Chapter 4 – A Cheerful Busybody #4
It was such a tangle of history. It had twisted all of their lives, but no one more than Remin and Juste, who still did not know why their families had been executed.
For more than eighteen years, the details of the Conspiracy had been confined to the offices of the Emperor and the highest strata of nobility, sworn to silence with the direst of oaths.
That was why it was called the Conspiracy.
“Perhaps she will know why it happened,” said Juste finally. He had such a quiet presence, people often overlooked him, and even Remin’s knights tended to forget that his family had been on the execution block right beside Remin’s.
But Miche never did. Not once.
* * *
“Your Grace, if you like, you may use my cottage while we ready one for Mistress Bessin,” said Lady Verr, neatly slicing to the heart of the problem. “It is too cold to be standing about outside.”
“Oh, it wouldn’t be too much trouble?” Ophele asked, relieved, and remembered her bearing even before Lady Verr’s auburn eyebrow lifted. She had been very particular that Ophele’s bearing should not only be noble, but regal. “That would be very kind, thank you. But only if it wouldn’t trouble you.”
“I insist,” Lady Verr replied, and offered a smile to Azelma. “It’s serendipitous, as they have just finished another row of cottages yesterday. I’ll have the footmen bring your things over, and send Emi to make up a fresh bed.”
“Thank you, m’lady,” Azelma replied, with a curtsy. “Shouldn’t like to trouble you myself. And it will be easier to make up fresh beds directly, Sir Miche brought so many trunks of bed linens…”
“He didn’t.” Ophele forgot all about regal bearing. “He threatened to steal all the linens before he left, I thought he was joking!”
“Oh, I tell you no lies,” Azelma replied, and regaled both ladies with the tale all the way to Lady Verr’s cottage.
Ophele had secretly been dying to see it.
She knew it was made of the same stuff as all the others, and had lived in one just like it for seven months, but she still half-expected to find a treasure trove of silk, satin, and jewels within, like one of the fantastical xori where the King of Noreven kept his wives.
But there wasn’t so much as an embroidered sash to be seen when they ascended the steps, and the miniscule dressing table was even more bare than Ophele’s, with everything except a single pair of slippers and a book packed away in trunks on either side of the hearth.
Lady Verr could have walked out of her cottage forever at a moment’s notice.
As Ophele was pulling the door shut, Davi’s hand shot out to catch it.
“We won’t follow you inside, my lady,” said Leonin, quick and polite. “But pray keep some distance, or it will be our necks with His Grace.”
“But it’s Azelma,” Ophele whispered back, and then realized that they could not know what that meant, and it would be no defense at all with Remin. She sighed. “I will.”
“…the flue needs a little encouragement, if the fire is hot,” Lady Verr was saying, as Ophele turned back to the two women. “But I have found it to be quite sufficient, despite the chill.”
“Oh—I’m sure,” Azelma said, though she looked a little dubious. “Dear me, such a place. Do you know, they would have had all of you in tents, from what they were saying back home.”
“His Grace and I lived in a cottage like this, when I first arrived,” Ophele said, a little proudly. “I did…I did write to you, about it.”
“Oh, child,” Azelma said sadly. “You know I never received a single one of your letters.”
“If you will pardon me, I will see about having your cottage arranged,” Lady Verr excused herself tactfully, allowing Azelma to breach etiquette once more and wrap her arms around Ophele.
“How I did worry, Your Highness,” she said, and Ophele would’ve sworn there was a faint whiff of cinnamon and flour about the elderly lady, even so many miles from Aldeburke. “Tell me true now, you’ve kept well? His Grace looks a very…somber fellow.”
“I have,” Ophele promised, resting her chin on Azelma’s shoulder.
“It was hard, at first. There were the devils, I was so afraid of them, and we—well, we didn’t get on very well at first. But most of the time he doesn’t mean to be stiff like that, and he’s so brave, and smart, and he doesn’t like people to know how kind he is, but he tries to look after everyone in the valley… ”
Ophele drew back earnestly as she was saying this, but shut her mouth with a snap as soon as she saw the twinkling in Azelma’s eyes. Her face reddened. Oh, stars, and Davi and Leonin were right outside listening, too.
“I’m glad,” Azelma replied, sitting in one of the two chairs and squeezing Ophele’s hands. “It looks as if they’ve been feeding you better here, it shames me to say.”
“I wouldn’t dare look otherwise. I shall have to introduce you to Wen.
” Ophele stifled a giggle. “Wen of Tallford, he cooks for Remin in particular, he made something called a dacquoise for his birthday and it was as big as this table! Oh, I have so many things to tell you! But, Miche sent a message that the Hurrells were gone?”
“In August,” Azelma confirmed, nodding. “Like thieves in the night, they were. Germain came down one night in the middle of clearing up from supper all in a tizzy, ordering maids and footmen upstairs to pack up, double quick. They never said where they were going, or if they’d ever be back, rot them. ”
Ophele could not think what this might mean, but surely it was nothing good.
“She’s been waiting all these years for some chance,” she said slowly, lowering her eyes to her fingers. “I don’t suppose their exile was lifted because I reached my majority? Or they were sent somewhere else, perhaps, since I don’t need a guardian anymore?”
“I couldn’t say, Your Highness. Or Your Grace, I suppose I’d better get used to that sooner rather than later.
I don’t believe they even told the coachman where he was headed until they were at the gates of the estate.
Oh, but bless all the bustle, I nearly forgot!
” Azelma exclaimed, reaching for the valise at her feet, bulging nearly to bursting.
“Now, I won’t tell you that Lorene and I connived for spite, for I’d no notion that I’d ever lay eyes on you again, my lady.
But I did see that Lady Hurrell didn’t make off with all your mother’s things. Here now!”
So saying, she produced a large handkerchief from the depths of the valise, and when it was unfolded on the table, there was a familiar pink opal pendant, a delicate set of champagne pearl earrings and matching necklace, and another set of tiger’s eye and topaz strung on a fine gold chain.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t fetch some of the finer pieces, child,” Azelma apologized. “I thought they might come back if Lorene had scarpered with the rubies or the diamonds, and she was a bundle of nerves for weeks as it was. She’s a good girl.”
“No. Thank you.” Ophele smiled, her throat was suddenly tight. She had never expected to see any of these things again. “Oh, Azelma, thank you. Lorene really did that for me?”
“Right out from under the lady’s nose, as she was flinging all her things higgledy-piggledy into trunks.”
That made her laugh, at least enough to keep from crying.
She had to gather her courage just to touch the opal pendant; it had caused her a great deal of trouble, once.
But she could remember the light sparking off that pendant at her mother’s throat, and Rache Pavot’s voice laughing as she said there, there, my heart, only a moment and you shall have a proper look…
There was so much to talk about. Had it really only been nine months since she left Aldeburke?
It seemed incredible that so much had happened in so short a time, and Ophele forgot all about her manners and chattered away until Sim and Jaose appeared to say that Mistress Bessin’s cottage was ready.
Reluctantly, Ophele rose to help her to the little house on the back row of the servants’ quarters, overlooking the river.
But Azelma ought to have time to wash and rest a little, if she wanted to. It was a long journey from Aldeburke.
“I’ll come back later this afternoon,” she promised, pausing for one last embrace. “Oh, I am glad you’ve come.”
Miche had brought back something even better than a library. He had brought back her friend.
And a cook. It had been a matter of concern, especially after the first dusting of snow; Ophele and Wen had discussed already how the manor was going to manage meals over the winter. Who was going to want to trek down to the cookhouse in a blizzard?
“She was your cook, m’lady?” Davi asked as he and Leonin fell into step behind her, winning a resigned sigh from Leonin. Davi never bothered to pretend he hadn’t overheard every single word.
“Yes. For my mother, too. She was always…kind to me,” Ophele said a little awkwardly, wondering if she could explain how hard it had been, and how much those quiet hours in the kitchen had meant to her. “So I would like to make sure she’s quite comfortable. Does it get very cold in the cottages?”
“Not so long as the fire is there. But it would be better if you met her in the solar in future, my lady,” said Leonin as he and Davi moved to either side of her, prepared to shield her from falling bricks and flying implements with their bodies, if necessary.
“We will endeavor to give you privacy, but we cannot fail in our duty.”
“I shouldn’t like to trouble her with those stairs, and Azelma is my friend,” Ophele replied firmly, scanning the building site for the artful orange curls of Sousten Didion. “She would never hurt me. If she wanted to, she might have done it a thousand times already.”
“Please speak to His Grace about it,” Leonin replied, equally firm. “We will be pleased to abide by your wishes.”
He meant your in the plural sense. Leonin was tricky that way.