Wild Bells to the Wild Sky (63 page)

"I saw a deep pool yesterday before it grew dark. I thought I'd wash by it since we've the time," Lily said, collecting her toiletries from the trunk.

"Give us a buss, sweeting," Cisco said, coming close to have his head scratched, his eyes searching the trunk for a tasty morsel his mistress always managed to find for him. Ruffling his feathers with pleasure, he strutted off with a nut held in his beak.

"Oh, Lily, do I have to wash, too?" Dulcie cried. She didn't mind swimming, but washing with soap and water was different.

Lily eyed her little sister's grubby face. "It might not be a bad idea. But you can find those berries first," she decided, thinking of the stains that would be around Dulcie's mouth and on her hands by the time she returned.

"Can I go swimming?" she asked eagerly, Raphael barking his agreement as he sensed her excitement.

"The water is far too cold," Lily told her, wishing that they both could go for a swim. "Come on, I'll walk with you part of the way," she said, Cappie jumping onto Raphael's back so he wouldn't be left behind. "I'll be over there, in that small copse where the stream is dammed," she said, leaving Dulcie to race through the meadow with Raphael. Cappie was holding on tight, perched precariously on his back, while Raphael barked loudly at her heels.

The woods were quiet except for the chirpings of birds high in the trees, and even the stream seemed hushed as it fed into the pool. The forest floor beneath Lily's feet was soft, cushioned by a thick layer of fallen leaves. The sunlight filtered in through the maze of interwoven boughs overhead.

Lily paused, startled, when a doe and her fawns bolted from beside the pool where they'd been drinking. Lily found a bank that sloped gently toward the clear, deep water and dropped her soap, folded inside a soft cloth with her brush and comb, and her lotions into the tall grasses.

Standing beside the pool, Lily was reminded of the pool on the island, where she had often bathed, and where she and Dulcie had so often sat beside their mother on the bank.
So long ago
, Lily thought, unfastening her skirt and bodice and slipping out of them. She untied her petticoats, carefully folding them and placing them on top, then kicked off her slippers and quickly pulled off her stockings, anxious to bathe the grime of several days of journeying on dusty roads from her skin.

Clad only in her thin linen shift, Lily sat down on the edge of the bank and lowered her bare legs into the cold water, shivering slightly with the shock of the icy contact. After a moment, she splashed the water higher, until the edges of her shift were soaked and clung to her body.

Reaching for her soap, she rubbed it into the cloth and soaped her legs and arms, the scent of lavender clinging to her flesh even after she'd rinsed the soap with clear water. Taking the sweet-scented lotion, she smoothed the oily substance into her skin, her hands rubbing along her thighs and calves, then her upper arms and shoulders. She took her brush and began to draw it through the long strands of hair while she brushed it across her shoulder.

Her head was downbent, toward the water while she brushed, and Lily found herself staring into the water, mesmerized by the gentle, widening circles that seemed to spread out from the center.

Suddenly Lily gasped. Behind her rose a cloaked figure. Slowly, unable to move, she watched as the arm holding the heavy stick lowered toward her. She screamed,
then
felt a blinding pain in her temple before the blackness of the pool engulfed her and the face of Sir Raymond Valchamps faded before her to be replaced by the grinning face of the puppet.

The puppet jumped up and down, his comical antics eliciting squeals of delight from the two children old enough to enjoy a puppet show, but the youngest, a baby still held close to his mother's breast, cried at the sight of the frightening creature.

Farley Odell scowled at the child, thinking was going to be harder than he'd anticipated, for the farmer stood watching them, unimpressed so far by their performance.

At Farley's signal, Tristram began juggling the colorful boxes with an agility that soon had the farmer nodding his approval and the children begging to be taught such a feat.

While Tristram kept the children, even the bawling brat, spellbound, Farley drew out the brightly colored silk ribbons, allowing them to wave enticingly before the woman's face. He yawned slightly, as if bored, hiding his grin when he saw the woman's eyes gradually slide over to where the ribbons dangled from his outstretched arm.

"Henry, look at them. If they ain't the prettiest silks I've ever seen," she breathed.

Henry glanced over. "Got yerself a ribbon fer the Michaelmas fair. Reckon that be enough."

The woman's expression fell, but she couldn't draw her eyes away from the silken display of ribbons. Farley Odell eyed this Henry fellow with growing dislike, thinking the woman deserved a ribbon, or
.
.
.

Slowly, Farley withdrew several of the scented sachets from his pocket. Each one of the linen squares had been beautifully embroidered and edged with delicate lace and tiny ribbons.
Without
meaning to do so, he gestured toward the man, allowing a liberal whiff of the heady blend of scents to pass beneath his nose.

"Oh, I've never seen anything so beautiful," the woman sighed. "Oh, they smell good," she said when Farley obliged and held one close to her nose, making certain Henry got another good sniff of it.

"Aye, made by a beautiful young maiden they were. Think of these fancy sachets, soft as a woman's flesh, and smelling just as sweet, scenting your dowry chest and the linens of your bed. Ah, makes a man wish he were layin' there right now, hearin' the winds and rains outside, but knowin' he's warm and snug with his wife tucked in beside him and nothin' to do 'til mornin'," Farley said, a look of longing on his face.

"Henry?"

Henry eyed the short man with the dark hair a bit suspiciously; then remembering that sweet smell and the long winter coming, he nodded. "What ye want fer a couple o' them things? Don't got any money to spend on this, but maybe we got a few extra eggs and some cheese."

"I just baked a whole oven full of tarts!"

Farley Odell made a fine show of hesitating, as if deep in thought, but when he glanced Tristram's way, he winked broadly.

Tristram winked back, nearly missing one of the boxes, but he quickly got his rhythm again and began to throw the boxes even higher, much to the squealing delight of the two children. Feeling quiet pleased with himself, Tristram Christian was rather surprised, therefore, when one of the boxes suddenly disappeared and never came down.

Spinning around, Tristram felt his jaw drop as he stared at the tall figure standing just behind him, the missing box held in his hand.

"Cap'n! You came! I
knew
you would. I knew you wouldn't forget about us. Lily said you didn't care anymore about us, but I knew she was wrong! I knew it!" Tristram cried, and, forgetting his audience, he threw himself into Valentine Whitelaw's outstretched arms with boyish abandon.

"Of course I haven't forgotten about you, lad," Valentine spoke, strangely touched by the boy's almost tearful reception. "Where are Lily and Dulcie? Are they all right?" he asked, still disbelieving of the sight that had met their eyes when they'd ridden up to the farm to ask directions and had seen Tristram standing there
juggling
as if he hadn't a care in the world.

Farley Odell was less enthusiastic that Tristram to find Captain Whitelaw and his stern-faced manservant staring at him as if waiting for an explanation.

"Lily and Dulcie are back at the camp. Fairfax is there keeping an eye on things. He's going to go fishing for trout for our breakfast-
-
well, lunch now. Lily will probably cook it, 'cause Tillie can't get around very easily anymore," Tristram said gazing up into Valentine Whitelaw's face for a long moment before glancing over at the other two men. "Mustafa! Simon! You came looking for us too."

Simon took a deep breath, he still couldn't believe that they'd found them. "We've been searching all over England for you, Tristram," he said, impatient now to find Lily and Dulcie.

"Everything is going to be all right. I just know it. Wait till Lily sees you riding back with us, Cap'n. Is she going to be surprised! She'll have to take back every nasty thing she said about you," Tristram laughed.

"Why don't we go give her that surprise," Valentine said, his pride smarting still from Tristram's remark that Lily thought he didn't care about them anymore. "You can ride with me," he said, and mounting, he reached down and pulled Tristram up behind him.

Glancing over to where Farley Odell still stood in silenced, he said, "I think we must have a very long talk, Farley Odell."

"I want them sachets," Henry said, glancing between the two men, one of whom was obviously a gentleman, but he was determined to get his hands on those sachets. "Reckon I might even give ye a hen fer a couple, and the eggs she's laid."

Farley Odell swallowed, and gathering his courage, he said, "Aye, Cap'n, that we do. Reckon ye'll be wantin' some explanations. Oughta take care of this business first. Reckon ye and the others might even be a bit hungry after yer ride. Why don't I follow ye in just a wee minute or two. The lad can fill ye in on most of what's happened. Know ye want to find Mistress Lily and little Dulcie. I'll be right with ye, Cap'n," he added a trifle lamely.

"I'll leave Mustafa here with you. You can ride behind him back to camp," Valentine said much to Farley Odell's consternation as he thought of being so close to that wicked-looking sword of the Turk's.

"Oh, I can walk back. Ain't far. Just beyond them trees, other side of the meadow," Farley said quickly.

"Not at all. We wouldn't want you to become lost. Can you guide us to the camp, Tristram?" Valentine asked, turning away dismissingly from a flustered Farley Odell who was thinking of poor Fairfax looking up to see Valentine
Whitelaw
riding into camp.

Fairfax Odell thought he was hearing bells at first, so shrill and
repetitious
were the sounds. Gradually, however, he realized that it was screaming he was hearing, and that it was coming from their camp.

Dropping the fishing line, he bolted through the trees, his big figure crashing through the undergrowth like a mad bull's as he broke through the trees and raced across the meadow toward the screaming. He reached the cart, but it was empty. The horse was still grazing in the meadow, but Tillie had disappeared, along with Dulcie, whom he'd seen not more than fifteen minutes earlier picking berries near where he'd been fishing. Mistress Lily was missing too, he realized.

He stood listening for a moment, for the screaming had stopped, then he started to run along the edge of the meadow when he heard Tillie's cries for help. He saw the small copse ahead, then Tillie's figure came staggering out, waving her arms to attract his attention.

"Oh, Fairfax, hurry! Hurry! 'Tis the mistress, I think she's dead!"

Fairfax had never run so fast in his life. Nor had he ever been so frightened in his life when he came to an abrupt halt beside the pool. Lying facedown in the
water
, her red hair floating out around her pale body was Lily Christian.

"Oh, no! Oh, Lord! What am I goin' to do?" he cried, his blue eyes wide with disbelief.

"Save her, Fairfax! Ye got to do something!" Tillie cried, shaking his arm.

"I can't swim, Tillie!" he yelled.

Before he could do anything, Dulcie had jumped into the pool, her small figure bobbing up and down for a moment, then she had disappeared. Tillie screamed, thinking the little girl had drowned, but then the dark head reappeared near Lily and she was pushing her sister over so that she was no longer facedown in the water.

As they watched, horrified, both heads disappeared beneath the surface. Fairfax glanced around, and reaching out, he broke a large branch. Before Tillie could stop him, he'd started to wade into the pond, but it was deep and his feet slipped, his shoulders and head disappearing beneath the water. He came up gasping for breath, his arms flailing wildly. Tillie grasped the end of the branch that had drifted toward shore and called to him to grab the other end, then she pulled him close enough to the bank for him to
struggle
out.

Raphael was racing back and forth along the bank, his frenzied barking masking the sound of quickly approaching footsteps from behind; then there was a splash of water as a figure dived into the pool, followed quickly by another, smaller one.

Fairfax, still coughing up water, watched in amazement as young Master Tristram grabbed hold of his little sister and pulled her to shore, swimming as easily as a fish even though his arm was hooked around Dulcie's shoulders. Fairfax struggled to his feet to lend a hand, but stumbled weakly to his knees. But he wasn't needed, for Simon Whitelaw was suddenly there, and standing waist deep in the water, he pulled Tristram and Dulcie up on the bank. Fairfax sighed with relief when he heard the little girl's soft cries as Simon Whitelaw comforted her.

Turning his gaze back to the pond, he watched as Valentine Whitelaw swam toward the bank with Lily Christian, her long red hair floating around her like a veil. Finding his footing, he stood up and waded from the pool, the unconscious girl held in his arms.