Passion's Twins

by Dee Brice

  “Do you suppose,” Edina mused, “Mother has always known who is who? I must have been born with freckles while your scar—”

  “Came when we were five.” Rowena swiped at her laughter-caused tears.

  “The lad’s name was James,” Edina said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “And you broke his nose as retribution. In my estimation, having strips of coarse cotton shoved up one’s nostrils is punishment enough.”

  “And if our parents could tell us apart… Oh Edina, think of all the years we’ve wasted, playing at being each other when we could have been ourselves.”

  “Think of the hours we wasted with Gerard and Edgar. Pretending when we could have danced with them—”

  “Or bedded.”

  “’Tis enough to make me cry.”

  Rowena brightened. “I remember now. Mother’s freckles are all over her bosom. Which is probably why she always wears that lace amisse around her neck and shoulders. Do you think we could tease her about how frightful her freckles are?”

  “Do you want to spend your life locked in our rooms at Beaufort? Do you think Father counts her freckles?”

  Stifling a laugh, Rowena nodded. “’Tis a romantic thing to do.”

  “Romantic? Father?”

  “No, Gerard, you silly goose.” Rowena sighed. “Romantic enough for me to wish for freckles of my own.”

  Joan, already in the bedchamber, squelched further speculation about freckles and scars.

  * * * * *

  Marchon Castle Great Hall

  “This isn’t right,” Kerrie told Alexandre as they looked down on the great hall. “The twins should be included in what the others are discussing. After all ‘tis their futures at the center of it all.”

  “Not every woman is allowed to choose her own fate, my queen.” When Kerrie bristled, Alexandre took her hand. “Unfair though it seems to you, I am certain Basil and Beatrix want what is best for their daughters.”

  Kerrie hissed then said, “Basil reminds me of Gareth’s dead father. He too is so puffed up with his own importance he cannot see value in anyone’s opinion save his own.”

  “Mayhap,” Alexandre said, his voice droll, “we can give him a lesson in humility.”

  Surprised by her husband’s sudden willingness to interfere with the living, Kerrie gaped. Closing her mouth, she said, “Mayhap we can. The twins look so miserable, Alexandre, I feel we must do something to ease their pain.”

  “Do you accept them then? Agree they are worthy to join our family?”

  Kerrie sighed. Nodding, she said, “They are whom Gerard and Edgar want. If I demand choice for Rowena and Edina, I must grant the men that same right.”

  Alexandre chuckled. “But you still intend to teach Basil a lesson.”

  “Oh yes! Shh. I want to hear what they all are thinking as well as saying.”

  * * * * *

  “I never realized before how very large this hall is,” Rowena said as the last serving maids departed, stacks of pewter tankards in their arms.

  “We’ve never seen it this empty before,” Edina said softly. She cast an anxious glance toward the enormous fireplace on the opposite wall of the room. She and Rowena had been ordered—ordered!—to remain on the dais until summoned to join the others.

  Around the fireplace, a quiet conference took place. No one had bothered to tell the twins what it was about. They no longer mattered—even though their futures must be one of the topics being discussed.

  Gerard often cast a solemn look at Edina. Edgar—forever-cheerful ne’er-do-well—grinned at Rowena. Basil’s laughter sometimes echoed off the stone walls, but nothing from the rest of the company reached the twins’ ears.

  “I wish Yvonne had insisted on including the twins,” Gerard muttered. He kept his comments low and for Edgar’s ears only.

  “I agree. Dowries, however, generally fall on wiser heads,” Edgar murmured.

  “Then why are we here?” Gerard’s wry comment fell like a stone into a suddenly silent lake.

  “Because you may be allowed to wed my—”

  “No answer, Basil, is required,” Gareth assured his counterpart. Flicking a quelling glance at his siblings, he signaled to a nearby footman to refill their tankards. Mead for the ladies, ale for the men.

  When the footman retreated to his post and out of hearing range, Yvonne said, “I believe now is an appropriate time to have your daughters join us.”

  Basil puffed out his chest and emitted several blustering noises. Beatrix’s hand on his quieted him.

  Smiling sweetly at Basil then at Gareth, she addressed Gerard and Edgar. “Ask your ladies to join us.”

  They strode away like hounds scenting the fox.

  * * * * *

  “Unnecessary. Rowena is older, therefore she is heir to Beaufort. When I die, of course.”

  Willa cleared her throat. “That is not completely accurate, King Basil. If memory serves, you promised—with my husband Lord Vinn and your gracious lady Queen Beatrix as witnesses—that you would abdicate upon your daughters’ marriages. Moreover,” she raised her index finger, effectively squashing the king’s rant, “you said the choice of Beaufort was up to your daughters.”

  “That was before—”

  “You did promise, Basil. Will you break your vow now?” Beatrix demanded.

  Basil turned an alarming shade of red. ““I may have changed my mind. Now that I have spent some time in their company—”

  As if an hour discussing falconry proclaims a man’s worthiness! Kerrie thought. Those below looked up as if she’d said the words out loud. She grinned at Alexandre who flushed, apparently embarrassed yet smiled back.

  “I may reconsider abdicating. I may find more suitable men for my daughters to marry. After all, Gareth, your brothers—”

  Most likely you want to reduce your daughters’ dowries.

  Basil’s face turned even redder but he went on. “Have no land of their own.”

  Willa interrupted. “Not entirely true, Your Grace. One of them will have Serenity. In some parts of the world a duchy is considered as important as a kingdom. Or should I say queendom?”

  Only Alexandre’s hand over her mouth kept Kerrie from cheering.

  Basil leveled a quelling glare at Willa who smiled sweetly. He said, “Serenity will need an influx of coin before it can support itself. I shall not allow either of my daughters to live in poverty.”

  “If I may?” Vinn looked at Yvonne then at Willa for permission to speak. They nodded and Vinn continued. “Considering the years of neglect Serenity has suffered, the castle and its immediate surroundings are in good condition. The fields…” Taking Willa’s hand, he smiled at her. “Willa is more qualified to discuss the fields than I am.”

  “’Tis true the fields will need more consideration than the castle does. ‘Tis also true that the crofters raise enough to feed their families well. They also fed William’s troops and horses when he took possession of Serenity.”

  Bastard! Kerrie remembered the rapings and the murders William had inflicted on her second husband’s family.

  As if they felt Kerrie’s rage and sorrow, they all shivered and crossed themselves.

  “In short,” Yvonne said as if donning her queen’s mantle, “whichever daughter chooses Serenity won’t starve.”

  “And,” Beatrix said, looking as if she’d awakened from a pleasant dream, “you did promise you would abdicate, Basil.” With her own sweet smile beaming over Basil’s now-pale face, Beatrix added, “And later that very evening—after we’d made exquisite love to one another—”

  “Beatrix, keep quiet. I forbid you to say another word!”

  “We talked about all the things we could do when freed from the responsibilities of ruling Beaufort. You vowed to have a folly built by the lake. A lovely little edifice that will give us privacy when we swim naked.”

  Burying his face in his hands, Basil groaned.

  “And then we made love again. And fell asleep in each other
’s arms. In the morning—”

  Basil’s groans now sounding like a man being tortured, Beatrix fell silent. She sighed wistfully, as if still caught in that delicious memory. Smiling up at her approaching daughters and their betrotheds, she said, “I so look forward to our retirement. Please, make your decision quickly.”

  “Decision?” Edina fixed her questioning gaze on Gerard.

  “As to whether we shall marry?” Rowena queried while ignoring Edgar’s grin. “Or is it a mater of whom we shall marry?”

  “That’s settled,” Gerard insisted. He touched a freckle on Edina’s nose.

  “Settled, aye,” Edgar affirmed as he traced the faint scar under Rowena’s lip.

  “Then why are we here?” the twins said together.

  After recapping the abdication plans of the twins’ parents, Yvonne said, “I believe I’ve covered the salient points.”

  “Covered them brilliantly and succinctly,” Gareth praised.

  “So now,” Yvonne added, “’tis up to you four to decide.”

  “I believe the choice—” Gerard began.

  “Falls to Rowena and Edina,” Edgar finished.

  Yvonne cupped her ear. “Have I gone deaf or do my own ears trick me?”

  “My brothers seem to have learned from your example, Yvonne,” Gareth observed. He kissed Yvonne’s palm, keeping her hand in his.

  “I am not afraid of the hard work Serenity requires.” Edina’s worried gaze settled on Rowena’s equally worried face.

  “But?” Rowena prompted.

  “I’ve no desire to rob you of the adventure.”

  Rowena, her voice squeaking, echoed, “Adventure? Serenity has lain empty for months!”

  “Except for our bastard half-brother’s illegal occupancy,” Gareth interjected, “Serenity has gone unoccupied for years.”

  “Precisely my point.”

  “Except for a few missing slates, the castle roofs are sound,” Vinn drawled.

  Willa frowned, her heart in her eyes. “He inspected them himself. I nearly died from fright before he came down safely.” Laughing, she added, “And the wells still hold sweet water.”

  “She inspected those herself,” Vinn said, a scowl knitting his brow. “I had to tie her lest she insist on going down to test the waters for herself. Luckily someone found her a bucket so she could draw the water.”

  “The stables are in good condition.” Pippa spoke for the first time.

  “I’d—we’d gladly loan you a few grooms and lads,” Banan said, a warm smile for Pippa on his face.

  “And Rowena—should you choose Beaufort,” Edina offered, “will inherit a staff set in their ways. ‘When Queen Beatrix ruled Beaufort Castle, we always dined at sunset.’”

  The perfect mimicry of their stuffy steward’s voice made even Basil and Beatrix chortle.

  Rowena proved herself as adept at mimicry as her sister. “‘’Tis unseemly, moreover, that sunset occurs at different hours. Someone—King Basil perhaps?—yes, King Basil must decree that, no matter the season, sunset must occur at precisely the same time.’”

  When the merriment brought another footman to the hall, the laughter increased. A maid peered over his shoulder and looked as if she’d wandered into chaos. And wanted out—immediately! But she stood her ground. And her companion—bless his stalwart footman’s heart—asked, “More beverages, Your Grace?”

  Yvonne nodded. “In fact—since we already planned on celebrating tonight—set up the trestle tables outside the bailey. Then ask the musicians to set up here in the great hall. We’ll dine outside and dance…” She shrugged.

  Gareth added, “If I could but recall my Latin lessons… The proper phrase will occur to me. Sooner or later.”

  “Most likely while swiving, m’lord.”

  “I believe my queen is drunk,” Gareth said to the group.

  “Then dance with me until I am sober,” Yvonne retorted. “Don’t spoil the sport, Gareth. ‘Tis time to let the women make their own decisions. And past time to let your brothers make theirs.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Pfft! I am always right. I am Queen of Marchonland.”

  “Until Pippa becomes regent at any rate. Until we leave for Puttupon where you shall always be queen of my heart.”

  “You needn’t carry me, Gareth. I’m not so drunk as that.”

  “Oh? I think you are drunk to perfection.”

  “Perfection for what purpose?”

  “Swiving, my queen. Swiving.”

  “Ohhhh, Gareth, you’ve quite swept me off my feet.”

  “And I intend to keep you there.”

  Two by two the other couples disappeared up the stairs to their quarters in one of Marchon Castle’s four towers. Standing as if they had grown roots, Rowena and Edina stared at their feet. Gerard and Edgar gazed at the highest rafters in the ceiling.

  Kerrie, as if afraid of being seen, crouched behind Alexandre’s wide shoulders.

  “I imagine Serenity’s rafters are full of spiders,” Edina murmured.

  “Those the nesting birds haven’t eaten,” Gerard agreed.

  “I hate spiders.” Rowena shivered. “All those legs moving along like they’re crawling over someone’s grave. Ugh!”

  “I’ll protect you.” Edgar circled her waist and snuggled her to his side.

  “Are you saying you’d rather live at Serenity than at Beaufort?”

  “I am content to leave our living arrangements to you. So long as we remain—”

  Drawing Kerrie to his lap, Alexandre whispered, “This situation is becoming dangerous.”

  Kerrie nodded as she watched Rowena’s expression change from morose to fury.

  She jerked free of Edgar’s arm, saying, “So you refuse to take even the smallest responsibility for our future! What would you do all day, Edgar? Sing while our people risk their lives to clean the spiders and other crawly creatures from our rafters? Ride while our crofters labor to build dams we need to water our crops? Practice with your sword and battleaxe while our knights—assuming we can hire any—patrol our borders and keep Serenity safe? Pah! If that is the kind of man—”

  “Enough.” Edgar’s soft command surprised Rowena to silence. Running shaking fingers through his hair, he tugged on the strands until they stood on end. He strode the width of the hall then its length until he returned to Rowena’s side. As if sensing she would recoil from his touch, he clasped his hands behind his back. Legs braced as if prepared for an enemy’s mortal blow, he met her condemning gaze.

  “I said those things to Edina while she pretended to be you. I deliberately repeated your name until I knew your sister wanted to shove my boots down my throat. I forced her to quiz me like a tutor trying to impart a single drop of knowledge into a pile of desert sand.” He glanced at the toes of his boots then met Rowena’s gaze once more.

  “I failed to provide any information Edina did not ask from me. Of that I stand guilty and without remorse. But if you think to cry quits, break your vow to marry me, think again. Long and hard,” he added over his shoulder as he strode out the doors and into the bailey.

  “Have you nothing to say?” Edina demanded of Gerard.

  “In Edgar’s defense? No. He has acquitted himself with honor.”

  “B-But,” Rowena turned her pleading gaze to Gerard, “who will tell me the truth about Edgar?”

  “Edgar.” With that Gerard too quit the great hall.

  * * * * *

  “I knew the lad had courage,” Kerrie said.

  “Of course you did,” Alexandre agreed, knowing how hard she had fought against liking the princesses.

  “Basil still has not consented to the marriages.”

  “One step at a time, my love.”

  “I don’t trust him. In truth, I am quite certain he’ll do something to delay their weddings—if he doesn’t forbid them outright.”

  Alexandre stroked her cheek. “Sweeting, you must trust Yvonne to make matters right. Two things wor
k in her favor. One, she is our daughter with all our innate skills. Two, she is Queen of Marchonland. No one here dares to defy her.”

  “Basil will try,” Kerrie muttered, looking sullen.

  “Try,” Alexandre repeated, “but not succeed.”

  “We can but hope.”

  “Trust our daughter, Kerrie. I do.”

  “Then so must I.”

  * * * * *

  Aida’s Tower Guest Quarters

  When Edina finally left her alone, Rowena paced the solar until she thought would wear a rut in the stone floor. She should go to Edgar, apologize for doubting him. Even before today’s debacle, she’d sensed a greater depth to him than he allowed others to see. But after all that had passed between them—the tricks she’d played, the doubts she’d harbored until he faced her squarely—would he believe her?

  If he didn’t… She’d make him see the truth. See that she loved him. And what he’d said about crying quits gave her hope that he loved her too. He wouldn’t make it easy for her. She recognized he too had his pride. But if she had to, she’d camp outside his tent and match his every step.

  Racing down the winding tower stairs, ignoring people milling around in the great hall, she sped through the crowded bailey and over the drawbridge. Breathless, she arrived at the tent Edgar shared with Gerard. Before fear of rejection could overcome her resolve, she rushed inside.

  “What do you want, Rowena?” Edgar flicked an uncaring glance in her direction then turned his back on her.

  “I…wanted to see you, talk to you. Please, Edgar, no matter how much you despise me, please hear me out.”

  His shoulders heaved as if they bore a burden far too weighty for him to carry. “Just now I cannot look at you.”

  “Just now I cannot bear your eyes on me. ‘Tis easier—like confessing to a priest who cannot see my face if you will—to say this to your back.”

  “I’m no priest, Rowena.”

  “But I am a penitent, Edgar.” Sighing, she sat upon the low stool at the foot of his only chair. Gerard apparently had had his belongings moved to Marchon Castle. She hoped that, having forgiven her, Edgar would sit in that single chair and draw her into his arms. Unable to discern what held his attention, she asked in a small voice, “What are you doing, Edgar?”