Hybel 6th, 1513 – Fitz-Chivalry estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

The summer sunlight streaming in the windows hit Caroline’s tinted hair, exaggerating the brassiness of the tinting and highlighting the sallow color of her face over the mourning dress that Katherine insisted she wear. The forced laughter didn’t help any. If he lived to be ninety, Brandon would never understand why Katherine insisted that Caroline and Leo be chaperoned. All they ever did was sit and have awkward discussions until one of them lost their tempers. Then one of them would stalk off and sulk and the other would go home.

It was usually Marianne who was stuck with watching this sad pantomime. But she had protested that she had plans to meet “a friend” at the library this afternoon when Katherine had announced that Leo would be coming over and that she was expecting Marianne to chaperone. Well, it was phrased as a request, but all of the Fitz-Chivalry children knew when their mother said something in that tone, it was a demand and it would do them no good to protest it.

She’d looked so disappointed that Brandon had heard himself volunteering before the words had really even finished leaving Katherine’s mouth. Marianne had looked so grateful that he hadn’t even felt bad about subjecting himself to an afternoon of torture. At least until the torture started. He thought as his eyes flickered up over the top of the book that he was using as a shield against his sister and her inane chatter. 

Even now, though, it wasn’t that he was upset at Marianne, she suffered through this every time Leo came around, no, he reserved that for his mother who really thought that this madness was necessary. Leo wasn’t going to ravish Caroline on the parlor sofa with their father in his study in the next room. First of all, he couldn’t imagine any of the Finessas ravishing anyone, which was why he didn’t have too many concerns about the fact that the “friend” Marianne was probably meeting at the library was probably male. And he’d have laid pocket money it was Severus, who probably would have genuflected at Marianne’s feet with more seriousness than at the altar.

Second of all, Henry was in the next room and if Caroline so much as coughed uncomfortably, he’d stick his head out the door to see what was going on. And thirdly, Leo wasn’t stupid. Not to mention that Leo didn’t even seem to want to kiss or touch Caroline, so ravishing her on the sofa was probably as likely as a fae becoming an ironsmith.

So far they’d covered the weather and Leo’s classes at Camford and whether Caroline was enjoying her Hybel break. It all made one of Brother Loki’s lectures seem like a night out at the tavern.

“Um, I think that my mother mentioned that Lord Rance was–a cousin of yours?” Leo said, obviously grasping at straws for something to talk about.

“Well, a second cousin of my mother’s, I think.” Caroline’s eyes flickered in Brandon’s direction and he made a show of turning the page in his book, the last thing that he was going to do was help Caroline out here. If it had been any of his other siblings, he probably would have, but even at Edmund’s most annoying, he held no candles to Caroline. She was on her own here.

“I’m sorry.” Leo said running his finger over a crease on his breeches.

“Well, getting struck by lightning just sort of happens, right?” Caroline said. If she only knew, Brandon thought to himself. If she only knew… “I mean, it’s sad but I think that getting struck by lightning is just–it’s your time, you know?”

“Er. I–I guess?” Leo said awkwardly staring at the arm of the sofa.

“Your father does–something for the king, doesn’t he?” Caroline asked cocking her head to the side.

“So does yours.” Leo said, eyes narrowed slightly.

“Well, aye. But Daddy does stuff for the king in Reme, not in Albion, I was just wondering if–if your father had said anything about Garth.” Caroline asked.

“Who?”

“Cousin Milford’s younger brother.” Caroline told him.

“Nothing…” Leo looked hard at Caroline. “Why?”

“Well, I heard that the council wouldn’t want Adelina for Richard’s guardian because of Rance being near the Reman border.” Caroline said. Brandon frown slightly. Why would Caroline be listening to something like that? Caroline had less interest in politics than pretty much anyone else Brandon knew.

“That–may be.” Leo sounded guarded. “So you’re hoping that they find him?”

“If they don’t find him–doesn’t that mean that they would have to move Rance’s estate to–someone else?” Caroline pressed. Brandon’s eyes flew wide as he figured out what Caroline was asking a half moment too late to stop her from saying anything further.

“Wait–are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Horror crossed over Leo’s face. Unfortunately Caroline, being so shallow if she were a puddle you could cross it in stocking feet and not get your stockings wet, could hardly be deep enough to be saying something else.

“It’s not that I’m hoping they won’t find him, but if they don’t, somebody’s got to attend the estate, if the Rance’s can’t, then there are people who could.”

“I cannot believe, Caroline!” Leo gaped. “I know you want your father to be granted an estate, but to hope that your own kin lose theirs because your father might get it is repugnant.”

“What is repugnant about practicality?” Caroline asked as Brandon mimed for her to stop.

“You wouldn’t know practicality if it bit you in the arse!” Leo’s tone rose sharply.

“Do not swear in front of me, sir!” Caroline gasped.

“That is the very least of the profanity I would like to use directed at you right now. What kind of self-centered bitch would even think that? Certainly not one I would ever care to marry.” Leo climbed to his feet staring down at Caroline.

“And no gentleman, and I do use that term quite loosely, I would care to marry would ever use that kind of language in front of a lady.” Caroline also rose.

“It certainly doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t marry you under any circumstances. Vivi was right about you.” Leo snarled at her.

“Of course, go hide behind the jealous convictions of your precious little Vivianne.” Caroline planted her hands on her hips and sneered.

“Why would Vivi be jealous of you? You’re stupid, rude, self-centered with a mind too shallow to drown a worm in.” Leo said, throwing his hands in the air and storming away. “My father will contact yours about dissolving the betrothal contract. Good day to you, Miss Fitz-Chivalry.”

“Good day to you!” Caroline called before dissolving into tears and throwing herself on the settee. “MOTHER!” Brandon stared at his sister then at the ajar parlor door.

“Brandon?” His father’s voice came from the study door, barely loud enough to hear over Caroline’s hysterical crying. He turned and walked into the study, shutting the door after him when his father mimed for him to do so.

“I am sorry, sir.” Brandon sank into the chair.

“Don’t be. I could hear well enough that I could have interceded if I really thought that it would help anything.” Henry sighed and picked at the cuff of his shirt. “This thing has been falling apart for long enough that I was almost expecting this. Maybe if I move quickly I can repair relations with the Finessas, though I’m certain that your mother will want all contact with them cut off as of immediately.

“But–if we cut off all contact with them–won’t we be losing our chance at ever becoming ennobled?” Brandon asked. “With the close ties that the Finessas have to the crown?”

“Quite possibly. We do live in a monarchy and no matter how much we like to pretend to be above nepotism, it does still exist.” Henry steepled his fingers and stared at the ceiling for a long moment. “Your mother–I hate to put it this way–but your mother is Reman. And the only thing more important to a Reman than power–is revenge.” He sighed. “I have worked in the Reman court too long not to know that. Right now, to your mother, cutting ties to the Finessas for their supposed slight to Caroline will be far more important than whatever help being in good relations with the Finessas would put us in for eventually being ennobled.”

“So–what do we do, sir?” Brandon asked with a wince to the particularly shrill pitch Caroline’s sobbing hit in the next room.

“Well, truth to tell, this couldn’t have come at a worse time, I received a dispatch this morning, I’m going to have to go to the embassy in Reme for a month, six weeks maybe, to hopefully keep the Remans from poking too many sticks at Rance until Garth can be located or another suitable guardian instated.” Henry admitted with a sigh.

“… The Lord Wright has a very peculiar sense of humor, doesn’t he, sir?”

Trigger Warning! So as not to be all spoilery, there is character death and other stuffs in this post. Proceed with caution.

Ververe 29th, 1513 – Riding grounds, outside River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

It seemed strangely quiet this morning. She couldn’t remember the last time that she had been riding all by herself. As it was officially Hybel break as of yesterday afternoon–despite it not yet being Hybel–there were no lessons, including riding lessons. Then Vivi had something that she was doing with her father and brothers, Elizabet had known that for a good couple of weeks. Then this morning her father told her that the FitzChivalries had sent over a servant, Marianne had sent her regrets but she wasn’t going to make it either. Still, Elizabet would be damned if she was going to spend the first day of her break sitting around the estate doing nothing.

It was, in fact, a perfect day for finding some of those trails that Marianne was too chicken to ride and Vivi preferred to avoid as well, she said she always felt like she was going to tip off. Well, of course she felt that way, that’s why Elizabet rode astride rather than side saddle when she was going on trails like that.

But what should have been a good day of riding, just her and Honey and practically the whole riding park was actually setting up to be a not so good day after all. It felt like someone was taking a pin and pricking her up and down her spine. Every branch that creaked in the faint breeze, every dry leaf that crackled seemed like an executioner’s drum. Like something horrible was ahead.

Once Honey had picked her way down out of the trees into a meadow, Elizabet climbed out of the saddle, her nervousness was obviously translating itself to the horse because it felt like she was about to bolt. And Elizabet was nowhere near big enough and strong enough to wrench the horse’s head if the mare spooked.

If she had taken half a dozen steps before she realized that she had made a mistake, she’d have been surprised, that single pin was suddenly dozens, every instinct telling her to get out of that clearing and do it yesterday.

She’d just started to move toward the stirrup when the rustling of grass and something internal told her it might already be too late. She looked up at the easiest way out of the meadow.

“Lord Rance.” Elizabet’s heart sunk. Her father had many acquaintances who were just fine, but Rance–he gave off the same vibe that Cox did, one that said that he was not… safe?

Outwardly, he was just another man, a counsel member, one that her father had been trying to court around to an alliance for a while now. So far as Elizabet knew though, he’d never found anything that Rance had wanted. Rance had a son who would be starting at the Academy at the start of the next year–so it wasn’t entirely–weird that he would be in River Sulis, or even that he’d be riding in the park.

But she knew, in that way that she could never say how, that this was not right.

He slid out of his saddle and Elizabet bit her lip, hard.

“Ah, Lady Elizabet, just the lass I was hoping to see.” Elizabet’s throat went dry. Why would he want to see her?

“I guess the luck is more with you than me, Lord Rance.” Elizabet said.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Rance stalked toward her at a ground eating lope that was as intimidating in it’s purposefulness as having Rance suddenly looming over her was. “Some people would count this as their lucky day.” He swept up one of the plaits hanging over her shoulders, twining the blonde strands around his fingers for a moment.

“Somehow, I seriously doubt that I’m going to be one of them.” Elizabet said, grabbing her plait and pulling it out of his hands, repressing an urge to shudder.

“Well, what you think is hardly relevant.” Rance told her with a matter of fact tone that Elizabet didn’t like at all. “I’m just taking what I am owed.”

“Owed? What are you going on about.”

“Your father has tried for years to find something that could sway me ’round to an alliance with him. He’s got a block, you know, on this edge of the country. Only Firth and Rance don’t vote en block with your father. The Earl of Firth hates your father’s guts and I truly think he’s given up on it as the earl’s heir feels much the same way. He’s figured out ways to work around Firth.” Lord Rance smiled, it wasn’t a pleasant thing. “However, I have been on occasion both a help and a hindrance. I’ve never found any reason to make it easy for him. He’s never had anything I’ve wanted–until recently.”

“However, one evening–at a quaint little tavern that I sometimes frequent–your father’s steward, Masen, happened to catch up with me–and it so happened that your father had come into something I was interested in.” Rance was moving closer to Elizabet with the same purposefulness that he had crossed the meadow with. She had a sneaking suspicion that she knew what he was interested in.

“You see, Lady Elizabet, it is so hard to find such things–They’re very easily broken.” He said in a musing tone.

“Well, I’m not that easily broken.” Elizabet snarled, refusing to be cowed by this jackass.

“All the better.” Rance almost purred in a thoroughly disturbing tone.

“I don’t care what you think you’re owed–or what my father agreed to, you’ve got about two seconds to stop touching me or you’re going to regret it.” She slapped his hand away from her hair. Rance just laughed. He caught her shoulders and forced her back toward Honey’s side, pinning her more or less against the horse. Honey whuffled in surprise, but otherwise stood firm, trapping Elizabet.

She shoved at his chest when he let go of her arms enough that she could. Rance’s chuckle was just fuel for the fire that was suddenly racing up Elizabet’s spine. She was not going to be another one of Rance’s “broken toys”. He was just enough off balance from her shoving that when she kicked him in the knee, he took a step back. She used the newly won space to get one good gut punch in.

He gasped a moment for breath, but when he caught it–and her–he was smiling. He liked this.

Catching her hands up in his left, he belted her across the face. A few moments of struggle later–his nose slightly crooked and bleeding profusely from her elbow slamming repeatedly into it. Her cheeks on fire from where his slaps had split them. Her nose was dripping blood too, but she didn’t think her nose was broken as his surely was. He hit her hard enough to send her reeling.

She didn’t think she passed out–exactly, but everything had gone all fuzzy and when it cleared, her riding habit was tossed off into the grass on one side and he was drooling against her neck–actually drooling–like a dog. The feeling of that sliding down her neck forced a reaction out of her. She lashed out with a foot and caught him hard in the gut. He made a surprised wumph and crossed his arms across his torso.

Elizabet squirmed up into something of a sitting position, the two of them staring at each other for a long moment, then he leaned forward, his lips stirring her hair as he spoke. “I love it when you fight. So many of them just cry and squall. It’s so much better when you fight, bitch.”

As if something in the core of her had been embers that were suddenly fed paper and stirred, fire raced along every nerve ending in her body. She snarled something–some words that didn’t make any sense–except they did. Rance had about enough time to look uncertain and back up a few feet before a bolt of lightning screamed through the tortured air and wrapped around him.

Two more bolts, in quick succession, hit him square, the third knocked her to the side and she collapsed, face down, into the meadow’s soft green grass as rain began to fall as if the very sky were crying for her.

—

Darin and Brandon had about enough time to scramble after Josh who took off as if he knew exactly where he was going–but nowhere near enough time to ask if he by any chance knew were he was going. He cut through some of the thickest trees seeming like a shadow except his bright flag of hair.

A few minutes, enough time for a couple other rumbles of thunder to crash down somewhere ahead, they broke through the trees into a meadow. Two horses, one a butterscotch colored mare, the other a very ordinary seeming chestnut gelding were grazing on the ground, seemingly unconcerned about what had happened in the meadow.

Given what Darin knew about horses, they should have been bolted for the four winds by now, not grazing calmly.

On the other side of the butterscotch horse who whuffled at Josh as he passed and he patted the mare’s nose absently–it sorta seemed like all hell had broken loose. A blonde girl was flung to one side, a scarlet riding habit balled up and tossed off to the other. It was obviously the girl’s because she was only wearing underwear.

“Bet.” Josh sobbed, kneeling by her side and reaching out to stroke her hair. Feeling very much the outsider as Brandon knelt by the girl as well. He had little sisters–he probably had a better idea than Darin did what to do with–all this.

But if he wasn’t going to look at Elizabet, his eyes were drawn to the–other person in the meadow. Electricity crackled over the man’s skin still. Sparking and shooting little miniature bolts of lighting out into the muggy air.

He was groaning–the occasional tortured sounding breath escaping from his mouth which was twisted and split. He was obviously dying and even had that best doctor been on sight, nothing they did would have changed that. A gasp behind him dropped his stomach as even seeing Elizabet’s crumpled riding habit and the dying man hadn’t.

Stupid, Darin! Stupid! He maybe had remembered to tell the kids to stay with the horses–but of course they weren’t going to. They were kids–curious enough for six cats. He should have been smart enough to stay with them. To wait where he was. Now he was going to die, probably painfully, when his sister and Raven realized that the kids had seen someone die because he was an idiot.

And that fate would be reserved for if the kids didn’t figure out what had happened to Elizabet. If they had any inclination of what Elizabet in her unmentionables meant, Sara-Beth would go hunt up the bonephone itself and bring him back so she could keep killing him.

He heard some stirring behind him and took his attention off Anna-Marie and the other kids for just a second to see Elizabet climbing disorientedly to her feet. Josh caught her when she stumbled and her breath hissed between her teeth half in pain, half in reaction before she buried her face in her brother’s coat.

The man on the ground flopped for a moment like a fish, flipping onto his back, before blood spewed out of his mouth in a miniature fountain, eyes half-open.

“Is he–?” Brandon asked. Darin, much as he didn’t want to, but feeling probably the most qualified to make the call, went over to where the man lay, now still a hand under his nose indicated no breath, a touch to the neck, wrist, and chest indicated no flutter of heartbeat. He was dead.

“Aye.” Darin said. “My sister’s a nurse, she taught me–y’know?” Brandon looked puzzled, but seemingly more by the idea that Darin would think that he’d question him than by the pronouncement.

“He’s, he’s, he’s…?” Bronx gasped. Shit!

“We’ve got more trouble than that.” Josh said finally. “That’s Rance. And Rance doesn’t go to the pot without at least a couple of guards around. He wouldn’t want them that close, if–well.” Josh trailed off. “And they probably don’t know exactly where he is–was?” Josh looked at the body like he wished it would stir again so he could tear it to bits as he pulled his sister a little closer to his shoulder.

“But they’ll be coming.” Brandon agreed. “I’m not sure why that’s more trouble, though. He got struck by lightning.”

“He just happened to get struck by lightning while attacking my sister? You really think anyone will buy that was a coincidence given our family history?” Josh asked.

“But can’t your father do something about it? I mean no offense, Josh, but nothing goes in or out of River Sulis without your father’s saying it can.” Brandon pointed out.

“Father told him he could.” Elizabet’s voice shook and sounded more like an echo than like the vivacious girl that Darin was coming to know. “He wanted an alliance with Rance–and I was–the payment they…” Josh drew in his breath and muttered something into Elizabet’s hair.

“Like I said. We’ve got trouble.” Josh closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Okay, Brandon–get Bet out of here. We can force father’s publicity machine to cover our asses, but only if those guards can’t connect Bet being attacked with Rance’s death. Darin–will the kids talk?”

“Only to their parents, probably–and then more about,” He jerked his head toward the body. They didn’t even seem aware–as of yet–of Elizabet. Maybe that was because between the horse and the fact that she was clinging to Josh like ivy to an old stone wall, they just couldn’t see that she was more naked than dressed. Maybe. “I’ll–um–see what I can do.” Darin said. Not certain what he would do, but needing–somehow–to make some sort of promise given the look in the other boy’s eyes.

“Okay, get the kids out of here too.” Josh said. “I’ll bullshit the guards, I’m good at that, and can pull rank if worse comes to worse.”

“Anna-Marie.” Darin called the girl over. She and her friends came to where Darin stood, giving wide birth to the dead man in the grass. “I need you to go back to the pond, go back to the horses, we’ll get you there. And take care of Bronx for me–and Starla, okay? Can you do that for me?” Anna-Marie’s hands shook but she nodded. Her head had barely completed one full nod before the other kids were taking off for the pond at a run. He voiced a silent prayer to the Lord Wright that he would keep those kids at least sort of sane.

“I should–I should go with them, shouldn’t I?” Darin asked as Anna-Marie’s yellow dress disappeared at last into the ring of trees.

“No–please–I–please?” Josh asked. Darin had about enough time to nod before the sound of horses making their way up the incline hit his ears.

Josh squared his shoulders, pulling around him an aura of Lord Joshua, son of the baron of River Sulis as thick as Darin had ever seen it and he strode over to where Rance’s horse stood at the mouth of the path. He heard the jingle and thump of two men dismounting and braced himself.

“What’s going on here?” One of the two guardsmen in the emerald green of the Gwynedd family demanded.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Josh’s voice was haughty. “Shouldn’t you have been here attending to your lord rather than leaving him to die alone like some common rabble in the grass?”

“Die?” The other one asked.

“Who are you to ask me anything?” The first sneered.

“Lord Joshua, son of the Baron,” his eyes flickered over the man’s plain surcote. “Unless your father has very messed up priorities, guardsman, I would say that alone gives me every right to question your actions.” The guardsman flushed.

“Begging your pardon, my lord.” He said dropping his eyes.

“I’ll consider it.” Joshua shook his hair back from his face, how he managed to do it, given the water that was currently dragging Darin’s hair into his eyes, Darin would never know. “As to what happened here, Lord Rance was struck by lightning.”

“Just his lordship?” The guardsman asked shrewdly.

“We heard a lass scream.” The second guardsman added.

“My sister, the lady Elizabet was nearby, I believe she was thrown when her horse was spooked by the lightning striking so near. I had one of my companions accompany her back to our estate.” Josh said calmly.

“But.” The first guardsman’s eyes narrowed.

“But? Is there something else that I should know, guardsman?” Josh demanded. The guardsman obviously knew that Rance was going to be with Elizabet, it was clear on his face–but the only people who would be able to back up that version of events were either dead or damned unlikely to admit he set his own daughter up to be raped, which is the only way the baron would have foreknowledge.

“No, no, sir, m’lord. Haynes.” He obviously knew he was trapped, instead turning to the second guardsman. “Go see to his lordship.”

“Yes, sir!” When the first guardsman had his back to Josh to go back toward the horses and the second had his back to Josh walking toward the dead nobleman, Josh turned and met Darin’s eyes. He mimed wiping sweat off his forehead and Darin shot him a grin.

Ververe 29th, 1513 – Outskirts of River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

Eric stood up as he heard the unfamiliar clatter of horse hooves stopping outside. He was used to hearing them continue on down the street toward Sara-Beth’s by now, but he wasn’t used to hearing the sound of a horse being tied up to his post box. His mouth was a little dry. Johnny might have been a bit more troublesome at home, but Anna-Marie was all spit and spark like her mother without her mother’s natural sense of when to cut it back.

She was absolutely fearless when she thought she was on the right track–and he worried for her so much. His heart leapt a bit higher into his throat when he heard the familiar clatter of slippers running across the front enterway, followed by a slower yet equally familiar gait–Darin’s–following.

About half a heartbeat later, he was sure it was a half, he was paying very close attention, Anna-Marie burst through the door and without even acknowledging him, tore off in the direction of her bedroom, the door shutting with a slam he hadn’t expected to hear for another five years yet.

Darin paused for a moment to shut the front door, but then turned toward Anna-Marie’s room. He glanced down at his hands, obviously avoiding Eric’s eyes, and muttered something that sounded like “Sorry, Mr. Osmont.”

Eric took a moment to remind himself to breath and hurried immediately to Anna-Marie’s door. He hesitated for a moment before knocking. Anna-Marie didn’t say anything, he looked over his shoulder at Darin who shrugged. Eric had always wanted to be a parent who could allow his children as much privacy as he could. But sometimes it was more important to be papa than to be polite.

If his baby-girl was in there crying, then obviously Papa was needed more than the manners his gram had beat into him one ruler across the knuckles at a time. He opened the door. Anna-Marie had flung herself across the bed, her hair like a black waterfall trickling over the edges and falling down toward the floor.

“Little bear?” Eric asked softly. It took about as much time as two blinks for her to push up off the bed and launch herself into his midsection with a thud that knocked the wind out of him. She clung for about an exhale before leaning her head against his torso. His daughter was shivering with reaction and if he was any judge just about to–

She covered her face with hands that shook like dry leaves in a windstorm and sobbed.

“Oh, baby. My little bear, my poor little bear.” He murmured into her soft hair as he squatted down to hold her. “Papa’s here.” He told her. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“He’s dead, Papa! He’s dead!” Anna-Marie sobbed out.

—

Earlier that day.

“Anna-Marie, we can’t just ask!” Elias said tugging on her sleeve, pulling her around to face him. It was the first morning of Hybel break at school and it had dawned hot, muggy, sticky, and a general slice of something that just lacked a few cow demons to make it Hell. And everyone knew that the best way to spend hot, muggy, sticky summer days was fishin’–and everyone equally knew that the best fishin’ was at the pond in the big park that the nobles rode their horse ’round.

Only problem was they weren’t actually supposed to go fish there. It was the nobles park and that was just like the nobles, they didn’t even fish at that pond, but it was theirs and so nobody else was supposed to use it. But she knew–mostly because Sara-Beth had been griping to her mother as they’d done their washing–that Darry was supposed to be going riding at that very park with his friends today.

“What does it hurt to ask?” Anna-Marie asked, looking at Starla and Bronx for confirmation. Starla shrugged. She would, she was terribly wishy-washy, whatever way the tide goes, that was what her mama said. Bronx just looked sad–and scared–and like he was about to cry. She’d mostly invited him along because he looked like was going to cry. And Starla’s bleeding heart started bleeding all over the place as Anna-Marie’s mama liked to put it and she had insisted that they had to make him feel better.

Well, given that he wouldn’t talk about what was wrong–beyond the fact that he was Romeo’s brother–she’d probably be pretty sad if she were related to Romeo too.

“Who is that?” Starla whispered, pointing toward the blonde man who had his back toward them at the moment.

“I think that’s Darin’s friend, Joshua.”

“The baron’s son?” Elias squeaked.

“Don’t. Be. A. Chicken.” Anna-Marie said. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“Huh?” All three of the others looked at her in puzzlement.

“I think it means if you don’t try, you won’t get anything.” Anna-Marie said after a long moment.

“Where did you hear it said that way though?” Bronx asked. Anna-Marie thought for a moment. Where did she hear that said? She just remembered hearing it somewhere and she thought some lady had said it.

“Dunno. Look, they’re done talking, now let’s ask before they leave. The worst that can happen is they say no. And ‘sides, Elias, the only way to get permission to go fish in the nobles’ pond is to ask a noble, and I dunno about you, but I don’t know that many nobles.” Elias didn’t look convinced, then again he usually didn’t look convinced by Anna-Marie’s logic, but they moved up toward where Darry and the blonde man that Anna-Marie thought was Lord Joshua stood.

“Hey, guys.” Darry said with a smile.

“So, um, are you gonna go ride horses?” Anna-Marie asked looking over at the two saddled horses picketed by the street.

“I believe that was the plan.” Darry told her. “Why?” Darry was probably one of those people that her mama would say knew her too well–whatever that meant.

“Cause I was wonderin’–we wanna go fishin’.” Anna-Marie offered.

“Uh-huh.” The corner of Darry’s lips was poking up as if he were starting to smile a little.

“An’ you know that the best fishin’ is at that pond on the riding grounds.” She added in a hurry.

“It is?” Lord Joshua asked, his voice bewildered. Darry nodded with a smirk. “And you know this how?”

“A holdover of a misspent youth.” Darry shrugged with a grin. “Anyway, your point?”

“Mama says we’re not ‘posed to go without permission of a noble–and Mister Lord Joshua is a nobleman, right?” Anna-Marie shot a look at Lord Joshua who–rather like Darry–looked like he was trying to keep from laughing.

“So what you want is permission to go fish there?” Darry asked, his eyebrow arched upward. Anna-Marie nodded so fast her hair bounced and made weird little noises when it hit the back of her dress.

“I don’t see why not.” Lord Joshua drawled. “Seems like you are the only people fishing that pond anyway.” He winked at Anna-Marie who blushed for some silly reason. “I’ll let the caretaker know that you and your friends have permission and not to run you off if they see you there.”

A whole summer of the best fishing in the whole town and even Anna-Marie’s mama couldn’t argue with it. Anna-Marie threw her arms around Lord Joshua’s middle and gave him a tight hug. It sorta felt like he had several rocks shoved into the front of his shirt, it was that firm.

“Anna-Marie!” Elias hissed. “You’re hugging the baron’s son!” Anna-Marie blushed again and quickly withdrew. Lord Joshua just laughed.

“Seeing as we’re all going the same direction.” Lord Joshua said after ruffling Anna-Marie’s hair. “Why don’t we all just go together.”

“I can’t walk as fast as a horse.” Elias muttered toward his shoes.

“We’ll walk the horses and you guys can ride.” Lord Joshua said as their eyes all lit up.

—

Anna-Marie grinned as she grabbed a worm and skewered the squirmy thing on her hook. Darry’s friend, Brandon shook his head. “What?” Lord Joshua asked from where he letting his horse drink out of the pond by where Anna-Marie stood.

“Just I have a little sister about Miss Anna-Marie’s age and I could never imagine her–ever–under any circumstances touching a worm, let alone skimming it onto a hook.”

“How does she fish?” Bronx asked.

“She’s a lady, I think my mother would have apoplexy and die if her daughters–any of them–ever fished.” Brandon said as Darry and Josh laughed.

“Well then, tell Marianne she needs to take up fishing, maybe between the poker and the fishing your mother will have that fit. Not that I wish her dead–but Sara-Beth says that sometimes apoplexy can cause people to be struck dumb–which I might wish on your mother–it would keep her from constantly calling me “the scholarship boy” like it’s my name.” Darin leaned against the black horse that Starla and Bronx had ridden up on.

“Somehow I don’t see it.” Brandon said. “But speaking of Marianne. She wanted me to tell you that she hoped Elizabet was feeling better.” Lord Joshua blinked and stared at Brandon.

“Feeling better?” Lord Joshua asked, sounding bewildered.

“Aye, your father sent over a servant that said that Elizabet was feeling under the weather and so they’d have to cancel their ride this morning.” Brandon told him.

“Bet was feeling fine, in fact she left at the same time I did.” Lord Joshua said.

“I saw the boy myself and heard the message. It was the little dark-haired boy your mother usually uses as a page.” Brandon said.

Obviously paying more attention to the conversation behind him than his fishing pole, Elias managed to hook his shirt collar with the hook and yank himself over. “Do not tell your brother about this.” He said, brushing off his butt and glaring at Bronx, who dropped his eyes to his shoes, looking about like he was going to cry again.

“I don’t tell my brother nothin’.” He muttered. “And I certainly wouldn’t tell him nothin’ that’d let him make fun of me or nobody else.” Elias glanced down at his own shoes and muttered something like “sorry” to them.

Starla, who actually was making the best accounting of herself–even if Anna-Marie would almost have pegged her the kind of lady that Brandon said his sister was–reached out and patted Bronx’s shoulder.

“Why would my father send a servant over to your house that Bet was sick, though, if she’s not?” Lord Joshua had about enough time to wonder before he heard it–they all heard it. The sound of a girl’s terrified scream and just the time to take a breath later, a sharp crack of thunder close, very, very close.

“Elizabet!” Lord Joshua screamed, a look of horror shot across his face as rain seemed to be ripped from the sky.

—

Later

“Who is dead?” Eric asked, stroking Anna-Marie’s hair and rubbing her shaking shoulders. One of her friends? Someone Darin knew? Who?

“The–the man from church.” Anna-Marie said. “On Sunday. The man who was with the Baron at church.”

Seryl 10th, 1513 – Carico Estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

“Vivi?” The only response to his inquiry was his sister slamming the library door. Severus sighed. He was beginning to think there was something seriously wrong with Vivi. Most of the time she was her usual smart, funny self–until their brother sent a letter, then she turned into this raging ball of angst and moped and pouted for days on end. No door was ever safe when she was in this mood. And being around the FitzChivalrys, or rather around Caroline, exacerbated it to almost dangerous levels.

He glanced at the library door then sighed. His twin had a theory about what was happening and Severus didn’t like it. He and Leo weren’t that close, but there was something dangerously wrong with his sister and his eldest brother. But short of dragging Leo out into the gardens and beating him senseless, which he didn’t want to explain to his mother, he didn’t any way to solve that. Vivi wouldn’t talk about. Doubly so if Charlie were right. Unfortunately, the only person she’d probably talk about it with was the one that might have been the root of the problem.

So he moved in the opposite direction, onto the balcony. Maybe there was some other problem that he could solve. At least one that involved him personally.

Leo and Caroline were looking at each other as if they were both biting their tongues wanting–but not wanting–to blame each other for Vivi’s leaving. In Severus’ estimation they probably both were.

“So, Vivi cleared out of here pretty fast.” Severus commented to the person he was actually on the balcony to find. Marianne turned so fast that her plait swung almost around to strike her in the shoulder.

“Y-yeah.” She dropped her eyes and stared at her hands before shooting a look at Leo and an almost glare at Caroline. But her eyes came back to his face after a short moment and an almost smile hovered at the corner of her lips.

“Need to warn the baroness of the approaching Reman army?” He joked. She shook her head.

“Said that the air had turned rancid.” Marianne murmured.

“Oh, please. You don’t need to dredge up–muck, Marianne.” Caroline huffed and stood up from the bench.

“I asked, Miss FitzChivalry.” Severus remind her. Lord Wright Almighty, what did she do with her brain? She could store three months worth of scandals and gossip in there, but conveniently forgot when she caused anything worth gossiping about. She also forgot other things when forgetting served her purpose. Like the fact that the lady she was emulating in her costume was best remembered for being the member of the nobility who got there by getting knocked up before her wedding.

“I should probably go talk to Vivi.” Leo muttered toward his boots as Caroline huffed.

“…If she’s still here.” Severus told him. Leo looked at him sharply. “Given the look on her face when she walked past me in the library, she very well may be half-way home by now. Maybe you should let her cool down first.”

“If she’s that annoyed that she’d leave early, it’s all the more reason for me to go talk to her.” Leo bowed to Caroline and nodded at Marianne.

“We should probably get back to the party, I’m sure that Mother won’t like it if we come back soaked in perspiration.” Caroline linked her arm with her sister’s and half dragged her off toward the door. Severus shook his head and trailed after. Along the way, as she apparently had forgotten that Severus was right behind them, Caroline murmured a litany of things that Marianne had done wrong as a chaperone. If she had just suggested that Vivianne go with Elizabet back to the dancing then Leo wouldn’t have spent so much time paying attention to his sister.

If Marianne had just come up with a topic of conversation that didn’t have controversy attached to it, then Caroline never would have had to point out that Benoit had all the brains of a stone statue or that their father didn’t have the best costume at the party.

Or you could just bit your tongue for once. Severus thought sharply at the back of her head as the litany tapered off sharply off. As Caroline explained, it wouldn’t do to give a litany of flaws that Marianne possessed in front of all of the young men in the card room. After all, their father did still need to find a her a husband. That was proving difficult enough even without them knowing all of Marianne’s flaws.

I’d imagine so, he thought. When you have a shrew with the all the faults of a cow demon and none of the virtues of ‘em for a mother and a catty bitch-in-training for a sister, it probably would scare off a few of the fainter-hearted. Oh well, if they’re that stupid, not my fault. Less competition.

“Oh, Leo felt that he needed to check up on his sister, I gather she was in a bit of ill-humor.” Caroline said taking  her seat on the end of the settee, having dropped her sister’s arm and hurried a few steps ahead to proceed Marianne into the card room.

“I hope it’s not serious.” Nadine murmured, looking concerned. “She did seem a bit pale and out of sorts when she left the card room.”

“Well, ill-humor if you consider temper a humor.” Caroline huffed and raised her shoulder in a shrug. “So what did I miss?”

“Oh, you know, Caroline, the light goes out of the room when you leave it.” Audrina smirked. “What could possibly happen without you around to witness it.”

“Other than Lord Joshua was in here for a while playing billiards with that handsome friend of his.” Babette told her.

“Which friend?”

“The scholarship boy. As I was telling Babette while you were gone. I don’t care how nice his rear looks in that leather tunic, he’s still a scholarship boy. You can scrub them up, but you can’t clean them up.” Audrina said. …And Charlie sorta likes her. If I didn’t know my twin better, I would swear it has more to do with the size of the dowry Earl Ravenway is offering for his daughter. It’s like “liking” a shark. Aye, they look impressive from across the way, but I wouldn’t want to marry one.

“What?” Speaking of Severus’ twin, Charlie looked up from his cards when Severus dropped into the empty seat at one of the card tables where Charlie had been fleecing people most of the evening.

“There is no crime in looking.” Babette huffed from across the room.

“You know all those bizarre theories that our baby sister has for–certain people?” Severus asked. Charlie nodded. ” I know where she gets them.”

“You’ll have to explain that one to me–later. So you wanna contribute to my fund here? I think I might be able to buy a new horse before the night is out.” Charlie ran his fingers over the stack of chips.

“Only if you want to cover my drinks at the pub.” Severus batted his lashes at his brother.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” Charlie sighed. “Besides, how shall I afford it and the new horse?”

“Fleece more idiots like us?” Severus asked tossing a stack of coins onto the table and gesturing for some chips.

When Edouard was too drunk to hold his cards steady and Constantin had excused himself to go find Jeremie so they could pour Edouard into a carriage to get him back home, Severus also excused himself as well. He figured he should probably check on when they were expected home. Not that he thought he and Charlie would stay any past the end of the party or that they would go out after it. But he didn’t know if his mother expected them to escort their parents home or if whenever they got there was good enough.

But apparently the ball room had emptied entirely, as he should have known. His father–and all the other fathers–were probably outside smoking and talking. The ladies–well, by this point those still mostly sober were probably helping to pour their less sober friends into carriages just like Dell was helping Jeremie do for his brother.

Well, not quite entirely. Standing at the far end of the room, blonde plait with the caul slipping just slightly to the side contrasting against the teal and gold silk dress.

He’d been standing not far from this spot earlier in the evening, when the ballroom was more full than not, when his father had called him over. The musicians above in the gallery had just struck up a slow song and around him, couples drawn to each other to ask for a dance.

She’d been sitting in the chair not far from where she was standing now, hands folded in her lap, eyes more on them than anywhere in the room.

“Severus, go ask Miss Marianne to dance.” For a man whose whole career was focused around beating around the bush, he didn’t have any patience for it when dealing with his kids.

“Why?” Severus had asked, though there was a puppy dog eager twitch in his feet that had wanted to immediately trot over there, even without looking for where Lord and Lady Henry were. He knew that with Leo’s and Caroline being promised to each other, there really wasn’t any reason for him to look at Marianne. That and she was his sister’s friend. But there was something about the way she had looked, the very first time that he had met her–at one of his mother’s garden parties–the year that they’d first moved to River Sulis.

She’d been–oh–ten or eleven, wearing a soft rose and white striped dress, twisting her hands just like she was doing now, standing shyly at the edge of the hedgemaze. And something in him had decided right then, without any consultation, that he wanted to marry her. He hadn’t–at the time–even known her name. A lot of things had changed in those four years–but the way he always found himself looking at her–that hadn’t changed at all.

But he couldn’t tell his father that, not even when his father started talking about a marriage between Leo and Caroline. How do you say that. No, dad, you can’t marry Leo off to Caroline. I decided at a garden party I was going to marry her sister. Yeah, that’d have gone well.

“Because she keeps looking at the dance floor with a wistful expression that says clearer than words that she’d like to dance–and obviously no one has asked her.” That twitched at something inside of  Severus, that was both good and bad. If she had a suitor–then he’d have some reason to move on–but he would admit to being very glad that he had no competition. If Leo and Caroline would just implode like they were threatening to…

… Maybe?

“But why me?” Severus had asked as his heart declared him a traitor.

“Because you’re a gentleman and a Ferreira–and the only time we leave a lady in distress is when attempting to rescue her will cause her more distress–and besides, you’re the only one in the room that I can order to go do it. Now go.”

He’d sidled past the couples between him and Marianne and slipped into one of the chairs to her side.

“My father seems to be under the impression you’d like to dance.” He had placed his elbow on the arm of the chair and batted his lashes at her when she looked at him.

“Your father is asking me to dance?” She’d looked at him bewildered before peering past him to where his father was dancing with his mother.

“No! No. He–he wanted me to ask you to dance. I mean if you wanted to.”

“Oh–I–well.” Her eyes flickered down to her hands. “The floor is pretty crowded–except over there.”

“Aye, but if we go over there, we’ll have to see Captain Cox’s tunic up close, I see your dilemma.” Severus had joked to keep his shoulders from drooping dejectedly.

“Oh, don’t–don’t think that I don’t want to dance with you, Severus. Please. May–maybe at another dance–one not so–you know–crowded.” Her eyes, always a brilliant unclouded teal pleaded with him to understand.

So later he had agreed, then retreated after a long moment, to the card room where he hadn’t had to worry about the next dance and if there were to be one. But the musicians had already packed it in for the night apparently as the gallery was empty. Still his heart was pounding a beat of its own.

“You know, Miss Marianne.” He almost swallowed his own tongue when she turned to look at him. “You still owe me a dance.”

“I-I do–don’t I? But–” She glanced up at the empty gallery.

“It’s always going to be something then, isn’t it?” Severus sighed, hoping to keep the tone jocular. Maybe it was all for the better, the way his palms were sweating.

“No. If–if you don’t mind the lack of music, I–I don’t mind it.” She admitted toward her hands. He extended one cold clammy hand to her and she took it. The other he settled at her waist before beginning the first steps. But even with only the sounds of their dance steps echoing off the dark marble and up through the empty ballroom for accompaniment, it was better than he could have imagined any professional musician could have played it.

It was allowed to just be, a spin here…

…faster here, slower there…

… until reality reasserted itself and he brought her with one final twirl to a stop.

“Thank you, Mr. Severus.” Marianne giggled as he brought her hand to his lips as the stepped apart.

“Wait, one last thing.” Severus said, the words out of his mouth before he even could think about them. She turned back toward him from where they had started to drift apart. He caught her hand, turning her around in one last twirl.

Seryl 10th, 1513 – Carico Estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

“You should go over and talk to him, Caroline.” Marianne’s cousin, Babette said from her place on one of the settees in the lounge.

“It doesn’t do for a lady to be so bold, Babette.” Caroline demurred, fluffing her hair like a ninny. “Besides, it’s just plain rude to interrupt.”

“She’s afraid Leo’s more interested in the card game than in her.” Audrina snickered. Caroline sighed and tossed her hair again. Ugh. Vivi squared her shoulders under her dress and tried to keep her hands from balling into fists. Right now it was taking every ounce of deportment and the fact that no one (except maybe Marianne) would thank her for turning around and slamming her fist square into Caroline’s face to keep from doing exactly that.

Did the girl ever use her brain? Did she have one? Maybe it just dribbled out her ears onto her pillow and spiders had taken up residence in there instead. Nah, Caroline was probably too poisonous for even a spider to survive living in.

“I am not.” Caroline said. “He was quite attentive when we were dancing.”

“She means he was talking to her while everyone else was dancing.” Audrina mock-whispered across Caroline to Babette and Nadine.

“Because dancing with my younger cousin is so much better than talking with ones almost betrothed.” Caroline smirked.

“And just what is wrong with my brother?” Babette asked tossing her hair haughtily.

“Nothing.” Caroline told her. “He’s just younger than Audrina is and I think the only reason that she danced with him is because every other lad in attendance knows to stay far, far away from her. Audrina does have a bit of a… shall we say… reputation?”

“Just because mother and father would prefer I chose my own spouse instead of auctioning me off to the highest bidder does not give me a reputation. How’m I supposed to know which boy I want to marry if I don’t do a bit of flirting with all the options?” Audrina sneered back. Maybe their brains had been “borrowed” by the cow demons and used to play a rather vigorous game of croquet and been returned damaged.

“Vivianne?” Marianne whispered. “Are you alright? You’re awful pale.” Vivi noticed that her brothers, all three of them were craning their attention toward where the two of them stood.

“I’m fine. I just–it’s probably just the wig.” Marianne didn’t look convinced–for that matter, neither did her brothers.

The door to the cardroom opened, letting in overly warm, overly perfumed air from the ballroom.

“C’mon, let’s sit and get a game in before my mother can arrange me another dance.” Elizabet grinned at her best friends. “You too, Ri.” She added when Marianne hesitated.

“Marianne, don’t you dare, a lady doesn’t play poker.” Caroline called from her couch.

“My mother plays poker. My grandmother, Sophie, who I’m pretty sure was considered the epitome of “a lady” in her day was the one who taught me to play poker.” Elizabet dismissed with a wave. “A lady, I guess, is not supposed to take shits either, must be why you’re so full of it, Caroline.” Caroline’s startled gasp was almost drowned in the masculine laughter. Marianne hurried to one of the chairs at the card table, with Severus dropping into the fourth chair a moment later when Ansem excused himself from their poker game to go find a drink.

“You are so coarse, Elizabet.” Caroline sniffed when the laughter had died down. “You’re a young lady now, not a child. One of these days you’re just going to have to grow up and stop wasting those deportment lessons that your parents are paying for.”

“Caroline, let me tell you something that your mother won’t. There is a lot more to being a lady than following ‘the rules’.” Elizabet looked over at Caroline, holding her gaze for a long moment. “A true lady doesn’t need to pretend to be something she’s not. And someone who spends all their time pretending, rather than being themselves is an actress not a lady.”

“Wow, that almost sounded wise, Elizabet.” Severus commented breaking the silence that had followed Elizabet’s words.

“Well, I’m only twelve, almost wise is about the best I can do. Your deal, Ri.” Elizabet flicked a strand of black hair out of her face. Severus chuckled. Marianne hesitated for a second before picking up the deck of cards and dealing out the cards.

“So, how’s it going in there?” Vivi asked, jerking her chin toward the ballroom.

“I now know how a prize side of beef feels.” Elizabet said. Vivi shrugged, Marianne stared at the table, picking at a piece of fluff that had built up on the felt. At Vivi’s own debut, her mother had already broached the subject of marrying Vivi off to Prince Nathaniel. He had been supposed to attend, but had caught some sort of flux or something and had not been able to make it. Still, it had spared Vivi the indignity of having to be passed from prospective husband to prospective husband via dance after dance.

She’d only had to dance the dances she felt like dancing and chatted with only the people she felt like chatting with–and with the few people that she couldn’t really avoid having some conversation with.

Marianne had probably had it the worst. Neither she nor Elizabet had been invited to the party, Elizabet had only been nine and a fairly rambunctious nine at that. Vivi had been eleven, only three or so months from the mythical twelve, but Lady Katherine was a quibbler over things like that. In fact, Vivi and Elizabet had had a sleepover and gotten wired on fizzy pop and cake and according to Elizabet’s nurse, had to be more or less peeled off the ceiling that night.

But from what little Vivi knew about Marianne’s party, she’d had a relatively empty dance card–but not by choice. More, she gathered, because there just hadn’t been too many people that interested in dancing with the second daughter of a man who was perilously close to losing noble status.

And Vivi knew it bothered her. Lord Henry, so far as anyone knew, hadn’t entertained many offers for Marianne. Which sucked because  Marianne–of all of them–was the one most deserving of being chased. Wish I could trade her my quasi-betrothal to the prince. Vivi thought glumly. She had met Nathaniel once–so many years ago she barely remembered him as anything but tall and blonde. She didn’t know what he was like or what he looked like. He wrote her a couple of letters a year, probably because the queen told him he had to.

She was starting to think that he was avoiding her. Every time she’d gone to court with her mother, he wasn’t at court. Every time he was supposed to come to see her, something happened, fire, flood, rioting in the streets. He’d broken two bones, come down with any number of communicable diseases, either he was the most hapless prince in memory–or he was no more keen on the idea than she was.

But if he would just meet her, they’d either hit it off (ha) or they’d know they didn’t want to get married to each other and they could start looking other places. Vivi’s father insisted that she would not be forced to marry someone that she couldn’t stand. No matter what that meant giving up. But he equally insisted that they couldn’t decide that without meeting each other as young adults.

Leo had met him at Camford and told her that he really thought that she would like Nathaniel. But then again, he really thought that he could tolerate Caroline for the rest of their natural lives, so as much as she adored her brother, she wasn’t sure that she trusted his judgment on matters romantic.

“Well, that’s it for me, lads.” Leo said, tossing his cards onto the stack. “Probably shouldn’t lose all of my pocket money, I do need to get back to Camford somehow, and I don’t fancy sleeping in bushes all the way.”

“Aw, c’mon, Leo, I’d lend you some.” Vivi craned her neck, looking at the stack of chips that Charlie had amassed in front of him, most of Leo’s pocket money was probably sitting in that stack.

“No, thanks. I don’t care to be your debtor, Charlie, your interest rates are way too high. You’re worse than a Reman pawnbroker.” Leo told him to the laughter of most of the rest of the room. “Besides…” He trailed off. Vivi’s back was to Leo, but he probably nodded toward something because there was a chorus of “ah’s”.

“My lady, would you care to accompany me for a breath of air?” He said walking over to where Caroline sat. She tittered behind her hand, but Vivi would bet money that she also used it to screen a smirk shot at Audrina before she stood and tucked her hand into the crook of Leo’s elbow.

“Oh, we probably shouldn’t be out without a chaperone.” Caroline paused. Knowing her brother, Vivi would guess it was an act of will for him to not roll his eyes at her. “Marianne, you probably shouldn’t lose all your pocket money either. Why don’t you accompany us.” It would take knowing Marianne well to see the way she withered a little. She slid her cards together and slid them in at the bottom of the deck.

I can’t let her go by herself. Vivi decided. Normally Elizabet would have made it a group thing, and it would have been a lot more fun that way, but it probably wouldn’t do for the guest of honor at the party to disappear out into the night to chaperone a single couple that wasn’t even related to her.

“I’ll go with you.” Vivi said handing Elizabet her cards.

“I’ll wish I could, guess I should probably go head back into the meat market.” Elizabet sighed. “Sorry to abandon you, Severus, but you can go lose all your pocket money to your brother instead of me if you want.” Severus chuckled as the three of them stood straightening their skirts.

The balcony off the Carico’s library was, for a wonder, currently empty. Leo escorted Caroline to the bench nearest the door and under the lanterns and seemed to settle in for a long conversation about the weather or something equally fascinating. What did you talk about with someone who would be hard-pressed to challenge a rock to a battle of wits.

“So, who was your favorite costume?” Vivi asked Marianne, hoping that even if her brother and Marianne’s sister couldn’t find something fun to talk about, she and Marianne still could.

“I think Lady Marisol’s. She looks almost exactly like that picture of Lady Dindrane from the costume book.” Marianne told her.

“I kinda liked Darin’s date’s.” Marianne frowned.

“I didn’t know Darin came with a date…” She trailed off.

“Well, she’s been chatting with Benoit most of the evening.” Vivi told her. Caroline snickered.

“You can actually chat with Benoit?” The comment earned her three black looks. Even if it was kinda true, it was a little hard to chat with Benoit, he was a very nice boy, but dense as a brick wall. He might have actually lost a battle of wits with Caroline. Still, it didn’t do to say something like that. Which I think just proves Elizabet’s point. Caroline isn’t a lady any more than that bench she’s sitting on. She’s just an actress.

“Anyway,” Vivi said as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “She’s the one who came as Baroness Ferreira.”

“Are you sure we aren’t just prejudiced in favor of our own ancestors?” Marianne giggled. “I mean you’re descended from the Ferreiras and I’m descended from the Gwynedds and Lady Dindrane while not my direct ancestor, so far as I know, was the sister of my ancestor.”

“Well, point.” Vivi took the lull as a chance to shoot a look at her brother who had such a confused look on his face from whatever Caroline was saying that Vivi was hardpressed not to laugh. “Okay, so what about favorite male costume, we’ll see if we’re still prejudiced.”

“Hmmm, Well, I did like Darin’s. But I would have to say I think my favorite was Joshua’s.”

Vivi giggled. “He does kinda work the hell out of a black outfit, doesn’t he? I didn’t realize you could probably break wallnuts with his calf-muscles until I saw him in those hosen!” Marianne swatted her arm.

“Vivi!”

“Well, I coulda made some comment about his butt. Which is very nice too.” Vivi waggled her eyebrows  and Marianne blushed even redder.

“So before your mouth gets you into any more trouble, what was your favorite male costume. And please tell me that you whomever it was you weren’t looking at their–rear.” Marianne said sounding somewhat prim.

“Well, no, you can’t even see the butt of the guy in my favorite costume as anything more than a bit of a lump. Besides I wouldn’t be looking at your dad’s butt anyway. I liked your father’s costume a lot.” Vivi said.

“Ugh. Vivianne!” Caroline interjected. “Really, with Edouard’s and Jeremie’s and even your brother Severus’ costumes the “best” costume you can choose is a middle aged man with five kids? I mean, really?”

“The question was favorite costume, Caroline. Not which was the best looking boy who filled out his tights well.” Vivi told her affronted. “And I notice that Leo wasn’t on your list, what’s wrong with his costume?”

Caroline gaped for a long moment, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Sorry, Marianne, I’m afraid the air out her has turned a bit rancid.” Vivi said shooting Caroline a black look as she headed off, intent on finding her mother and insisting to be allowed to head straight home. Elizabet was going to spend the whole evening stuck in the ballroom dancing or chatting anyway. And while Vivi was not going to blame Marianne for her obnoxious sister, after all she hated it when the backlash of some prank or what not of her brothers’ spilled over onto her, she couldn’t help but wish that Caroline would just do them all a favor and fall down some stairs or something.

—

Seryl 11th, 1513 – Finessa Estate

Vivi took one last long look at herself in her costume in the mirror. Twisting to look at the way she filled out the back and wishing there were a bit more to fill out the front before sliding the black wig off and there she was. Back to being plain old Vivi, with too many freckles and unruly not quite red, not quite blonde, not quite brown curls spilling out.

She turned to the wardrobe, slipping out of the costume, holding the underdress in one hand, reaching for a clothes hanger.

“Vivi?” She gasped as Leo’s voice came from her room. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Leo–I thought you were still at the party.” She dropped the cloth in her hand and walked up the stairs to her bedroom. She heard Leo gulp, saw him freeze in the middle of settling on her bed. Why is he looking at me like that?

His eyes swept over her, once, twice, on the second trip down she glanced down–just then realizing that she was–very not dressed.

“Lemme grab my robe.” She said, hurrying back down the stairs, just stepping over the dress that she probably should have picked up from it’s crumpled heap on the floor, her cheeks still painfully red.

“Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s–my fault for not knocking. Guess I’m not used to having to worry about my sister the young lady.” Leo said with a chuckle that would have been better if it didn’t sound so forced.

“But, I thought you were still at the party.” She repeated, sliding onto the bed beside him. “It’s not even like you had to worry about me getting home. The walk home isn’t even far. I do it every day almost.”

“Not at night.”

“With all the guards posted at the Carcios to keep people from crashing the party, ha, Leo. You must be mistaking me for your delicate little flower.” Vivi said.

“Delicate little flower?” Leo repeated.

“You know–Caroline.” Vivi told him with a glare a the toe of her stocking.

“Vivi, my marrying Caroline FitzChivalry is more that it’s a good match politically and even financially. It has nothing to do with actually wanting to marry Caroline. You can’t keep punishing me for it.”

“Daddy said we didn’t have to marry anyone we didn’t like! You can’t possibly like her!” Vivi said, trying very hard not to whine as she said it.

“I also don’t dislike her. There are quite a few girls out there that I can’t even say that much about. It’s hard to find a girl who is tolerable and a good match.” Leo sighed. “I mean it would be wonderful, Viv, if I could find a beautiful girl who was a good match and had a good personality. But this isn’t a storybook, Vivi.”

“Wouldn’t marrying Marianne net you the same advantages as Caroline and that wouldn’t give me a sister-in-law I wanna strangle to sit across from at Robertmas dinner!” Vivi asked.

“And just how offended do you think Lord Henry would be if I said to him ‘you know, the more I get to know Caroline the less I like her, can we try the other one?’…?” Leo started to glare at her then quickly looked at his boots. He never glared at her–not even when she deserved it. It wasn’t his fault–and he was right–and she just couldn’t admit it.

“It’d be Lady Henry who was offended. I’m pretty sure that Lord Henry is well aware that his eldest daughter is a bitch.” Vivi said.

“Vivi!”

“She is!” Vivi said turning on her side and looking at her brother. “She belittles and insults her sister, her friends, me, anyone she thinks she can!” She locked eyes with Leo and whispered. “And she’ll make you miserable.” She added in a whisper.

“Vivi.” Leo rolled onto his side and put a hand on her elbow as her fingers ran over his belt buckle. “Oh Wright, Vivi.” He twined a curl around his finger before shifting.

A moment later he was basically straddling her waist, leaning over her. Then he shook himself like a dog that had just been dunked in cold water.

“Vivi, I–”

“You’re right.” She met his eyes, the exact same color as hers, in understanding even if he never finished. There were some things you just couldn’t articulate. “We shouldn’t be doing this now.”

“Vivi–we shouldn’t be doing this at all.” A moment later he’d slid off the side of the bed and stalked off toward the door, without so much as a look back in her direction, the staccato of his boots almost identical the sound of Lady Henry’s slippers on the floor.

Vivi shivered.

Seryl 10th, 1513 – Carico Estate, Lothianshire, Albion

“If you don’t mind my saying… you are an idiot, brother dear. I love you. But you’re an idiot.” A voice whispered in Josh’s ear, causing him to jump and almost slam the library door.

Being a year older certainly hadn’t softened his sister any. Well, with Bet, he supposed that was only to be expected. He was a thin cover of fragile marble laid over a marshmallow center, Elizabet was diamond from the core out, only her physical appearance usually granted her any softness at all.

Tonight, however, even the usual softness granted to her by her hair and the clothing she wore had been traded for something else. Her costume, that of Lady Morgan le Fay, added an extra physical hardness to her. She certainly was shades of a legend in it, but if there was something that the Lady Morgan of legend and Elizabet shared, it was a distinct lack of the appellation “soft”.

“How,” his voice cracked slightly. He coughed into his hand and tried again. “How do you mean?”

“This is just like you, Josh. Just go in and talk to him.” Elizabet shoved at his shoulder. “I promise nothing’s changed.”

“That’s what you think.” Josh muttered. Elizabet rolled her eyes.

“Okay, let me rephrase that, except what’s going on in here.” She paused to tap the side of Josh’s head with a long finger. “Nothing has changed with him. You’re a better host than that.” Josh was starting to feel like Benoit, that was to say lost, in what should be a simple conversation to follow. He’d been doing okay until that sharp left turn at the end there. “Darin came to my party because you asked, in fact I’m pretty sure, given how much he protested whenever the party came up in conversation, that you insisted that he come.”

She sighed. “So he came and his date is in the ballroom chatting up other people and he’s hiding in the library with Ri, only she at least is pretending that she is interested in that book of poetry she’s holding, and he’s staring at the Orkney crest on the wall.” Elizabet shook her head one of the flowers woven into the dark strands of her hair threatening to slide out. “It is your duty as host of this event–and as the person who invited him–to make sure that Darin has a good time. So.” She poked him hard through the sleeve of his doublet. “Oww.” She complained. “What do you keep under that thing, Josh? Rocks?” She wandered off still muttering about how nothing good could come from a birthday where she hurt her finger on her brother’s bicep.

“You have better manners than that, Joshua Piers!” She called from the dining room door, waggling a finger in his direction. She was right, of course, damn her. He did have better manners than that. But she didn’t understand.

It had all started in the reception line. He’d caught sight of Darin in his costume as Florian Carey, the later years steward of Earl Pellinore, a rather ironic choice, as Florian was said to have a very peculiar sense of humor and a distinct sense of whimsy. Darin, so far as Josh had ever seen, had no sense of humor and wouldn’t know whimsy if it bit him in the arse. He could never imagine Darin holding a record for being kicked out of the most taverns in his time in Albion, managing to even beat Captain Jessiah Andavri for the record!

The blonde wig didn’t suit him. Josh had decided as he nodded in response to whatever Lord Henry had just muttered to him, briefly losing sight of Darin to the huge puffed shoulders of Lady Henry’s costume. It made his face look sallow and drawn, contrasting badly with the dusky tone of his skin and reinforcing the hollow hopelessness that was almost always lurking in Darin’s blue eyes.

He needed–he needed… His mind was pulled back onto what he was supposed to be paying attention to, which was the receiving line, by the sound of Lady Henry simpering to his mother.

“Oh, Lady Marisol, I was so grieved to hear that Lord Jayson would be missing this. I know that Henry wouldn’t have missed our girls debuts for anything. I would half expect him to crawl out of the grave to be at Julia’s. Such a shame that he couldn’t make it back from Camelot in time.”

Josh’s mother was obviously trying to wrangle whatever sharp thing that had been building behind her teeth into something appropriate to say at a party when the tension was defused by an unlady-like snort from the woman behind Lady Henry in the receiving line.

“What?” Lady Henry turned, affronted.

“Oh, nothing, I am sure you are terribly grieved,” Madame Cox smiled as she gave Elizabet a hug. “I, unfortunately, have mixed feelings on the whole thing. It certainly is a shame that the baron will miss this.” She winked at Elizabet. “But it does mean that Masen is still in Camelot too, which kind of dries any tears I might have over the whole thing.” Elizabet covered her mouth with her hand, probably covering a giggle as well. Josh’s mother was too well schooled to smirk, but he thought he detected a hint of a smile at the corners of her lips too.

“Surely you wouldn’t stand for Master Masen missing your own daughter’s debut!” Lady Henry asked, planting her hands on her hips. Lord Henry was looking like he was praying for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“It would honestly depend on why he was missing it.” Madame Cox said, ignoring Lady Henry’s stance to lean in and kiss Marisol’s cheek. “After all, the universe is the Lord Wright’s to control and not ours. And certainly should it be fire, flood, or act of Wright that was preventing him from being there, he’d be excused in my eyes!” She fluttered her lashes in Lady Henry’s direction.

Lady Henry stormed off to where Lord Henry stood waiting looking like he still wanted to be swallowed by the paving stones, forgetting to say anything to Josh at all. “What?” She hissed at him.

“I told you not to get into that with Lady Marisol, Katherine. It’s not like she’d miss that it was a jab at her.” Lord Henry muttered before heading off toward the house, their murmured conversation fading as they went. Madame Cox, then the Captain and Mrs. Cox followed through without further incident when Josh caught sight of Darin and his date as well.

“You might as well come up, Darin, we’ve already spotted you.” Elizabet called to the pair at the bottom of the stairs. “And you’ll have to forgive me for asking who this lovely young lady you’re escorting is.”

“This is Eve Rose.” Darin said. Marisol’s eyebrow shot up as she looked over her shoulder at Josh who shrugged. Actually he had known that Darin was planning on inviting Eve, but there was no way to gently break that bit of information to his mother, so he would just pretend that he hadn’t known. Whether it worked was anyone’s guess.

“Rose–any relation to Reginald? Or to Guardsman Colby?” Elizabet asked curiously.

“Aye.” Eve said with a smile. It was Elizabet’s turn to look at Josh, only her expression was puzzled. He shrugged again. “They’re my brothers.”

“Oh–I didn’t know that Colby was related to Reginald.” Elizabet said faintly.

“We don’t make much of a deal of it. There are people,” Eve looked at the back of Miguel’s gaudy tunic as it was disappearing into the distance. “who would make it into something it isn’t. Call Colby’s loyalty to the guard into question when there’s no need for it. He wouldn’t do that.” Elizabet nodded in seeming understanding, probably actual understanding, if Josh could follow it, then Elizabet could more than likely follow it that much easier. Not for the first time he thought that River Sulis would have a much brighter future if there were some way that he could step aside and let his sister take the barony when their father died. The last thing this town needed was an idiot like him in a position of rank.

As Eve, Josh’s mother, and sister fell into easy discussion of the various costumes, Josh was pinned in place by Darin’s blue eyes. A wave of something that he had been trying–for months–to ignore or mislabel swept over him. And like a sharp slap to the face it was impossible to mistake it for anything else, that wave of lust, woven tight with softer things; hope, comfort, security, (love?) all wrapped up in a pulse of “want, want, want”. When that one single, perfect moment passed, between one heartbeat and the next, a second wave of much more familiar emotion rolled in: hopelessness, cowardice, panic on the verge of physical pain. Still, he had been trained from the cradle to keep up appearances, and so he murmured out some mechanical formula to Darin and then to Eve. They too turned down the path toward the house. All Josh wanted to do was run. But he couldn’t. It was Elizabet’s debut party and he, despite what he wanted, had a job to do. He was the host.

Still, that was what had lead to him standing out in the hallway lurking outside the library. Knowing that Darin was miserable and that it was his duty, his responsibility to make him happier or at least more comfortable–but–being a coward and as Bet so gently reminded him, an idiot. Oh, he didn’t want to mess up everything he’d built with Darin with him being stupid. Darin had forgiven him a lot, including everything that had happened that night, but he’d never forgive him for this. And Josh would never forgive himself if he ever let on.

But Darin saw right to the quick on so many things, how could he hide this from him?

He had hated himself lots and lots of times, but never more than in the stasis he found himself in standing outside the door to the library. The question “why” pounding in his head in time to the pounding of his heart. Why me? Why him? Why now? Why this? Why-why-why?

He took a step back as a group of his father’s contemporaries headed for the library–or maybe the balcony outside of it where they could smoke their pipes and talk about things that sometime in the next ten years society dictated would become the very most important things.

A moment later, the door to the library opened and Josh caught sight of a green sleeve, hurriedly he turned toward an arrangement of roses on a side table and began fiddling with the positioning.

Darin hesitated for a moment, but apparently the ruse worked, for he turned and wandered off in the direction of the bulk of the party. Still caught up in self-loathing, still hating himself for doing it, Josh followed along silent as a shadow and just as insignificant.

Darin seated himself on one of the gold settes in the corner of the room. Josh’s mother had been threatening for years to recover them, firmly of the opinion that the gold didn’t go–but she hadn’t found a fabric that she liked in their place, so there they stayed.

“There’s a seat open, Darin.” Dell said jerking his chin at the empty seat at one of the card tables. “Oww. What was that for?” He reached down to rub his right shin.

“For being stupid.” Severus said. Josh sighed to himself. Being stupid indeed.

“Are you sure?” Jules asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Nah, I’m not much of a poker player.” Liar, Josh thought, Darin was a helluva card sharp, Josh knew he played a lot with his own friends. He just didn’t play with Josh’s friends. It was just a lot of tutoring sessions to put into stakes. They thought nothing of tossing in a few silvers to a “friendly” game. Darin had to think of it, he didn’t have the luxury of thinking that money was unimportant.

“Besides, I’m more fascinated by the schoolteacher hustling the nun at billiards.” Darin joked, jerking his head toward where the Mrs. Coxes were playing an absolutely cutthroat game. Madame Cox laughed before turning toward Josh, who was still lurking in the doorway, eyebrow arched. Josh hurried into the room, trying not to look like he was hurrying. Somehow he didn’t think it worked to fool her. He dropped, hopefully casually, into the seat next to Darin.

“I meant to ask, Madame Cox, who are you supposed to be?” Charlie asked, turning in his chair to look over his shoulder.

“See, that’s the trouble with attempting to be clever,” she said to the room at large. “You never know if you’re succeeding in being clever or if you’re missing the mark. Heloise.”

“Pardon?”

“Heloise–the elder daughter of the first branch of Wesleyans in Albion. She’s a distant ancestor of mine or so the family legend goes.”

“The one who published all those scandalous treatises?”

“Aye.” Madame Cox said. “We both share a talent for saying things that are–mildly–scandalous.” Mrs. Cox choked. “Oh, c’mon, those books weren’t so bad.” She nudged the woman dressed in the nun’s habit with her elbow.

“Yes, Annette, they were!”

“They’re educational at the very least.” Madame Cox said blandly.

“I could have gone my whole life without that kind of education.” Mrs. Cox said primly. “It’s your turn.”

“So,” Josh said almost freezing again when Darin turned those heart-of-the-ocean blue eyes on him. “How you are doing?” Darin’s brow rose sharply, though it was half obscured by the blonde strands falling in his face.

“Words fail me.” Darin said. Aye, I was afraid of that. Josh thought.

“Hmmm. Well would you say it’s on par with the historical epic–or is it more like that Reman poetry recital?” Josh asked.

“More like that one time I walked into the hall by the salle and saw Brother Loki with his tongue in Brother Dustin’s mouth.” Darin told him blandly.

“Yeesh.” Josh said.

“Wait, you saw Loki kissing Dustin–and you didn’t tell us?” Edouard asked, slurring just slightly. His head was going to kill him in the morning. It was a good thing that they had the week off of courses. Of course it was no real surprise that he’d hit the bottle at any occasion. Josh didn’t know what he was drinking to forget, but he’d lay a month’s pocket money that whatever it was… it was something serious.

“…Aye.” Darin said after a long moment.

“Why?”

“I guess cause they–um–like each other? Why do most people kiss?” Josh couldn’t see Darin’s expression, but could hear his eyes rolling in his voice.

“No, I mean why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because I know what you’d likely do with the knowledge.” Darin asked. “C’mon, I’m the orphaned street rat, you’re the gentlemen. If I have the manners not to gossip and make fun of them, you should know better yourselves, but that’s never stopped you before. What business is it of any of ours if Loki and Dustin are–um–fond of each other?”

“Father Remi says that it’s a mortal sin.” Jules said rubbing the back of his neck.

Josh heard Darin’s sharp intake of breath and nudged him slightly. “Well, if  Father Remi said that the sky was blue, I would probably go stick my head outside and check that it hadn’t turned green with violet spots before I believed it.” Darin said folding his arms over his chest and slumping back into the settee.

Josh leaned toward him and murmured “Nicely said.” by his ear. Darin glanced and him and shrugged again. Josh nodded and stared at his boots for a long moment, trying to pull his heart back out of his throat and into his chest where it belonged, feeling the hammering of his pulse to the soles of his feet. What am I going to do?

Tyves 10th, 1513 – Fitz-Chivalry estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

“Leo wrote me again.” Caroline fluttered her lashes at Marianne who tried not to cringe. Sunday tea was the worst, being that Sunday was the seventh day, it was Fitz-Chivalry family law that they would all gather for tea. There was no excuse good enough to get out of it, no company to be invited unless said company was staying at the estate with them, which happened about once every blue moon. They were expected to have a couple of cousins come in for Elizabet’s birthday, but that was still a month away.

So today it was just family and it had been and was going to continue to be one of those teas.

“Yes, Caroline, we heard.” Brandon said, throwing a flickery sort of smile across the table at Marianne, who swirled the last bit of tea in her cup.

“Well, Marianne hadn’t heard she wasn’t here when the letter arrived, can’t I share my good news with my favorite sister?” Elizabet would have been brave enough to point out that Marianne was hardly Caroline’s favorite sister. Vivianne would have pointed out that surely Julia already knew, or pouted because Leo bothered to write her at all. Marianne just looked at the lemon slices on the tea plate and peered around the flowers as if looking for the sugar bowl.

“Ah-ah-ah.” Caroline said primly. “You haven’t enough tea left in your cup to even dissolve a second lump and you certainly do not need another lump of sugar. After all, Elizabet’s birthday party is in less than a month and mother doesn’t need to be constantly running to the tailor to have waist let out. Nor will the maids thank you for needing a winch to lace your corset tight.”

“Caroline.” Brandon rolled his eyes.

“Well, if our sister would just watch the amount of sweets she eats, I wouldn’t have to remind her about fitting into her undergarments at tea and you wouldn’t have to hear about her unmentionables.” Caroline said in dulcet tones.

“I was objecting to you “reminding” her of anything at all.” Brandon told her in a blunt, irritated tone. “If she’d like a second cup of tea, or another lump, it’s none of your business. I put twice the cream and sugar into my tea that Marianne did and you didn’t say a word.”

“It’s different for boys. You have your arms practice and your rugby games and your riding to work off that cream and sugar. All Marianne has is her riding three times a week and the walk to the Finessa’s estate for lessons and the walk to the Carico’s estate for lessons.” She shook her head. “And besides, Marianne needs to work on looking her best. She is going to be fifteen at the end of the month.”

“Um, so?” Brandon asked.

“So? She’s fifteen and father hasn’t so much as fielded a nibble of interest in a betrothal in three years of looking.” Marianne ducked her head and looked at the pink table linens as if there were some sort of mystery held there with-in.

“How do you know father hasn’t had any nibbles, Caroline, you know he doesn’t talk with us about things that do not concern us personally.” Brandon pointed out. “He hasn’t told me, so I’m pretty damned sure that he hasn’t told you.”

“With the way Marianne is? You’d be able to tell if she’d had good news.” Caroline said shooting a look at Marianne who was chasing a sandwich crumb around the saucer. “See.”

“Maybe she just doesn’t appreciate us talking about her like she isn’t here.” Brandon sighed. “For which I apologize, Marianne.”

“Oh, you don’t need to apologize for that, Brandon. Marianne wouldn’t have anything to add to the conversation even if we tried to to include her. I don’t know what she’s been doing during her deportment lessons. Or maybe that awful Elizabet is just taking up too much of the teacher’s time.” Caroline sniffed. Elizabet isn’t awful. Marianne thought at her sister. She’s far nicer than you are. At least she saves her cruel jibes for people who deserve it.

“One of the things they teach us in deportment lessons is how not to dominate a conversation and one of the others is how impolite it is to gossip. So far Mother hasn’t had to have a single one of my dresses let out at the waist.” Marianne said. And thought hard at her sister and I can still lace my stays tighter than you can.

“That’s because I’m hear to remind you, like a good big sister should.” Caroline said it with the air of someone patting a dog that had done an amusing trick on the head. Inwardly Marianne snarled and some part of her that had probably spent too much time with Elizabet was throwing itself at the bars of the cage that her mother, her deportment lessons, and that cursed shyness built around her, wanting to say something mean or awful, to make Caroline cringe and hurt.

“Honestly, Caroline, if you’re a “good big sister”, I’d hate to see a shabby one.” Brandon grumbled.

“What is that supposed to mean, Brandon?” Caroline gasped. “Name one shabby thing that I’ve ever done to you!”

“You haven’t ever done anything particularly shabby to me–or to Edmund. But that doesn’t make you a good big sister. I don’t have to listen to you under anyone’s definition of hierarchy. But I’ve seen you do plenty of shabby things to Julia and Marianne.” Brandon said.

“Like what?” Caroline gasped.

“Like embarrass them, harass them, make snide comments, you’re constantly poking Marianne about not being betrothed, engaged, or spoken for. Well I’m almost two years older than Marianne is, and I’m not betrothed, engaged, or spoken for.” Brandon pointed out.

“That is different.” Caroline replied huffily. Before Brandon could roll his eyes and ask how so, she continued. “You’ll be going to Camford and no one will expect you to marry until you graduate. With my dowry and your Camford fees, and no estate, yet, to replenish them, there certainly won’t be the money to send her–” Caroline poked a finger toward Marianne. “To Camford. And even if Father is granted an estate and there is the money to send her to Camford, if she hasn’t at least had a few suitors by then, everyone will assume that she’s a terrible bluestocking. Which is a fine reputation to have when you’re at university.”

Brandon looked at Marianne and she shrugged.

“I am just trying to look out for Marianne. You know that books don’t teach you any sort of sense, Brandon.” Caroline addressed the comment to Brandon, but her eyes were on Marianne. “All they do is stuff your head with candy floss and make you into a ninny.” Marianne bit hard on the inside of her cheek.

Out of the black darkness came the harps of the holy llamas, proclaiming the presence of the Lord Wright, or rather the bells of the cathedral, chiming the None, signalling the time for Marianne’s escape.

“Brandon, Caroline, excuse me, I have–a test to study for tomorrow.” She flashed Brandon an apologetic smile and pushed her chair back from the table.

“Marianne, where are you going?” Her mother asked as she passed their table to head out the garden door–she knew she should’ve used the library door. Oh well, too late now.

“The bells just rang the none, I have an exam to study for tomorrow.” She offered with a flickery, forced smile.

“It’s alright, Marianne, study hard.” Henry interjected before Katherine could do more than start to say Marianne’s name.

“Henry, she’s obviously upset.” Katherine told him before she was barely two steps away from the table.

“I know. And if she’s upset the last thing she needs is to be called out for it in front of an audience.” Henry said.

“We’re all family here.” Katherine objected.

“It isn’t as if family can never say anything that upsets you. Half the disputes I hear about when I’m at court are dealing with brothers who did something to their brothers to cause a grievance. The last two emperors in Reme were taken off the throne by their families.” Henry ticked off before Marianne got far enough out the door to let it shut behind her. She took a deep breath to walk decorously across the courtyard. A Fitz-Chivalry, a Gwynedd, a Reman lady, none of them, ran from the room in tears. No matter what was said to them.

Still, by the time she reached the top of the tall stone stairs that lead up to the second floor of the estate, she was going far faster than a well-bred noble should ever go. She didn’t even pause inside the door before turning and heading up the stone stairwell into her own bedroom.

She flung herself onto her bed, but refused to cry. Caroline and her pettiness, and that was all it was, Elizabet told her so, Vivi told her so, even Mistress Cox had said that Caroline was petty, none of it was worth her tears.

A few moments later she heard the garden door shut firmly and pushed herself to the edge of the bed. She didn’t want to hear the lecture that would surely follow if her mother came into her room and she had her slippers on the edge of the bed.

And it would be her mother, the heels on Katherine’s slippers clacked as she made her way up the stairs and a moment later her head appeared just over the white parquet.

“Marianne, you should be less hard on your sister.” Of course the first words out of Katherine’s mouth would be why Caroline was right and Marianne was wrong. “Come, sit, a daughter of the Gwynedds does not entertain sitting on her bed like a common girl without a whit of manners.” Marianne slid off the bed and walked over to one of the white chairs in front of her bookcase.

Her mother sat with head up, neck arched proudly, just like Marianne’s deportment teacher told them to, spine and shoulders just barely rested against the back of the chair. Was being a proper Gwynedd lady really all about carrying a deportment teacher around in your head all the time? No one would accuse the baroness of being anything but a lady, still she didn’t sit there like she had a book perched on her head and a ruler tied to her spine.

“Your sister, Marianne, is just trying to educate you. To remind you that eyes are on us all the time. From taking another lump at tea or the thick cut slice of ham for your sandwich, one needs to remember we are being watched. And we more than most of noble blood. Your father is close to being granted an estate, if we show common blood or course manner it may never occur.” Marianne frowned just slightly. From what she had learned in her Governance courses that table manners had less than nothing to do with how one was granted lands or a title.

Katherine didn’t even notice. She just continued on. “I did the same thing for my sisters when we were younger.” A traitorous voice in Marianne’s head said and that’s probably why Aunt Anne and Aunt Emma won’t talk with you now.

Her mother sighed. “You have always been of less stern demeanor than Caroline and so I have more concern with you, Marianne. I have never doubted that Caroline was a true daughter of my house. There is much of your father, however, in you. The Fitz-Chivalries have many virtues. But I am not certain that what virtues they possess will serve you well in this world.” Katherine said, pursing her lips slightly.

“Still, it is not too late for you to adopt more of the virtues of my house.” Katherine stood up, still with that internal deportment teacher nipping at her heels, her heels clacking at an exactly precise staccato as she descended.

She looked at the windows for a long moment, wishing that they were of clear glaze, so she could see out. The problem with her room, she decided, as she heard the door shut below, was that it was basically a trap. There was no way to get out of it once someone else was in it, without seeming dreadfully rude–and anyone who would make her feel trapped in the room would never forgive her being rude.

So what she needed was an “away” some place she could go and her mother and Caroline wouldn’t follow to tell her that she was sulking. Thought was parent to deed and her slippers were padding–not clacking–toward the stairs before she was even finished with the thought.

It was still the warm, pleasant afternoon it had been, her siblings banished to the courtyard to enjoy the summer sunlight. Marianne paused for just a second in the sunlight when she saw Caroline’s horrid white and green damask train that clashed awfully with the pink gingham sash she’d chosen to go with it. And my mother thinks that she’s a picture of virtue.

“Caroline, what sorts of dances do you think Lady Elizabet will have at her birthday celebration?” Julia asked, a shade too loudly, after her eyes touched on Marianne. Was Julia trying to–distract Caroline from noticing her? Well, whether that was the intention or not, it was succeeding and Marianne slipped past through the garden before anyone else even noticed she was there.

Her feet carried her, enjoying the sun on her shoulders and back, to the Library. She found her way toward a book of Geoffry Chausseur’s poems. She liked this one, it was poems about youth and the shivery-yet-warm feeling of being near someone who caused that frisson that was part lust-part interest-part something that might be something more around the one you liked.

She liked all of Geoffry’s poems, actually, but this book, so far, was one of her favorites. Somehow she wondered–thought–perhaps that he would have understood a lot of this. The poem that she had left off on, however, instead of drawing her in like usual was turning her thoughts outward, it was about seeing and noticing and the offer of friendship in the strangest of places.

And as her eyes danced over the letters, a flash of movement caught her attention from over the corner of the book. It was Vivianne’s brother, Severus, a book not unlike hers in his hands, though he’d just shut the cover with a soft, hushed thump. She turned her attention back to the line of text which seemed to shift and dance under her eyes.

“The poems of Geoffry Chausseur, huh? Is this the book of naughty ones?” Marianne blinked as his warm brown eyes met hers, she hadn’t noticed him move to the seat right next to her.

“N-naughty ones?” Marianne stammered out.

“It is! It is!” Severus chuckled as Marianne flushed red as the eagle on the Orkney crest. “You’re blushing.”

“How do you know that I’m not blush-blushing because you even suggested that there are naughty poems?” Marianne asked as she fanned her heated cheeks with her hands.

“‘Cause unlike your sister, you have more brains than a bag of rocks. You’re at the library all the time. In everybody’s library. Ours, the Carico’s, the Academy’s, here,” Marianne blinked. How did he know that she spent so much time in the library? Did he notice that? She didn’t think it was so obvious…? “If you’re not with Vivi and Elizabet at some party, you’re in the library, it’s the first place your brother sends anyone to look for you. Vivi too.” Severus continued. Oh, her brother and friend, of course. He knew Brandon. He, obviously, knew his own sister. She could’ve told you where you were most likely to find Vivi or Brandon at a party too.

“Well, books are nicer–if you don’t like the book, you can just close it and find another one.” She explained.

“If it’s not being too forward of me–and–er–knowing that my definition of “forward” is a bit… more than most peoples.” He bit his lip and rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you–is everything alright?”

“Oh, just.” Marianne tried to think of a way to explain without sounding like she was whining and making a big deal out of nothing.

“Marianne–if you don’t want to tell me, you’re welcome to go tell me to jump into the river. Hey, I’m the one with no manners who is prying.” Severus pushed his hair off his forehead where it promptly fell right back into place. She wondered, for just a brief moment, what his hair felt like. It was the same color–almost–as hers, but more touched by the sun.

“You have manners.” Marianne protested.

“Not enough to not be talkin’ in the library.” He winked at her. “We probably shouldn’t sit and talk in the library. Could I ask you to trust my intentions and walk with me over to the Shrine of St. Betsy? Last thing my Sunday needs is a grouchy old monk stumping over here to yell about the sanctity of books or some such rot. My luck it’d be Brother Loki and I see enough of him during in the week.” Marianne smiled and nodded, getting to her feet. He blinked for a moment before bouncing to his feet as if he really hadn’t expected her to do it.

“I–I didn’t actually think you’d trust me.” He said as they approached the gates of the garden that served as a shrine to the patron saint of housekeepers and children in trouble. There was the hospital, where actual work was done, but every city in Lothianshire had a garden dedicated to St. Betsy.

“Why wouldn’t I? My brother would skewer you if so much as thought about doing something–untoward. Not to mention what your sister would do to whatever was left. Plus this is the shrine of St. Betsy and she’s known for helping people in trouble.” Marianne pointed out.

“True. You know what this is?” He jerked his head at the little stone and wood building by the stairs into the gardens.

“It’s some sort of Sminese shrine isn’t it?”

“Wishing shrine. The Sminese put them out in parks, if you toss a copper in and make a wish on it, they say if you wish hard enough as you toss your copper, it’ll come true.” Severus shifted from one foot to the other like he was nervous.

“Oh.” Marianne said, right now she wished she hadn’t left all her pocket money in her purse at home.

“You wanna try it?” Severus asked.

“Well–kinda. But I can’t, I left all my pocket money at home.” Marianne said.

“Well, far be it for me to leave a damsel in distress wanting for something.” He fished a copper out of his belt pouch and handed it to her.

“I couldn’t take your pocket money!” Marianne protested.

“You can owe me, I just get to name my price.” He batted his lashes at her with a smirk.

“You can name your price, but what you’ll get is one copper.” Marianne told him.

“Well, what if my price is for you to not sound like your sister with something uncomfortable stuffed up your arse.” Severus stuck his tongue out at her.

“Really, it’s your pocket money, shouldn’t you be making the wish.” Marianne asked even as her feet took her to the front of the shrine.

“My wish is for you to make a wish and tell me if it comes true or not.” Marianne blushed as his warm brown eyes seemed to be a little warmer. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she flipped the bright coin into the air. I wish–oh there were all sorts of things that she could wish–I wish somebody’d like me. She seemed to hear a chuckle and not so much words in her head as an impression, something floating to the surface. If you only knew.

She heard the coin hit the stone bowl that held the other coins, but other than that fleeting impression, nothing.

“Well, it hasn’t worked yet.” Marianne reported faithfully to Severus as they walked up the stairs.

“It’s a shrine, maybe it takes time.” Severus said. “Although–did you hear anything?”

“Not hear–more like…”

“… Got an impression.” They said in unison. “So you’ve tried it.” Marianne said triumphantly.

“Aye. On a dare, once.” Severus shrugged.

“Did–your wish come true?”

“Not…” He seemed to lean a little closer to her. Close enough she could pick out golden flickers in his irises. “Yet.” She felt her breath catch, her eyes widening. And even as she was swaying a little closer to the fire in Severus’ eyes, he turned and the spell was broken. “Brandon, I don’t suppose you have that assignment we’re supposed to do for Loki’s class done yet…?”

Oh, bother and last seasons slippers. Marianne thought to herself as Elizabet often said when she was trying hard not to use course language. Was he–did he? Was it all in her head? And yet she couldn’t be sure that she was mad at Brandon because she didn’t know what that fire in Severus’ eyes meant–or if she wanted to chase it–or if chasing it was like chasing the white stag, something she’d chase forever and never catch.

Brandon and Severus chatted for a minute longer, Severus leaving with some sort of naughty joke that only made passing sense to Marianne and then he skated around Marianne’s brother and was gone with nothing more than a nod in her direction.

“What you two talking about?” Brandon asked as Severus went through the arches at the front of the garden.

“Oh–just the wishing shrine.” Marianne said.

“I’m sorry about Caroline.” Brandon said.

“Well, Elizabet says she’s not my fault–and that means she’s not your fault either and we shouldn’t be sorry over things that aren’t our fault.”

“Wise woman, your Elizabet.” Brandon chuckled.

“Aye that.” Marianne agreed, even as they walked out of the garden and her eyes caught on the wishing shrine again.

Darid 14, 1513

Lianne closed her eyes, breathing in the intoxicating smell of roses in bloom, even though the pavilion overhead kept the worst of the sun off, the warm light was a palpable pressure, like the soft hand of a lover, not the cruel task master that it would be in just a few weeks most likely. It was so rare anymore, with the children grown or very nearly, that she had time to sit in her own garden and host a tea party. It seemed to happen so fast.

Surely just a few days ago her little Vivi, now a bright vivacious young woman, one who would make a wonderful bride for Prince Nathaniel if she would just stop being so stubborn, had been a little girl in a violet and white sprigged dress, begging her to stop her research to play teaparty with her dolls. Or to not go to court so they could pick flowers in the wildflower gardens. If only Lynnette didn’t need her so often! Maybe they could have done that more often.

Still, she’d grown up so well. All of their children had avoided the traps that preyed upon so many of the young nobles she saw at court. And even if there hadn’t been nearly as many tea parties, Vivi still seemed so regal, so grown up, sitting with her little friends holding their own little court of girl-stuff.

“Isn’t that right, Lianne?” Katherine asked leaving Lianne to stumble after the thread of conversation.

“Oh, I am terribly sorry, Katherine, my mind wandered. What were you asking?” Lianne colored slightly under her freckles, a useful trick for added sincerity even if it was rarely genuine any more. She really should be paying attention, it was just that her companions–well. To her right, reorganizing her thoughts like a lecturer reorganizing her notes for another round of pontification, was Katherine Fitz-Chivalry.

How many times had she seen girls just like Katherine at court? So earnestly striving to be liked, to be included. So desperate to prove that they were as good, that they lived up to the titles and the surroundings. Except Katherine lacked that innocence, she was obviously skilled at shilling, at proving that she, too, was the right sort.

To her left with an air of icy indifference to anything and everything, sat Marisol. The baroness of River Sulis, their home away from home at least until Hector sent Squeak somewhere else to attend to some other problem or issue for the kingdom, Marisol was as icily regal as any queen born. Some would think that she thought she was above such silly things as tea parties in the garden, but that just didn’t seem quite right.

Personally, it seemed more to Lianne as if Marisol knew that these were things that she had to do, and so she would to do them. What she was really like, Lianne had no idea, she had never so much as glimpsed behind the icy visor to see the sim looking out from inside.

Behind her, seated in lone solitude was Lord Henry, Katherine’s husband. If Lianne had realized that neither Squeak nor the Baron were going to attend she’d have had Juliana center the table under the pavilion and only put out two tables rather than three. Or at least insisted that the twins go riding after the tea part was over with. It surely made Lianne seem a poor hostess.

It was just that only pregnancy, serious illness, or death ever made one miss one of the parties that she usually co-hosted with Lynnette in the Queen’s gardens. She forgot that here in River Sulis, she was not the Queen’s companion, she was just the baroness of some tiny little holding two shires over.

Also, she should have gotten hold of a second pavilion or at least a sunshade for the girls’ table. Sloppy, Lianne, she chided herself. There was a staff to arrange tables and bespeak sunshades and pavilions at the palace, certainly, but that didn’t excuse her not taking care of such things herself with this party.

Just when she thought of asking Vivi if she might go ask the housemaid to come make the necessary arrangements to the table, the point became moot. Through the front gate marched Squeak, such a silly childhood nickname for such a tall, handsome, quite obviously fully grown man possessing as deep and manly a baritone as surely anyone ever had.

The effect, of course was spoilt just slightly by those hideous robes that he wore. Her Squeak had far better taste than that, but as he was so fond of reminding her, the wardrobe made the man. And the man he was here in River Sulis was silly, a little pompous, and not to be taken at all seriously. Besides, he would also remind her, they were historical, a faithful recreation of the robes famously worn by the first Earl of Sarras.

It was hard to believe that the blood of a man who would commission such a terrible outfit could be running through Marisol, probably the single most tasteful woman that Lianne had ever met, even with all of her years at court.

“Squeak, darling,” Lianne called.

“Don’t worry, my love, I shan’t wear these “awful” clothes in your house or to your party,” He called back with a stunning smile, framed to perfection by his mustache and goatee.

“Merci!” She was rewarded with his rich chuckle at the Gaulish. A few moments later, she heard a groan from near the door. Her eyes flew wide and concern rushed to fill her.

“Severus!” Squeak bellowed, surely it was his voice that shook the leaves above and not an errant breeze.

“Vivi, could you be my best friend and go tell your father that the twins are off riding?” She’d also see that a maid was called to bring Squeak something appropriate to wear. I don’t need his sense of humor getting the better of him and him coming to the teaparty in his hosen–or worse–his braises. Lianne thought to herself.

“Of course, mother.” Vivianne stood up, smoothing her lavender skirts, her curls falling over her shoulders as she pushed her chair up to the table. Lianne was too far away to hear what Caroline said to her, but it would take a far less observant woman not to notice the way Vivianne’s spine stiffened. However hard on the heels of Caroline’s comment, Elizabet turned to Caroline and said something. Caroline gasped, eyes wide.

“Lady Marisol, could you please restrain your daughter? The last time that she took tea with Marianne and Caroline, Caroline cried for twenty minutes over whatever cruel thing that your child said.”

“When your Caroline gains the wits to not insult my daughter and her friends, I am certain my Bet will stop making her cry.” Marisol said, swirling her wine around her glass.

“I am quite certain that Caroline said nothing of insult.” Katherine reared up at the challenge.

“Truly?” Marisol quirked a perfect blonde eyebrow. “The last time that Caroline took tea at our estate, she told Marianne that if she insisted upon gorging herself on sweets at every tea, her girth would increase to the point where no chair would hold her and then your husband would never be able to find Marianne a husband.”

“Well, you must admit, Lady Marisol, that hunting for a spouse is a battleground and that a young lady must use every bit of advantage in battle. It’s just bad policy to gorge oneself on anything, especially sweets.” Katherine pressed her hand to her bosom in affront.

“I took more pastries at tea than the two that Marianne did.” Marisol said cuttingly. “And certainly my own arse has not grown to the proportions that would require it it’s own shire!” Katherine gasped and gaped.

“Ladies, please. There’s no need for profanity or arguments.” Lianne interjected.

“Oh, did I miss profanity. I always miss the fun parties. I only ever show up at the boring ones.” Oh, thank the Lord Wright. Lianne thought to herself as she glanced over her shoulder to see Squeak, now properly attired in an Aubergine suit. He grinned at her and winked.

“It was just a small spat, my lord.” Katherine said, glancing at Marisol and then Lianne.

“And no wonder it’s turning into a romp, those are not tea glasses.” He gesture to the golden goblets on the table.

“We were just having a little Gaulish, as a finisher for the tea.” Lianne offered. Squeak gathered a plate of fruit from the refreshments table and walked over to the pavilion, he dropped a kiss on the top of her head before dropping into the chair next to Henry.

“I do hope you saved me some.” He said. “And I hope that you will forgive my manners as I eat, I worked straight through luncheon, my lord.”

“Oh, not at all, I understand, my lord.” Henry said with his usual easy-going tone.

“Does that fill our requisite my lords for the afternoon, can we just call each other by our Wrightian names rather than being so cursedly proper?” Squeak asked.

“But properness makes the world go round, father.” Charlie said appearing as if conjured out of the hedgemaze. She hadn’t known that the twins were home.

“At least that’s what Brother Dustin is always telling us.” Severus followed. “And you know what they say about broken clocks, after all.”

“Severus!” Lianne scolded, getting to her feet to plant her hands on her hips. “I am quite sure that Brother Dustin is not a broken clock.” Before Severus could come up with whatever his clever retort was, and Lianne was certain he had one, Squeak turned to her.

“While you’re scolding our son, my love, please remind him again why it is not okay to hide my clothing?” Squeak asked with another disarming grin.

“Severus!” Lianne sighed.

“I didn’t!” He protested looking up from the fruit trays, injured look on his face. “I just switched the pots in front of the door.”

“It’s the same thing.” Squeak sniffed.

“Sorry, father.” He said walking around the table, Lianne turned around to see him sliding into her chair. “Severus.”

“You tell me not stand and eat, Mum. It was the only open chair.” He paused for a second and looked toward where his sister sat. His Adam’s apple bobbed for a moment as if he were swallowing heavily.

“Mother, may Elizabet, Marianne, and I be excused? Master Chalmers is going to be giving us a test tomorrow on the story of St. Romeo and St. Juliette and I want to be certain I know everything.” Vivianne asked.

“Of course, Vivi, study hard.” Squeak said turning in his chair.

“Thanks, daddy.” She blew him a kiss as she headed for the mouth of hedge maze. Lianne stifled a sigh, she couldn’t remember the last time that Vivianne had been that affectionate toward her. She reserved much more of her regard for her father and her brothers, especially Leo.

“Thank you, Lady Finessa. The tea was wonderful.” Marianne said with a curtsy.

“You’re quite welcome, Marianne.” Lianne said with a nod.

“Yes, thank you, Lady Finessa.” Elizabet said, her blue-gray eyes sparkling. “I especially enjoyed the pastries.” Marisol actually chuckled, it was a rich sound that was all too infrequent.

Vivianne’s leaving had left Caroline in lone splendor at the girls’ table and that wouldn’t do, she’d spent too much of this tea lost in thought, not attending to her guests’ needs. She slipped into the chair that Marianne had vacated. “I’m not keeping you from studying, I hope?”

“No,” Caroline said. Well, that was one conversation starter that had lead nowhere fast.

“Your sister is such a lovely girl.” Lianne tried again. Caroline glanced at the tree with a slightly sour look on her face.

“I think Julia will be prettier when she grows up.” Caroline told her. This was going to be like extracting water from a stone. “Have you heard from Leo? Is he enjoying Camford?” There that was something that they could talk about.

“What are those two girls doing?” Lianne could hear the scowl in Katherine’s voice from where she sat.

“Playin’ it looks like, Lady Henry.” Severus told her. “That’s what they were doing when we came in, playing solider it looked like.”

“Soldier!” Katherine gasped. “I knew nothing good would come from letting Julia spend time with that girl.”

“Pray recall, Lady Henry,” Marisol interjected with what Lianne imagined was the cold certainty of a hunting knife being plunged into flesh. “That that girl is my kin. My cousin’s daughter.”

“Second cousin.” Katherine corrected. Lianne saw Henry cringe.

“Aye. Second cousin, still puts us at closer relation than you have to those Reman families you like to remind us you’re related to.” Marisol’s tone was growing icier by the moment. Lianne wracked her brain to think of some way to defuse the situation, she certainly had never intended for this party to stop the two ladies from talking to each other, which had happened before. Especially because it made Vivi so miserable.

“Henry, I’ll tell you, I don’t like the look of that cloud, d’you?” Squeak interjected loudly enough that they could all hear him.

“It could be nothing, but it could mean rain.” Henry agreed. “Perhaps I should gather my daughters and head on back home before we find out.”

“Aye.” Squeak said, standing up from his chair and offering the other man a firm handshake. “Charlie, could you please go find Marianne for us.” Severus turned in his chair as if he was going to say something then turned back toward the table and popped a grape in his mouth without a word. Charlie stood up and ran off in the direction of the house.

“Well, if we’re going to use inclement weather as a reason to break up the party, perhaps Lyssa, Bet and I should take our leave of you as well.” Marisol smiled tightly. Goodbyes were said without incident and finally, when all of the the guests had disappeared through the wrought iron gate.

“Those two.” Squeak expelled his breath in a sigh.

“Aye.” Lianne agreed.

“You two are braver than I am. I’d be afraid to have dinner with Lady Henry and the baroness in the baron’s dining hall.” Severus said.

“Why so?” Squeak asked, sounding honestly puzzled.

“The baron has all those weapons and suits of armor in there. I’d be too afraid that they’d pull something off the wall, suit up and use them on each other.” Lianne offered a polite twitter of laughter that paled next to Squeaks heartier guffaw.

“Well, it’s probably a good thing that Caroline is intended for Leo then.” Squeak said. “And  that I don’t see the baron or baroness pursuing the idea of the Fitz-Chivalry’s Edmund for Elizabet.”

“Yeah, that’d be a bad idea.” Severus seconded as Vivianne sat down at the table next to him, her face as blank as a just washed slate. “I don’t think that Edmund could handle a girl like Elizabet. I’m not sure there is a man who can handle a girl like Elizabet.”

“What, you’re not up to the task?” Charlie asked, sitting down himself to finish the rest of his plate. Something, again, passed over Severus’ face. It was so peculiar how she could read almost any courtier with consummate ease, but her own children were often completely incomprehensible to her.

“Nope. After all, our mama only raised one fool, and that’s you.”

Imsdyn 10th, 1513 – Fitz-Chivalry estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

Marianne brushed nervously at the horse hair that still clung to the skirt of her blue riding habit. “We just got back from our riding lesson.” Vivianne pointed out, tossing a strand of hair over her shoulder. “No one is going to expect us to be completely spotless.”

“Speak for yourself,” Marianne’s other companion, Elizabet, wrinkled her pale nose. “I’ve seen mother lead an autumn hunt and come back with not a piece of horse hair clinging to her skirt, nor a hint of perspiration about her brow, not even a hair out of place.”

“Well, aye, Elizabet, but we’re not even sure that your mother is a sim, she might be a ice sculpture that someone bewitched.” Vivianne tossed back with a smirk.

“Hardly.” Elizabet dismissed airily. “A bewitched snow sculpture would be warmer than my mother.” Their riding instructor put a hand over her mouth and cleared her throat, probably to hide a snicker. Marianne couldn’t blame Madame Cox for it. She probably knew the baroness better than any of them. Her husband was a cousin of Elizabet’s mother and worked as the baron’s steward. And while she was never anything other than the very picture of polite, deferential good manners around them, you couldn’t help but get the impression that Madame Cox was anything other than polite and deferential in her thoughts of them.

“Besides, just because your mother can do it doesn’t mean that any sim can.” Vivianne told the blonde girl.

“You have met my mother, haven’t you? Of course, she expects us to be able to do everything she can. Only the Lord Wright can create perfection, but we should all strive to be as close to perfection as simly possible.” Elizabet gave an airy flick of the hand as Lady Marisol did after she deemed something to be so. Vivianne snickered. Marianne–wished she dared to. “What I don’t understand is why given that both my estate and the Finessas’ estate is closer to the riding grounds we have to come to the Fitz-Chivalrys after riding lesson.”

Marianne’s gaze dropped to the ground by the hem of her skirts. Mother reminded her that they couldn’t expect to be treated as the exact equals of the Caricos and Finessas, they were not, through no fault of their blood, which could be traced back to some of the noblest, they simply had yet to earn landed status. But Elizabet was never so cruel as to simply point out that while her father was Baron of River Sulis, Marianne’s father was the Baron of nowhere yet.

“I didn’t mean that, Ri.” Elizabet said flicking blue-gray eyes her direction. “I’m not disparaging your house or your company, just the silliness that we go from there to here even though there are other theres to go to inbetween. You understand, right?” Though Elizabet had the baroness’ eyes, there was an earnestness in them that  Marianne had never seen in Lady Marisol’s icy gaze.

“My mother doesn’t like nicknames.” Marianne pointed out instead of answering the questions, she didn’t really know if she understood, but she knew that Elizabet wouldn’t let it go if she didn’t deflect the situation. “She thinks they’re crass and low-class.”

“So I’ll tell my mother to tell your mother not to be so stuffy.” There went Vivianne’s snickers again. “And I’m sure that will bring the return of St. Robert and then Armageddon from irony alone. But even my mother doesn’t mind nicknames. And considering how your mother is–do you really think that she’ll call me out  for using one, even if she does think they’re crass?”

Considering how your mother is. It was easy to read between the lines, Elizabet made no secret that she thought that Marianne’s mother was an unapologetic social climber. Secretly, shoved so deep down inside that maybe even the Lord Wright couldn’t see it, Marianne knew that Elizabet was right. Her mother did nothing that wasn’t aimed at making their family look better in the eyes and minds of those higher up the chain than the Fitz-Chivalrys.

Madame Cox cleared her throat gently. “Your lord-father made the request, milady. And I am not dumb enough to argue with the baron.”

“Not even over something that makes no sense?” Elizabet taunted.

“Especially not over something that makes no sense. I have better things to do with my time. Like go argue with my garden wall in hopes that it will move five feet to the left or the statue of St. Brandi to change position, because I think that her normal one is a trifle trite by this point.” Madame Cox’s bland expression didn’t change but even Vivianne, usually the first to giggle at something scandalous, was watching the riding instructor with a semi-horrified expression. As for Marianne herself, her eyes felt as if they were bulged so far any moment now, they would surely pop right out of her head.

Elizabet, however, grinned sunnily. “Probably a good idea. You do have more chance of convincing those things to move.”

Madame Cox offered a small smile and nod. “Well, having delivered you to your location, I should probably get home, I believe that Lyssandra should be returning from her music lesson shortly.”

“Oh, Madame Cox?” Elizabet called after the riding instructor.

“Aye, Lady Elizabet?”

“I think my father said something about wanting Master Cox to work on the Library fundraiser this evening, that’ll probably keep him late.” Elizabet said.

“Good, if he keeps him all week, I’ll refund your tuition for the month.” Elizabet burst out into giggles as Madame Cox waved over her shoulder.

“Did I miss something?” Vivianne asked.

“Madame Cox and Master Cox do not like each other. He annoys her, I think she scares him. But my father works him like a salt miner. So, they can avoid each other. It’s probably better that way.” Elizabet pushed open the iron gate, leading the way down the side of the house.

They were almost to the courtyard when a boyish shout caught their attention.

“Oh, cow demons and last seasons slippers!” Elizabet muttered. “Now we have to deal with the brothers too.” Marianne looked under the arbor toward the courtyard and saw she was right. The courtyard was filled with teenage boys, Elizabet’s brother Joshua, Charlie and Severus, Vivianne’s brothers, of course Brandon, Marianne’s elder brother was there as well and–who was…?

“I thought Leo was off Camford.” Elizabet said to Vivianne. “That is your brother isn’t it?”

“No, not yet. There was storm damage from that late Spring storm that went through the east of here. They’ve got to finish repairing the buildings before people can move in. But, that’s okay. That means he doesn’t have to leave so soon.” There was a little catch in Vivianne’s voice as she said it.

“The-outfit is new.” Elizabet said neutrally.

“I helped pick it out.” Vivianne told them clasping her hands behind her back. “I think he looks really… handsome.”

“He does look nice.” Marianne added in a hurry, before Elizabet could say something snappish. The door almost directly opposite from where they were standing opened and spilled a girl out into the summer sunlight.

“Now, she does not.” Elizabet grimaced as she turned to Marianne. “How can your mother have such good taste and your sister so poor? That pink, with that green? And all that brocade?”

“Caroline’s–” Marianne started, then stalled out trying to figure out how to be diplomatic and defend her sister, as her mother insisted they do, and knowing she kind of agreed. Caroline’s dress was made to lord over others. She wanted to catch every eye in the room, and with most of her dresses she would–just not the way that Marianne thought Caroline would want to catch that attention.

“Got her slimy paws all over Leo.” Vivianne crossed her arms over her chest and glared straight ahead.

“Your brother.” Elizabet said with a little heat. “C’mon, obviously they’ve usurped the courtyard, so let’s go to the back garden.”

“But…” Marianne protested.

“We are not gonna tear the place up, we can just sit quietly and talk.” Elizabet shot a look at Vivianne who was still scowling. “Your mother doesn’t want the brothers back there because somebody’d push somebody into the reflection pools or break the head off the statue or trample the roses. I think we can avoid doing all that.” Having no response and hoping that her mother would accept that it was Elizabet’s idea, she followed them to the formal gardens at the back of the house.

Elizabet pointed to the bench nearest to them and slid onto the right seat before patting the right one and pointing from Vivianne to it.

“Vivi, you have got to let this go.” Elizabet told her bluntly, sounding far older than her eleven years.

“She’s right, Vivianne.” Marianne bit her lip when Elizabet looked at her and nodded toward their friend. “My father and your father are–in betrothal negotiations. I-I know you like your brother, but…” Marianne looked back at Elizabet, thinking not for the first time of the irony that she was technically the eldest of the three and yet she was most definitely not the leader. And it had nothing to do with being the lowest ranked.

“I just think that Caroline has her nose so far up in the air that it’s surprising she doesn’t drown in the rain and is not at all worthy of Leo.” Vivianne raised her chin with an icy, regal air that was better suited to Elizabet’s mother than the usually sweet girl that Marianne called a friend. “Can’t I think that?”

“Aye, and some-or most-of it is probably even true. But the reason I bring it up, Vivi, is you would or have found something wrong with every girl your parents have introduced to your brother.” Elizabet said. “You’d say it about Ri and she is the sweetest, most not-conceited girl we know.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” Vivianne protested. “Not that at least.” She muttered to her hands. Elizabet sighed and leaned her head back against the rough brick of the back wall.

“But you wouldn’t like it.” Elizabet pressed. Vivianne shrugged and looked away. “He’s gonna marry somebody, Vivi. And–it isn’t you. I mean even if you weren’t quasi-betrothed to that prince.”

“I’m working on that!” Vivianne interrupted in protest.

“He’s your brother, Vivi. You’d have better luck convincing your parents to let you out of being promised to the prince to marry my brother.”

“I don’t want to marry Josh!”

“And I don’t blame you. I mean he’s Josh.” Elizabet said it with such over the top distaste that Marianne couldn’t fight the giggle that bubbled up in her throat. “But he’s not your brother.”

“I don’t mean that I want to marry Leo.” Vivianne picked at a thread on her riding habit. “I just don’t want Caroline to. And I don’t want to marry the prince. I don’t look good in a tiara.”

“Well, I’d disagree with that. I think your head is shaped just right for a tiara.” Elizabet teased with a wink. Marianne sat down on the grass, turning her attention up to the clouds.

“What are you doing back here?” The sneering voice cut through the summer light, seeming to bring a cloud with it. Really, if it weren’t for the fact that Vivianne did have this peculiar attachment to her brother, Marianne would not see any problem with Vivianne wresting him away from Caroline. She’d probably even help her.

“Sitting. What are you doing back here?” Elizabet said.

“Well, the boys were being so loud, it’s hard to get acquainted in the presence of all that noise, so Mother suggested that we walk back here.” Caroline said.

“And there’s plenty of room for you to walk.” Elizabet said gesturing broadly. Vivianne slumped down on the bench crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh, Vivianne.” Caroline simpered. “You’ll ruin your posture, then what will the prince say?” Leo shot Caroline a black look that seemed to cow her for a moment. Apparently she’d forgotten that you didn’t, ever, make fun of Leo’s sister when he was standing right there. He shot Vivianne a sympathetic look and she smiled back–sort of–it was a flickery sort of smile, like a candleflame in a draft.

Caroline moved around the reflection pond, not seeming to notice that Leo wasn’t following her any more. That he wasn’t even looking at her. Then she paused and started to turn.

“Goodness, Caroline, look at the size of that bee.” Elizabet said.

“What bee?” Caroline sounded suspicious.

“The one on your shoulder. I’ve never seen one that big!” Elizabet gasped.

“Ahhh!!” Caroline waved her hands “Bee!” She turned and ran out of the garden.

“It’s a good thing there wasn’t really a bee, else it’d have stung her.” Elizabet snickered.

“Lady Elizabet.” Leo chided softly.

“Oh, c’mon. She deserved it. I will even go apologize if you can seriously, with a straight face, tell me she didn’t.” Leo, perhaps wisely, said nothing.

“Leo, Vivi,” Severus rounded the corner. “Oh, hi, Elizabet.”

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” Elizabet batted her lashes.

“Oh, uh, hey, uh Marianne.” Severus tugged lightly at the collar of his doublet. “Why did your sister come running around the house like all of Grimmy’s Cow Demons and some distant relatives of Elizabet’s were chasing her.”

“Severus, you really shouldn’t talk about cow demons in front of ladies.” Leo scolded. “It’s not appropriate.” Severus colored lightly under his freckles.

“It’s alright, Severus.” Marianne shook her head. “Elizabet told Caroline there was a bee on her shoulder.”

“Wouldn’t that be a really dumb way to handle a bee?” Severus asked before breaking eye contact to look at Elizabet. “Though truly classic on telling her that, Elizabet. I approve. Oh, uh, yeah, dad’s here, Leo. I was supposed to come get you and Vivi.” He glanced at Marianne again before running his hand over the back of his neck.

“Good afternoon, then, ladies.” Leo nodded as Vivianne moved past him toward where Severus stood.

“See you tomorrow at lessons.” Vivianne told them with a wave. A few quick strides later, Leo caught up with his sister and slung an easy arm around her shoulder.

“We just lost every bit of progress we might have made this afternoon, didn’t we?” Elizabet asked sitting down on the bench. Marianne sat down next to her smoothing her skirt.

She thought for a moment. “Aye.” Elizabet nodded and sighed. And all Marianne could do was nod and sigh as well. That seemed to pretty much say it all.