by Joyce Lavene
He laughed and took my hand. “I’m sure everything will be fine. We’re getting married in less than a month! Life is good!”
Princess Isabel was waiting at the side gate with Master at Arms, Gus Fletcher. She welcomed us to the castle, and we followed her inside.
The Village had been rife with rumors about a romance between the princess and Gus. This followed the birth last year of Queen Olivia and King Harold’s new daughter, Princess Pea, who would no doubt take up Isabel’s princess responsibilities at some time in the future.
I thought Gus, who was a former wrestler, was a good match for the spoiled princess. Everyone didn’t agree. After all Gus wasn’t a lord or even a knight. Some residents thought it seemed inappropriate.
I thought they took Village life a bit too seriously.
Isabel led us through the large entryway to the king and queen’s private quarters, past the seating area for the King’s Feast that happened every Sunday night. There was jousting in the Great Hall on those nights—along with singing, dancing, displays of valor, and Cornish hens.
It was a great time for one and all, according to the ads on TV.
“Greetings Sir Bailiff, Lady Jessie.” King Harold seemed happy about something. He was unusually jovial and friendly. “How goes my kingdom?”
Chase glanced at me. “We have seen Wanda Le Fey’s murderer taken into custody. A good day’s work, sire.”
King Harold glanced at Queen Olivia in much the same way that Chase had looked at me.
“I had no idea such dreadful events were going on,” he protested. “Pray tell who this foul killer was.”
“It was Ginny Stewart, sire. She confessed to killing Wanda, but said it was an accident.”
“An accident?” King Harold roared. “By God, I ought to—”
“Now, now, dear.” Queen Olivia laid her hand on his arm. “That is not the reason we summoned this couple to us.”
“Quite right, my love.” King Harold smiled at us again as he strove to regain his composure. “We have a wonderful surprise for the two of you. It gladdens my heart to be able to tell you personally.”
“We’re very anxious to hear what you have to say, Your Majesty.” I was starting to get a sinking feeling about this.
“We have news this day that more than two hundred and fifty couples will be joining you on your day of wedded bliss. Adventureland is making it a theme day for the Faire. Consider this our gift to you for years of dedicated service, Sir Bailiff.”
Two hundred and fifty other couples getting married at the same time?
It was like some horrible nightmare. The king and queen gushed on about how exciting it was, and all the revenue it would bring into the Village—not to mention worldwide television and Internet exposure.
Our thoughts and feelings on the subject were unimportant. Adventureland was going to make our wedding day one to remember for people we didn’t know, who would never know us.
Chase grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Thank you, sire. We’re sure this will be a wonderful day.”
“Yes, indeed,” I agreed with less enthusiasm than I’d ever had lifting a wet frog for a small child to catapult across the game booth. “A day to remember.”
I heard Wanda’s raucous laughter echo through the castle. It seemed finding her killer hadn’t made her disappear into the hereafter either.
Maybe we could elope.
Murderous Matrimony - Chapter One
“I have a bad feeling about today, Jessie.”
The ghost of Wanda Le Fey began humming Bad Moon Rising from Creedence Clearwater Revival as she inspected her nails.
I put my hand to my head and sipped my triple shot mocha, even though I knew there wasn’t enough caffeine in the universe to help with this situation. My usual breakfast, a handmade cinnamon roll, sat forgotten on a tiny brown napkin.
Wanda had only been dead about two weeks. It seemed much longer. I’d played a small part in her death—I dyed her blue. Ginny Stewart, the woman with the sword that had murdered her, was in prison.
Lucky Ginny.
That left Wanda spending almost all of her time with me. Ghastly, blue, and naked—she was even worse dead than she’d been alive. She was free to wander wherever she chose—which was usually wherever I was. She’d been in the shower with me that morning and stood behind me in the bathroom mirror as I brushed my teeth.
I’d had to plead exhaustion or a headache every night with my fiancée since she’d died and come to stay with us in our tiny apartment. I knew he was wondering what was wrong with me.
It was hard to kiss him knowing she was there laughing and making fun of everything we did. When we started cuddling, she made retching noises or stared close up with those terrible, burning eyes.
“Is your cinnamon roll not to your liking, Lady Jessie?” Brother Carl asked as he walked past my rough, wood table at the Monastery Bakery.
Traffic at the Monastery Bakery and Coffee Shop in Renaissance Faire Village and Marketplace was brisk for nine a.m. The Main Gate wasn’t open yet. That meant the only customers were half-asleep residents, trying to get themselves together enough to cope with the 10,000 visitors that would walk the cobblestone streets that day at the theme park.
Brother Carl was head of the bakery and the Brotherhood of the Sheaf—a monk-like guild that believed in the power of baking bread. They lived at the Village, along with a few hundred lords, ladies, fools, knaves, knights, and shopkeepers.
And me—Jessie Morton—former assistant history professor at the University of South Carolina, Ren Faire lover, and miserable wretch.
Like all the other brothers in his order, Carl wore plain, black robes that were usually covered in flour. His face was nondescript, somewhere between thirty and fifty. He was medium height, and his dark hair was cut military short.
“I’m sure it’s fine, brother. Thank you.”
He sat with me. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You are about to embark on a new life, Lady Jessie Morton! You’re marrying the man of your dreams and living here at the Village. Aren’t these things what you’ve always wished for?”
They were exactly what I’d always wished for. I couldn’t deny it. The problem was that those things came with a ghost in my bed, and The Great Wedding Fiasco.
It was less than two weeks until The Great Wedding Fiasco. Yes, Village Bailiff Chase Manhattan, the love of my life, and I were finally going to be married. I had a beautiful dress with a six-foot train and a handmade lace veil. Our friends and family would be there—so would at least a thousand strangers.
Because Adventureland, the parent company of Renaissance Faire Village and Marketplace, saw a golden opportunity with our wedding, they’d invited another two hundred and fifty couples to take their vows at the same time.
Those two hundred and fifty couples had family and friends. There were so many of them that the Village would be closed to the public that day.
Adventureland had sweetened the pot for all of the people who’d planned to have their wedding that day, including me and Chase. The cake was free. The flowers were free. The venue, on the Village Green under sapphire blue Myrtle Beach skies, was also free.
So were the television and Internet opportunities for the theme park. It was the opportunity of a lifetime—at least it was presented to me and Chase that way.
“Stop whining,” Wanda said in her Americanized British accent. “You get the man. You get the wedding. What more do you want?”
Brother Carl seemed to agree with Wanda, even though he couldn’t see or hear her. “You would be churlish not to appreciate the gift being given to you, Jessie.”
“I wouldn’t want to be churlish,” I muttered.
I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, especially since Adventureland had also hired me to be the director of their new Renaissance Arts and Crafts Museum in the Village. They’d paid me nicely to set up the museum and run it.
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sp; Working at the Village, and being with Chase, was everything I’d ever wanted. But sharing my perfect day with a thousand strangers—and the ghost of a woman I didn’t like when she was alive—that was almost too much.
“Does Chase mind?” Carl asked. “If not, why do you?”
I agreed with him and excused myself. I’d had this internal debate for the last two weeks. I didn’t want to be churlish. I didn’t want to be selfish. I only wanted a simple wedding to the man I loved—and to get Wanda out of my life.
She followed me out of the bakery, floating above the cobblestone walkway beside me.
“Why don’t you go find someone else to torment,” I suggested. “I know I’m not the only one in the Village who can see you. You’ve managed to run off several knights, knaves, and ladies—not to mention scaring the crap out of your ex-husband every time you see him.”
She smiled. It was a horrific thing. “Yes, dearie. It’s the little things in death that give me so much pleasure. Did you know that animals can almost always see me? I’ve experimented with Bo Peep’s sheep. I have great plans for the elephants and camels.”
“I don’t suppose it would do any good to remind you that people could be hurt if you scare large animals.”
“None whatsoever. But thanks for reminding me. I have an appointment on top of the rock climbing wall with whoever would like to take tea with me. Bye-bye, Jessie.”
Wanda hadn’t been a nice person in life. In death, she was far worse than I could have ever imagined.
These were the only moments of respite that I’d had since Wanda had died. The Village’s resident fortune teller had told me that Wanda would disappear as soon as I figured out who killed her.
I’d checked that off my to-do list, but Wanda was still there every time I looked up. Chase couldn’t see her, though he was nice and didn’t say he thought I was imagining her.
It was time to take action—about my fouled wedding plans and Wanda. I straightened my backbone and lifted my chin. Life was good. Problems weren’t going to keep pushing me down!
Lady Godiva rode her white horse past me at a fair clip. “Have you heard the news?”
“No. What’s up?” I called back.
“The police have closed off the Village. There’s been another murder—this time at the Arts and Crafts Museum.”
Sometimes life has a way of slapping you back down.
About the Authors
Joyce and Jim Lavene write bestselling mystery together. They have written and published more than 60 novels for Harlequin, Berkley and Gallery Books along with hundreds of non-fiction articles for national and regional publications.
Pseudonyms include J.J. Cook, Ellie Grant, Joye Ames and Elyssa Henry
They live in rural North Carolina with their family, their cat, Quincy, and their rescue dog, Rudi. They enjoy photography, watercolor, gardening, long drives, and going to our local Renaissance Fair.
Visit them at:
www.renaissancefairemysteries.com
www.joyceandjimlavene.com
www.Facebook.com/JoyceandJimLavene
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorJLavene
Amazon Author Central Page: http://amazon.com/author/jlavene
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Murderous Matrimony - Chapter One
About the Authors
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Murderous Matrimony - Chapter One
About the Authors
