Chapter 17 #2
Rothgar went to a desk, scrawled some words on a sheet of paper, sanded, and sealed it. He gave it to Cyn. “You will take the license directly to this Long Knotwell?”
“I had better.”
“Perhaps we should meet you there, then. Lady Chastity will wish to see her sister wed, and it would be wise to have influential witnesses.”
Cyn frowned at Chastity. “She’s tired . . .”
“I’m well enough,” Chastity said quickly. “I want to be there and make sure everything is all right.”
“In a coach,” said Cyn firmly to his brother.
“But of course. It will, unfortunately, have to be my second one.”
Cyn let out a crack of laughter. “It will suffice. And as I intend to marry Chastity as soon as possible, I’d appreciate it if you’d consider how to restore her reputation and obtain her father’s approval of the match.”
Brand overheard the request as he returned and let out a muttered “ ’Struth!”
Even Rothgar seemed lost for words, but then he said, “ ’Twill be my pleasure.” There seemed to be layers of meaning to the simple words.
Cyn merely nodded, then he and Brand departed.
Chastity was left with the marquess and Lady Elfled.
Rothgar looked at Chastity again. It was not a particularly unpleasant look, and yet it made her want to squirm. Cyn was right. This moment would be a great deal easier if she knew in her heart she was pure.
“We have work to do,” he said at last. “But I suspect you have been hard-pressed, Lady Chastity. Why don’t you allow Elf to pamper you a little, while I set some wheels in motion?”
“There is no need for this, my lord,” said Chastity firmly. “I know the marriage is impossible, and Cyn will come to see that too.”
Rothgar’s brows shot up. “My dear! With a Malloren, all things are possible.” With this bit of arrogant sacrilege, he left the room.
“Oh, dear,” said Lady Elfled.
Chastity swallowed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want this.”
In a moment, Lady Elfled was beside her on the chaise. “Please don’t be upset, Lady Chastity. It’s not you I’m oh-dearing about. It’s us—the Mallorens. We seem unable to do anything in a simple way . . . But you have thawed the ice between Cyn and Rothgar. You are a blessing, not a curse.”
That was laying it on a bit thick, thought Chastity. “I’m sure they could smooth any misunderstanding without my assistance.”
“One would think so, but they haven’t managed it for the past six years.”
Chastity stared at her. “They’ve been at outs for six years?”
Lady Elfled sighed. “At outs is not quite it. Cyn has come home on furlough, for he certainly would not cut himself off from me, and there have rarely been harsh words. But there have been barriers. Cyn has never accepted any help. I wasn’t present, but I understand that when Rothgar stopped Cyn from joining the army, he cast doubts upon his ability to survive unaided. ”
“How foolish,” Chastity declared. “On behalf of the marquess, I mean. Cyn is remarkably capable.”
“Yes, he is, isn’t he?” said Lady Elfled with glowing pride.
“But truly, one wouldn’t have guessed when he was younger.
It was one scrape after another for both of us.
Rothgar has accepted the truth for years—he’s very proud of him.
But you know men. Once they take these positions, it’s as if they are on either side of a gulf with no way to cross.
You, my dear, are a much-needed bridge.”
Lady Elfled Malloren was totally charming, and her welcome of Chastity seemed genuine.
It occurred to Chastity to wonder why such a pretty, gentle woman had not married by twenty-four.
It was doubtless true that Cyn was prettier—something in the bones—but with her red-gold hair and clear complexion, Lady Elfled was not lacking, and her manner was lively and kind.
Chastity decided to put the lady’s mind at rest. “I’m pleased to be a bridge, my lady, and I will not create a new chasm. I meant what I said. I am not going to marry Cyn.”
“Have you told him that?”
“Yes.”
“And what did he say?”
“He didn’t take it to heart, but he will when he realizes how impossible it is.”
Lady Elfled laughed. “My dear, you have a great deal to learn about Mallorens. Rothgar does not know the meaning of the word impossible, and Cyn is never balked from his goals. That is why they came to such a crisis in the first place. Now, as we are to be sisters, you must call me Elf, if you do not find it too ridiculous. And I will call you Chastity.”
There seemed no point in fighting over it, and so Chastity agreed.
“Good. I am going to enjoy having you here. You can have no idea how tedious it can be to be alone with just brothers. Men have no true sensibility.”
Chastity’s expression must have protested that, for Elf grinned and said, “Are you going to tell me Cyn is the heart of sensibility? It must be the power of love, for I’ve not noted it before.
Now,” she said briskly. “I am going to be very sisterly and suggest that what you would like above all things is a bath, and some more suitable clothes.”
Chastity blushed to think of what she must look and smell like, but she could not take offense at such a delightful offer. “Yes, I would.”
“Come, then.”
Orders were given and Chastity was led upstairs to Lady Elfled’s own room, cozy with a fire.
“I believe we are of a size,” her hostess said, and waved a hand at a set of armoires. “Choose what you will.” A maid came in and Elf said, “Ah, Chantal, assist Lady Chastity. Do you mind if I stay?” she asked Chastity.
Chastity thought of her weals, bruises, and scarlet nipples. “I would prefer to bathe in private.”
It was a strange request from a woman who had been raised with servants, and she saw Elf’s eyes register it, but nothing was said.
Two more maids came in with a tea-tray, and plates of cold meat and cheese, breads, and cakes. The two ladies nibbled as Chantal presented clothes for their approval.
“If you’re traveling to the wedding,” Elf said, “you want something elegant but not too fragile. What colors do you favor?”
Despite her resolution to cut Cyn free, the sight of such masses of beautiful clothes made Chastity long to appear before him just once as her true self—the beautiful Chastity Ware. “A deep pink has always been my best color,” she said, “but I don’t think . . .”
Elf clapped her hands. “Chantal! La langue de la reine!” As the maid went to another armoire, Elf said to Chastity, “It was absolutely the color a year ago, but it turned out to be quite impossible with my hair.”
Chantal spread a beautiful gown on the bed. It was a deep raspberry silk, sprigged in a lighter shade and ruched around the edges of the open skirt. From a drawer came a petticoat of cream, sprigged in the raspberry shade, and a stomacher of matching brocade and seed pearls.
“Lud,” sighed Elf, “I’m falling in love with it all over again . . . But,” she said quickly, “take it. You’ll be doing me a kindness. Chantal will kiss your feet!”
“Indeed, milady,” said the maid with a giggle. “Once or twice a month Milady Elfled orders the dress, and I die a thousand deaths until she decides against it.”
It was only too clear that the color would be disastrous against Elf’s pale skin and red hair, and so Chastity blissfully agreed.
Silk underwear was also laid out, and then they were told the bath was ready in the dressing room.
Chastity took the stockings and chemise and went to bathe herself, only too conscious of being remarkable.
Once stripped she looked at her body in a clear light. No wonder Cyn had been angry. She had scrapes and bruises she’d not even been aware of. The weals on her thighs were a dull red. She had dark finger-marks on her arms, and a nasty swelling on her temple where the odious Pog had felled her.
And there were the nipples. What had it cost Cyn not to even mention them during their lovemaking at the inn?
For a moment she felt like finding a hole to hide in, but then she reminded herself that Cyn had never seen her looking pretty. He would. Just this once.
She sank into the huge painted tin bathtub with a sigh of contentment. The water was just the right temperature, and a delicate perfumed oil had been added. On a stand beside the tub were cloths and fine soap. This was the life to which she had been raised.
She washed every inch, then she tossed off her wig and washed her hair. In this one respect, her disfiguring crop was useful. She dried it with a towel and relaxed in the tub.
She forced herself to face her bleak future. Even Nana was doubtless now barred to her. Her father would cast her off entirely, and she couldn’t cling to Cyn. She’d have to take care of herself.
The thought terrified her.
Perhaps she could be an actress . . . But she had no particular talent in that direction, and most actresses were said to be whores. If she couldn’t bring herself to be Cyn’s whore, she certainly could be no other man’s.
She thought back to Cyn’s request of Rothgar—that her reputation be restored and her father’s consent be obtained. If only . . . But the reaction of all present had emphasized just how impossible a dream it was.
She climbed out of the bath before she fell to weeping.
She dried herself, combed out the wig, and put it on.
She dropped the silk chemise over her head, and it slithered down to her calves.
This was a more proper garment than the one her father had provided, or the one she’d found at Rood House.
It was delicate but opaque, and hid most of her wounds.
It was beautifully edged with white-on-white embroidery at the hem and neck, and included a foam of exquisite silk lace at the elbows.
It made Chastity feel beautiful just to wear it.
She eased on the white silk stockings clocked with rosebuds and tied the pink garters, smiling sadly at the memory of the garters Cyn had bought in Shaftesbury. Perhaps she could rescue those garters if Verity still had them, and treasure them into her lonely old age.