Mystique

Chapter 10

The following morning Alice dusted off her new desk and seated herself behind it. She gazed around her with a sense of satisfaction.

The chamber she had chosen to use as a study was located on the highest floor of the keep. It was spacious and filled with a surprising amount of light. There was even a certain grace to the proportions of the room. It was a chamber that would lend itself well to investigations of natural philosophy.

Her books and chests of stones, the tray of dead insects, and her alchemical apparatus had been unpacked and carefully arranged on the nearby shelves and work-tables. The astrolabe was on the windowsill. The green crystal sat on the corner of her desk.

Alice felt curiously at home. In all the months she had lived at Lingwood Hall she had never once known this feeling. She could be happy here, she realized. All she had to do was accept Hugh's offer to make their betrothal genuine.

All she had to do was marry the man they called Relentless.

All she had to do was wed a man who clearly valued efficiency and convenience far more than he valued love.

She was not at all certain that Hugh even believed in love.

Memories of her mother drifted through her head in silent warning. Helen had once believed she could teach a man to love, Alice thought sadly. She had been wrong.

Alice knew her mother had once been a warm and vibrant woman, a woman passionately in love with her husband. But Bernard had managed to kill that love by treating it callously and by refusing to return it.

Helen had married a man who had never learned to love her. She had paid a steep price. And so had her children.

Alice glanced at the handbook her mother had written. Sometimes she almost hated the thing. It contained much knowledge and the results of painstaking study and correspondence with learned people all over Europe. But Alice and Benedict had suffered a great deal because of it.

Toward the end of her life the handbook had absorbed more and more of Helen's devotion and attention. There had been very little left for Alice and her brother.

Alice got to her feet and went to the window. The stony cliffs of Scarcliffe brooded over the keep in what could be perceived as either a threatening or a protective fashion.

Yesterday she had been startled by her first view of the forbidding black fortress. There was a bleak strength in it that certainly offered the promise of protection but there was no evidence of warmth or softness in the stark edifice. It suited its new master well, Alice thought. Hugh and his keep had a great deal in common.

But what of Hugh's heart? Was it as hard and cold as the stone walls of this great fortress? Or was there some hope that she could find some gentleness in him?

Such insidious, seductive thoughts were dangerous to her peace of mind.

She turned away from the window, aware that her own heart was in grave jeopardy. The fact that she was even contemplating the notion of making the betrothal real should have sent a shaft of grave alarm through her.

Aye, she could be happy here, Alice told herself. But the odds were against it.

Best to maintain a certain distance. Best to hold herself apart. Best to keep her emotions safely locked inside.

She must not make the same mistake her mother had made.

Three days later Hugh looked up from his desk to see his new household steward hovering in the doorway. "Aye?"

"Sorry to dis-disturb you, m'lord." Elbert, a lean, awkward young man possessed of what Hugh perceived to be a very anxious disposition, swallowed several times in an obvious attempt to gather his courage. And to find his tongue. Elbert had an unfortunate tendency to stutter whenever he was in Hugh's presence.

"What is it, steward?" Hugh put aside his abacus and waited impatiently.

Privately he admitted that he knew little of the qualifications that were desirable in a household steward. But whatever those qualifications were, Hugh was convinced that Elbert lacked them all. The man was clearly terrified of his new master and was inclined to stumble over his own feet whenever Hugh was in the vicinity.

On top of his other faults, Elbert's skill at managing the household was not impressive. Although he had seen to it that the chambers were cleaned, the midday meals had been harrowing experiences. Food had arrived from the kitchens cold and poorly spiced. There had been an insufficient number of bread trenchers to serve everyone. The crash of falling ale mugs and overloaded platters had created an unpleasant din.

Hugh was not looking forward to his next meal.

Alice, he noted grimly, had been spared the ordeal. She and Benedict had taken their meals in the chambers that she had claimed for their personal use. Special instructions had been given to the cooks. Hugh had a strong suspicion that she was eating far better than he.

The only reason Hugh had not dismissed Elbert from his new post within an hour after he had been appointed was that Alice had been the one who had chosen the new steward. She had agreed to do so only after Hugh had specifically asked her to assume the task.

He had thought that she would take charge of the entire household. Instead, she had simply selected Elbert, as requested, and then she had returned to her own chambers.

Things were not going according to the stratagem Hugh had so carefully worked out. He was more than willing to give Alice all the responsibility and authority she wished but she did not seem eager to claim it. He was baffled and irritated by the failure of his plan.

"Well?" Hugh prompted when Elbert simply stared at him, openmouthed.

Elbert hastily closed his mouth. "A messenger, m'lord."

"A messenger?"

"Aye, m'lord." Elbert straightened his red cap with an awkward gesture. "He arrived a few minutes ago with a letter for you. He says he's to stay the night."

"Send him to me, steward."

"Aye, m'lord." Elbert backed hurriedly out into the corridor and managed to trip in the process. He caught himself, whirled, and ran down the hall.

Hugh sighed and went back to work on the abacus. A few minutes later Elbert conducted into the chamber a lean, jaunty man who somehow managed to appear fashionable in a travel-stained cloak and muddy boots.

"Greetings, Julian," Hugh said. "A good journey, I trust?"

"Aye, sir." Julian swept Hugh an elegant bow and handed him the letter. "A good horse and no rain. A bit of trouble with a pack of robbers on the Windlesea road but I showed them your seal and that was the end of the matter."

"I am pleased to hear that." Hugh glanced at the letter.

Julian coughed discreetly. "Your pardon, sir, but I feel obliged to point out that there likely wouldn't have been any trouble at all if I had been wearing a proper livery. I think something in blue and yellow trimmed with a bit of gold braid would be nice."

"Later, Julian."

"My post requires something quite eye-catching. Robbers would notice it straight off. They would recognize your man and never bother him at all."

Hugh glanced up warily. "We've discussed this matter before, messenger. You are supplied every year with a serviceable robe, cloak, boots, and a new leather pouch."

"Aye, m'lord, and 'tis most generous of you," Julian murmured. "But everything you supply comes in only one color."

"What of it?"

"Black is not a fashionable color, m'lord," Julian said with a hint of exasperation. "I look like a wandering monk on the road."

"Would that you would travel as frugally as one. Your quarterly expenses were outrageous. I meant to speak to you about them."

"I can explain them all," Julian said smoothly.

"I trust you can."

"Sir, about the new livery."

"What new livery?" Hugh growled. "I just told you there will not be any new livery."

Julian plucked at his sleeve with an expression of disgust. "Very well, let us assume that we stick with the basic black."

"An excellent assumption."

"It would be somewhat more attractive if you would at least allow some gold braid."

"Gold braid? For a messenger to wear in the mud and snow? Madness. You'd likely be murdered on the highway for the trim on your robe."

"Not three months past John of Larkenby gave his personal messenger a fine new robe of emerald green," Julian said persuasively. "Trimmed in orange. And a matching cap. Very nice."

"Enough of this nonsense. Any word of my liege lord's health?"

Julian's handsome face sobered. "I gave him your regards, as you requested."

"You saw Sir Erasmus?"

"Aye. He received me only because I am your man. I hear that he sees very few visitors these days. His wife handles most of his affairs now."

"How did he appear?" Hugh asked.

" 'Tis obvious he is very ill, my lord. He will not speak of it, but his wife is red-eyed from weeping. The doctors believe his heart is failing him. He is very thin. He starts at every small sound. He looks exhausted and yet he says he cannot sleep."

"I was hoping the news would be better."

Julian shook his head. "I am sorry, my lord. He sent you his best wishes."

"Aye, well, what will be, will be." Hugh slit the seal on the letter. "Go to the kitchen and get yourself something to eat."

"Aye, m'lord." Julian hesitated. "About the livery. I know how you feel about the expense. But it strikes me that now that you've got lands of your own and a fine keep, you'll want the members of your household dressed in a fitting manner. After all, m'lord, the world judges a man by the clothing his people are given to wear."

"When I find myself concerned with the opinion of the world, I'll let you know. Begone, messenger."

"Aye, m'lord." Julian had served Hugh long enough to know when he had pushed his master's patience far enough. He bowed himself out of the chamber with his elegant, slightly supercilious manners and went off down the hall, whistling.

Hugh gazed unseeingly at the letter in his hand. Erasmus of Thornewood was dying. There could no longer be much doubt. Hugh knew that he was soon going to lose the man who had been in many ways a father to him.

He swallowed heavily to relieve a sudden fullness in his throat, blinked once or twice to clear his eyes, and then he concentrated on the letter.

The missive was from his London steward. It reported on the successful arrival of a shipload of spice. The steward had, in his usual punctilious fashion, listed each chest, its contents and estimated value, together with notes concerning the expenses. Hugh reached for the abacus.

"Excuse me, my lord," Benedict said from the doorway.

Hugh glanced up from his work. "Aye?"

"Sir Dunstan sent me to tell you that the stables have been cleaned and made ready. He wants to know if you wish to speak with the blacksmith." Benedict caught sight of the abacus and paused. "What is that, my lord?"

" 'Tis called an abacus. It is used for making calculations."

"I have heard of such." Benedict came forward with an intent expression. His staff thumped on the floor. "How does it work?"

Hugh smiled slowly. "I'll show you, if you like. One can do sums, multiply, or divide. Most useful for keeping one's accounts."

"I would like to learn how to use it." Benedict glanced up shyly. "I have always been interested in such matters."

"Have you?"

"Aye. Alice taught me as much as she knows about calculations but, in truth, 'tis not an area of great interest to her. She prefers matters of natural philosophy."

"I know." Hugh studied Benedict's rapt expression. "Benedict, I think it's time that you dined in the great hall together with your lord and the rest of the men of this manor. You will present yourself downstairs today at the midday meal."

Benedict looked up sharply. "Dine with you, my lord? But Alice thinks it best if we eat in our own chambers."

"Alice may do as she pleases. But you are one of my men and you will dine with the rest of us."

"One of your men?" Benedict looked startled at that notion.

"Your sister is betrothed to me and you live here at Scarcliffe," Hugh said casually. "That makes you a member of my household, does it not?"

"I had not thought of it in such terms." A shy eagerness appeared in his eyes. "You are right. I will do as you command, my lord."

"Excellent. Speaking of Alice, where is your sister?"

"She went into the village to speak with Prioress Joan." Benedict picked up the abacus with reverent hands.

"Did she go alone?"

"Aye."

"Did she say when she would return?"

"Not for some time." Benedict carefully moved one of the red counters along a thin wooden rod. "I believe she mentioned something about searching out some new stones for her collection."

Hugh frowned. "Stones?"

"Aye. She expects to find some interesting ones in the cliff caves."

"Hellfire and Saints' bones." Hugh surged to his feet and started around the edge of his desk. "Your sister is going to turn me into a madman."

"That's what Uncle Ralf always used to say, too."

Hugh paid no attention. He was already halfway down the hall, heading for the staircase.