Hybel 4th, 1513 – Carico Estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire Albion

The words on the page in front of him were wavering for the third time, Josh closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The problem he’d found with choosing poetry as the subject he was being “tutored” in was that for so many years poetry had been his refuge from the craziness that came with being a Carico. But now every time he sat down to read one of those volumes, all he could hear was Darin’s deep voice, practically see him sitting in that chair by his desk, that half a smile on his lips. And that was just another bit of craziness that truthfully Josh didn’t need.

He sighed and flipped the page. He hadn’t expected to find someone he felt about the way he felt about Darin. Someone whose soul was a cracked and crazed and battered as his own was, but unlike Josh, someone who drew strength from adversity, someone who didn’t let that break him. He doubly would never have expected that it would be a “him”, certainly there were men that had “agreements”, he wasn’t totally innocent to the idea, but even had he entertained the idea, which he hadn’t really, before Darin, he’d never been that strongly attracted to anyone, male or female. Still an orphaned peasant boy was hardly what he ever would have pictured. Somehow though, none of that mattered when he looked at Darin. Still, it all hardly seemed to matter, Darin definitely was interested in the fairer sex, all you had to do was watch him with an attractive serving maid. And he had this feeling that was so deep it felt like knowledge that what was in store for him was that old Gaulish saw. Die young and leave a beautiful corpse.

And that brought his thoughts back around to why he was sitting here trying to lose himself in a volume of poetry anyway. In just a couple of short hours, they’d be piling into the carriage and heading to the cathedral to listen to a bunch of people lie about Milford Rance and what a great man he was.

It was usually lies, but when you considered he’d be in the pew next to–and behind–the reason that the man was in a box in the first place, the lies seemed that much more distasteful.

A knock came a moment later on the door. Josh didn’t jump exactly, but he did stand up and give his waistcoat a firm tug before saying “Come in.”

The door didn’t reveal who he thought it would. Usually if his mother wanted to see him, she had one of the maids summon him to wherever she was. But it was definitely his mother standing in the doorway, her black silk suit showing not the slightest sign of wilting, despite the heat of the day.

“I’m sorry to intrude.” His mother said, pausing just a few steps inside the door. “But I am at my wits end, Josh.” Josh couldn’t help the blink, if he did manage to restrain gaping at her. His mother come to beg help off of him. “Your sister listens to you far better than she ever listens to me. Please, try and talk some sense into her.”

“I know she’s stubborn, she’s related to your father’s family and mine. But usually she’ll see sense.” It was a shock to see Marisol flustered. Nothing ever seemed to phase her, she had a completely enviable ability to roll with whatever life threw at her. But she was definitely frazzled. “I do not even want to know what will come out of this. Please, Josh. I’ve had the maids lay out a couple of my suits, we have time to have them hemmed up before we have to leave.

“All right, Mother.” Josh said, not quite tracking what she was talking about. But apparently Bet had gotten an idea in her head and was being stubborn about it. Which if he thought about it, he should have expected. You’d have to be a saint to forgive a man who had done to Bet what Rance had. And now she had to go sit in the cathedral and listen to the same lies Josh had been lamenting listening to earlier. Of course she would rebel–and of the four of them, only Marisol didn’t know why she would be rebelling.

“Thank you, Josh. I’ll be downstairs in the parlor.” Marisol turned and walked back out into the hall and down the stairs. Josh squared his shoulders, feeling like a man suiting up for a battle, because if Bet had dug her feet in, it’d probably be one. And he he walked out the door, crossing the short piece of hall that separated his bedroom from hers and tapped on the ornate door.

“Who is it?” His sister’s familiar voice came a moment later.

“It’s Josh, can I come in?”

“Of course.” Of course. He pushed the door open and walked into his sister’s domain. Bet was at the mirror, checking her cosmetics, he guessed. “Mother sent you in to deal with me, huh?”

“Yeah. She didn’t, uh, actually get to the part where she explained what I’m supposed to be talking with you about, though.”

“My dress. She doesn’t think it’s appropriate, either for my age or the event.” Bet smoothed the waves of her hair one last time before stepping away from the mirror and around the screen. Josh bit his lip, pretty much to keep from pounding his fist against his forehead and groaning. He could definitely see why his mother had a problem with it. No twelve year old should be showing that much decolletage, nor really anyone attending a funeral.

“And you do?” Josh asked. If he couldn’t be honest with Elizabet than who could he be honest with? That was the thing that his mother didn’t understand about dealing with Elizabet when she got into one of her stubborn phases. You had to lay your cards out on the table, be honest. Marisol never laid her cards on the table. She wasn’t dishonest but she kept so many things close to the vest that you never felt she was truly being honest.

“If all I am to Father is a means to an end, a piece of meat to be auctioned off to the person who can give him what he wants, then why shouldn’t I acknowledge that?” Elizabet said, planting her hands on her hips in a way that said that he was not off to a great start.

“Because that’s not what you are, Bet. Aren’t you the one who always says that Father shouldn’t win with us? He doesn’t get to break you, he can’t.” Josh pulled his sister into a long hug, hating the way her body quivered as he did it.

“You think he should get to break you. Aren’t you the one who is always trying to be what that son of a bitch thinks you should be? To the point of completely denying your own heart?” Elizabet pointed out ruthlessly.

“And since when do you want to be me, Bet?” Josh shot back.

“Since I realized it doesn’t matter!” Elizabet said. “I’m still just a piece on his game board and nothing I do will change that. What’s the point in fighting and arguing and trying to be something else?”

“Okay.” Josh said. He saw her blink before he turned for the door.

“Okay?” Elizabet echoed. “What are you doing, Josh? Where are you going?”

“To my room, to get The Sword.” The Sword had been Joshua the First’s. The one that he had used to lead the army against the Remans in the battle that won the town. Elizabet caught his arm.

“And what are you going to do with it?” He felt a little tingle of something–magic, maybe?–coursing between her palm and his bicep.

“I’m going to kill our father with it.” Elizabet gasped and that tingle became a current that locked him in place.

“Josh! Don’t even joke about that!” Elizabet told him in a shocked voice.

“I’m not joking. If I can’t protect you from him while he’s alive, then I’ll just bloody make him not alive.” Josh said through clenched teeth. “The king won’t even have to come to River Sulis twice for a funeral. He can just stay an extra day while we get a box.”

“Josh, don’t throw your life away.”

“What life, Bet? I’m so fucked up that I can’t even fall in love right. You’d make a much better baroness than I’ll make a baron, Mother can go on with her life, Darin will be okay, you’ll take care of him, I know. Everyone and everything I care about will be safe as long as he’s not here.” Josh enumerated for her. It was about all he could do, his legs were trembling from whatever she’d done to him, and he wasn’t sure that they wouldn’t fail him a moment later.

“Josh.” Elizabet’s voice broke. “You can’t do that.”

“Orkneys are good at killing people who get in their way. It–and being batshit crazy–is about all we are good at.”

“I. Won’t. Let. You.” Elizabet told him.

“If my choices are you or him, I choose you. If my choices are you or me, I still choose you.” Josh told his sister.

“Josh.” Elizabet whispered. “You won’t, promise me, you won’t. We can’t lose each other.”

“If the dragon’s gone, you won’t need me.”

“But I will. I need you to be my big grouchy brother to scare all the pimply faced suitors Mother scrounges up. I don’t want to be Baroness. I want to be able to stand behind you and tell you I told you so while you do it.” Elizabet laughed, except it didn’t touch her eyes at all. “I won’t stop needing you after he’s gone and I am not going to let you take yourself away from me.”

A tap came at the door. “Lady Elizabet, Lord Joshua. Your lord father says it is time for you to leave.”

“See, we’ll be late for the funeral if you kill him. You can’t kill him.” Elizabet stuck her tongue out at Josh. “We’ll be right down, Fern. Now,” Elizabet poked him. “You stop being crazy. Right now, Joshua Piers.”

“You first, Elizabet Sophie. I always have to go first, it’s your turn.”

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?

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.”