Chapter Two
Two
“The mysterious Lord Fenwood.” Laura leans against the doorframe as I pack my meager things. News has traveled fast, as expected, since there are only about five people at the manor at any given time. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this particular lord at any events.”
“I think he’s a recluse,” Helen says. She hardly ever comes to my room, and seeing her here is an unwelcome oddity. “I’ve never seen him, only heard his name mentioned. They say he lives north of town, that his estate is right at the edge of the forest.”
“Oh, him!” Laura claps her hands. “I’ve heard townsfolk say he is an ancient wizard.” She spins to face me as if this prospect is the best news she’s heard in months. “If he teaches you magic, promise me you’ll show me?”
“He’s not going to teach me magic.” Still, the optimism of my younger sister tugs a smile onto my face—at least until Helen does her level best to squelch any joy that might exist between us.
“She wouldn’t be taught magic. She would be consumed for it. I hear wizards exclusively drink the warm blood of freshly killed maidens and dance with horned fae in the moonlight.”
“If he drank only the blood of freshly killed maidens, there would be no young women left in the nearby village.” I roll my eyes and try to conceal the fact that I am actually somewhat alarmed that neither of my sisters know anything about this man.
They’re intimate with everyone in the social circles of this area, so if they don’t know him, no one does.
I was hoping for some information on my new circumstances.
“And no one dances with fae in the moonlight. If you got that close to a fae, you’d be dead. ”
“Assuming fae are real.” Helen doesn’t believe the old stories.
She’s too practical. But she grew up inland, closer to her mother’s mines…
far away from the woods and their tales.
She thinks Laura and I are ridiculous for our superstitions, yet she absolutely refuses to go into the woods herself.
“It’s far more likely that he’s some horrible, wrinkly old hermit looking for a young woman to make his own. ”
“I’m sure he’s wonderful,” Laura says. “And Helen and I will come and visit you and your new husband within the month. I hear Mother is going to buy a new carriage, hire a driver, and get three new footmen for the manor—and that’s just the start!
You’ll have to come back and see the riches your marriage has bought. ”
Laura means well, but she doesn’t realize the daggers her words are. I’m no better than a prized hog. But at least I might be of some use to her.
“It will be nice to finally have some real help around here,” Helen says with a disapproving glance in my direction.
I did everything I could and then some for them.
When Joyce and Helen first moved in, I tried to make them my family.
I did things as they asked and when they asked because I wanted to be a good daughter and sister.
By the time I realized they were turning me into their personal servant, it had gone on too long for me to have any hope of stopping it.
Then Joyce began to encourage Father to spend more time on ships.
And after the incident on the roof…I never dreamed of contradicting them again.
“I’m sure you both will be very happy here for years to come,” I say.
“Just until our own weddings,” Laura says. She just can’t wait to get married to some charming lord. As the youngest and by far the most beautiful sister, she’ll have her pick of men.
“Katria, come along, now, you don’t want to keep your new husband waiting.
” Joyce appears behind her daughters and eyes the trunk she gave me.
“Oh, good. I knew it would all fit in that small trunk.” Joyce looks around the room with disdain.
A small room containing a small amount of things for a woman she’s tried to make small her entire life.
I vow in this moment that I will not let this new husband make me feel small. I will try with all my might to stand tall. I will never cower before anyone again.
“Let’s go.” I sling my lute onto my back and hoist my trunk.
We four go out to the wide veranda at the front of the manor.
It’s there that I get my first look at the servant who negotiated for my hand.
He’s tall, despite having a bit of a hunch to his back, and wiry, with beady black eyes and slicked-back gray hair.
His clothes are fine, not overly adorned but clearly of good make, and he stands beside an equally fine carriage.
The kind of wealth that doesn’t scream at you but whispers with easy confidence.
Joyce could learn a thing or two from him.
“You must be Lady Katria,” he says with a bow. He looks at Joyce and motions to the chest at his side. “Here are the four thousand pieces, as promised.”
“As you already observed, this is Katria. And here is her dowry.” Joyce walks down the veranda stairs and holds out a small parcel wrapped in silk. The man unwraps it, checks its contents, then reverently rewraps the tome. My hands shake as I fight the urge to snatch it from his grasp.
“Excellent. All is in order. If you’ll follow me, Lady Katria.”
It strikes me as I’m halfway down the veranda steps that this might be the last time I see this manor.
I don’t know if I will want to return to this house or visit the people living in it.
I look back at them and then past them, trying to catch a final glimpse of the beautiful time-worn paintings on the ceiling of the foyer.
Mother wasn’t meant to live here for very long, my father often said. Maybe I wasn’t meant to either. Maybe I’m just fulfilling my destiny by leaving this place, although a bit later than she did.
I’m almost at the carriage when the clopping of hooves distracts me. Cordella leads Misty around the house from the side stables. She gives a wave.
“Miss, I figured you would not want to be leaving without this one.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. Everything is happening so fast, I wonder what else I’ve overlooked. Or what else I assumed would sort itself out.
“Cordella.” Joyce’s voice is like a whip, cracking through the cool air. “Take that beast back to the stables.”
“What?” I say. “Misty is mine.”
“I’m sure your husband would be delighted to give you a new horse, a better horse, as a wedding present. Don’t be a selfish girl and deny him that,” Joyce scolds.
“I don’t want…I want Misty.” I look to the man. “She’s a good horse and she has been with me her whole life. It wouldn’t be any trouble, would it?”
“There is room in my master’s stables.” The man nods.
Joyce shakes her head and brings a hand to her mouth. “I cannot believe it. I know I raised you better.”
I purse my lips. Years of experience have taught me that silence is best when she gets like this.
She continues, “To think you would disrespect your new husband and take from your family unnecessarily at the same time over a silly horse.”
“Silly? None of you even care about that horse!”
“You are a lady, Katria Applegate. It is unbecoming to shout,” Joyce says in a quiet voice. “Cordella, please bring that beast back to the stables.”
Cordella glances from Joyce to me, but I know what she’ll do before she does it. She can’t object to Joyce’s demands. Cordella turns.
“No! You can’t do this! Please!” I rush to Cordella.
“Katria.” My name is like a whip from Joyce’s mouth. I flinch and freeze, halted by the mere sound. “You are upset over nothing and making a fool of yourself.”
I want to scream at her. She has what’s left of my father’s business.
She has her four thousand pieces. That could buy a whole herd of horses.
Let me have Misty, I want to shout. But I can’t.
Because, like Misty, I have been trained; I have been silenced by an invisible bridle that my stepmother shoved between my teeth long ago.
A gentle touch on my shoulder startles me. I look up to see that the old man is standing beside me. His eyes are surprisingly gentle and sympathetic.
“I will see to it that my master gets you a new horse.”
She will never be left wanting. He said that was a promise his master had made. I could ask for anything, but getting it would mean nothing. It would be an empty kindness, something given to me for the sake of fulfilling an obligation by a man who cares more about a book than the woman he marries.
I jerk away. “I don’t want his horses.” I don’t want his pitying or compulsory kindness. I don’t want anything that could resemble closeness in this marriage.
“It’s always something with you, isn’t it?
” Joyce murmurs, though loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Calm down and be graceful as you venture into this new stage of your life.” She makes it sound as if I have somehow chosen this.
As if this were something I wanted. I glare at her before getting into the carriage.
Laura rushes forward as the servant climbs up to the driver’s seat.
“Laura!” Joyce is nearing her breaking point.
“Go back to your mother,” I whisper to my sister. I shudder to think of what reprimanding she’ll face. Laura, ignoring both me and Joyce, grabs the door to prevent me from closing it.
“I’m going to miss you,” she blurts out with tear-filled eyes. My sweet sister. Barely fourteen. The best and most unbroken of us all. “You made this place bearable.”
“No, that was all you.” I embrace her. The servant doesn’t rush us. “Don’t lose your kindness, Laura, please. Hang on to it with all your might until you can get out.”
“You don’t either.” She pulls away and I refrain from telling her that my kindness was lost a long, long time ago. “I’ll look after Misty, I swear it. Cordella will teach me, and maybe the first time you come visit, you can take her back with you. I’ll try and speak to Mother.”