dragon archives 02 - pursued by a dragon

by Linda K Hopkins

  “You can come find us in half an hour,” Margaret said to Favian. “Cathryn and I are going to spend some time getting acquainted.” Favian looked taken aback at being so summarily dismissed, but he took it with good humor.

  “Make sure you inform Cathryn of all my charming qualities,” he teased, before turning and heading away.

  Margaret watched his retreating figure for a moment before turning to look at the amber still lying on the cloth. The merchant, who had discreetly moved away when Favian and Margaret joined Cathryn, now moved back towards the two women. Picking up the piece of amber, Margaret turned it over in her hands.

  “This is a pretty piece,” she said. “I bought one only slightly larger at another market recently, and paid five silver coins for it.” The merchant shot Margaret a glare as she smiled blandly back at him, before turning to Cathryn in defeat.

  “Five silver coins, then,” he said.

  “Four,” said Margaret. “As I said, my piece was larger.” The man shook his head with a look of infinite despair.

  “Very well, four,” he said. “Highway robbery, it is, with me having seven mouths to feed. The children will go to bed with empty stomachs tonight.” He shook his head sadly as Cathryn handed him the coins.

  “Only seven children,” replied Margaret with a deepening smile. “I was certain it was nine, but perhaps I have you confused with someone else.” A flush rose in the merchant’s cheeks, but he held Margaret’s gaze.

  “Must’ave been someone else, Mistress,” he said. “Good day to you.”

  “I will hazard a guess that that was the same merchant you dealt with before,” Cathryn said with a grin as they moved away.

  “Yes, it most certainly was. Audacious fellow. I know for a fact that his three children are all grown, with children of their own, and his wife does not suffer from a dearth of sustenance.” Margaret glanced at Cathryn as she spoke. “He lives in the city close to our estate, so he is well known to me.”

  “The city close to your estate? Where exactly is your estate?”

  “It lies thirty-five miles to the north.”

  “Thirty-five miles? That’s more than two hours’ ride away. Do you have a house in town as well?”

  “No, but I am visiting a friend for a few days. Perhaps you know her? Madame Bradshaw?”

  “Yes, I certainly do know Madame Bradshaw. Her husband has business dealings with my father.” Cathryn paused for a moment before returning to her previous confusion. “But Favian must have a house here. He seems to be frequently in town.” She was startled to realize that she didn’t know a great deal about Favian.

  “No, I believe he covers the distance from our home and back each time. He has a swift mount, and is happy to traverse the distance,” Margaret replied. “Perhaps,” she added softly, “he feels it is worth the effort.”

  Cathryn looked away as she felt the blush mounting in her cheeks, but it quickly faded as Margaret directed her attention to a display of finely woven fabrics, dyed in rich shades of color.

  “Look at these lovely hues,” she exclaimed. “This yellow would look very becoming on you,” she said, holding the cloth up to Cathryn’s face. She spent a few more moments admiring the weave and colors, before strolling towards the next table, on which was displayed a collection of hairpins.

  “Now this,” Cathryn said, picking up one of the pieces, “is something I am always losing. I will purchase another one now and make my maid very happy.” She dug out a few small coins and handed them over as Margaret waited by her side. As they continued to stroll through the market, Margaret turned to look at her.

  “I will be returning home in two days, but if you have some time available, please call on me before I leave. Favian speaks very admiringly of you, and I would like to further our acquaintance while the opportunity exists. Madame Bradshaw is a very late riser, so I am free in the mornings. Can I expect you to call tomorrow?”

  Cathryn hesitated before answering. She liked this friendly and unpretentious woman, and wanted to get to know her more, but she did not want Margaret to believe that she returned Favian’s regard for her.

  “Yes, I would like that,” Cathryn said cautiously, “but I don’t want to visit under false pretenses. I am betrothed to another man.”

  “Yes, I am aware of your longstanding commitment,” Margaret said, “Regardless of your situation, I would still like to further our acquaintance.” Margaret smiled and patted her hand, before turning away and scanning the marketplace.

  “Favian is probably wondering where we have gotten to. Ah, there he is now.” Cathryn glanced in the same direction as Margaret, and was rewarded with the sight of Favian scanning the crowds with narrowed eyes. A moment later he saw them, and turning in their direction, quickly closed the distance.

  “I was beginning to wonder whether I would ever find you again in this crowd,” Favian said to his mother.

  “I have no fear of that,” responded his parent. Turning to Cathryn, she added, “He has the eyes of a hawk.”

  Cathryn turned to look at Favian with eyebrows raised.

  “Eyes of a hawk and ears of a bat. You are a man of startling abilities, Master Drake. Do you have the nose of a bloodhound too?”

  Favian flashed a quick frown at his mother, composing his features into a bland expression as he returned his gaze to Cathryn.

  “Perhaps I do. Should we test it out on you?” He took a step towards her, and grinned when she hurriedly stepped back. “You know,” he said with a slight smirk, “if my mother wasn’t here I would tell you that I already know your scent is like that of the early morning air laden with dew, with a hint of roses, but I would not wish to embarrass her.”

  Margaret coughed beside her, and Cathryn glared at Favian, suppressing a sharp retort.

  “It would appear you have failed in your intention, Master Drake,” she said, glaring at him. Turning to Margaret, she dropped a small curtsey. “Madame Drake, I will see you tomorrow.”

  Chapter 10

  Cathryn paused on her way to the Bradshaws’ the following morning, glancing around the street. In the daylight it looked quite benign, but it was here, under cover of darkness, that she had seen strange glowing lights, heard eerie silences and felt suspicious breezes. There was nothing threatening now, and after a moment she carried on walking in the direction of the Bradshaws’.

  Margaret was seated in the back parlor when Cathryn arrived, and rising, took Cathryn by the hands and led her to a seat beside her own.

  “Make yourself comfortable, my dear. I am so delighted you were able to call upon me this morning, since I leave at first light tomorrow,” Margaret said.

  “Do you travel alone?” Cathryn asked.

  “Oh, no. My husband is coming into town to fetch me.” She sighed with a smile. “I am always happy to return home since I miss my garden when I am away. Each day there is something new to see, and at the moment it is coming into full bloom.”

  “That sounds lovely,” Cathryn said wistfully. “I have lived my whole life in town, but have always imagined what it would be like to have private gardens to wander in. Does your estate include woods?”

  “Yes, there are woods to the east of the house, which will be purple with bluebells, and beyond the gardens there is wilderness, where wildflowers grow in profusion. At the moment it will be full of wild daffodils and crocuses.” Margaret watched Cathryn closely as she spoke, before rising and offering her a glass of wine from a pitcher on the table. “I understand from Master Bradshaw that you will be going on the road for your father’s wool business,” said Margaret, as she returned to her seat.

  “Yes,” Cathryn said. “I’m hoping that the weather will allow me to set out before the end of the month.”

  “You are quite active in this business, I understand,” Margaret said. “Have you done a tour before?”

  “Never without Father, but Father’s bailiff will travel with me.”

  “Well, Master Bradshaw considers you very compet
ent, which is high praise indeed, and your father evidently considers you worthy of his trust. Are you an only child?”

  “Yes, my mother died in childbirth when I was very young,” replied Cathryn.

  “And your father never remarried.”

  “No, he always said his work was a far more consistent lover.”

  “You must have had a lonely childhood.”

  “I never felt the want of company,” Cathryn said. “As a child I managed to keep myself amused, and as I grew older, my father spent time teaching me the business.”

  “Well, I think Favian would envy you the lack of siblings. He has an older sister, with whom he was always at odds. Of course, he seemed particularly well versed at being an annoying younger brother, and for every slight he suffered at his sister’s hands, he gave back twice as much. His father was always trying to keep him under control, but he would just as soon discover some new source of mischief. He splashed the juice of blackberries into Ayleth’s hair once while she slept, and for weeks she had purple streaks in her hair.” Margaret laughed at the memory. “Ayleth never forgot it either, and years later, she poured honey on his, er, in his hair while he slept. It created a dreadful mess, but Favian is far more forgiving than his sister.” Margaret took a sip of her wine. “You must have had a governess as you were growing up?”

  “No. My father believed an education in the warehouse would be of more value than learning needlework and music from a governess.”

  “And you don’t regret the lack of learning in these areas?”

  “I don’t suppose I have given it a lot of thought. I used to wish I could learn to play the lute, but my father did allow me to indulge my passion for books to a certain degree.”

  As the hours slid by, Margaret listened as Cathryn spoke more about her childhood, the education she had received from her father, and how her betrothal had come about. Margaret, in turn, shared with Cathryn her passion for horticulture and herbals. As the lady of a large manor, she was often called upon to administer physics and tonics to the villeins who lived on their estate, and Cathryn listened in delight as she told stories about some of the people she had helped. It was already past noon when Cathryn rose and regretfully said her farewells, expressing her regret at the distance of Margaret’s estate from the town.

  “I would love to further our acquaintance,” she said, “and also see your garden.”

  “Perhaps you will,” was Margaret’s reply.

  Chapter 11

  Cathryn was seated in her father’s study two days later when the note arrived. It was from Margaret, inviting her to spend a few nights with her at her home in the country.

  ‘In addition to the enjoyment of your company,’ read the note, ‘I would love to share the delights of my garden, which is looking quite lovely, with such an enthusiastic admirer. If you are agreeable, I will send the carriage for you on Monday morning, and will return you home again Wednesday afternoon.’

  “Who is your note from?” Father asked, watching his daughter with interest.

  “It’s from Madame Drake. She has invited me to visit her at her home in the country.” She looked at her father with a smile of eagerness.

  “Of course you should go,” Father said. “Has she mentioned dates?” Cathryn read him the note, but then the smile dropped from her face.

  “Actually, I don’t think I will go.”

  “Why ever not? You seemed quite taken with the idea a moment ago.”

  “There is still much to be done to get ready for the tour.”

  “Nonsense. You have done nothing but prepare for the tour for the last two weeks. You need to spend time with your friends as well, and it is only for two nights.”

  “But —”

  “And furthermore, you have been poor company of late. You need a distraction while you wait for the weather to improve.”

  “But —”

  “Cathryn, is there anything in the lady’s character that is making you hesitate?”

  “No.”

  “Then I insist you go.” Cathryn twisted her hands in her lap. She had no wish to reveal that the true reason for her reluctance to go was the possibility of Favian’s presence at Drake Manor.

  “Very well, Father. I will notify Madame Drake of my acceptance.”

  “Good. And you will see that I am right. I predict you will return quite refreshed.”

  Cathryn was ready when the carriage arrived promptly at nine o’clock on Monday morning. Hannah stood at the door, pouting at being left behind, although Cathryn had told her to take the days off. Her valise had been stowed when her father handed her into the carriage, and she sank into the plush seating before pulling back the curtain that hung over the small window. Father was standing on the step, waiting to wave goodbye as the carriage pulled away.

  It was almost noon by the time the carriage swept up a long driveway to stop in front of a large, stone house with high crenellated walls, from behind which peeked a steeply pitched roof of wood. On either end of the house jutted multi-sided towers, while a square entrance porch, with roses climbing over the yellow stone walls, stood towards the right end of the long building. It was from here that Margaret Drake emerged, a tall man striding out close behind her. He cut a striking figure, and with his blazing red hair, Cathryn guessed that he must be Favian’s father. This was soon confirmed when Margaret introduced him to her guest.

  “Welcome to Drake Manor.” She greeted Cathryn with a smile. “Allow me to introduce my husband, Owain.”

  “Master Drake,” greeted Cathryn with a curtsey.

  “You are most welcome, Mistress,” Owain responded. “My wife is surrounded by men who can be less than refined, so it is good for her to enjoy some more feminine company for a change.” He cast a mischievous smile at his wife as she moved forward to clasp Cathryn’s hands.

  “Come, my dear, you must be weary. Let me show you to your room where you can refresh yourself.”

  Brushing past her husband with a smile, Margaret led Cathryn through the porch into the hall. The large room reached the full height of the building, with a timbered roof that rose from the walls at a steep pitch that matched the roof she had seen outside. Long, multi-paned windows ran along the length of the walls, filling the room with light. At the far end of the hall was a raised dais, with a wooden screen behind, while at both ends of the hall arched doorways led to passages beyond. It was through the closest doorway that Margaret led Cathryn. Three more doors led from the passage, and Margaret paused at the first.

  “This is the small parlor, where I will await you.” She continued down the passage, pointing out the small dining room and library, Cathryn close at her heels. Half way along the passage the wall to the left became a half wall, interspersed with pillars, over which the courtyard could be seen. Cathryn could see doorways where the hall opened into the courtyard, which bustled with activity, while on the opposite side another wing of the building also faced the courtyard, leaving just one side of the courtyard open. Cathryn paused to take in the scene, while Margaret glanced over her shoulder.

  “The kitchen, pantry and buttery occupy that side of the building,” she explained. “And upstairs are chambers, one of which is currently used by our nephew.”

  At the end of the passage was a steep, spiral staircase, and Cathryn followed Margaret towards it.

  “Your nephew resides with you?” she asked as they mounted the stairs.

  “Well,” Margaret paused in her ascent, turning to look at Cathryn as she answered. “‘Resides’ is not strictly accurate. Aaron comes and goes as he pleases, and never spends more than a night or two at a time. He can be quite … unsocial, and as he knows of your visit, I do not expect to see him for the duration of your stay.” She turned and continued up the stairs as Cathryn absorbed this, stepping out onto another passage. There was a door to the left, through which Margaret led Cathryn.

  “Your chambers while you are here, my dear,” Margaret said, her hand sweeping over the room. Directly
opposite the doorway a window was set into the thick walls, and Cathryn crossed the room to view the aspect. The house sat on a slight rise, and from this section of the house stretched green lawns that rolled away down a gentle slope towards woods that stood in the distance.

  “It is lovely, thank you.”

  “Take your time refreshing yourself, and I will meet you in the parlor when you are ready,” Margaret said as she left the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

  Cathryn looked around the room, noting that her valise already sat at the foot of the canopied bed. The bed drapes had been tied back, and Cathryn could see the fine embroidered coverlet that lay atop the mattress. To the right of the window ran a long table, on which sat a basin and ewer, already filled with water, and a pitcher of wine, with a crystal glass resting beside it. Despite the milder temperatures of the day, a fire roared in the hearth across from the bed.

  Pulling her cloak off her shoulders, Cathryn threw it onto a stool and crossed to the table, where she poured herself a glass of wine. A stack of linens lay beside the basin, and within a short time she felt herself ready to head back downstairs.

  The parlor that Cathryn stepped into was at the front of the house, in one of the multi-sided towers Cathryn had seen from outside. Windows were set in the angled walls, allowing for views of the front, side and back of the house, making the whole room seem alive as light danced through the uneven windowpanes. Margaret had been plying a needle as Cathryn entered the room, but she set the embroidery aside as she looked up at the younger woman.

  “Help yourself to something to eat,” said Margaret, gesturing to a tray of bread and cold meat that lay on a small table near the window. “I thought we could tour the gardens this afternoon, if that arrangement suits you.” Cathryn agreed this was a wonderful plan, and after nibbling on a few morsels, indicated herself ready to start.

  Chapter 12

  The afternoon passed quickly as Cathryn followed Margaret around the gardens at Drake Manor. They had been laid out in a rectangular plan, at the center of which was a large circular pond. The surface of the water was littered with the broad leaves of water lilies, and as Cathryn drew near, she heard the plop of frogs as they jumped beneath the surface, joining the fish that moved lazily though the water. Around the pond was a gravel path, and beyond the path was grass, broken into four sections by paths that radiated outward. In each section of grass was a raised bed, bordered by lavender, where various herbs and flowers grew, while in each corner stood a lemon tree, the blossoms scenting the warm air. The whole was bordered by a high hedge, beyond which lay another walkway, over which grew trellised vines creating a covered passage, where benches of marble and hidden nooks could be found. It was the perfect place to while away the hours in quiet contemplation or engaging conversation, and the time slipped by as Margaret shared her memories of Drake Manor with Cathryn.