Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Genevieve realized that she had built the woman who had bestowed upon Kendrick his sword into some mythic, beloved figure. So much so that she had regarded her coming with a bit of apprehension.
All that was dashed when upon their meeting, she tried to curtsey to Genevieve.
“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, my lady,” Ophelia began. She was not more than twenty if Genevieve had to guess, with auburn hair and hazel eyes and a limp to her stride that the long skirts could not fully disguise.
“Oh, please!” Genevieve said, disregarding everything she had been about to say. “None of that. I am the one pleased to meet you. And after having been the spinster daughter of an Old English scholar, this my lady-ing is quite strange some nights. I am Genevieve.” She held out her hands.
After a moment’s hesitation, the woman clasped Genevieve’s hands, a warm press.
Her heartbeat was the only sound in the room.
“I am Ophelia, then.” She smiled suddenly.
“I know what you mean. It is quite strange for porters and cabmen to address me as ‘Mrs.’ now.” She pinked a little.
“I am grateful for you housing us for our visit, and for being understanding about the animals. Addie and Etienne offered, but they are unencumbered by the basic needs of life, and, well…” She laughed. “You have a working kitchen.”
Genevieve smiled. “I have seen proof that it does work, and Addie often bakes in it when she has an urge to create. And one dog and three cats are hardly a menagerie, especially when we are housing one dog already. Fletcher is over the moon about a dog that will do tricks. I am sure he is planning to teach his puppy all manner of commands.”
Indeed, the boy had immediately appointed himself chief dog wrangler.
The cats wrangled themselves, apparently.
He and Sally’s children had disappeared into the back garden with Blaze and Wulfric at dusk, leaving the adults to the parlor.
“We are happy to have all of you. Isn’t that right?
” she asked over her shoulder, sensing the menfolk drawing nearer after they had completed their backslapping and ribbing, a crucial part of any male greeting.
“Certainly,” Kendrick said. His hand was a comforting weight at her back. “And Salem has said he’ll get his hands dirty and help me with the drainage problem in the southwest corner.”
“I said I would advise, you fiend. Where did you get this mania for dirt?” Salem had the appearance of a tall, thin young man with slightly overlong dark hair that brushed his collar. He smiled with all his teeth.
Kendrick snorted. “Etienne rubbing off on you? Bold words coming from the one who lived in a hole in the ground by choice.”
“Built by whose people?” Salem countered.
“I’m sure you’ll have a grand time,” Ophelia said dryly. “I volunteer to help with preparations for the ball—if you need the help?” She bit her lip. “I’ve never attended a real ball before.”
“I would love that,” Genevieve assured her. “Addie will be arriving shortly to help with the decorations.”
Ophelia lit up. “Oh, I can’t wait to show her my ring.” She lifted her hand. The gold had been cunningly worked into loops and curlicues around an oval moonstone.
“How lovely!” Genevieve said.
“Salem picked it out. A bit of a joke, and apparently, moonstone…helps.” Ophelia glanced from Salem to Genevieve. “There won’t be a problem on that front, either,” she murmured. “The full moon isn’t till the fifteenth, and we plan to be in the countryside then, visiting our…friend Faelad.”
“If you wanted to extend your visit, we would accommodate you,” Kendrick said. “It is no imposition when friends arrive. Speaking of…”
Addie burst into the parlor with Etienne hard on her heels. “Ophelia!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around her friend.
“And what about me?” Salem muttered good-naturedly.
Etienne shook his hand. “Brothers never get the same reaction as female friends.”
“As hanging and wiving goes by destiny, I think you’ve been dealt a great hand of fate, my friend,” Salem said as he, Etienne, Dominic, and Kendrick decamped from Carmine House and the frighteningly competent industry of womenfolk to find a bite and then survey the earthworks in the Ossuary.
Dominic had brought over Evangeline and her son to socialize, and the hen party had turned into a delighted coo over Blaze the dog. In a delightful turn of events, Elspeth had discovered he was quite willing to be petted by any sort of person, no matter their extant status.
“We both have,” Kendrick acknowledged.
“You didn’t say how pretty she was in your letter,” Salem said slyly.
“Was it relevant?”
“‘Dear Salem,’” his friend quoted, turning around and walking backwards to face all of them, “‘I realize you’re rusticating in Ireland and probably turning into a mushroom, but I have married, and my wife is throwing a ball on New Year’s Eve.
You’re invited.’ You failed to state why, or that your wife was uncommonly lovely. ” He smirked. “So what happened?”
“He took one look at her and lost his head,” Etienne said.
Kendrick opened his mouth and then paused.
“Not…entirely inaccurate.” To this day, he remained shocked that Genevieve had spent so long unnoticed among the inhabitants of the Ossuary.
Though that had partly been by design on her part.
He added, in no small amount of wonder, “She makes me feel alive.”
Salem sobered. “That is not an insignificant thing. How did you meet her?”
Kendrick shrugged. “I met her in the Ossuary.”
“There must be a story there.”
“And what a story it is.” Etienne smirked. “Shall you tell him, or shall I?”
“You’re all a gossipy bunch of henwives. I’ll tell you after dinner,” Kendrick said, rolling his eyes.
Once they were all pleasantly full and had gathered in a human pub with pints of bad beer that none of them would drink, Kendrick explained how he had met Genevieve, and how the marriage had come about.
“I married her to steal a march on the other bachelors,” Kendrick said, with a sidelong look at Dominic.
He was studying his pint glass intently and did not look up.
“A wise and calculated move,” Salem said, “with so lovely a lady.”
Kendrick said, “She’s like a book I will never tire of reading, with new chapters to discover every night.”
Salem’s smirk morphed into genuine pleasure. “I am happy for you, my friend.”
“She’s the one you should credit with the changes in the Ossuary. She can see what needs doing in a way I never could.”
Salem nodded in understanding. “And the human boy?”
“He’s ours.” Kendrick caught Dominic’s eye as he finally looked up. “Children don’t have to be blood to be kin.”
“Dominic’s taken in two children as well,” Etienne said, following Kendrick’s gaze.
“Filled with a benevolent spirit, are you?” Salem questioned.
“Nothing quite so simple,” Etienne said. They explained to Salem the saga of Laurent and his perfidies.
Salem drummed his fingers on the table. “So are we killing him, or…?”
“He’s found a hole to hide in, unfortunately.
But we hope that enough people will turn from him that he will reveal himself, or a former comrade will tell us where he bides.
We hope the ball brings more goodwill on that front,” Kendrick added.
“If you all could be on the watch for any potential problems that night, we would appreciate it.”
His friends agreed happily.
“I should collect Evangeline and get home.” Dominic smiled. “June is cutting a tooth, and Evangeline will want to check on her.”
“So unbelievably domestic, all of you,” Salem drawled.
“Says the dog father,” Etienne replied, adjusting his pince-nez.
“I’ll own that one.”
“Ireland was beautiful,” Ophelia said as they all sat around a large table, working to construct the paper lanterns that Genevieve and Elspeth had decided on for part of the ball décor.
“Cold, of course, and rainy. But we were in the country, and I’ve never seen a greener place.
After Faelad vouched for us, the locals were very hospitable and kind.
It was a rather difficult adjustment, getting used to heightened senses and the discomfort that comes with a change,” Ophelia admitted.
“But Faelad was able to explain most of what to expect, and the other werewolf was in residence to help me when I was…not myself.”
“Other werewolf?” Evangeline questioned, her hands pausing in her work.
“Yes, there are only two Ossory werewolves, you see. It is a condition passed on from one to another. Only ever two,” Ophelia explained.
“I got the impression that we were not the only two people in the world who become wolves, but that this…strain…is a little different.” She shifted in her chair.
“I can’t say any more without violating the promise I made to keep their secrets. ”
“Of course not,” Elspeth assured her.
“Oh, but surely, you can tell us what it’s like to run around as a wolf?” Addie asked, her eyes shining with hope.
“It’s not something that is easy to put into words.
There’s a lot of smelling involved, more than I ever expected.
And very few words. Lots of ear movement and tail flicking for communication.
But oh…” Ophelia sighed. “I have never felt like such a singer as when we howled. It felt like… Well, it felt like the music of the spheres because we howled to the moon. We spent the majority of the two months in Ireland and then traveled back to Yorkshire. Salem and I could have married in Ireland, but I wanted Marie-Claire to be there. It was a lovely ceremony, even if it was in her parlor at evening.” She blushed, and the rest of the table smiled knowingly.
“And soon she will have her baby. She’s threatened to make Salem and me godparents.
” A little smile played at the corner of her mouth.
“How lovely,” Genevieve said quietly.
Ophelia looked up and met her eyes in a moment of understanding. For who knew what werewolves were capable of, but Ophelia had married a vampire, and there would be no children for such a union. No children for any of them.
But it was not quite true, was it? Because what was Fletcher if not her boy?
She stared at the half-complete paper lantern in her hands.
She had an endless life, unless someone put a period to her existence, or the Lord came again to bring everything to completion.
And there were so many children who needed a home.
She tucked that thought away for further reflection with Kendrick.
“Speaking of marriage, how should we address you?” Addie asked.
Ophelia laughed. “I don’t know. Salem has told me what his name was before, but he does not want to go back to that. And it isn’t very flattering, to be honest. I don’t really relish remaining a Shaw, though.”
“No, you get to set that aside! No more of that.”
“Faelad offered his name, which was sweet of him,” Ophelia said. “But I think he mostly did it to see the look on Salem’s face. I’ve never seen such a mixture of chagrin and outrage.” She chuckled.
“It is a conundrum,” observed Genevieve. “Kendrick said I could choose a new name for us going forward. I picked Stewart. Perhaps you could discuss something similar.”
“What would it be for us, though?” Ophelia frowned.
“Well, I wanted something symbolic,” Genevieve said apologetically.
“Stewart comes from the roots ‘stig,’ which means house, and ‘weard,’ which means guard. And it had the added benefit of signaling a shift in how we were ruling the Ossuary. Not cruel overlords, but stewards. Poor Elspeth was subjected to all my choices beforehand. You, however, could simply choose something that you both liked.”
“Isn’t it so funny how some vampires are perfectly content using the names they were born with,” Evangeline said quietly, “yet others reinvent themselves totally? Dominic finds the practice quite ridiculous.”
“Many do it to puff themselves up,” Addie said. “But I know Salem did it because he felt he had become so changed from the person he had been before, he needed a new name.”
“Due to trauma,” Ophelia murmured.
“Exactly so,” Genevieve said, thinking of Sparrow. “A name change of any sort is quite normal—we have just said that even human women do it to signal a change of identity. It’s far more important what that change is. Who you are becoming.”
And who have we become, by taking on the mantle of Mr. and Mrs. Stewart? she thought. People to be proud of, I hope. A name to wear with honor.
Just before sunrise, after she and Kendrick had said good morning to the human staff and were readying for bed, Genevieve remarked, “You know, I like Salem and Ophelia so much.”
“I thought you would.” Kendrick picked up The Dragon of Langsey Isle. They had decided to savor the experience of reading one of Genevieve’s father’s books for the very first time together. They were about to start chapter five.
“We all fussed over Blaze,” Genevieve said, marveling. “He didn’t mind it a bit. Wulfric was by turns growling and wagging his tail. It was so funny to see.” She pulled the covers back and got into bed. “I’m so glad they came.”
“I am too. I hadn’t much hope for their coming. It was an unlooked-for boon.” Kendrick took her hand and kissed it, meeting her eyes. “You were right to invite them, Wife. You always are.”
“I don’t know about that,” Genevieve said, demurring. “The ball is nearly upon us, and I’m not sure all will be ready. Or if anyone will come.” She twisted the covers in her hands.
Kendrick laid a hand over hers. “All will be well,” he assured her.
She sat up straight and quickly pecked him on the lips. “Thank you for your faith in me. It’s a comfort.”
“Love, you never have to thank me for that,” Kendrick murmured, capturing her lips in a longer, deeper kiss that sent sparks flowing through her. He rubbed his nose against hers before opening the book and beginning to read.