Chapter Eleven
D unstan had never known peace like that which he felt sleeping with Carys in his arms. It was such a gentle, pervasive peace that it made him feel as though the world and the castle were fresh and new, with no curses hanging over him at all. Everything seemed warm and light, as if it were spring instead of the dawn of the darkest day of the year.
Carys stirred, and Dunstan reveled in the touch of her body against his. She was his and he was hers, and nothing would part the two of them. Ever.
He opened his eyes, smiling, but his heart caught in his chest.
The woman in his arms wasn’t Carys. She was smaller and had darker hair. When she opened her eyes, they were an unnatural blue, and they seemed to bore into his soul.
The feeling of joy and contentment that had enveloped Dunstan vanished as the woman’s expression changed from one of deepest love to a grimace of hurt and betrayal.
“ You would cast me aside for something as paltry as a title? ” she demanded, her voice wispy, like it was hidden in the winds of a storm. “ You would marry the king’s daughter when you love me? ”
“ I— ”
Dunstan jolted. The voice that came out of his mouth was not his, and the hand he stretched toward the woman was larger and rougher than his own.
“ I curse you! ” the woman shouted, pointing a finger at him. She somehow now stood beside the bed, and her long, dark hair swirled around her, like it was carried on the storm that surrounded her. “ You have traded love for power, and so you shall have neither. I curse you and your line for generations, until you learn to put love above all else once again .”
“ Morgana! ” he cried out in that voice that was not his own, struggling through the tangle of the bedclothes to reach her.
There was a flash and a boom like thunder, and suddenly Dunstan jerked awake in his own bed, sitting bolt-upright, panting and sweating.
It was just a dream. A very real, very potent dream. The shame and broken love that he’d felt within the dream, that Aethelbore had felt, was so painful that he groaned and flopped back against his pillows. He rubbed a hand over his face to clear away the intense emotions that still seemed to hang in the air.
Carys was not in bed with him. Dunstan froze for a moment, then turned his head to the spot beside the bed where Morgana had stood in his dream while she cursed him. That is, while she’d cursed Aethelbore. The room felt very much like it had in the dream, only older, more worn and burdened with time.
He forced himself to take a few, deep breaths and stare up at the weathered beams of the ceiling. Carys had not fled his bed only to curse him. It was more likely that she had a thousand duties to perform in the wake of the Christmas ball and that she had risen early so that she might tend to them.
Dunstan smiled as the memory of his dearest friend, everything she was, and everything they’d shared floated over him, like a fresh breeze clearing out the heavy, cloying air after the fire had been left burning for too long. Carys was wonderful in every way. He had no doubt at all in his mind that the two of them belonged together. They had fit together so perfectly the night before. They had rescued each other from the toils and cares that had attempted to pull them down.
That didn’t banish the cold, creeping feeling that his dream had left him with, however.
Dunstan climbed out of bed quickly and walked to the washstand in the far corner of the room. Despite the frigid air of December, he splashed water on his face and scrubbed himself, then used the chamber pot before fetching his robe and donning it. He needed the blast of bracing cold to shock the eerie remnants of his dream from him.
He had felt Morgana’s agony as if he had been present for Aethelbore’s betrayal. He had felt Aethelbore’s love for her as well, and his shame over the choice he’d made. He paced around his room, alternately trying to embrace those feelings and recall the dream so that he might learn from it and wishing to banish the thing from his mind entirely.
He could only pace his cold bedchamber for a short span of time before the urge to leave the place and find Carys overpowered him. Without waiting for a maid to come and tend to the fire or for his valet, who had been given some time to visit with his family for Christmas anyhow, to attend to him, he dressed in a comfortable, slightly shabby set of clothes that he only wore when he did not have to venture out or be in company.
The public parts of the castle were still almost as busy as they’d been when half of the Kingdom of Wessex had been there the night before, only they were busy with servants now. A great deal of work was always needed to clean up after an event such as Uncle Gerald’s Christmas ball.
As Dunstan strode the hallway, peeking into parlors in search of Carys, he found maids gathering up discarded glasses and even bits of refreshments that had been sampled and left behind, footmen wiping up spots on the furniture and floor where things had been spilled, and everyone returning furnishings to the rooms where they belonged.
Dunstan headed into the great hall, which still contained the greatest amount of activity. Two of the footmen who had been hired for the ball were removing decorations from the tree that had fallen, likely so they could dispose of the tree. Some of the maids that had been brought on for the holiday season were gathering more cups and dishes from corners of the room. Most surprising of all, a few of the members of the orchestra were still there, packing up their instruments and sorting through sheets of music.
All of the activity was enough to convince Dunstan he never wanted to have another event at Godwin Castle again for the rest of his life. It was all simply too much work, and—
His thoughts were cut short as Carys marched into the room, two of the young men hired from town following her.
“The carpets will need to be rolled up and taken out to be cleaned before the furniture is restored to its usual places,” she was in the middle of saying. “There are replacement carpets in the west storeroom that can be put in their place for now. As long as Lord Gerald has his place by the fire ready after breakfast, the rest can be done in good time.”
Dunstan smiled at the sight of his friend, no, his beloved, and his heart seemed to dance in his chest. He walked straight toward her, fighting not to run and sweep her into his arms so that he could declare his love for her.
He stopped just short of her when Carys turned to him with a look so stony that it nearly cut him to the quick.
“Carys,” he said, both in greeting and in question.
“Lord Dunstan,” Carys greeted him in return without any emotion at all.
That is, without any emotion that made it past her eyes. Her eyes spoke volumes whereas her face remained implacable. They held love and longing, but also bitterness, pain, and far more shame than Dunstan wanted to see.
“I, er, um, are you well?” he asked, dancing from one foot to another, like a child who was too anxious for attention to stand still.
“I am perfectly well, my lord,” Carys said, moving on and directing the hired men to the carpet she wanted them to take out first. “It is better if you begin rolling this one from that end,” she told them.
Dunstan snapped his mouth shut and clasped his hands behind his back. What had he been thinking? Of course, he could not simply run to Carys and enfold her in his arms like she was any other noblewoman. She was a woman with employment, and at the moment, caring for Godwin Castle took precedence over him. As it should.
“Let me help,” he said, as eager as a schoolboy. He rushed to join the two men rolling up the carpet.
“That is not necessary, Lord Dunstan,” Carys said, pressing one hand to her temple, as if she had a headache. “You are part of the family. These men were hired to perform a task. Allow them to do that.”
Dunstan stood slowly, a feeling of doom in his gut. She was not speaking about the two of them, was she?
“I am hardly a nobleman at all,” he replied with a smile, though he didn’t try to bend to assist the young men rolling up the carpet again. “I feel as much a part of this castle as the walls and furnishings themselves. You are the special one.”
For a moment, Dunstan was certain Carys would burst into tears. Seeing the pinch on her face and the emotions accompanying it alarmed him in the extreme. They had shared something beautiful and wonderful. She should not be in such turmoil over it.
“Please, Carys,” he said, lowering his voice to a soft register and stepping toward her. “Allow me to—”
“Ruby, what are you doing?” Carys asked with a gasp, glancing past him, then marching in that direction. “Only the trees that were toppled during the ball need their decorations removed. The others will stay up until after Christmas for the benefit of the family.”
“Oh!” Ruby said, glancing from Carys to the armful of ornaments she now held. “I am terribly sorry, Mrs. Weatherby. I’ll just put them back.”
“Give them to me,” Carys said, gesturing to the ornaments. “I’ll do it. I believe Iris needs your help sweeping the hallway.”
“Yes, Mrs. Weatherby,” Ruby said, curtsying, then left the room.
Dunstan walked to the tree as calmly as he could with his insides beginning to twist and dance in panic and took some of the ornaments from Carys’s arms.
“At least let me help you with this,” he said quietly.
Carys was as tense as he’d ever seen her, especially when his hand brushed her arm as he took ornaments from her. She let out a breath once they had both turned their attention to the tree, however.
“Do you regret it?” Dunstan asked, dreading the answer. When she did not reply immediately, he asked, “Have I importuned you in some way or offended you?”
Carys made a small noise that was far too close to a sob. She pressed her lips together tightly and seemed to be fighting to maintain her composure as she lifted to her toes to hang a decorated pine cone.
Finally, when Dunstan had nearly reached the end of his patience for her silence, she said, “No,” in a vulnerable tone that was so unlike her. She turned to face him guiltily. “No, I do not regret it at all,” she whispered. “I…it was wonderful. You are wonderful.”
Dunstan’s smile returned, but he could feel her reticence despite her words.
“It can never happen again,” she whispered, quieter still, turning her face away from him.
“Darling,” Dunstan said quietly in return, shifting toward her and resting a hand on her arm, determined to make her change her mind.
“No,” Carys repeated, still not looking at him and taking a half step back. “You know there is too much set against us,” she said, tilting her head down.
Dunstan had never seen her so cowed or so uncertain of herself. He did not like it.
“We are friends, first and foremost,” he said, peeking around to make certain no one was listening to them. One of the players from the orchestra was watching them from across the room, but he was in no way close enough to overhear. “Should not love grow out of friendship?” he asked.
It was such a change from the opinion he’d held about love for two decades that it took his breath away. But then, Carys took his breath away.
“It should,” Carys said, almost sobbed, then glanced up at him. “But if love should fail, it would ruin the friendship that gave birth to it.”
Dunstan held himself still for a moment. If he were honest, he understood that all too well. That was the primary reason he had not even dreamed of pursuing something with Carys. Until now. Now he was beginning to see that the potential reward could very well be worth the risk.
“Do you not believe we are cleverer than that?” he asked, hoping it was true. “If any two people could overcome the strains and tricks of love, it would be us.”
“Yes, but—”
Before Carys could say more, a sharp cry came from Ruby at the other end of the great hall, followed by, “He’s dead! Oh, help!”
Dunstan and Carys both turned to the fuss as one of the other maids lifted an expired mouse into the air by its tail. That only caused Ruby to squeal louder and burst into tears.
“I have duties to perform,” Carys told Dunstan with a weary sigh. “I will always have duties to perform. That is my position relative to your family, relative to you.”
Dunstan did not want to admit to the logic and reasoning of their respective classes, but neither could he deny it. He had been born a Godwin, and Carys had been born to serve his family.
Though all of that meant very little to him, if he was honest.
Carys moved away to resolve the issue of the mouse before he could say anything, and he recognized that pursuing her to talk about his feelings when so much needed to be done would be boorish. So instead of staying in the great hall and getting in the way, he dragged his heavy heart out to the hall and down to the breakfast room.
He was not particularly hungry, but breaking his fast with his family was routine, and in that moment, he needed to cling to something familiar. But he regretted that impulse almost from the moment he entered the room.
“And where did you rush off to last night?” Uncle Gerald asked him from the head of the table, where Alden, Cedric, and Waldorf were already present. “Or should I ask where did you and Mrs. Weatherby run off to?”
Dunstan absolutely did not like the sly, teasing looks that his brother and cousins gave him as he picked up a plate from the sideboard and started to pile it with food.
“I felt unwell, so I retired to my bedroom early,” Dunstan answered without looking at any of them.
“I thought as much,” Alden said, winking at him when he turned around with his plate full.
“You were missed,” Cedric told him kindly, though he shared a wicked look with Alden after.
“I am sorry I could not be there for the remainder of the ball,” Dunstan said as he took his place at the table. He then attempted to deflect discussion from himself and Carys by asking, “Did I miss anything of interest?”
“Only the usual,” Cedric said as he sliced into a piece of ham. “I should think that things of far more interest were taking place in your bedchamber.”
Dunstan frowned, especially since Alden failed to contain a snort of laughter. “It was not what you are supposing,” he told his family in a cold voice. Even though it had been precisely as they were supposing.
“We should ask Mrs. Weatherby to join us for luncheon,” Uncle Gerald said, smiling as one of the junior footmen came forward to pour more tea for him. “She has always felt more like part of the family, part of the castle, than a mere servant. Perhaps we should make changes going forward.”
“Particularly if those changes begin with the two of you,” Waldorf murmured across the table from Dunstan without looking at him.
Dunstan frowned harder and tried valiantly to ignore his family’s ribbing. His heart felt too tender and his hopes teetered too close to the edge of disappointment yet again to take the bait they were trying to leave for him.
They were persistent, however.
“Do you suppose there might be more than two new Godwin babies about to be born within the next year?” Cedric asked, winking across to Alden.
“It would be lovely to have this castle ringing with the laughter of children,” Alden said. “But, of course, certain things are required in order to may that happen. Are they not, Dunstan?”
Dunstan let out a sigh and pushed his plate back. His eggs tasted like ash and his ham like sawdust at any rate. He stood and threw down his serviette, a little too conscious of the fact that it was the second time in as many days that he’d made the dramatic gesture. It was his family’s fault he’d turned so theatrical.
“I would thank you not to make Carys or myself the subject of your lewd teasing,” he said, recognizing a moment too late that referring to Carys by her Christian name was as much of an admission as actually coming out with details of the night before. “Mrs. Weatherby is a good woman and a friend to us all. She has served this family well for years, and her family for generations before her. She does not deserve to have her honor bandied about like one of Napoleon’s toys, and she should not be made to look like a fool for your enjoyment.”
Immediately, the grins and smirks of his family faded into looks of chastisement.
“We are sorry,” Cedric answered on behalf of them all. “It is just that we know how fond of each other the two of you are.”
“We had hoped there was some progress last night,” Alden added with a hopeful look.
Dunstan did not know how to even begin to explain everything that had happened between him and Carys since the night before. He was not entirely certain what had happened. Things had been so lovely and perfect between the two of them one moment, and then it was as if he had awakened from a beautiful dream and into the reality of the impossibility of things between them.
“You are mistaken to presume more than exists,” he said, not quite able to look his family members in their eyes. “Mrs. Weatherby and I are and always have been the closest of friends. You should not search for more because of that.”
Perhaps it was a terrible idea for him to search for more himself.
That thought was like a hot poker in his backside. He couldn’t resume his seat and pretend that nothing had changed. Everything had changed, and he was struggling to come to terms with it all.
“If you will excuse me,” he said, stepping away from the table and heading for the hallway.
His heart and mind were bundles of swirling confusion, and breakfast with his family was not going to resolve the ache in his breast. He needed a moment of quiet and reflection so that he could sort through the confusion of what he felt and what he wanted.
The only thing he was certain of was that he could no longer deny he loved Carys as so much more than just a friend. He simply did not know what to do about it in the face of the wall she had put up between the two of them.