Chapter Sixteen
Delia woke feeling refreshed. The headache was gone, and so was the pain in her cloud.
She reached out tentatively with that sense Jasper called the mage sense.
The cloud was smaller than before—much smaller—but the wounds she had felt when they arrived in London had all healed, and the cloud was growing again, thousands of tiny tendrils reaching out into the world.
She looked around. The light coming through the window showed her a luxurious bed chamber, better than any she had ever slept in before. A maid sat by the window, where the light was better for the needlework over which she was bent.
No sign of Jasper, and she was cross with herself for caring that he had, apparently, abandoned her.
The maid had not noticed that she was awake, and Delia did not particularly wish to alert her. Instead, she lay quietly, considering what had happened to her.
During the past week, she and Jasper had discovered that an uncountable number of fibers from her cloud penetrated the ground, the plants, and even the rock. Her translocation from the Peak District to London was a sudden jerk, tearing off the fibers and leaving them behind.
And this was not the first time. No wonder she had felt so awful in the first week after they translocated from the castle to the cavern.
What happened when she walked, or rode in a wagon or on a canal?
Did the fibers withdraw and reattached themselves as she moved?
They must, for surely she would know if they were constantly breaking off.
Though come to think of it, she had felt achy and slightly queasy through most of the canal trip.
In the future, she would avoid fast travel, as well as translocation.
The door opened and someone bustled inside. It was a person Delia vaguely remembered seeing when she and Jasper arrived in London—a richly-dressed lady in her mature years. She had a no-nonsense air but her blue eyes were kind as they examined Delia.
“Oh good,” said the lady. “You are awake. Perkins, fetch Lady Cordelia’s breakfast.” Perkins must be the maid, for she put down her handwork, curtseyed, and hurried out of the room.
The lady settled herself in the chair next to the bed. “The healer says you must eat well to complete your recovery, Lady Cordelia. How do you feel?”
“Better,” Delia reported. “Hungry. My lady, I am sorry, but I cannot recall your name.”
The lady nodded. “And no wonder. If I understand the matter, you become connected to the world around you, and when the connection is broken, it wounds you. I am the Earl of Margate. I am one of the enchanters attached to the palace, and also your chaperone until your marriage to the dragon lord, Lord Baradine.”
There was another dragon lord? Well, whoever he was, Delia was not going to marry him. “Who is Lord Baradine?” she asked.
Lady Margate looked at her as if she had said something stupid.
“The dragon lord, of course. Jasper Thornton. Oh, I see. You did not hear Wales tell him he had been given the title of Marquess of Baradine. It is the Findlater heir’s title, Lady Cordelia.
Goodness! You must have thought we were trying to marry you off to a stranger. ”
“I did, rather,” said Delia. “I do not wish to marry anyone. I will do my duty as catalyst and support the dragon lord, but I do not believe marriage is a necessary part of that obligation.”
Widening eyes expressed the lady’s surprise.
“You do not wish to marry Lord Baradine? But he is devoted to you, Lady Cordelia. He has only left your bedside for meetings with Findlater, Wales, the prime minister and the Council. He is with Findlater now. A personable young man, and extremely wealthy. What more could you wish?”
Respect. A place of her own that did not depend upon the whims and needs of others.
Jasper’s love. Impossible things, and Delia could see no point in offering them for Lady Margate to mock.
“Jas… Lord Baradine is everything you say, but I do not accept those as sufficient reason to marry. Besides, I have responsibilities. I am maiden to the unicorn Sapphire, and I am responsible for Mary, the baby lindwurm, Theodosia, the sphinx, and Polly, their nurse.”
The considering look had an edge of sympathy, and so did Lady Margate’s voice when she replied.
“I understand that the Sisters of the Three Warriors have taken charge of your servant, the unicorn, and the two babies. The unicorn has selected Sister Catherine-Therese as his own special maiden, the lindwurm—Mary, did you say—Mary is inseparable from young Polly, and Theodosia is Sister Joan-Louise’s special charge.
I am afraid you have been replaced, Lady Cordelia.
I can arrange for you to visit, if you wish.
I am certain they shall be pleased to see you. ”
Replaced. She had only been away for three weeks, though of course the babies had been turning their affections elsewhere for some time. And there went a large part of her excuse for refusing to consider marriage to Jasper.
“I cannot marry Lord Baradine. I am not duchess-material,” she insisted.
That fetched her a frown, but the maid came back with the breakfast tray at that moment, and Lady Margate dropped the topic.
She must be like the squire’s wife back in Nettleford, who always said, “Not in front of the servants, dear,” whenever a maid or footman entered a room where she and Mama were gossiping.
Delia pushed back the covers and had swung one leg out of bed when Lady Margate said, imperiously, “Not yet, Lady Cordelia. You are to remain in bed until the healer has seen you. Let the maid put some pillows behind your back and you shall have your breakfast in bed.”
It was not a suggestion but a command, and Delia didn’t fight it.
She could already see that she would need all her energy for the important fight over marriage.
Instead, she obediently rested back against the rearranged pillows and began working her way through a generous portion of all the food on offer: eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, a hash made of root vegetables, slices of fresh fruit, and two cups of a delicious brown drink that she had not tasted before, but which Lady Margate named as chocolate.
Part way through Delia’s meal, Lady Margate excused herself, admonishing the maid before she left to make sure that the Lady Catalyst had anything she desired.
By this time, Delia had a profound desire for the chamber pot, and insisted on getting up to use it, and to using it on her own behind the privacy screen. The entire time she was out of bed, the maid worried out loud, albeit very quietly, about being blamed if anything went wrong. But nothing did.
Delia was clear-headed, stable on her feet, and feeling fine.
However, for the maid’s sake, she returned to bed, where she finished her breakfast. Now she had eaten, she wanted things the maid couldn’t give her.
To return to the castle before the mage attack and have everything the way it was.
To flee back to the cavern. To have Jasper proclaim his love for her.
Bitter experience had taught her that one could seldom have what one wanted.
“I should like to wash, please,” she said to the maid.
*
Lady Margate was waiting for Jasper when he emerged from yet another meeting with the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Findlater, and Lady Hardcastle, Dean of the Council of Mages.
“Baradine,” she said. “We must talk.”
“I wish to return to Lady Cordelia,” he protested.
“She is awake and eating a hearty breakfast, Baradine. There is no urgent need for you, and our discussion concerns her. Come. This discussion should be held in private.”
With that, she glided off at a fast pace, her long gown hiding her feet and her stately carriage so completely that Jasper imagined a set of wheels beneath her petticoats. He had to lengthen his stride to catch up.
What was she after? Was she going to lecture him about marrying Delia? That he must? That he mustn’t? Did she imagine she had discovered something to Delia’s disadvantage? The dragon part of his nature bristled at the thought of any criticism of his lady.
A door some nine or ten along from the salon he had just left proved to open into a small parlor. He followed Lady Margate inside.
“Shut the door, Baradine,” she commanded. She had already seated herself on the far side of the room.
“Is this appropriate?” Jasper asked.
Lady Margate made a noise that he would not dare to call a snort. “I am old enough to be grandmother to your children. Sit down, boy, and tell me what you have done to make the catalyst so averse to a marriage.”
Delia had told her that? Jasper’s heart sank even while he felt his cheeks heat. He jockeyed for time. “Is that what she said, my lady?”
The lady’s voice was dry. “She told me she will do her duty, but she does not think that marriage is part of that obligation.”
Jasper winced. Duty. Obligation. His words, but not his meaning, or not all of it. Perhaps, after all, Lady Margate could help. If she was minded to do so. On the other hand, she was a matchmaker and a gossip. What might she do with the news that Jasper was in love with Cordelia Nettleford?
What could she do? Jasper had not yet become accustomed to being of first importance to the survival of the realm, but he was.
Delia mattered just as much. Whatever else might be said about Lady Margate, she was a loyal daughter of the United Kingdom.
Also, Jasper had heard people, especially women, mention her kindness, though usually linked with the word “surprisingly.”
I’ll risk it. “It is my fault,” he said. “In my defense, I had had two weeks to think about the ramifications of me being a dragon lord and her a catalyst. What I said was stupid, though. I make no excuse for it, and if you can tell me how to make it up to Lady Cordelia, I would be very grateful.”