Chapter 36 #2
“Wait a moment.” Perry put down a large spoonful of pudding, looking between them. “I’m sorry for misleading you, Bob, but aren’t you being a bit…hasty? I wouldn’t advise you to toss an offer of friendship aside so readily. Mother saved your life, you know.”
“She did not.” Robert put clenched fists on top of his chair. “You and the duke did that, bursting into the room like a platoon of bulls.”
“Yes, but Mother stayed back for you, when that lieutenant had you in cuffs.” Perry continued inexorably, despite Robert’s disbelieving expression.
“I found her in the Tea Tower Room before you were hauled in there. I begged her to come with me, to whisk her out of danger, and she refused. She told me she had to wait for you, to prevent the lieutenant from snapping your wrists.”
Robert looked down at his hands curled on the chair. “Is that true?” he asked, in a low voice.
“Yes,” averred Perry. “And Mother stayed with you and drank the Lethe, for your sake, risking her mind. She would rather have saved you than come with me, her blood kin. So don’t tell me that you’re not family, you ungrateful dog.”
Robert swallowed. There was a long silence, then he cleared his throat. “I thank you for that, Judith.”
“You are most welcome, but I confess I have no memory of any of it,” she admitted awkwardly. She tried for a tentative smile. Robert didn’t go so far as to return it, but his step was a little less angry as he left the room.
And the next morning, he was still there for breakfast. As he was pouring coffee, the duke took the opportunity to remark,“Robert, I don’t know if you recall it yet, but until recently, you’ve been in my employ as a footman.
I take leave to inform you that you are now summarily dismissed.
Hence you might as well stay in this draughty castle a little longer. ”
Robert nodded slowly, buttering a piece of bread. “Very good, your grace.”
“And,” his grace added, “you shall have to give up that stiff mode of address and start calling me Father, for I intend to marry Judith. We shall all have to grow accustomed to being part of a rather singular family.”
Robert raised his brows and looked between them, but his hostility seemed to have abated a little. “A singular family indeed,” he said stiffly. “I congratulate you, your grace.”
“Oh hoh,” said Perry, in his usual spot by the window. “We’ll see about that! I might accept Robert as my brother, but I don’t accept you as my father, you dissolute malt-worm!”
“Peregrine!” said Judith, shocked.
“Shakespeare!” said Dacian, with approval. “You clay-brained jack-a-napes, you will find you have no choice in the matter.”
“You can’t propose to Mother until she is in her right senses,” Perry retorted, “you rough-hewn puttock!”
A smile tugged at Robert’s lips. Judith blushed and took a sip of coffee. “His grace may propose to me as many times as he likes. And he is not rough-hewn!”
Dacian smiled at her. “What am I, then?” he said, brazenly fishing.
“Very handsome. And brave. And charming.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.
Perry gagged. “Oh God, Robert, let us drink our coffee elsewhere.” He stood abruptly, and marched over to Robert, gesturing. Robert grinned and poured himself a cup and followed Perry out the door.
“Trebellow,” said Dacian. “You may also leave us now.”
The butler had been standing at the breakfast board, listening avidly. Now he gave a worshipful bow and quietly removed himself.
Judith was left alone in the breakfast room with the duke. “Why does my butler regard you as some sort of god?” she demanded.
Dacian shrugged. “He respects my wrassling abilities. We had a rematch.”
“A rematch?”
“Not in the Blue Drawing Room this time, you’ll be pleased to know.”
Judith sighed and took another mouthful of coffee. “I don’t think I want to know.”
“No, it’s quite irrelevant.” Dacian leaned towards her. “How much do you remember, my dear?”
She licked her lips. “I remember you flirting with me in the Sargen woods. And kissing me by a river. It was quite…memorable.” It was utterly riveting. How could she have turned away from him to Nicholas? It was like reading a book to which she did not know the ending.
“Ah yes. I didn’t know you were betrothed to Nicholas then, in my defence.”
She looked down, embarrassed. “I did, however. I do apologise.”
“Never mind. There have been awful errors on both sides.” He looked as if he wanted to take her hand again but curtailed the impulse. “It is all in the past now.”
For her, however, the story unfolded as if it was all new: that day she recalled their fatal encounter in the Sargen library, and her subsequent marriage to Nicholas, and wept anew at the pain of it.
Then, gradually, the events of Garvey House, both nine years ago and more recently, returned to her.
By the end of the third day—which Dacian spent mostly with Drumpellier in the Blue Drawing Room, in a series of urgent meetings with various officers—she could remember everything, including that regrettable incident where she had almost bared her breasts in an attempt to jolt Dacian’s recollection of her.
She rather thought she would pretend that was an irrecoverable memory, lost to the mists of Lethe.
Feeling rather overwhelmed as the events of the last few days returned to her, Judith retired early to her room and asked Trebellow to send up some hot water for a bath.
Now that she could recall her first impression of the Captain’s Cabin, she could see that the dark green quilt had been replaced with a pale green one, edged in primrose.
The green and gold rugs were also recent additions, put in by Mrs Ulrich, along with the vases of flowers, and the wall hanging of embroidered yellow roses.
The room was more welcoming now, with the wood panelling freshly dusted and the heavy curtains replaced by creamy silk, framing the soothing view of the ocean.
The hot bath was even more calming, with Kadee providing extra buckets of steaming water.
The girl was eager to please, grateful that Judith had kept her secret and allowed her to stay on as a footman, though Judith had hopes she might convince her to become a lady’s maid.
Or a lady’s footman, at least. Or some new category of servant altogether, she mused.
Castle Lanyon would be a singular sort of establishment, if all went to plan: exempt from the Edicts, now home to a roost of bats, and eventually to be a school for young, budding Musors.
She had not yet had an interview with the French vampiri queen; while she had been indisposed it had been left to Perry to play the role of the diplomat and settle Her Majesty into her new abode.
And now the queen had declared she must sleep for three days in order to recover from the turbulent crossing from Sark.
Judith hoped to be granted an audience after that.
There was much to organise after Elinor’s wedding, though according to Elinor’s letter, she was planning on a long honeymoon.
Perhaps while she was away, Judith could begin writing some introductory pamphlets or guides to Truth Discernment for the new school.
Absorbed in various contemplations, she stayed in the bath until the water cooled.
Then she stepped out and surveyed her gowns.
The dark fabrics of a widowed matron no longer felt right.
Even the pale lilac seemed too drab. Mrs Ulrich had put an old-fashioned, rose-coloured muslin gown on the armchair, which Judith slipped over her shift.
It was rather scandalously low-cut with ties down the front.
Thoughtfully, she pulled them tight and flung a soft, grey shawl over her shoulders to retain her modesty.
There were no matching rose mobcaps, so she left her head bare, her hair loose.
Then she sat at the table near the window, and considered the huge ship’s bell in the corner. The pulley ran to the bed, and after a moment she yanked it with both hands, giving it an almighty pull.