Twilight of a Queen

by Susan Carroll

  “But we are not men, thank God.” Falling into step on the other side of Meg, Carole regarded Seraphine with a scornful sniff. “Although I daresay dueling with swords would suit you just fine.”

  “It would indeed. I could take you blindfolded and with one hand tied behind my back.”

  “That is hardly to the point,” Carole snapped. “Since the Lady of Faire Isle is supposed to be a promoter of peace and harmony.”

  “No, there would be a point. Quite a sharp one, in fact.”

  Before Carole could retort, Meg cut in. “Please stop. I am tense enough without you two engaging in another of your quarrels.”

  “We don’t quarrel. We bicker,” Seraphine said. “It takes two people of equal wit to make an argument.”

  Carole sucked in her breath, but for once she did not rise to Seraphine’s baiting. “I am sorry, Meg. I would never want to distress you. I just wanted you to know that whatever Ariane has decided, I will be content.”

  When Seraphine snorted, Carole insisted, “It’s true. There was a time when I was all but an outcast on this island. An ignorant, uneducated girl bearing a child out of wedlock. I have already learned so much from Ariane and I now have many kind friends and my beautiful little son. There is nothing more that I want.”

  “What a load of rubbish. If you truly don’t want to be the Lady of Faire Isle, why don’t you just find Ariane and tell her so?” Seraphine demanded.

  “Because I am afraid there is the smallest chance she might lose her mind and chose you.”

  The path narrowed ahead so they could no longer walk three abreast. Seraphine took Meg’s arm and maneuvered her so skillfully, Carole was obliged to fall behind.

  Meg was not sorry if it brought their sniping to an end, but she feared Carole’s feelings might have been hurt. There was no use remonstrating with Seraphine, who found Carole as prim and irritating as she did Jane. And once Seraphine took a dislike to anyone, there was no changing her mind.

  All Meg could do was cast an apologetic smile over her shoulder as Seraphine hustled her along, leaving Carole farther behind. It was difficult not to feel a twinge of guilt.

  She had known Carole far longer than Seraphine. Their friendship dated from the time Carole had been lured into becoming a member of the Silver Rose coven. She and Carole had formed a tight bond despite the difference in their ages, both of them alarmed and repulsed by the coven’s plans and activities.

  So why had Meg allowed that bond to wane? Perhaps because Carole was an inadvertent but painful reminder of those dark days or perhaps for another reason more shameful. Of the two girls, Seraphine was by far the more intelligent and exciting, a sparkling diamond compared to the dull luster of a pearl.

  It was growing dark enough that she and Seraphine had to quicken their steps to catch up to one of the women lighting the pathway with her torch.

  Meg nearly had to run to match Seraphine’s long strides. As soon as she could catch her breath, she angled a glance up at her friend and asked, “So what about you? Do you wish to be the next Lady of Faire Isle?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You twitted Carole for not being honest. Your answer strikes me as just as evasive.”

  “Not evasive, just undecided. I am not sure that I wish to spend most of my life confined to this island.”

  “It is a woman’s lot to end up confined somewhere.”

  “That sounds like something your Lady Danvers would say. As you well know, we are not mere women, Margaret Elizabeth Wolfe. We are daughters of the earth and are free to roam where we will. At least we should be.”

  Seraphine’s mouth softened with a rare wistful expression. “God, how I miss my home, Meg. Faire Isle is a pretty enough place, but I am used to dwelling beneath the grand shadows of the Pyrenees. And if I did covet the title of Lady of Faire Isle, I fear it would be for a less than noble reason.”

  “Which is?”

  “I enjoy issuing commands, telling people what to do. I think it would be good to be queen of something, even a tiny island.”

  Although Meg laughed at her friend’s appalling frankness, she shook her head. “I don’t. I fear the responsibility would be enormous, terrifying.”

  Seraphine cast a knowing glance at her. “And yet you still would like to be the Lady of Faire Isle.”

  Meg fretted her lip before confessing what she had scarce been able to admit to anyone, even to herself. “I do want it, ’Phine. I want it so badly it frightens me, although I fear my reason is no more noble than yours.”

  When Seraphine regarded her questioningly, Meg added in a low sad voice. “If I was the Lady of Faire Isle, perhaps people would finally forget that I was ever the Silver Rose.”

  THE BONFIRE BLAZED, HOLDING THE DARKNESS AT BAY AT THE top of the cliff. The ring of standing stones loomed like ancient sentinels guarding the small group of women from any intrusion upon their council.

  Some sat upon fallen logs, the younger ones upon the ground, feet curled beneath their skirts. They ranged themselves about the Lady of Faire Isle perched upon a flat rock that formed a kind of throne. An uncomfortable one, Ariane thought, shifting her hip. She wondered what those women gazing up at her so respectfully would think if they realized that their revered Lady just longed to have this over with so she could return to her own comfortable home at Belle Haven.

  Perhaps it was the task of naming her successor that was making her feel so old tonight. She was hard-pressed to remember the stalwart young woman she had been at the age of twenty, so bold she had even once dared to threaten the Dark Queen.

  “I am warning you, Catherine. I mean to revive the council of the daughters of the earth, the guardians against the misuse of the old ways as you have done. Even you cannot fight us all, a silent army of wise women.”

  She believed she had succeeded in alarming even Catherine, but these days it was but a hollow threat; Ariane’s “army” was sadly diminished. Their method of communication in coded messages dispatched by a relay of trained pigeons had long since broken down. So many of the older generation were long gone, her mother, Marie Claire, old Madame Jehan, taking their wisdom with them.

  How much Ariane would have given to have had their advice in this, the most difficult and important decision of her life. As her gaze skimmed the crowd, taking in the faces of Carole and Meg, finally coming to rest upon Seraphine, Ariane prayed she had made the right choice.

  The conversation in the clearing had faded to a low hum. An attempt had been made to conduct business as usual. Any woman who had something to say, grievances to air, tidings to report, or any newfound remedies to share was to come forward and seize the staff of office, thus silencing all other tongues.

  But such sharing had been desultory, the birch staff now resting against Ariane’s rock, unclaimed. There was only one matter on everyone’s minds tonight, the choosing, and Ariane supposed the time had come to get on with it.

  She stood, taking up the staff of office. An expectant hush fell over the crowd of women. For a moment, Ariane felt tongue-tied, scarce knowing where to start.

  Her mother’s simple wisdom filled her mind. The beginning is always the best place, my dear.

  “Once upon a time,” she said. “there lived a group of women known as the daughters of the earth.”

  Ariane saw many faces wreathed in smiles at her words, like children eager to once again hear an old and familiar story.

  Clutching the staff, she paced before the small group and continued, “These women were revered for their wisdom, skilled in all the arts of healing and white magic. According to our legends, they lived in a peaceful time when men and women were considered equal and shared in the governing of the various kingdoms.

  “But as time passed, the power shifted, men coming to dominate with their warlike ways. Women were gradually denied their rights to govern and to learn.”

  Seraphine hissed, drawing a spate of giggles from the younger women, looks of reproof from some of the older ones.r />
  Ariane merely smiled and went on. “Many daughters of the earth accepted these changes. Some became angry and took their vengeance by learning the darker arts.”

  To Ariane’s dismay she saw a few pointed glances cast in Meg’s direction. Jane wrapped her arm about the girl’s shoulders, but Meg still colored and ducked her head.

  “But some women persisted, struggling to keep our ancient ways alive, despite the threat of being accused as witches. They passed on the secrets of the white magic to their daughters for generations. Many of those women came to settle here on Faire Isle.”

  Ariane sighed. “Alas, during my lifetime, I have seen those brave few become even fewer. Mistrust and suspicion of those ignorant of our ways, and the raids of witch-hunters have helped to decimate our ranks.

  “But I fear the chief reason may be something more insidious and difficult to fight. Many daughters of the earth, overwhelmed by daily cares and the current turmoil of the world, are simply finding it easier and safer to surrender, to corset themselves in the roles expected of women.

  “I do not envy the next Lady of Faire Isle. I fear she will face far greater challenges than I ever did, to preserve our ancient ways and knowledge.”

  “But I am sure she will be well prepared by you,” Josephine Alain piped up.

  “That’s right. You have already taught young Carole so much,” Madame Bevans said, fondly patting Carole’s hand. The broad nature of her hint was not lost upon the other women.

  Agatha Butterydoor leaned forward where she sat, to glare at Madame Bevans. “The Lady has been teaching other girls as well in case you hadn’t noticed. My young Mistress Meg already knew a great deal of magic to begin with.”

  “Yes, but what sort of magic?” someone muttered while Madame Bevans responded, “Traditionally our Lady has always been chosen from the women who inhabit this island.”

  “That’s not true. Ariane’s mother Evangeline was half-English, wasn’t she?” Jane spoke up and then looked immediately abashed by her own temerity.

  Ariane smiled and gave her an encouraging nod, but one of the girls clustered around Seraphine broke in. “But the Lady Evangeline was connected to the island. She was a niece of the previous Lady.”

  The other young women applauded, laughing and nudging Seraphine as though some important point had been scored. But Louise Lavalle was quick to disillusion them. Of all the women present, the aging courtesan was the most neutral.

  Knowing Louise, Ariane suspected the woman merely enjoyed deflating the bevy of younger beauties.

  “There is no truth in that statement either,” she drawled. “Although it pleased the lady Eugenie to claim Evangeline and her daughters as kin and bid them call her aunt, there was no blood connection.”

  “Well, whoever is chosen,” Madame Bevans called out, “it should not be someone with any connection to the dark ways.”

  “You mean like Carole Moreau?” Aggie retorted. “I believe she was once a member of the Silver Rose coven.”

  “She was taken by force, tricked and coerced, you old bat,” Madame Bevans shouted back, half-rising. “And let us not forget who actually is the Silver Rose.”

  “Was! She isn’t any longer.” Aggie sprang up, brandishing her cane. “And if you think my poor poppet had any more choice than your precious—”

  “Peace!” Ariane bellowed, striking her staff of office against the ground. “Madame Bevans, Mistress Butterydoor, you will sit back down and conduct yourselves like civilized women or leave this council.”

  Madame Bevans sank down immediately, Aggie more slowly, grumbling under her breath.

  “I had thought I made myself clear the other day. The daughters of the earth cannot survive if we quarrel among ourselves. The Lady of Faire Isle must be a gifted healer, knowledgeable in the old ways, and harbor a great respect for our mother earth. But even more important, she must be an advocate of peace, eschewing violence of any kind.”

  Realizing that her voice had risen and she was gripping the staff far too tightly, Ariane forced herself to relax.

  “Much as I value all of your opinions, the choice of my successor is mine alone. I have had so many worthy candidates, my decision has been a difficult one. But the young woman I believe best suited to follow me as Lady of Faire Isle is…” Ariane fortified herself with a deep breath.

  “Margaret Wolfe.”

  A stunned silence fell over the gathering. Blinking up at Ariane, Meg sat frozen even when Ariane beckoned to her and smiled. Jane bent closer, no doubt whispering encouragement into the girl’s ear. She prodded Meg to her feet, urging the girl forward.

  Meg stumbled toward Ariane, twisting her hands in the folds of her skirt.

  “Margaret Wolfe, do you accept this charge I would lay upon you?” Ariane asked solemnly.

  The silence gave way to an angry buzz of murmurs. Meg stole a look at the sea of hostile faces.

  “Well, I—I—” she faltered.

  “Yes, she does!” Seraphine shouted out. She leapt to her feet and faced the gathering, her hands planted on her hips.

  “What is the matter with all of you? Have not most of you grown up here on Faire Isle? Even I know all the stories my mother Gabrielle told me. All about how this island was meant to be a refuge, for women in particular, a haven from the threats of the past. All mistakes are to be forgotten, this is a place to begin anew. Will you deny Margaret Wolfe the same chance many of you have had?”

  Snatching the staff of office from Ariane’s hands, Seraphine wielded it like a cudgel. “I think Meg will make a perfect Lady of Faire Isle. Anyone who dares say otherwise will have to answer to me.”

  “And me.” Carole rose to her feet, joining Seraphine.

  Her niece looked surprised, but then grinned. She edged aside a little to make room for her, the two girls standing shoulder to shoulder, regarding the crowd with such fierceness, Ariane was torn between laughter and tears.

  Her heart swelled with pride for both her niece and Carole. Meg looked so overwhelmed, Ariane feared the girl would weep at any moment. Ariane took her gently by the hand, drawing her forward.

  “Becoming the Lady of Faire Isle is a daunting prospect, but as you can see, my dear, you have courageous and loyal friends to support you. But the choice is up to you.”

  “What choice?” Seraphine cried. “Of course Meg wants—”

  “Seraphine, Meg must answer for herself. And please kindly return my staff.”

  Looking slightly abashed, Seraphine returned the rod to her. The entire clearing held its breath, awaiting Meg’s response.

  Her tears overflowed, streaking down her cheeks, but she looked up at Ariane with a tremulous smile. “Oh, yes, my lady. I accept your charge and I—I promise to try hard to serve you all until my dying day.”

  Ariane gathered the girl close and hugged her. She reflected that there was no grand ceremony for this occasion, no crown to pass, no ermine robes, no solemn oaths. But perhaps that was just as it should be. The position of Lady of Faire Isle had always been based on a simple concept of trust.

  Besides, Seraphine’s loud whoops would have shattered the dignity of any more pretentious proceeding. Ariane pressed the staff of office upon Meg. Turning the girl to face the crowd, she rested her hands upon Meg’s shoulders.

  “My friends, I give you Margaret Wolfe, your future Lady of Faire Isle.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  THE CLEARING WAS EMPTY. ONLY JANE REMAINED, HAVING volunteered to make certain the fire was safely extinguished. She stared into the dying flames as the voices and laughter faded down the path.

  For all of her reluctance to attend the council, she was glad that she had. The choosing had turned out better for Meg than Jane could have hoped. The hostility toward the girl seemed to have magically dispersed within this solemn circle of monoliths.

  Although many of the women had offered Meg their congratulations with reluctance, Jane had little doubt Meg would win them all over in time. Especially with the help of C
arole’s gentle persuasion and Seraphine’s forceful personality.

  Although Seraphine would not have welcomed it, Jane could have hugged the girl when she had sprung so fiercely to Meg’s defense. Jane was still not sure the impulsive young woman was the best influence on Meg, but there was no denying that Seraphine had a loyal heart.

  Meg had left the clearing, looking much happier than she had in a long time. Jane had been delighted for the girl, but her own sense of elation faded as silence descended over the clearing, broken only by the occasional crackle and hiss of the fire.

  Jane poked a stick amongst the glowing embers, the melancholy she had fought all evening stealing over her. She had kept her promise to Meg, remained with the child until the choosing was done. Meg would have little need of her now, and as for Captain Louis Xavier … The man was well on the mend, still chafing to discover what had become of his ship and crew. Despite Xavier’s newfound accord with his sisters, Jane had little doubt that once they returned to Port Corsair tomorrow, it would not be long before Xavier set sail.

  She stirred the embers more vigorously, refusing to examine the heavy feelings engendered by the thought of his departure. She needed to focus on her own prospects, bleak as they were. After all these months, she was left confronting the same abyss as before, the emptiness of her future.

  A twig snapped from behind her, the sound giving her a mild start. She had been half-hoping, half-expecting it. She whirled around to see Xavier emerging from the shadows of one of the dolmens where he had been hiding.

  He offered her a somewhat sheepish grin. “Sorry, m’dear. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “You didn’t, not really.”

  “What! You are not in the least surprised to see me here?”

  “Knowing you, I doubted you would be able to resist the temptation to spy upon the proceedings.”

  “And here I fancied myself so clever and stealthy. Despite all your denials, I fear you must be a witch, Jane. You seem to have a sixth sense where I am concerned.”

  Jane shook her head, biting her lip to check a laugh. She wondered what Xavier would say if he realized she had not been the only one to sense him lurking in the shadows. She had observed many of the other women nudging each other and stifling giggles. Jane suspected that even Ariane had been aware of his presence, although the Lady had raised no objections.