Chapter 14 – The Devil of Nandre #2
“How nice. I used to make all my husband’s handkerchiefs,” Lady Verr said reminiscently. It never seemed to trouble her to talk about her dead husband. “The emblem of House Verr was not terribly impressive, I’m afraid, some sort of extinct spotted cat…”
She was so good at talking, Ophele thought enviously. Light, amusing, and endless, leaving room for Ophele to participate or not, as she liked. And little though she enjoyed sewing, it was this humble handkerchief that held her together through the darkest hours of the night.
The border wasn’t so bad. Just tedious, with many thousands of tiny, looping stitches to make a rounded edge.
It was so hard to make it look even, she was sure there must be a better way, if only she knew it.
It had taken her eight tries to sketch a large R in one corner with a bit of charcoal, using Duchess Ereguil’s perfect script as a model.
The handkerchief had come to symbolize many things.
It was the first and most obvious gift a wife might give her husband, and she knew Remin wanted one; she had caught him rummaging in her embroidery box more than once, casually inquiring if she was working on anything in particular.
It was the promise she had made to him and his mother, and proof that she could keep her promises, and learn.
The thought made her throat tighten, and she quickly looked down to hide her eyes.
She loved him so much. Was it normal to feel this way?
Lady Verr and Lady Hurrell did not seem to care so deeply for their husbands.
But she missed him, she wanted him, she was so mixed up and upside down and there was a knot in her stomach that wouldn’t go away.
Ophele could not have defined love any better than magic, but she knew she had come to understand it better, after he was gone.
She did not think he would kill her, no matter what Lady Hurrell did. But the secrets remained, invisible traps waiting to be sprung. The things that she knew. The things she would tell him.
And the things she did not know, that Lady Hurrell would reveal at a time of her choosing.
* * *
Some days, life in the Andelin Valley was so strange, Lady Verr was certain she was watching a play.
Not one of the spectacles from the Golden Leaf, to be sure; that theater was known for the splendor of its costumes, and she knew exactly how limited the options were for an Andelin Valley production.
And really, it couldn’t be a proper romance without at least one rival and Constant Misunderstandings.
But watching the flurry of activity in anticipation of the duke’s return, she felt very much a spectator, and the genre could be nothing but romance.
It was entertainment of the highest order to see the doll-faced little duchess suddenly come to life.
“It may not be him,” Duchess Andelin said, lifting her arms so Emi and Peri could pull her green silk gown over her shoulders.
Sir Justenin had come in minutes before to announce smoke had been spotted to the northeast, and suddenly she cared very much about what she was wearing.
“The people from Nandre will be coming that way, too, and Sir Edemir said they might come back first, Sir Rollon left ages ago, it mightn’t be Rem—His Grace at all. ”
“We will have to wait and see,” Mionet said diplomatically, moving behind the lady to tie the sash at her back. The gown was unquestionably a summer dress, far too light for the cold, but the silk was of decent quality and the deep green and gold very flattering.
“But he promised he would be back by now, perhaps they ran into each other and are coming back together,” the duchess said hopefully, sitting down at the dressing table.
“I wonder if we could go out to meet them? I have been outside the city before, and it should be quite safe now. Do I have any green ribbons?”
“Many, my lady.” Mionet bent with her to examine the options. The ribbons were a godsend, almost infinite in application, and since the duchess did not own a single piece of jewelry other than an unremarkable wedding band, Mionet had had to be very creative indeed.
That would never have flown at the Golden Leaf.
“I do like the jeweled ones.” The duchess glanced at herself in the mirror, her eyes anxious. “Should I…maybe a little lip dye? If it isn’t vulgar?”
“There is nothing vulgar in a little cosmetic,” Mionet agreed, and decided to take the reins.
This was what she had been hoping for, all these weeks; even with limited resources, it was easy for women to bond over making each other lovely, and she finally had a willing subject.
“You have lash powder as well, but first I think you ought to have a cold compress, my lady.”
“Yes, please,” Duchess Andelin agreed, and sat up straight as Mionet went to work on her hair.
With her cheeks flushed and her eyes glowing like that, she really needed no cosmetic at all.
“He liked the curls you did last time, and the way you did the ribbon? And maybe we could use that jeweled ribbon about my neck.”
“It will look lovely, but you do need proper jewelry, my lady,” Mionet remarked.
She had been waiting weeks to say this. “I know several excellent shops in the capital that work on commission. Imagine a pendant and earrings to match this gown, perhaps in emerald and topaz, with small diamonds for brilliance.”
“Oh, I couldn’t…” The protest was automatic, but Duchess Andelin’s fingers lifted to brush the bare skin above her neckline.
“His Grace will never think of it unless you hint it to him,” Mionet replied, with a conspiratorial wink. “Men are so blind to such things. But it makes them happy to give gifts, you know, especially when he sees how much you like it. ”
“Does it?” This cast a different light on the matter.
“Try him and see,” Mionet said wisely, taking up her curling tongs. “And you are a duchess, a little glitter is only to be expected.”
“I suppose,” Duchess Andelin said, with a thoughtful look at her reflection. “Emi, would you please tell Sim or Jaose to go and ask Wen to send supper up to the house tonight? Something that will keep? I know he will be hungry, you wouldn’t believe how much he can eat…”
“Especially after such a journey,” Mionet agreed with mingled amusement and chagrin.
Perhaps she had erred in thinking the duchess was a sly creature, keeping her secrets.
The lady must have just been very unhappy, all this time; seeing her now, she had less command of her expression than most children.
Even with a cold compress over her eyes, she radiated a transparent happiness that would have mortified the most back country society debutante.
Most of the women of Mionet’s acquaintance had been married long enough to have a more…
realistic idea of their husbands’ characters.
Every marriage had a sweet season in the beginning, when both husband and wife were putting on their best faces.
Mionet remembered those days, waking up to find flowers beside her bed, planning her husband’s supper with care for his every preference, and then basking in his appreciation.
Going out together in that first blush of married life was so exciting, when it was still new to say the word husband.
Hopefully it would not be too hard for Duchess Andelin when it ended.
Outside, the wind was bitterly cold, and Mionet burrowed into her cloak as she stood behind Duchess Andelin on the portico, her breath puffing white. The duchess only had one cloak, a pale blue that did not look terribly well with the green silk gown.
“Bram has already gone to meet them,” said Sir Justenin, dismounting his horse and coming up the steps.
There was something in his pale, cool gaze that made Mionet uncomfortable; she had heard all the tales about his visits to the capital, but even if she had not, he had the air of a man who was difficult to deceive and unwise to cross.
“It is likely to be some hours before they arrive, Your Grace. It may not even be today, after so much rain.”
Duchess Andelin’s eyes flicked toward the sky, which was already clouding over again. A little colder and it might have snowed .
“We still ought to meet them, as we did the folk from Meinhem,” she said. “They will be cold and hungry, and perhaps hurt.”
“I do not believe His Grace would like you to sit out in the rain and cold all day,” he replied firmly. “Nandre is a small village. Edemir has prepared room for them in the cookhouse. There will be plenty of time for someone to come and fetch you there.”
“Very well,” she conceded reluctantly. “We’ll have spare clothes and blankets waiting. I don’t suppose there will be another signal, as they approach?”
“No, Your Grace.” That won an actual smile from Sir Justenin. “But we will send a messenger as soon as there is any news at all.”
It was a very long day. It was impossible to carry on a conversation when the duchess twitched at every noise, and at least once an hour, she went to the window to peer out into the rain as if she expected to see a parade of horses clattering down Eugene Street.
Whatever she was thinking, it periodically made her turn very pink.
“He may not come today, my lady,” Mionet was finally forced to remind her, on humanitarian grounds. “Travel will be difficult in this weather, and it might only be the people from Nandre in any case.”
“I know,” Duchess Andelin agreed, only to bolt to her feet a moment later when Sim appeared with another armload of firewood.
“You should not pin your hopes on him too much,” Mionet said, with the conviction of experience.