“No,” said Fen shaking her head emphatically. “I mean, I thought that Bess was acting a little oddly, but I never dreamt…”
“Better make sure Lady Eden Montmayne don’t lose her head and run off with a lute player,” said Cuthbert. “Or you’ll really be for it.”
Fen looked at him with horror, and he tipped her a wink. “You are not funny, Cuthbert,” she said, rallying herself.
“Really, I don’t think that at all likely,” said Linnet earnestly. “Eden is not at all the sort of person to ever do such a thing.”
Cuthbert spluttered with laughter. “I only said it in jest,” he said rolling his eyes. “Everyone knows she’s got a stick up…” he broke off his words hastily. “Everyone knows she’s stiff-necked, that one.”
Even though he was only joking, Fen found herself reaching for Eden’s note and scanning it anxiously for anything amiss with her remaining single friend. The only odd thing she could see was that Eden made no mention of the elopement, but perhaps she did not want to spread gossip. After all, Eden was very proper. “I must go and see her presently,” she said distractedly. The door opened, and Trudy came bustling in. “Ah, Trudy. Could you be so kind as to dress my hair?” she asked, rising up from the table.
“Of course, milady.”
“Aren’t you going to eat your sop in wine?” asked Cuthbert. He’d already emptied half the bowl.
“You finish it,” she told him. “But make sure that Meldon thinks I had it.”
“Understood,” he said with a cheeky grin.
As Trudy arranged her hair, Fen hastily scanned through Orla’s latest letter. She had to read it through twice before she could get the gist of it, the tidings were so astonishing. Her former sister-in-law wrote to tell her that they would soon be sisters-in-law once more! Orla had decided that Fen’s brother Gil was quite incapable of managing without a wife any longer. The most logical thing to do, she had decided, was to simply marry him herself. This way, her partisanship for Fen would not be a problem like it was at Thurrold. It seemed, Orla still found the Lady Colleen quite unbearable to be around, and Ambrose’s new mother-in-law, even worse. She described herself as a permanent ‘house-guest’ at Sitchmarsh Hall, where she had set about at once making things more respectable. Ambrose had disowned her for what he deemed shameful and unmaidenlike behavior in his sister. It seemed Gil was quite resigned to the fact that he was to marry Orla on Solstice Eve. Fen gasped as her brain reeled, processing the news. She could hardly take in more news at this point. The last time she had seen Gil he had described Orla as ‘a foolish old maid’, but it seemed she had brought him to heel since then! She was trying to picture them together, when Trudy patted her on the shoulder and told her that she was ready. Thanking her maid, Fenella jumped up and made her way to the Montmayne rooms, where she was enthusiastically received by Eden.
“Just wait until you see it,” said her friend leading her into the sitting area. There was a large canvas covered with a sheet in the corner. Eden steepled her hands. “Are you ready?” she asked, almost quivering with anticipation.
To be honest, Fen could not care less at this point about how the actual portrait turned out. She wanted to ask Eden if it was certain that signor Arnotti had eloped with Bess. Still, she took in Eden’s excitement and replied. “Oh…er, yes.”
Eden unveiled the canvas and looked expectantly at her.
Fen gasped and fell back as she took in the rosy beauty on the canvas with her voluptuous curves, bright eyes and lustrous skin. It was mostly the amount of skin on view that appalled her. Automatically her hand flew to her front to check her lacings were fastened. She stole a sideways look at Eden Montmayne, who was gazing at it in awe.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Eden announced proudly. “A masterpiece.”
Fen opened and closed her mouth again without a single word occurring to her. She turned back to the rich oils of the painting and winced at the parted pink lips and the hectic color in her cheeks. She looked like she was panting! Like she had been running around a field and then flung herself down haphazardly onto the nearest surface! She couldn’t fathom how signor Arnotti could have transformed the nice solid window seat she had been sat on, into this overstuffed monstrosity. She had a horrible feeling it wasn’t a chair at all. “What am I lolling on?” she asked stiffly. If Eden said it was the end of a bed, she was going to scream.
“It’s a cloud,” Eden explained. “Goddesses sit on clouds.”
“Goddesses?” she repeated, and felt absurd relief stealing over her. “So, this is not my portrait then?” She stole another look at it. It didn’t really look like her after all, she tried to convince herself.
“Of course it is you,” said Eden with a small frown. “But you have to allow for the artistic license. This is how signor Arnotti saw you.”
“But where’s my dress?” Fen asked. “My plum colored velvet? I don’t even own a…a …” She didn’t even know what to call the thing that was swirled around her. It looked like a wisp of sky blue silk. “Blanket this color,” she finished with dignity.
“You absolutely must get something in this color immediately,” said Eden earnestly. “It really draws attention to your beautiful fair skin.”
Fen stared at her friend a moment and wondered if her wits were disordered. She closed her eyes a moment, trying to think calm thoughts.
“Is something wrong Fenella?” asked Eden as if only just noticing her agitation. “Do you need to sit down?”
“What is my husband going to say?” asked Fen in a low anguished voice.
Eden blinked, looking surprised. “Lord Vawdrey? I am sure he will appreciate the superior quality of signor Arnotti’s work.”
Fen looked at her out of the corner of her eye. The younger woman looked entirely sincere. Perhaps she was wrong? Everyone said that Eden Montmayne had exceptional taste and an exemplary reputation. “Y-you think he will be pleased with it?” she asked biting on her thumbnail distractedly.
“Of course,” nodded Eden reassuringly. “He will recognize the unmistakable talent of the artist, and how he has brought out the luminous quality of his subject.”
Fen took a deep breath and turned back to the canvas. She ventured another look at it, but couldn’t manage it without a wince. She was aghast by her bare shoulders and arms. The glimpses of her bare legs through the transparent drapings. “Perhaps you’re right,” she quavered. “I’m afraid I am just too ill-educated to appreciate such things.” After all, she simply wasn’t sophisticated. She was the biggest bumpkin in all of Aphrany.
“Oh you mustn’t say so,” protested Eden. “After all, you put your faith in him when no-one else did.”
“I was really only led by you,” Fenella said raspily. “I-I must write to signor Arnotti to thank him for all of his hard work. Indeed, he has not yet received full payment for the painting.”
A slight frown crossed Eden’s face. “It’s highly irregular but it seems he has up and left us already, and without a forwarding address. We can only hope that he will contact us in due course.”
“Well, now that it’s all over, I will certainly have a lot more time on my hands,” said Fen weakly. “I – er – the canvas is so big I hardly know where to put it.” She really tried to keep the dismay out of her voice, but had a horrible feeling she had failed miserably. “Perhaps I could have it sent to my brother’s until the re-build has happened at Vawdrey Keep…”
“Oh, but first you must allow it to be exhibited here in the palace!” Eden interrupted her looking shocked. “This is signor Arnotti’s masterpiece. Indeed, I am very surprised that he did not wait to see how it was received.”
Fenella looked at Eden. “Display it?” she echoed blankly.
“But of course!”
Fen took a deep breath. “I’m afraid I would have to ask Lord Vawdrey,” said Fenella in a firm voice. “My own inclination is that it would not be at all proper but…I know I am sadly provincial in my ways.”
Eden
broke out in a relieved smile. “Oh, of course! That will be fine. I am convinced that Lord Vawdrey will think the painting most exceptional and deserving of an audience.”
Fen avoided looking at the canvas again by averting her eyes from all that pale fair skin. Did she really have so much of it? And couldn’t signor Arnotti have made her look a little more svelte? Her palms felt damp from the sweat she had broken out into. She just wanted to get out of the room and never see that painting again, as long as she lived.
The problem with Eden reassuring her, was that for all her polish, she simply was not a married woman. After the disaster that was Mr Entner’s play, she would not allow herself to be fooled again. She had already brought utter disgrace onto her husband. There was surely only so much of it that he could stand.
“Well, then,” said Eden looking a little deflated. “Shall I have the portrait delivered to your rooms then, for Lord Vawdrey to view it first?”
Eden was definitely disappointed with her reaction, thought Fen guiltily. “Yes, if you would I’d be most grateful,” she said. “Why is it that you have the portrait, may I ask?”
Eden’s black eyebrows snapped together. “Oh,” she said as if being reminded of something unpleasant. “I don’t mean to shock you, Fenella,” she said gravely. “But I’m afraid there has been a most unfortunate development. Signor Arnotti has taken a most imprudent step which is sure to impact on his livelihood.” She pursed her lips disapprovingly and Fen waited.
“Which was?” she prompted when Eden seemed loath to go into details.
“I’m sorry, but there’s no nice way of putting it. It seems he has eloped with Lady Elizabeth Hartleby.” Fen shut her eyes a moment. So it was true. “I apologize,” said Eden. “I know you are a friend of Bess’s but it’s apparently quite true.”
Fen sat down heavily in the nearest chair, as the certainty of the latest scandal overwhelmed her. Quite suddenly, her only course of action lay open before her, in a blinding flash of light. She would take herself off to Sitchmarsh, before her husband was forced to send her. There could be no doubt of it now, she thought numbly. After all, had he not already vowed to send her away, after the first disgrace? And since then, there had been another three scandals he did not even know about! Two friends eloping and this scandal of a portrait… There was no other option. She would pre-empt the disgrace. Gods be blessed for Orla, her ex- and soon to be sister-in-law, for she had given her the perfect excuse. She would salvage her pride and let it be known she was leaving court for her brother’s impending nuptials. “Forgive me, Eden,” she said impulsively. “But you see, I’m rather in a hurry. My brother has written to me that he means to be wed on the morrow.”
“On Solstice Eve?” asked Eden in surprise.
“Yes, my family are all very fond of the Solstice celebrations,” said Fen brightly. “I must needs set off within the hour to ensure I reach Sitchmarsh Hall in time.”
“Oh but surely-?” Eden started, her face falling. “You will wait for the King’s party to return?”
“Alas, I would that I could,” said Fen springing out of her seat. “I’m just glad I got to come and say my farewell to you in person.”
“You will return to Court, after the wedding of course,” urged Eden, clearly perturbed by Fen’s news.
“Oh yes,” said Fen glibly. “When my husband recalls me.” Which he won’t, thought Fen as a sop to her conscience for lying.
Eden kissed her cheek and wished her a happy Solstice and Fen remembered she had a present for her. She would have to send Cuthbert along with it presently. For now, she needed to pack her trunks. It wouldn’t take long, she thought as she made her way back. She would only take a few gowns. She would not need the court finery or the jewelry after all. She picked up her pace, dashing a hand across her eyes whenever tears threatened to fall. There was no alternative. She simply could not face seeing Oswald retreat from her to that glacial politeness that simply froze her. This portrait was the final nail in the coffin of her marriage. There was simply no way that he would countenance keeping so disastrous a wife at court. He would try to be kind, but his disappointment would be evident, and her heart would simply break. She was useless, quite useless at this courtly way of life. Every way she turned, she ran into a dreadful scandal. Fen barreled through the door to their rooms with a muffled sob.
“Why milady,” said Trudy in dismay, looking up from where she was folding linens. “Whatever’s happened?”
Fen gulped. “Nothing of import, Trudy,” she lied in a wobbly voice. “I know it is unexpected, but I – er – need to pack some things together for a journey into the country.”
“When?” asked Trudy sounding shocked.
“Now Trudy, in all haste. You see, my brother is to be married tomorrow, in Sitchmarsh where I’m from. He has written asking me to attend,” she improvised.
“But milady,” protested Trudy. “He surely would not expect you to go careering off into the countryside without your husband’s leave!”
Fen cleared her throat. “Oh, my husband will not mind,” she said airily. “We discussed the possibility before he left.” The lies were coming thick and fast now. “I do not need to pack overmuch, no jewelry or fine head-dresses. Just the essentials.” Though in truth, all her gowns were fancy these days, so she was talking nonsense. She drifted through to the bedroom, feeling quite numb. She stared in the mirror as she unpinned her gauzy veil, but left the velvet roll her hair was caught up in. Her face was rather pale, but you would never guess that her life was collapsing down around her. The door closed, and Trudy joined her, pulling out drawers and unfastening trunks as they went about their business. She turned to her maid as they were tightening the strap on her chest.
“Trudy, I wonder if you could send word down to the stables to have my horse made ready?”
As her maid hurried away, Fen stared at the trunk, and then at Bors who was sat watching her. Even though she was not taking much, she would not leave her dog behind, however attached to Roland he might be! But the sad fact was that Bors’ days of running alongside her horse were long gone. She would need some type of conveyance for him to sit in alongside her trunk. She was just pondering this, when Meldon appeared in the doorway.
“I’ll take ye,” he said.
“Pardon?” Fen turned in surprise.
“I said I’ll take ye to Sitchmarsh. I made that journey many a-time. We can take a wagon.”
“Oh but…Meldon,” said Fen taken aback. “I don’t think Oswald would be happy for me to take you away with me. After all…”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said sticking out his chin. “I see my duty before me, and it’s to take you to Sitchmarsh. Who’s to show you around the old place if it’s not me?” He puffed out his skinny chest.
“Well, you see,” said Fen weakly. “I was thinking of going to my brother’s place first as-”
“Now that, is something the master would not like,” said Meldon with a thunderous frown.
Fen was surprised by his addressing Oswald as ‘the master’. To her knowledge it was the first time he’d done it. Usually he called him ‘Master Oswald’ as he called Roland ‘Master Roland’. As she understood it, he reserved ‘the master’ exclusively for when he was speaking of the old Baron.
“He wouldn’t?”
“Stands to reason, he’d expect you under his own roof!” said Meldon with a vigorous nod.
“I see,” said Fen. “Well…” After all, what difference did it make? Their estates were neighboring. And this way, if Meldon drove the wagon, Bors could sit beside him while she rode her horse alongside them. “If you really do not mind accompanying me, Meldon?”
“It’s no more than my duty,” he reiterated, and stomped back out. “I’ll get a wagon and send a man for your trunk.”
“Thank you, Meldon,” she called after him.
Hurried explanations to Linnet followed. Her sister-in-law was bewildered and dismayed by her departure. Fenella wrapped
the children’s solstice gifts and Bryce’s lined hood and left them on the bed for Oswald to bestow them. She gave her presents for Hester and Eden to Cuthbert to deliver. On impulse, she gave Cuthbert the deck of cards she had bought for Gil. After all, he was to have a wife now, and that was Solstice gift enough. Then, pulling on her thickest cloak and drawing on her gloves, she kissed them all farewell, and left the castle.
**
Oswald whipped back the tent flap and strode into the tent he was sharing with his brothers. “We’ll be here at least another hour,” he said grimly. “I’ve left Schaeffer to finish up the formalities. Wymer’s suffering from last night’s excesses. We won’t be packing up in a hurry.”
Mason scowled back at him, sharing his mood.
“Can’t we start off ahead of them?” asked Roland irritably.
“Now, how would that look?” asked Oswald. “The King’s champion, lead general and chief advisor all ride off, and leave him trailing behind undefended.”
“He’s got a hundred soldiers,” Roland pointed out, perhaps not unreasonably.
“You know how the King feels about protocol,” Oswald responded tersely.
“What’s up with you anyway?” Roland asked him. “You’ve been jumpy since yesterday. Usually you’re calm as hell about these things.”
Both his brothers turned to look at him keenly.
“What?” said Oswald. “You don’t want to get back before more snow falls? Princess Una has signed all the papers and is ready to leave. It’s a good four-hour ride back to the palace, and I can see no call for further delay.”
“I’m going to see if I can find out anymore,” muttered Roland flinging out of the tent.
“And that’s the only reason?” asked Mason.
Oswald’s jaw clenched. “What other reason would there be?”
Mason gave him a level look. “Because you’re not feeling happy with the way you left things with your wife.” he suggested. “Be honest. For once.”
“Trust me,” said Oswald. “You don’t want to know how I honestly feel right now.” He closed his eyes.
His Forsaken Bride (Vawdrey Brothers Book 2) Page 45
