Jenna Starborn

by Sharon Shinn

  The hand shaking my shoulder was just as urgent and even harder to ignore. I opened my eyes and turned back to him with a wide smile. “I am quite all right. I am just listening to the Goddess.”

  This admission earned me a skeptical look and caused him to drop his hand. “And what did she have to say?”

  “Merely that she is here and she loves me. Loves us all.”

  “Who loves us?” Ameletta wanted to know. She still had not released Everett’s hand, and she looked very small and windblown, and not entirely happy. I bent to kiss her cheek.

  “The Goddess. The unifying spirit of the universe.”

  “I did not hear her say anything,” Ameletta said.

  “How odd. Neither did I,” Everett murmured.

  I smiled again and opened the door to our round little car. “I heard enough for all of us,” I said serenely. “You will simply have to take my word.”

  This event was clearly designed to cap what had been a successful but very long day, and soon we were back in the Vandeventer, heading toward home. Ameletta fell asleep between us almost as soon as we were strapped in, and Everett and I talked in quiet, comfortable voices during the whole trip. I enjoyed those final hours nearly as much as I had enjoyed the entire rest of the outing, and I returned to the manor house as happy and content as I had ever been in my life.

  Chapter 13

  The next week flew by Everett and I had, with very little more discussion, settled on a day in the middle of the following week as our wedding date, which gave us exactly seven days to prepare. I, of course, had little to do except fold my new clothes and await the delivery of my wedding dress. Everett was much more occupied, for he had to notify lawyers and financial institutions of his impending change of status, and he had to advertise for my replacement, and he had to make arrangements for Ameletta’s care while we were gone. Mrs. Farraday, of course, could watch the little girl some of the time, but she had duties of her own, and auxiliary help was required.

  “And then we must come up with a plan for her once we have returned to Thorrastone Park,” I told him on the evening before our wedding, as we sat together quietly in his study. “For I don’t imagine I will be free to tutor her as she should be tutored, and—”

  Everett looked up from where he was sitting in front of his computer monitor, entering computations. “Return to Thorrastone Park!” he repeated. “But we will not be living here. This is not my primary home—indeed, I have already stayed here much longer than is my wont.”

  “Oh? And where will we live?” I asked calmly, though I felt a certain nervousness jolt through me. I had known this, of course, but I had not really considered it. The place that I had come to consider home was to him no more than a stopping place, a seasonal house, a property to be maintained.

  “On Salvie Major much of the time, and Corbramb, but we will be traveling as well,” he said. “There is so much I want to show you, Jenna! So much you have not seen! We could wander for five years and not see all the wonders of the universe.”

  “Keep in mind that I am not much of a sojourner,” I said. “I like a settled place, and a familiar roof, and faces that I grow to love. And Ameletta will require such things as well.”

  “Ameletta! She will be enrolled in school very soon. I shall look into that as soon as we are returned from our honeymoon.”

  “But I thought you had only agreed to send her to school to appease Bianca Ingersoll,” I said, troubled. “I had thought we would keep her with us always, or at least near us. I am very attached to her—and I cannot help but look on her as your daughter.”

  He seemed somewhat exasperated by this, but he threw up his hands and laughed. “We shall discuss this further,” he promised, turning back to his computer screen. “I will make no plans for her of which you do not wholeheartedly approve.”

  And I believed him; therefore, I was certain Ameletta’s future would be as happy as I could make it. “What are you engaged upon so industriously?” I inquired then. “I can leave the room if I distract you.”

  “No, stay—I enjoy having you nearby, and this is not work that requires much concentration,” he said. “I am informing all my acquaintances of my coming change of status. I imagine by the time we return, we will have a backlog of congratulatory messages awaiting us—and perhaps a stack of gifts as well.” He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Feel free to send the news to all of your friends, Jenna. I assumed you had done so, but in case you thought you needed my permission, I tell you to go ahead now.”

  I smiled. “No, indeed, I did not think enough of your consequence to keep this news a secret,” I said. “Though, in fact, I had very few people to tell. I sent a message to my aunt’s estate, in case they would have some need to look for me, and letters to a few friends from Lora. Also my aunt’s housekeeper, Betista, who was always kind to me. But no one else would think to wonder where I was or what had happened to me if Jenna Starborn, transformed to Jenna Ravenbeck, were to disappear from the folds of the universe.”

  Once again he turned to look at me, and the expression on his face was most serious. “I would know,” he said quietly. “If you were to disappear into the black mystery of the galaxy, I would feel the loss.”

  I smiled again. “Yes, but you are the person with whom I am going to disappear,” I pointed out. “So you will not need to wonder where I am.”

  He worked perhaps an hour more in silence, then shut down his monitor and came to sit beside me on the sofa. “And so, Jenna, our last night together before we are husband and wife,” he said, taking my fingers in his hand and playing with them as if they were separate and distinct toys that he could roll together to make a bony, hollow music. “Are you nervous? Hopeful? Frightened? Jubilant? You are so quiet I cannot always tell, but sometimes a fugitive joy fizzes behind those earnest eyes and I think, ‘Aha! Jenna is happy!’ ”

  I took his restless hand and laid it against my cheek, and I turned my earnest eyes on him with all the soulfulness I could muster. “I am happy, Everett, for I love you with all my heart,” I said simply.

  He turned his head quickly to plant a kiss in my palm. “Sweet Jenna!” he whispered. “I pray every night that I will be a good husband to you—that you have not misplaced your trust by giving yourself into my care.”

  “I need no such prayers,” I said. “I have no fears.”

  He was silent a moment, as if mulling over something else he might say, and then he gave a short, rather strange laugh, and stood up abruptly. “But I forgot! This is our night to celebrate! You promised long ago to wait up with me the night before I wed, and I promised to share with you that bottle of aprifresel wine. I put it in here somewhere—now where the devil has it gone?”

  He searched for perhaps five minutes before locating his prize, and shortly the two of us were sitting on the sofa, toasting each other with the wine. Mr. Ravenbeck tossed his back with every appearance of a man swallowing poison as quickly as possible; I sipped mine more cautiously. And immediately coughed on the sweet, syrupy stuff.

  “Everett! This is dreadful!” I exclaimed.

  “Yes, but you must drink it anyway,” he said, pouring himself another glass. “That is why you brought it back from Baldus, and a bargain is a bargain, no matter how distasteful. Drink-drink-drink—there you go,” he said admiringly as I managed to choke down a few more mouthfuls. “You worried that you would be drunk on the stuff, but you’re more likely to contract a stomach disorder.”

  “I am likely to be both sick and hungover in the morning,” I observed through watery eyes as I held out my glass for another portion. “This is positively the last time I will allow you to make me drink a liquor I do not like—but since we did make a bargain, I will stick to it. And by that you can judge the extent of my loyalty in future endeavors.”

  “Done,” he said, touching his glass to mine again. Again we drank, and again filled our goblets, and drank again. Soon enough we were both groaning and laughing, and the evening ended on a not
e of rather disorderly merriment. I stumbled to my feet as the clock struck midnight and gave him an exaggerated (and somewhat unsteady) curtsy.

  “Everett Ravenbeck, I will see you in the morning,” I said formally.

  He bowed in return. “And Jenna Starborn, in the morning I will make you my bride,” he said. “Sleep deeply, my beloved. Dream of me.”

  “I always do,” I said, curtsied again, and left the room.

  The morning dawned as all mornings on Fieldstar did, to a cold, filtered light, but to me the day was washed with iridescence and suffused with magic. I had slept very little, but woke feeling light and brittle, almost weightless, buoyed by an indescribable joy. Mrs. Farraday had told me the day before that I should keep to my room until the travel vehicles had assembled at the door to convey us to the Registry Office in town; among the elite on Fieldstar, as in many societies, it was customary for bride and groom to not view each other on their wedding day until the very moment the ceremony was to begin. Of course, it was rare that bride and groom shared the same household—thus my confinement to my room.

  So I lay abed lazily long after I should have been up, bustling about, and then I took a lengthy shower. I washed with perfumed soap that Mrs. Farraday had given me, and shampooed my hair with an herbalscented concoction that had also been a gift from her. I was touched at these evidences of her affection—and at her realization that a hardworking half-cit girl would never have thought to indulge in such extravagances. But I loved the luxuriant feel of my washed hair and the silken texture of my pampered skin, and I silently blessed her.

  Mary brought my breakfast tray and set it on my little desk, then burst into tears and hugged me. “Congratulations, Miss Starborn,” she said. “What a grand day for you!”

  “Why, thank you, Mary! It means so much to me that you and the others wish me well.”

  But then she recollected that I was now to become mistress of Thorrastone Park and that we were not really friends, and she flushed, bobbed her head, and backed out of the door with some haste. I felt a moment’s sadness at this, but I strove to banish it. Nothing, as far as I was concerned, would occur to dim the brilliance of this day.

  Ameletta joined me as I was finishing my meal, and she sat at the desk and bombarded me with questions. Was I happy? Was I scared? Did I know the things a bride should know? (I hoped devoutly that she knew less about those mysteries than I did, though, given the worldliness she exhibited in other instances, I was not prepared to be certain of this. In any case, I merely answered “Yes” and turned the subject.) Could she come to my room and be dressed alongside me? Could we ride together in the estate car?

  At this last question, I laughed and said, “You know, I’m not certain what the travel arrangements are. I know that Mr. Ravenbeck can fit three into his Vandeventer—but only if one of those three is a small person like yourself.”

  “Mr. Ravenbeck said he would fly the aeromobile and that Mrs. Farraday would ride with him. He said I could accompany them, but I would much rather be with you in the estate bus, Miss Starborn.”

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever been in this bus. How many will it seat?”

  “Oh, ten or twenty people! Sometimes the miners take it into town for a little holiday. Mr. Ravenbeck was not happy that you were to ride in the bus, for he said it was probably dirty, but Mr. Soshone promised to clean it very, very well, and Mrs. Farraday looked it over yesterday just to be sure. And anyway, you cannot ride in the aeromobile, because Mr. Ravenbeck is not to see you. But you can ride with him on the way back. He was very plain about that.”

  I smiled. “Who is Mr. Soshone?”

  “He is the assistant mine supervisor. He and his wife and Mr. Cartell and his wife will all be coming to the wedding.”

  “Yes, Mr. Cartell’s name I knew. So in the van it will be you and me, and Rinda and Genevieve and Mary, and the Cartells and the Soshones? One of the men will fly the van, I suppose. Yes, Ameletta, certainly I will want you with me in the bus. Rinda and Mary are very quiet these days, and I do not know the others at all. I will need a friend to hold my hand and remind me to breathe.”

  “Well, I shall always be your friend, Miss Starborn,” Ameletta said, patting me on the arm. “Don’t you worry about that.”

  We had agreed to leave the manor house at ten in the morning, which would get us into the spaceport right around noon. The ceremony would only take fifteen minutes or so, and then Everett had made reservations for us to have a sumptuous bridal banquet at one of the more expensive restaurants in town. I thought this would be a lovely treat for the guests and a warm memory for me as I set off for a new, unfamiliar life.

  For Everett and I were to leave Fieldstar a few short hours after the ceremony. My luggage and Everett’s would be loaded onto the estate bus; after the meal, the whole small caravan would make its way into the docking area of the spaceport, where our bags would be transferred to Everett’s private cruiser. Then we would wave good-bye and climb aboard the space-going craft, and my new life would truly begin.

  I found it almost impossible to believe. And yet I longed for it so intensely that at times I felt faint. I had not been entirely joking when I told Ameletta she would have to remind me to breathe.

  Ameletta and I were still talking over my breakfast tray when Mrs. Farraday came bustling in. She was dressed in a handsome burgundy pantsuit and had done her hair and makeup with care, and she looked just as proud and maternal as the mother I would wish to have with me on such a day.

  “Heavens, are you two still eating? I had hoped to find you halfway dressed by now,” she exclaimed.

  “I must run to my room and get my clothes!” Ameletta cried. “I will be back oh so quickly!” And she dashed out the door.

  I rose to my feet, smiling. “It will not take me long to dress, never fear. We will be ready in time.”

  “I have insisted Mr. Ravenbeck wait for me at the back entrance, for we don’t want him catching a glimpse of you as you come down the stairs,” Mrs. Farraday said. She was at my closet door already, and she reverently pulled out the ivory-colored satin dress. “There, now. Isn’t that pretty? I can’t believe that child picked it out for you.”

  “I can’t believe I am ever in my life wearing anything so beautiful.”

  “And you will look beautiful in it.”

  Ameletta returned, breathless, her own clothing thrown over her arm. She was to wear a delicate blue outfit of some sort of floating lace that created a kind of turquoise bubble about her when she moved. It sounds quite odd, I know, but the effect was charming; she looked like a fairy out of legend come drifting down to the planet to bestow good wishes. She had purchased this ensemble during our last trip to town and had been almost unable to endure the wait until she could wear it.

  “I am here!” she announced. “Let us get ready!”

  Mrs. Farraday frowned, but I laughed, and soon enough we were both busily engaged in beautifying ourselves. My hair required very little more than a quick brush and an application of modeling spray once the headpiece was in place. My cosmetics required a bit more time. I allowed Mrs. Farraday to do the painting, for I had rarely applied makeup before and had no real idea how to go about it. When she was done, I gazed at myself in the mirror for a few moments, quite astonished. My eyes looked much larger than usual, liquid and unfathomable; my cheekbones had acquired enough prominence to make me remember I actually had them; and my mouth looked full enough to kiss.

  “Gracious,” I said faintly. “Had I known you could make me look this beautiful, I would have come to you for help much sooner.”

  Mrs. Farraday smiled. “I will teach you how to apply your own makeup, and once you practice a while, you will find it quite easy. Do not forget you will need to look your best in your new life.”

  “I always try to look my best,” Ameletta said, and we glanced over to see her studiously brushing rouge onto her own fair cheeks. My mouth dropped open and Mrs. Farraday gasped.

  “Ameletta! Stop t
hat this instant!” the seneschal cried, stalking over and whisking the brush from the little girl’s hand. “You are much too young to be wearing cosmetics! For shame!”

  Ameletta looked up at us, big eyes luminous with tears, the rather skillfully applied makeup turning her child’s face into something much older than it should be. “But I want to look beautiful for Miss Starborn’s wedding!”

  “You will look beautiful enough in your own skin, missy, and don’t you start to argue with me!”

  But of course it was not an argument we got, but tears, and it took the two of us the better part of ten minutes to calm her down, convince her that we were serious, and convince her that a child’s most exquisite ornament was her clear, natural complexion and fresh, unused skin.

  “But I don’t want to be a child!” she sobbed into my arms. “I want to be a woman—and have lots of clothes—and wear whatever I feel like—”

  I kissed her on the top of her head and tried not to laugh, though Mrs. Farraday did not show much patience for this exhibition. “You will be a woman so quickly you will wonder how it happened,” I whispered into her ear. “Be a child for as long as you can, chiya.”

  This little diversion took more time than we’d expected, so once we had Ameletta composed, we had to hurry to finish dressing me. Luckily there was little left for me to do but put on my expensive silken undergarments, step into my high-heeled shoes, and stand still so that Mrs. Farraday could carefully lower my wedding gown over my head. Then the housekeeper fastened the buttons in the back while Ameletta fastened the ones on the sleeves—and I was dressed.

  “Oh, Jenna,” Mrs. Farraday said, coming around to view me from the front. “Oh, child, don’t you look lovely. I couldn’t be prouder if you were my own girl.”

  I pivoted to gaze at myself in the mirror one more time. I am not one to brag about myself, and I know that my physical beauty is not impressive—and I know that physical beauty is fleeting and worthless in any case—but, Reeder, I did look beautiful at that hour. My face, my hair, my gown, and my happiness all combined to give me a look of rare magnificence. I looked like a small queen ready to set sail on the journey of her life.