Someone knocked on her door. It was Beatris, her face stony. “Sister Raula says I am next.”
Tabitha nodded and let Beatris in, then slipped to the outer room and shut the door behind her. Sister Raula was talking to Mistress Sabine, but stopped mid-sentence. Mistress Sabine said, “Please join the other girls downstairs, Tabitha,” she said, her expression carefully blank. “Mistress Cortille and Mistress Evonne are with them. I think it would help if you told them what to expect.”
Tabitha nodded again. Downstairs in the blue receiving room, she saw the chairs and other furniture were all put back as they had been before the players’ dreary show. Pamela, Jenevive, and Marjorie stood silently near the settee, while Mistress Cortille and Mistress Evonne stood all the way on the other end of the room by the closed door, talking quietly. Everyone looked up when Tabitha approached.
“It was not bad,” she told her friends quietly. “It only hurt a little.”
“What was she looking for?” Jenevive demanded.
Tabitha only shrugged. She wondered if Jenevive had a reason to worry. She claimed to have kissed six different boys. Had one of them swept her away like Alain had swept Tabitha away? But if she was not a virgin, Catherine’s letter would not have scared her so much.
Tabitha sank down into a cushioned chair and folded her hands in her lap. After a while Pamela sat down on the settee, but her normal prattle had been utterly stilled. Marjorie continued to stare out a window while Jenevive started a slow, circular pacing in front of the fireplace. Mistress Cortille and Mistress Evonne remained at the other end of the room, talking together with their backs to Tabitha and her friends. It was likely that they were here as chaperones since Mistress Sabine was upstairs.
Why was Mistress Sabine upstairs, anyway? Why was she not down here chaperoning them while Mistress Cortille consulted with Sister Raula? Mistress Cortille was the castle’s healer for women, as well as Beatris’s teacher in that craft. Tabitha thought she understood why Sister Raula was doing the examinations instead of Mistress Cortille, since people might think that Mistress Cortille might lie to protect Beatris and the rest of them.
The rest of us. Was Sister Raula going to examine Mistress Sabine too? Was that why she was still up there, so she could have her turn after all the girls had finished? Unsurprisingly, Mistress Sabine had never married, so by all that was right and proper, she ought to still be a virgin too. If she was not a virgin, it was not proof that she had been with Alain. Sister Raula had said that every woman in the castle was a suspect, but Mistress Cortille was a widow with a dozen children and two dozen grandchildren, and Mistress Evonne was past forty and married to one of the captains of the guard. They clearly were not virgins, so examining them made no sense. That was why they were down here and Mistress Sabine was upstairs.
Could Tabitha make Mistress Sabine look guilty? She had never really liked the governess, and it would divert suspicion from herself and her friends. She was still considering it when Beatris came into the room.
Everyone looked at her. Her plain face was as stony as it had been before. “Pamela, they would like you to go up next.”
Pamela cringed. She closed her eyes and her lips moved. When she got up and went to the door, Beatris stopped her to give her a hug. Pamela sniffled and left the room, and Beatris sat down in Pamela’s spot.
“Did it hurt?” Jenevive asked her from where she now stood in front of the harpsichord.
“Just once, a bit.” Stony. That was the only word Tabitha could think to describe how Beatris looked and how she spoke.
Time passed, and eventually Pamela returned, in tears. Beatris hurried to her and gave her another hug. “What happened?”
Pamela sobbed as she told Beatris something, and Beatris hugged her harder. “It’s all right, it’s over. It’s over.”
“What happened?” Tabitha asked, knowing that Jenevive and Marjorie were listening too.
Pamela pulled away from Beatris and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “She did not hurt me.” She took two deep breaths. “It was just—just uncomfortable. She said my maidenhead is whole.” She held back a fresh sob.
Beatris nodded encouragingly, her arm still around Pamela’s shoulders.
“But then she asked me about Lord Daniel, and if he had ever touched me. I said no, of course not. She asked if he had ever kissed me or, or done things, not bedding, other things. Done them and told me not to tell. I said no, never, he is a gentleman, he would never do that. But from the look on her face, I could tell she did not believe me. I could tell.” Pamela’s sob broke through, and Beatris hugged her again. “Why did she ask me that? Why would she say I am a virgin and then ask me if he had done things to me?”
“I don’t know,” Beatris murmured. “But it’s over now.”
Jenevive seemed about to say something, but then she frowned hard, muttered under her breath, and stalked toward the stairs.
Beatris sat Pamela down on the settee, then sat next to her and spoke softly to her. Pamela sniffled and sometimes answered. As she looked at their dark heads leaning close together, Tabitha almost insisted that they include her in their talk, but it was not worth the trouble. She did wonder how Sister Raula could possibly take seriously the idea that Pamela had been “doing things” with Lord Daniel. Pamela was still practically a child.
More time passed, and then Jenevive’s footsteps made them all look up. Tabitha opened her mouth to ask how it had gone, but suddenly Marjorie ran past them, faster than Tabitha had ever seen her move, toward the staircase Jenevive had just come down. Jenevive whirled in the doorway and looked after her, then looked back at the rest of them. “Why is she running?”
No one could answer. It was disturbing. Jenevive sat down in the chair next to Tabitha’s, and the four of them waited.
Marjorie did not return. Instead, after a much longer time than before, Mistress Sabine came downstairs. She did not look at Tabitha or the others. Tears streaked her face. She hurried toward the room’s far door leading out to the gallery.
“Mistress Sabine?” Beatris called. Mistress Evonne and Mistress Cortille looked up at her call, but Mistress Sabine herself ignored her. Beatris stood. “Mistress Sabine!”
Mistress Sabine stopped and whispered to Mistress Evonne and Mistress Cortille. Low, fast words were exchanged, and Beatris started to walk across the room to them. Before she got there, Mistress Sabine and Mistress Evonne left the room and shut the door behind them, and Mistress Cortille turned to Beatris. “Everyone needs to stay here,” she said firmly.
Beatris stared at her for a long moment, and then turned to walk toward the other door and the staircase up to their chambers. Pamela followed her. Jenevive looked at Tabitha, who was trying to understand what she had just seen. If Mistress Sabine was so upset, it could only mean that Sister Raula had told her Marjorie was not a virgin. And the idea of Marjorie not being a virgin was ridiculous.
Jenevive ran to catch up to Beatris and Pamela, and Tabitha ran after her, only a step ahead of Mistress Cortille, who had not tried to stop any of them. Beatris was on the landing in front of the door to their chambers, pulling at the handle, but it would not turn. “Marjorie!” Beatris called. “Sister Raula!”
No one answered, and Tabitha shouldered Beatris aside. She spoke sharply through the door. “Sister Raula, this is Lady Tabitha. You will open this door.”
They heard the bolt, and Sister Raula slipped out of the door and closed it again, leaning against it. “I am sorry, ladies,” she said firmly, “but I can’t allow you to see Lady Marjorie.”
“Why not?” Beatris demanded.
“Beatris!” Tabitha snarled. Then she swallowed and spoke more softly, more appropriately. “Let me handle this.”
Mistress Cortille placed her hand on Beatris’s shoulder, and Beatris held her mouth closed. Tabitha turned to Sister Raula. “We will speak to Marjorie, Sister,” she said, in a voice that usually sent the servants scurrying. “Right now.”
“I can’t all
ow it, my lady.” The holy sister’s old skin looked like parchment against her blue veil. “I fear she may have been with the knight.”
“That’s impossible!” Beatris burst out.
Sister Raula still addressed Tabitha. “I sent Mistress Sabine for your father the duke, so that he may decide what to do.”
Marjorie. My God, not Marjorie. Tabitha had never intended this. Mistress Sabine or some servant was supposed to take the blame, not Marjorie. Tabitha could not sacrifice her best friend. She did not know what to do. She did not even know what to think. She just stood there and tried to make her mind work, but it was stuck in one place. Not Marjorie. Not Marjorie. Not Marjorie.
Fortunately Sister Raula took her expression for astonished denial. “I am very sorry, my lady. But I have discovered that Lady Marjorie is not a virgin. I must consider that in—”
“Let us talk to her,” Beatris interrupted. “Please. She never left our chambers last night.”
Sister Raula shook her head. “I will not discuss this with any of you. I must tell his Grace first.”
A commotion at the stairs made them all turn. Two of her father’s guardsmen had arrived with their dogs at the landing, and they were looking at the girls uncomfortably. Beatris whirled back to Sister Raula. “Please let us talk to her! Don’t let them take her!”
“They are not taking her anywhere,” Sister Raula said in a voice probably meant to be soothing. Tabitha still could not believe how fast all of this was happening, and she could not think of any way to take control of it. Sister Raula went on: “Marjorie will stay in Lady Tabitha’s bedchamber. I have sent for your chambermaids, and they will stay in the outer room. The guardsmen will stay right here outside the door. And the rest of us will go downstairs and await his Grace.” She gestured for Tabitha to precede her toward the stairs.
Tabitha did not immediately obey. But she could not think of a coherent protest. “Very well,” she said finally. Beatris opened her mouth, but Tabitha held up her hand at her. “I trust my father.”
Beatris could not say anything to that. They all held strained silences as they followed Tabitha past the guardsmen to the staircase. Back in the blue receiving room, Tabitha started to walk toward the chair in which she had sat for the last hour.
Not Marjorie.
A sudden wave of guilt swamped her, and she actually stumbled. Pamela caught her arm before she could fall. “Tabitha? What’s wrong?”
Calm and still! Tabitha shook free of Pamela’s hand. “Nothing. I tripped on the carpet.”
No one contradicted this, although it was not a good lie, since the carpet here was low and Tabitha so seldom tripped. They could not possibly know what had made her knees buckle. What was happening was so dreadful, how could anyone blame her for feeling a little faint?
Sister Raula went to the fireplace, threw in some sticks, and stood warming her hands. Mistress Cortille and Beatris began talking in low voices. Jenevive and Pamela hovered near Tabitha, their anxiety like a thick cloud in the air. They were so on edge that they both jumped a little when the door to the blue receiving room opened to admit Tabitha’s father.
He was dressed in black, as was his custom on Godsday, and his jowly face was set in the grave expression he wore while hearing courts. They all curtseyed to him. Mistress Sabine followed him inside, but no one else did, and a guardsman outside closed the door.
“Father.” Tabitha was the first to speak. She walked straight up to him and met his eyes. Fiercely met his eyes. If anyone could possibly read her sins in her face, it was her father, and she had to cover herself with affronted, distressed anger. “I must be allowed to speak to Marjorie.”
The duke nodded. “Yes, you will be allowed. But I must speak to her first.” Then he looked past her. “Sister Raula, Mistress Sabine told me what you told her. I need to speak to you, and then we three will speak to Lady Marjorie together, in Mistress Sabine’s chamber.” He looked back at Tabitha. “Forgive me, but your privacy must be invaded further. Your chambers must be searched for any evidence that Lady Marjorie, or anyone else, may have hidden.”
Calm and still. It would be normal for her to be upset, so she visibly swallowed back an angry protest, letting everyone see how well she was keeping her composure. “I understand, Father,” she said, her voice low. She was very glad she had thrown Marjorie’s robe down the privy hole. “But I am sure there is nothing. Marjorie is innocent.”
He only nodded. “Sister Raula,” he said, gesturing toward the stairs, “and Mistress Sabine.”
When they had gone, Mistress Cortille made herding motions with her skinny arms. “Come, girls, sit. It may be a while.”
None of them moved, and Tabitha was about to stiffly tell her that she preferred to stand, but Beatris said, “Mistress, please tell us how Sister Raula knows Marjorie is not a virgin. There has to be another explanation. She has never even kissed a boy.”
Mistress Cortille’s frown lines briefly disappeared as she looked at them in surprise, but then when she saw that they were all staring at her, she sniffed. “That is beyond the boundaries of suitable conversation right now.”
“Suitable?” Tabitha exclaimed at the same time Jenevive cried, “Boundaries?”
Beatris quickly cut in. “Mistress, respectfully, please pretend we are all apprentice healers. Pretend to be instructing us. After what we have been through today, we deserve to know.”
“You deserve to know?” Mistress Cortille frowned at Beatris. “The duke deserves the truth, and so do I. You girls must know something you are not telling any of us.”
Beatris stared at her with shocked hurt. Mistress Cortille primly quoted, “‘No man shall lay even the softest of hands upon a woman outside the holiest of vows and promises before Lord Abban.’ If Lady Marjorie and Sir Alain committed this sin, at any time, you have an obligation to let all of us know, right now. But you have not.”
Tabitha drew herself up to her full height to face the shorter Mistress Cortille, filling her whole body with righteous indignation. “How dare you,” she said icily. “How dare you say we are lying! When this is over and Marjorie is vindicated, I will have you expelled from my house. From my city.”
“Your father’s house, my lady,” Mistress Cortille corrected, just as icily. “Your father’s city. We will see.”
Tabitha whirled and marched back to the group of chairs on the far side of the room. Beatris, Pamela, and Jenevive followed her. The healer did not.
“Old hag,” Tabitha muttered as she sat down.
“She thinks we are covering for Marjorie,” Pamela whispered. “She thinks Marjorie did it.”
Jenevive looked at Tabitha. “What will your father do if he thinks she did it?”
Tabitha could not let her fear show. “I think she would be sent to a cloister. Confined there.”
Jenevive bit her lip. She tugged at her braid. “Would he … execute her?”
Silence fell over them like a lake of water. Finally Tabitha managed to say, “No.” She shook her head to conceal her trembling. “No. I would not let him.”
“Tabitha …” Jenevive began, but Tabitha shook her head harder.
“No. I am his daughter and she is my friend. I would ask for mercy and he would grant it. But it does not matter, since she did not do it. There is no proof that she did, and he is fair.”
“He is fair,” Beatris agreed. “So we need to find out what happened to Marjorie to make Sister Raula think she is not a virgin.”
Pamela asked the obvious question. “Did she used to ride horses? Maybe she rode astride, like Western girls do.”
“If she did, she never mentioned it to me,” Beatris said, and Tabitha and Jenevive also shook their heads.
“Is there a disease that she could have had?” Pamela asked next. “One that would make it look … down there … like she had been touched?”
“That’s what I was hoping a healer could tell us,” Beatris said tightly, throwing a quick glare over her shoulder.
&nbs
p; Tabitha’s spine itched as sweat rolled down it. Marjorie was not a virgin. Someone had swept Marjorie away, just like Alain had swept Tabitha away. Had it been a handsome servant boy back home? Some roguish wanderer during her journey to Betaul? A lowly musician on Solstice night? Tabitha knew that it did not take long to go from simple kisses to uncontrolled passion. Oh, Marjorie, I know how you feel. I will not let you die for it!
Then Jenevive said, with no expression at all, “Maybe she was raped.”
Another silence followed, broken when Pamela whispered, “But she would have told us.”
“No one tells,” Jenevive said. Beatris looked at her in alarm, but Jenevive shook her head in irritation. “Not me. Of course not me. I passed the examination. But how many other girls are too ashamed to admit they got trapped in a corner with a boy who wanted more than kisses?”
This drew a second look of alarm from Beatris, and this time Jenevive’s cheeks went redder than usual. She looked down at her hands, but as the silence stretched, it broke her. “Yes,” she admitted, low. “That happened. I hit him in the stomach and got away.”
Beatris’s face went soft. “You should have told us. You can tell us anything.”
“Do you think that’s what happened to Marjorie?” Pamela asked, her eyes wide. “Only she could not get away?”
“Maybe.” Beatris shook her head. “No one should go through that alone. If that happens to any of you, tell me. Tell all of us.” She looked at each of them in turn. Tabitha nodded, since that was what Beatris seemed to want, and so did Pamela, but Jenevive just looked away.
That’s why Marjorie did not want to kiss Alain. “Maybe that’s why Marjorie did not want to … to talk to Alain,” Tabitha ventured aloud. “She was frightened.”
“Who was it?” Pamela asked Jenevive. “The one who tried to … to force you?”
Icestorm Page 14
