The Wolf of Harrow Hall (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 7)

by Christine Pope

  Because he does not wish you to see Phelan, I thought then. His lordship might not care about your mean birth, but it is clear enough that his steward thinks you are not at all suitable. If you are kept away from Phelan for a few days, perhaps his ardor will cool, and things will go back to the way they were. Or at least that is what Master Merryk hopes.

  I did not dare utter these truths — if truths they were — aloud. No, I hid them deep within my heart, knowing I was in no position to make any sort of accusation against the steward. I could not even hate him for his attempt to keep me away from Lord Greymount. In a similar situation, I might not have acted so very differently. Any halfway objective observer would have said that I was far beneath him, both by birth and my current station in the world.

  But I did not want to dwell on that unfortunate discrepancy. Phelan had said I had come to matter to him, and that was the important thing. He was lord here; whatever he decided to do when it came to this strange attraction between the two of us, that decision should be up to him, and not Master Merryk.

  All these thoughts passed through my mind in what must have been the blink of an eye, for it seemed that the steward noticed no hesitation in my manner. He offered me a smile I did not for one second believe, then said he would be back to check on me later in the day. I nodded and hoped I looked grateful, and was more than relieved when he let himself out.

  As soon as the door shut, I gathered up the heavy woolen shawl that had been lying across the foot of the bed and drew it around my shoulders, then pushed back the covers and slid down to the floor. Yes, my legs felt rather wobbly, but I held onto the edge of the bed until I thought myself more or less steady. After that I took a cautious step toward the hearth, followed by another. There. That wasn’t so bad, although I was glad to sink down into the chair which had been placed near the fire — and equally glad that the floor was covered nearly from wall to wall by an enormous Keshiaari rug, and so my feet had suffered no risk of touching the icy stone.

  My heart did pound from even that simple exertion, and I took in a breath. Perhaps Master Merryk’s estimation of my condition had not been so far off after all. But I had just proven to myself that I could walk farther than the garderobe, and I vowed to do so multiple times, in order that I might strengthen myself and be ready that much sooner to have my long-delayed dinner with Phelan.

  And if my speedy recovery should surprise the steward, well, I did not think I would shed too many bitter tears over his discomfiture.

  * * *

  I was careful, though. I made sure I was always back in bed anywhere close to the time when I might expect Master Merryk to check in on me, and I meekly swallowed the broth he brought up, and also that terrible willowbark tincture, even though I knew my fever had gone and I had no real need of it. Each time he would tell me that I needed more rest, and I did not bother to argue.

  Phelan came to see me several times, but his visits never lasted very long. Perhaps the steward had admonished him not to tire me, or I would have to remain in bed that much longer. Each time he came to see me, though, he remarked on how improved I was, and how he had no doubt that I would be up and about in no time.

  To which I would nod and smile, but reveal very little. For I thought it best to surprise him, to show that I was entirely recovered, and that perhaps his steward’s judgment on the matter had not been entirely accurate.

  Several days passed in such a way. As the third evening passed into full dark, however, I thought it time to prove to Phelan that I no longer needed to be confined to my bed. The steward had come and gone with my meager meal of broth and bread, and I knew I should not be disturbed again until the following morning. Perhaps the thought of venturing out into the dark castle should have daunted me, but I believed that I recalled the way to Phelan’s chambers well enough, and surely they must have lit some of the candles in the hallway sconces so the servants might take their lord his supper. If I was very lucky, I might get to see him before they even arrived; I had gotten the impression that the steward brought me my meals sometime before the rest of the household sat down to dine.

  After listening carefully at the door to make sure I could not hear any footsteps out in the corridor, I got out of bed and selected the wine velvet gown I had worn on my first day here. Once I was dressed, I went over to the little table with its attendant mirror and brushed my hair, then pinched my pale cheeks to bring some color to them. Biting my lips several times also made them flush redder, and I inspected my reflection carefully. Yes, I thought that should do rather well. I did not think I looked like someone who had spent the greater part of a week in her sickbed. In truth, I was not, because once my fever broke, I felt more or less restored to myself. But certainly the steward did not know that.

  I unlatched the door and let myself out into the hallway, then paused and looked from side to side in order to determine that I truly was alone. Certainly there was no reason for anyone to be about in this wing of the castle, but I thought I should take care nevertheless.

  As I had hoped, candles did burn in some of the sconces, and so I was able to see well enough to make my way over to the great stairwell and ascend the three levels to the story where Phelan’s suite was located. By the time I had reached that floor of the castle, I did feel myself somewhat winded. It seemed I was not quite as recovered as I had hoped. No matter. I was still able to walk more or less normally, and the descent to my chamber would of course be much easier than the climb here had been.

  I did not think it was all exertion that made my heart beat more quickly as I approached the double doors which opened onto Phelan’s chambers. Would he be angry with me for coming here unannounced and uninvited, or instead worried that I had put too much strain on myself for coming all this way so soon after my fever had broken? I had to hope that he would only be relieved I was so recovered, and also happy that I so desired to see him alone, I had not thought of myself or my still fragile health.

  When I approached the door, however, I stopped, for I heard not one, but two voices within. Phelan’s, and Master Merryk’s. My heart sank, for I had not even considered that the lord of the castle would not be alone in his suite.

  But then I held my breath, for their words were coming to me clearly enough that I could hear what they were saying. It was wrong, but I could not prevent myself from listening to their conversation. No, I did not press my ear against the door, but I did stand very close, and held myself there as quietly as possible.

  “…taking a very great risk, my lord,” Master Merryk was saying.

  “What risk?” Phelan returned. “I have spent all this time with her — been more intimate with her than you would like, no doubt — and I have suffered no ill effects. How can such a thing be possible, save that she must be the one?”

  A silence, during which I dared not stir even the slightest bit for fear they might discover that someone was listening at the door. “I do not know,” the steward said, his tone heavy with doubt. “But I cannot understand how this is possible. After all this time — and those previous incidents — ”

  “What is there to understand? We both have the evidence before our eyes.”

  “You have the evidence, my lord. I am still not entirely convinced.”

  A muffled noise followed that statement, although I could not guess whether it was caused by Phelan getting up from his chair, or perhaps because he had merely made a sound of disgust at his steward’s words. “Would you be offering these arguments if she were high-born?”

  “I will not lie, my lord. Of course my heart would be easier if Mistress Sendris were not a mere peasant.”

  “Her grandmother is the daughter of a tin merchant.”

  “Oh, well, then, that makes all the difference.”

  I wondered at the steward taking such liberties, for the sarcasm in his words was plain enough for anyone to hear, even coming through the door as those words were. But then, I did not know all that much about the relationship between the two men. Mas
ter Merryk was a good deal older than Phelan, and I had inferred that the previous Lord Greymount had died fairly young, so perhaps the steward had taken on something of the role of a father to the young, orphaned lord. Even so, I was surprised that Phelan did not take the older man to task for what he had just said, or at least at the manner in which he had uttered the remark.

  “It makes some difference,” Phelan said, his voice uncharacteristically mild. “But beyond that, Bettany herself confessed to me that she does not know who her father was. No one knows, apparently. So because of that fact, and because I have not reacted to her the way I should have, I am led to believe that he must have been one of them. Which makes her perfect.”

  Them? Who on earth was he talking about? There was some mystery here, something I could not begin to guess at, for I had no context. Of course, such a lack did not prevent me from listening further. Perhaps if they kept talking, they would offer more enlightenment.

  Another pause. When Master Merryk spoke next, reluctance was clear in his every syllable. “I suppose that is possible. It does offer the only plausible explanation. But she truly has no idea of who her father is? Her mother never said anything?”

  “From what Mistress Sendris told me, it seems the mother disappeared as well when Bettany was very young. She said nothing to her daughter, or to her parents, of the man who had fathered her child.”

  “That would make some sense, if the father was truly one of them.”

  “So you see why I have come to my decision. The meanness of her birth means nothing to me, not when she herself is the answer to this curse that has plagued me ever since I came of age. And besides — ” He stopped himself there, and I wished I could see his expression, could have a better chance of determining what he might be thinking. Up until this point, it seemed that all his defenses of me sprang only from what I was — whatever that might be — rather than who I was. Did he care for me at all, or was I only a convenient answer to this “curse” of his? I recalled then, the touch of his lips on mine, the heat in his kisses, and told myself he must care, that no man could kiss a woman in such a way if he did not care a great deal.

  But then, my experience of men was not large. Perhaps such things were easy enough to counterfeit. I knotted my hands in my skirts and strained to hear what they would say next.

  “And besides, at least she is young and pretty?” Master Merryk said dryly.

  “More than pretty. She is a very beautiful young woman. But her beauty only made matters more difficult for me at first. I needed to know that I was not making this decision merely because I wanted her.”

  While these words did not precisely make me relax, they did do something to lift the cloud that had begun to darken my thoughts. Although it seemed obvious that Phelan had some overriding reason as to why he had made his “decision,” he also thought I was beautiful. He wanted me. It was something to be desired by a man like Phelan Greymount, even if that desire was only a fraction of his current motivation.

  “And you are not making this decision based on that?”

  “No.” A pause, and then Phelan added, “At least not entirely. At any rate, I need to act now, while she is still here with us.”

  “Since we have seen no sign of the storm stopping any time soon, I believe there is not much chance of Mistress Sendris leaving us in the near future. But if your mind is made up — ”

  “It is.”

  “Well, then. It seems some preparations will be required. When do you plan to speak to her?”

  “Tomorrow. It grows late, and I would not wish to intrude on her rest.”

  Shame flooded through me at his words, at his believing that I was safely confined to my bed, rather than wandering these drafty halls and listening in on his private conversations. True, this particular conversation involved me, and one might say I had a right to know what Phelan and his steward were discussing. But I could not find much relief in that particular rationalization.

  Guilt fled next, giving way to panic, as I heard a creak that must have been Master Merryk getting up from his chair. He said, “I should look in on her one last time this evening, to see if she requires anything else. Her health is much improved, but there is a pallor to her cheeks that was not there before she took ill.”

  “I thank you for your solicitude,” Phelan replied.

  I, on the other hand, most certainly did not thank him for it. I knew I must be gone at once. Gathering up my skirts, I fled down the hallway and thence to the stairs, which I rushed down so precipitously I almost tripped, and only saved myself from a tumble by grasping the handrail. And then it was down to my room, and a mad rush to climb out of that gown and have it safely stowed in the wardrobe.

  The covers had barely settled themselves beneath my chin when I heard a knock at the door. “Mistress Sendris? Are you yet awake?”

  “Y-yes,” I called out.

  Master Merryk entered the room, his gaze immediately going to me where I lay in bed. His eyes narrowed. “Are you quite well?”

  “I — yes, that is, I thought I had improved a good deal today.” I didn’t dare pull the sheets and blankets and embroidered coverlet any further up, for then they would have covered part of my chin. All I could do was hope that the dim candlelight in the room would not reveal too much of my expression, which I was sure must have been as guilty as that of a child who’d been caught stealing sweets from the larder.

  “Hmm.” He came closer to the bed, and laid a hand on my forehead. “You seem quite flushed, Mistress Sendris, and your breathing is somewhat labored. I hope that your fever is not attempting to reassert itself.”

  Of course it wasn’t. No, the only thing truly the matter with me was that I had just rushed down several flights of stairs and had run down a long corridor to get here before he did. I could not confess to such a thing, so I only said, “Well, I did get up and walk to the window earlier, so I might see if there were any signs of the snow letting up. Perhaps that was it.”

  “You should not be getting out of bed,” he told me, voice stern. “You must be guarding your health, so you will recover that much more quickly.”

  “I am sorry, Master Merryk,” I said. “I will be more careful from now on.”

  “Good. Now sleep, and we will see how you fare on the morrow.”

  I nodded, my expression as meek as I could make it. That response seemed to mollify the steward, for he offered me a faint smile and let himself out. Once he was gone, I shut my eyes and allowed myself to release a relieved breath.

  That had been far too close. I must take more care in the future, for I did not want to jeopardize the connection that had begun to grow between Phelan Greymount and myself…even if that connection was based on secrets he apparently did not wish to reveal to me.

  * * *

  Although Phelan had intimated in his conversation with the steward that he planned to speak to me sometime the next day, I had no true idea of precisely when. I did not wish to have this momentous discussion — whatever its topic might be — while I was lying in bed, wearing a chemise and with a shawl draped around my shoulders. On the other hand, he would surely find it suspicious if I were up and about, and dressed as if I had known he was going to come see me.

  Surprisingly, it was Master Merryk who came to my rescue. When he brought me breakfast, he asked if I was feeling better, and if I thought I might be able to sit up for a bit. “For I believe his lordship would like to look in on you,” he said, “but would not wish to do so while you were still in bed.”

  Clearly, Phelan had held his tongue about the way he had come to my aid when I was consumed by that nightmare, and had said nothing about how he had sat on my bed and held me until I was calm once again. Not that I had really thought he would divulge something of such a personal nature, but I could not help but be relieved that those moments were ours alone, and nothing anyone else knew of.

  “I think I can manage that,” I said, “as long as it is not too lengthy a visit.”

 
“No, it should not be overly long.”

  This reply only piqued my curiosity that much further, although I knew I should not question Master Merryk on the subject. Whatever it was that Phelan wished to say to me, I would find out soon enough.

  I said that sounded very well indeed, and the steward left soon after, telling me that his lordship would be up in an hour or so. As soon as he had gone, I went to the wardrobe and got out the wine-colored dress I had worn so briefly the night before, thinking that Phelan should get some chance to see me in it.

  Once again I went through the ritual of brushing my hair and pinching my cheeks to give them some color. Despite my agitated start to the evening, I had slept well enough, and thought my appearance had improved, with most of the hollow look gone from under my eyes. As I stared at my reflection, I wondered again as to the purpose of Phelan’s visit. A suspicion had begun to grow in me, one I did not want to give conscious thought to, for if I were to let that suspicion grow into a coherent shape, I might see it for the ridiculous thing it truly was.

  When he knocked, I went to let him in calmly enough. I did not want him to see the anticipation that had begun to rise in me, even though I tried to tell myself it was entirely without cause.

  “Bettany,” he said, a warmth in his voice that seemed to send thrills all through my body. “You are looking remarkably well.”

  “Thank you, Phelan,” I replied. “I am feeling much better.”

  “I can see that. So it seems that Master Merryk’s strictures have had the desired effect.”

  “It would seem so.” I gestured toward the hearth, where I’d placed the room’s one upholstered chair, and the plain wooden one that accompanied the dressing table. I could only hope that I sounded natural enough, for I did not want Phelan to see the trepidation that had entered my thoughts ever since Master Merryk had arranged this meeting. “Would you like to sit by the fire?”