While Beauty Slept (32 page)

“Elise, take hold of yourself,” she said briskly. Years of experience with hysterical housemaids had taught her well. She put down her pen and took me by the shoulders, planting me firmly on a stool by the fireplace. She sat in a rocking chair opposite me and leaned forward, her hands on her knees.

“Now, what is this all about?” she asked gently.

“Sir Walthur,” I said. “He knows, about me and Prince Bowen. You were the one who said that knowledge must be kept secret.”

“When I thought it might be a danger to you, yes,” Mrs. Tewkes said.

“The queen herself does not know!” I exclaimed. “What business is it of Sir Walthur’s? And what does Dorian want with me?”

Mrs. Tewkes sat back and folded her hands across her chest. She regarded me with an expression I knew well, one that proclaimed her wisdom in the ways of the world. It was a look she used often to silence any young servant who dared question her edicts.

“I can see it’s been a shock, and I’ll make allowances for that, but you must see you’ve been offered a great privilege. I expected thanks rather than a scolding.”

I stared at her, perplexed.

“Yes, I’m the one who put you forward as a possible wife for Dorian, and I’m glad I did. Do you think your mother would have wanted you to remain unmarried? I know you had your heart broken—most of us have. But we learn to pick ourselves up and move on.

“When you were twenty or twenty-one, you could have made a good match. Yet you cut off any man who showed an interest. What do you think happens to an unmarried woman as she ages? When you’re no longer lively enough to tend to the queen? You have no family, no home of your own. Oh, you may have saved enough to live in a rooming house, with enough for a meal or two a day. But do you not wish for better?”

I might be considered an old maid, but I was hardly old; I’d never given a thought to what would happen to me in twenty or thirty years. Now, considering Mrs. Tewkes’s words, I realized that there were no elderly female servants at the castle. Of course not. Room and board were granted only to those who could work. If you were heard gasping for breath as you climbed the stairs or your hands could not keep a firm grip on a tray, you would be dismissed. And what then?

“I will tell you what happened, and you may reserve judgment until I finish,” Mrs. Tewkes said. “Yesterday Dorian strode up to me in the Great Hall, with that wide grin of his, and said, ‘Mrs. T., I have a problem only you can solve.’ He told me his father was pressing him to marry, and he wondered if I knew of any good prospects. ‘You know everything that goes on at court, far better than my father,’ he said, and that’s true enough. I mentioned a few ladies of suitable age and family, and he hemmed and hawed, but I could see he had already considered and rejected them. I do not know what made me mention your name. It was a thrown-off suggestion, made in passing, but he perked up immediately.”

My suspicious, stiff posture had gradually loosened, and I listened to her intently.

“I remember his words exactly: ‘She intrigues me.’ Fancy someone of Dorian’s rank saying that about you! But it’s often that way with men. A woman who succumbs quickly loses her charm, while one who holds herself apart retains her appeal. You may well be the most attractive woman at court he’s never gotten his hands on.”

“For good reason,” I said indignantly.

“He’s always been a rascal,” Mrs. Tewkes agreed. “But he’s older now, looking to the future. Imagine, being daughter-in-law to the king’s counselor!”

“So you sweetened the pot by telling him of my parentage,” I said.

Mrs. Tewkes shook her head. “No, Dorian was ready enough to take you. It was his father who needed convincing. He came barging in, much as you did a few minutes ago, demanding I give him an account of your background and temperament. I told him of your loyalty to the king and queen, along with assurances of your virtue. Still he wavered. So I offered a final point in your favor, and it was as I’d hoped. At the mention of your true father, he dropped his objections.”

I sat hunched over on the stool, the strength of righteous anger drained from my body.

“Courage, girl,” Mrs. Tewkes urged. “Your future is secured!”

The most handsome man at court wished to marry me, and his father, Mrs. Tewkes, and the queen favored the match. What did my own desires matter? As Mrs. Tewkes made so clear, such a chance would never come my way again.

I rose to leave and thanked Mrs. Tewkes for her efforts on my behalf. Just before leaving, I paused in the doorway.

“I have not forgotten the promises Dorian once made Petra, only to throw her aside,” I said. “How many other maids has he seduced?”

Mrs. Tewkes shrugged. “He has had his way with those he wanted. Mind you, none of them were seduced unwillingly. I know of only one who bore him a child. Sir Walthur saw she was well taken care of.”

I nodded, but Mrs. Tewkes noted my distaste. “Things are not always as clear as you imagine,” she warned. “Karina was never one to deny a man her favors. The child may not even be his. She may have tricked Dorian into paying her to raise another man’s bastard.”

It was hardly comforting. All I had heard of my future husband only confirmed my worst suspicions.

When I returned to Queen Lenore’s chambers, a few of her ladies were gathered in the sitting room, working quietly at their sewing.

“You’ve had a visitor,” one of them said. Her eyes remained fixed on her stitches as she said Dorian’s name, but I could hear the curiosity threatening to burst through her indifferent air. “He said he’ll be in the armory should you wish to speak with him.”

I wondered if rumors of his proposal had already wafted through court. As soon as I walked from the chamber, I could hear Lenore’s ladies whispering. As one who had never been the subject of noblewomen’s gossip, I found the sound troubling.

The armory was a brick building behind the stables, abutting the castle walls. It was defiantly male territory, filled with swords and spikes and noxious with the smoke that clouded from the blacksmiths’ bellows. I stared into its murky depths from the arched entrance, then stepped cautiously inside, anxious not to be hit by an errant weapon. Directly before me stood two men drenched with sweat, trading insults in harsh, angry barks. Breaking off their argument when they noticed me, they assessed my nervous posture and delicate gown and scowled with suspicion. I feared I had made a mistake in coming.

“Ah! Miss Elise!”

Dorian approached from the middle of the dim room, holding a sword that flashed as it reflected nearby flames. With his broad shoulders and vigorous gait, he was the very picture of a soldier. His hair had lost the golden glow of youth, but his looks remained striking: clear blue eyes that appeared incapable of anger, a strong chin, muscular legs and arms. In the shadowy armory, he alone appeared lit by a magical glow. My eyes could not help being drawn toward him.

I held back, waiting. He nodded in my direction, then said a few words to the metalsmith at his side. He waved the sword quickly back and forth, perhaps for my benefit, for he did look striking doing so, and Dorian was well aware what effect his looks had on women. Satisfied, he handed off his weapon and walked toward me.

“It’s time we talked,” he said. “Come.”

He was accustomed to being obeyed, and I was accustomed to being led. Without asking where we were going, I followed him past the stables and toward a staircase that scaled the castle wall.

“Have you ever been up there?” he asked, pointing to the walkway that led around the top.

I shook my head.

“The view is worth seeing. Besides, we are less likely to be overheard.” He ascended the stone stairs two at a time; concerned for my skirts, I walked slowly, feeling my head reel as I approached the top. Standing on the narrow stone path at the top of the wall, Dorian held out a hand to steady me. He led me a few paces along the walkway, toward a small enclosed guard tower.

Dorian pointed out the window, and I saw lush farmlands spread below my feet, stretching far as I could see. To my right was St. Elsip; directly ahead the mountains of Allsbury loomed on the horizon. Surveying the land before me, I realized with a start that I was looking down on the woods where Marcus had taken me years before. Somewhere in those trees was the meadow where we kissed. And nearby the tannery,
his
tannery, the place he worked and lived with his wife and family. I pulled my eyes away and looked outward. Fields of late-summer crops covered the land in a pattern of golds and greens. Brown country lanes snaked across them like twisted vines.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

“Soldiers grow accustomed to such sights,” Dorian said. “You look upon it with fresh eyes.”

The sound of his voice brought me back to the reason for our visit. “Dorian . . .” I began.

He pressed a finger to my lips. The familiarity of the gesture surprised me. I was not sure whether to be offended by his presumption or flattered.

“I must first offer my apologies,” he said. “I had hoped to approach you myself, to make my case as a gentleman. Instead I find that my father has spoiled my gallant plan with his meddling. I never intended to have my offer discussed by half the castle before we had a chance to speak.”

His hand moved away from my face and came to rest on my arm. The skin beneath my sleeve warmed at his touch.

“We are little more than acquaintances, Elise, but you have all the qualities I seek in a wife. Loyalty, discretion, patience. And other charms not so easily apparent. Your modesty has kept your loveliness well hidden.”

The warmth from my arm spread up toward my face. I remembered, with shame, the moment he had spotted me eavesdropping on his seduction of Petra. The pleasure he had taken in my attention. How I wished myself incapable of blushing, for it revealed emotions I preferred to mask.

“I am greatly honored,” I murmured, pulling away from him. “Yet I believe you were pledged once to another more beautiful than
I.”

“Freydig?” he asked, puzzled, and I guessed she was the intended wife who had recently died. “She was hardly a beauty, God rest her soul.”

How soon he forgot. I could see my friend’s desolate countenance as clearly as if I had just come from her side, and my stomach lurched with anger at his treachery. Then his face fell, and suddenly I glimpsed another side to the man I had spent so long disparaging.

“Petra.”

He said her name in a whisper, and it was enough. Enough for me to know that he had loved her.

“Is she well?” he asked, his voice returning to the smooth, polite tone of a courtier.

“She married and moved from town some years ago.” I decided to say nothing of her husband. A man of Dorian’s position would hardly consider a blacksmith a great match.

“And you have heard nothing from her since?”

I shook my head.

For a brief moment, Dorian’s face was shadowed with disappointment. He turned and looked down into the courtyard, where a group of riders were preparing to depart with much jostling and shouting. If he had intended to be one of the party, he must have changed his mind, for he soon brought his attention back to me.

“She always spoke well of you,” he said.

“She also had much to say about you.”

He let out a whoop of laughter, and his unexpected joviality took me aback. Was he mocking me or admiring my spirit?

“I imagine she did. Petra never minced words. It was one of her most admirable qualities.”

“Yet such qualities were not enough to make her your wife.”

Dorian’s eyes fixed on mine, the crinkles of amusement gone. Up close I could see the signs of hard living etched on his face, but they enhanced rather than marred his good looks. I’d felt little attraction to the pretty boy Petra had swooned over, but this Dorian had earned the right to carry himself with a knight’s swagger.

“I never intended to wrong Petra,” he said. “We were young and foolish, and we spoke of marriage as two besotted children would. With very little thought to the future.”

For years I had thought Petra the victim of Dorian’s cunning. But what if he was telling the truth? What if he believed his promises when he made them?

“Since I was knee-high, I’ve followed my father’s commands,” he continued. “He chose my companions and horse when I was a boy, and I knew he would choose my bride when the time came. Like any headstrong youth who fancies himself a man, I toyed with defying him. Yet I never had the courage to do so. Until now.”

He reached out and pulled my hands into his. “Elise, I’ll speak plainly. My father would like nothing better than to arrange another marriage with a suitably wealthy girl. But this time I will make the choice for myself.”

“And you choose me? Why?”

“I believe we would make a good match. You understand the ways of court, and you can see to yourself if I am called to battle. I do not have the makings of a perfect husband, but I can promise you the full honor of my family’s name.”

His rough thumbs caressed the delicate skin of my wrists.

“Will you have me?”

It was by no means the declaration of love I had imagined from my future husband. But he made no false promises, and perhaps that was more valuable than poetry.