ‘Twill require patience on your part. Can you be still?”

The bucket nodded. The group assembled lost their battle to hide their smiles.

Madeleine turned to Edgar. “I need pig’s grease, and plenty of it.”

The mummer practically flew from his spot to do her bidding, almost bowling Garrett over in the process.

“’Scuse me, my lord.” Edgar bobbed his head several times and raced off.

Lissa ran forward and dropped down beside Evan. She patted his hand as she tried to look under the bucket.

“Can you hear me, Evan?” she hollered.

A muffled “Yes,” came from within.

“Feel my kitten, Evan.” She took his hand, guiding it until he touched fur. “’Tis Luke, my new kitten. He likes being petted.”

Evan sat, bucket atop his head, stroking the small fur ball until Edgar arrived.

“Back wi’ the grease, Madeleine. Don’t ask how I got it.”

She laughed and took the pail he held. Kneeling, she told Evan, “You’ll smell awfully bad in a moment, Evan. Breathe from your mouth when it gets foul.”

Taking a handful from the container, she rubbed the grease around Evan’s neck and the edges of the bucket that imprisoned him.

“May I help?” Garrett asked.

Madeleine shook her head. “Oh, no, my lord. You’ll get yourself dirty.”

Garrett laughed. “Madeleine, I was once a little boy. I know what ‘tis like to be dirty.”

She studied him thoughtfully. She could just imagine a young Garrett with dirt smudged on his cheeks and matted hair. Then she pictured a bucket atop his head now. Her robust laugh filled the air.