Emil frowned. “Are you sure she’s not…dead?”
“No, she’s not dead! Can’t you see her breathing?”
Emil crossed to Jourdian’s chair and leaned down close to his cousin’s thigh. Sure enough, the tiny hump in the dressing robe pocket moved up and down in a rhythmic motion. “Let me see her.”
“No.”
“Just a peek. It’s all quite fascinating, you know, her being one of the Wee Folk, and all. Just a glimpse of her, Jourdian.”
“No.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because she’s still naked, damn it all!”
“I’ve seen her naked before.”
Jourdian closed his eyes. “You and half of England.”
“She has no clothing.”
“Not yet, but she will soon. I purchased an entire wardrobe for her while I was away at Briarmont. On one of those days, I rode into London and hired the entire House of Brenn.”
“What? Mme. Brenn employs over a hundred seamstresses.”
“One hundred and eleven.”
“You hired them all?”
“The entire house. Haste is of the essence. With a mass of seamstresses sewing for Splendor, I imagine her wardrobe is almost complete and will be delivered any day now.”
“But how could you order clothing without Splendor along for a fitting?”
“Her forehead is level with my mouth, and she’s waif-like. That’s what I told Mme. Brenn.”
“What about shoes?”
“I ordered dozens of shoes in different sizes. Surely one size will fit. Everything I’m having made is soft, simple, void of any decoration whatsoever, and I thought I had done quite well. A pity I did not think to order clothing for a woman as tall as my thumb.”
Emil smiled. “Do you remember when I suggested we look for fairies on these very grounds, cousin? It was years ago, and you refused to indulge me. You sat by a stone wall with your books in your lap, and you watched as I searched high and low for evidence of—”
“I didn’t believe in them.”
“And now you are married to one. Jourdian, you have dirt between your toes.” Emil stared at Jourdian’s bare feet. “I’ve never seen you so filthy.”
“I was a slug, Emil. And I’ve yet to bathe since carrying you and Splendor into the house.”
“Ah, yes. Jourdian Amberville, the slug of Heathcourte.”
“I fail to see the humor—”
“My reference to your slovenly state was a compliment. Dirt becomes you, cousin. You should wear it more often. Why do you suppose Splendor shrank the way she did?”
His eyes still closed, Jourdian shrugged his shoulders. “All I know is that she lost her strength. I never had the opportunity to question her further because she fell asleep. I have, however, realized a correlation between her losing her strength and the vigor she apparently receives from kissing. She’s mentioned that frequently since I met her.”
“I see. What else do you know about her?”
Jourdian opened his eyes. “She’s a princess. The princess royal of her father’s kingdom of Pillywiggin. One day she’ll inherit the throne.”
“She’ll be Queen Splendor? Jourdian, that means you’ll be the prince consort of Fairyville.”
“Pillywiggin,” Jourdian corrected his cousin. “And I am no such thing.”
“You will be when Splendor becomes queen.”
“She’s my duchess. Not some future queen.”
“She outranks you. I suppose we should both be bowing to her.”
“Emil—”
“What more do you know about her?”
“She says our son might very well inherit her powers,” Jourdian said, and sighed. “My heir. An elf.”
“I’ll stand as a very proud godfather at his christening. It matters naught to me what the little chap is, I’ll love him, pointed eats and all.”
“My son will not have pointed ears!”
“How do you know?”
“Splendor doesn’t have pointed ears!”
“But perhaps someone in her family does. I’ve seen paintings of elves, Jourdian, and many of them possess pointed—”
“That’s enough!” Jourdian stood, careful not to allow his robe to sway overly much.
“Your son will be a king one day, cousin. He’ll inherit the fairy throne from Splendor. He’ll be both king of Pillywiggin and the duke of Heathcourte. Imagine that.”
“How is it that you can accept this bizarre situation with such aplomb, Emil?”
Emil sat down in the chair Jourdian vacated. “Because things are as they are, cousin. You married Splendor, and she cannot help being what she is any more than you can help being what you are. What possible good would it do for me to become as agitated as you are?”
Jourdian stalked to the window, looked out of the pane for a brief moment, then turned away. “You can accept her being a fairy because you are given to fantasy in the first place. A grown man who continues to wish on stars is—”
“Splendor is no fantasy, Jourdian,” Emil said, rising from his chair to retrieve his brandy. “She’s real. Just as real and alive as you and me. She eats and sleeps. She breathes and—”
“And flies, and fades into mists, and cries diamonds, and shrinks, and—”
“And has successfully pulled you out of the sucking depths of your monotonous routine.” Emil sipped the brandy, stared at his cousin, then burst into laughter. “God, this is rich! Only about a fortnight ago, you expounded on the fact that you wanted a duchess whose middle name was ‘Ordinary’ and you’ve gone and wed a pixie!”
Before Jourdian could form a retort, he felt Splendor moving in his pocket. “Emil, give me your shirt. She’s waking.”
“My shirt?”
“How many times must I tell you she’s naked!”
“Oh.” Emil set his brandy down again, removed his shirt, and handed the garment to Jourdian.
“Now turn your back,” Jourdian instructed his cousin. “And be quick about it.”
Just as Emil turned to face the opposite wall, Splendor sailed out of Jourdian’s pocket. Jourdian saw a circle of bright silver appear around her. He watched warily, unsure of what to expect. “Splendor?”
The circle became larger, and so did Splendor. When she stood tall before him, Jourdian fairly ripped Emil’s shirt apart in an effort to put the garment on her. “I can do naught to change the fact that you’re of a naked race, Splendor, but as your husband I demand that you cease flitting about without benefit of clothing.”
She looked at the robe he was wearing. The sash had come loose, and she saw everything he owned from the waist down. “You are not fully dressed either, Jourdian. Indeed, I can see your—”
“Never mind.” His fingers flew over the buttons on her shirt. “How could I dress with you asleep in my pocket?”
“Why didn’t you awaken me?”
“I tried, but you wouldn’t budge. And I was afraid to take you out because I didn’t know where to put you! You were so…so…”
“Tiny,” she supplied. “Now you know why I fear your cat.”
Pharaoh, Jourdian thought. As if he didn’t have enough to fret over, now he had to worry that the Heathcourte feline might eat the Heathcourte duchess!
“I’ll give Pharaoh to Mrs. Frawley,” he announced. “She can keep him in her cottage.” Quickly, he finished buttoning Splendor’s shirt. “All right, Emil, you may turn back around. She’s dressed.”
“Splendor,” Emil said when he saw her. “You’re a fairy.”
She smiled. “Aye, that is what I am, and Jourdian is going to give his cat to Mrs. Frawley.”
“I’ve never known a fairy before.”
Splendor laughed. “I had never known humans, either. But I have been with you and Jourdian many times. Indeed, I watched the two of you grow into men even as I grew to become a fairy woman.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” Jourdian said.
“There are many things I have not told y
ou, Jourdian.”
He watched her walk to the window across the room. Golden sunbeams mingled with her silver glow and illuminated her violet eyes. She looked like a living, breathing jewel, and Jourdian was so struck by her radiance that a long while passed before he realized he was staring at her like a man who had heretofore been surrounded by ugliness and had just come upon his first glimpse of true beauty.
“Jourdian?” Splendor said.
Her silken voice coaxed him from his daze. “Now is as good a time as any for you to tell me a few of the things you haven’t told me before,” he said. Wondering what other surprises she had in store for him, he took a seat on the settee.
“Tell us a bit about fairies and their history,” Emil said, sitting down beside his cousin on the small sofa.
“Fairy history?” Absently, Splendor twisted a lock of her hair around her wrist, pondering her origins. “We are somewhere between men and angels. There was once a time when we lived in peace among mortals, and fairy sightings were frequent—”
“There was an old woman in Mallencroft who swore she’d seen one when she was a lass,” Emil said. “She said she’d become terribly lost in the forest that grew near her childhood home. When night fell, she began to weep. A sparkle of light appeared, dancing all through the darkness, and when she followed the bit of gleam it led her straight out of the woods. She was sure it was a fairy.”
“Emil, stop interrupting,” Jourdian chided. “Splendor, please continue.”
Splendor winked at Emil. “As I said, fairy sightings were not uncommon, but men destroyed the tranquility by planting large fields and building fences, highways, villages, and cities. Where there had once been wilderness, there then existed the proof of men’s need for boundaries. The wild, untamed world was beaten into submission, and the realm of Faerie began to weaken. My race became elusive then. ’Tis why fairy sightings are now few and far between.”
She reached for a spray of silk fern. As she pulled the greenery from its crystal vase, stars—like dew—appeared on the artificial leaves, and the fern became real in her graceful hand.
She smoothed the supple plant across her cheek. “Faerie is a lovely world, and is better than the mortal world by one marvelous tad. The sun that shines in Faerie is one tiny tad warmer and brighter than the sun that shines upon the mortal world, and our moonlight is one tiny tad more silver. Our blossoms smell one tiny tad more aromatic than yours, our fruit is one tiny tad sweeter and juicier, and our breezes one tiny tad cooler. Even our snow is one tiny tad whiter than yours. ’Tis the same with all else in Faerie. By that one tiny tad of superiority, one is aware that one has left the human world and passed into the realm of Faerie.”
“I’d like to go there one day,” Emil said, totally fascinated by Splendor’s story.
“Make that wish on a star,” Splendor advised, “and perhaps you will see it granted one day.”
“He’s made so many wishes on so many stars that there aren’t any stars left for him.”
“Not true, Jourdian,” Splendor disagreed. “There are enough stars for every person in the world to make millions of wishes.”
She took a step to the left so that she stood right in the middle of a shining pool of sunlight. “As you can see, fairies have nay a shadow,” she said, pointing to the spot on the carpet where her shadow should have been. “When we walk, we make nay a sound. With a touch of our finger and a sparkle of our eyes, we can cause all care to fall away from men. ’Tis called fairy charm, and I have used the charm thrice since I’ve been here, once on Ulmstead, once on Hopkins, and once on Tessie. They were afraid of me, and I do not like anyone to fear me, for I would never harm another living being.”
“You threw me in that snake pit,” Jourdian reminded her.
“But I did not allow the creatures to hurt you.” She glided away from the window and approached the settee. “’Twas I who chased the snakes out of your path the day you almost stepped on them, Jourdian. You were a boy then. And—”
“The diamonds,” Jourdian murmured. “The ones I found in the meadow when I was a child—”
“My tears,” Splendor confessed.
“Now I understand why the diamonds I found on the parlor floor looked so familiar. I had seen them before.”
“Once upon a time,” Splendor agreed.
Emil leaned forward. “Do you think you could cry a few tears now, Splendor?”
“Emil, if you don’t mind,” Jourdian admonished.
“Sorry,” Emil muttered, but he didn’t feel at all apologetic. “Of course, you don’t have to weep now, Splendor. But if you should shed a few expensive tears in the future, just leave them where they lie, and I shall be happy to clean the floor of them.”
Jourdian shook his head, then turned his attention back to Splendor. “Why did you cry in the meadow that day so many years ago?”
“Because the two of you had crushed the flowers. I guard them, you see, and they are very precious to me. I have nay an objection to the picking of blossoms as long as the plant itself stays healthy. Many times it is good for plants to have their blossoms plucked. But when you and Emil raced through the field that day, you crushed the flowers, killing many of them. ’Tis why I wept.”
“I’m sorry,” Emil said, and this time he meant it. “But I didn’t know—”
“I know you didn’t,” Splendor said, “but now you do. Take care that you do not commit such murders again.”
Properly chastised, Emil nodded.
“You were a good boy, though, Emil,” Splendor added sweetly. “Do you remember the elder tree you used to climb? The big one that grew near the pond where there were many, many ducks?”
The memory returned to Emil instantly. “I spent hours in that tree. Do you remember too, Jourdian?”
Jourdian shook his head. “You climbed hundreds of trees, Emil. They all looked the same—”
“Oh, but they are not the same, husband,” Splendor declared. “Especially that elder. That tree was home to Elder Mother, a powerful spirit who is very protective of her home. Emil, when I saw you climb the tree the first time, I feared for your safety, for if you had angered Elder Mother in any way, she might have caused your family’s livestock to die of sickness, or…or…”
“Or what?” Emil pressed, filled with a morbid fascination over what his fate might have been.
“She might have killed you.”
Emil swallowed hard. “Killed me?” he repeated, his voice quivering.
Jourdian rolled his eyes. “For God’s sake, Emil, the tree mother didn’t kill you. You’re alive. Besides, how can a tree mother kill anyone?”
“Elder Mother,” Splendor corrected. “And she can kill by any one of various means, Jourdian. There are many in the world of Faerie who do her bidding, and Emil might have been tickled to death by a killmoulis, which is an especially homely brownie. A killmoulis has an immense nose, but nay a mouth. When he eats, he must stuff his food up his nostrils. ’Tis a disgusting sight to see. But Emil, do you know why Elder Mother did not summon a killmoulis to come tickle your last breath from you?”
“Why?” he whispered.
“Because you did not pick her elderberries. And you showed supreme consideration by not stepping on any of her new growth. Had you done so, you would have crushed the tender leaves, which would have released her rage. She was quite fond of you, actually.”
Emil lapsed into silence, pondering the countless times he’d climbed into the elder without realizing the deadly peril.
“Elder Mother didn’t care for you at all, Jourdian,” Splendor announced then.
Jourdian frowned. “But why? I never climbed into her branches at all, much less ate her berries.”
“True, but you paid her nay a hint of attention. ’Twas as if you did not even see her standing there. Once, when you were beneath one of her branches, she tried to win your notice by bending a branch down and caressing your face. You only swiped her leaves away. You spurned her that day, Jourdian, and
from then on she has said you are an arrogant and heartless being.”
At that, Emil burst into laughter. “Here you thought only human women were vying for your attention, Jourdian, and now you find out that the tree women were as well!”
Jourdian was about to declare the entire conversation ludicrous when he realized that such ridiculous discussions would occur every day for the rest of his life. Splendor was an elf, and there was no avoiding her whimsical chatter or stories of enchantment. “Fairy tales,” he murmured.
“I used to watch you weep, Jourdian,” Splendor said, reaching out to toy with his thick ebony hair. “I kept you company during those sorrowful times. You did not know I was with you, but I was there, husband. Indeed, I was with you on many occasions when you thought you were alone.”
Jourdian remembered all the lonely hours he’d spent walking around on the estate, either waiting for Emil to arrive or missing Emil when he’d left. And all the time, Splendor had been with him.
The thought comforted him, somehow eased the dreary memories.
“I would stay with you until you went into this house,” Splendor continued. “And then I would return to Pillywiggin and yearn for the next time when I would see you.” She knelt beside his legs and took his large tanned hand into her small pale one. “You have been my fascination for many years, but I never once dreamed that a day would come when I would not be forced to wait for you to appear. When I would be able to speak to you and hear you answer me. When I could touch you and feel you touch me back. When I could give you joy and see you return it to me. I am happy here with you, Jourdian.”
He sat in silence as her sweetness—like some joyful, carefree dancer—waltzed through him.
He’d given her little, he mused. No clothing as of yet, and her wedding ring was but a bit of gold and amethyst. She cared naught for his title, for her own was grander. Indeed there was no material possession he could bestow upon her that she did not already have.
And yet she was happy.
With him. Simply to be with him.
A coldness inside of him began to melt then, dripping away like sun-kissed frost.
He wondered why it was that Splendor had come to be with him now. Now, after so many years of watching him from afar. “Why—”
A Basket of Wishes Page 22
