Side Note: A cupid's bow is the indent below your nostrils and above your lips.
Confession: Alfred is my absolute favorite character in the DCU! Who is your favorite, and what are your thoughts on Mister Alfred Pennyworth?
Let me know and Please Review! :)
Chapter 8: Delivering the Message
Road, Kent County England, October 8, 1843
The Carriage jolted and bumped over the rough country roads as they made their way to Riverfoot Hall.
Diana had remained glued to the window. Watching the passing countryside. It was so green! It was unlike anything she had ever seen or could have imagined. A welcome change from the bland grey of London.
Clark smiled at her and returned to reading his newspaper, uninclined to interrupt.
Lois had not accompanied them. A decision that had hurt Diana. Thinking that Lois's desire to stay behind had something to do with her. Clark was quick to dispel these fears and gave her some insight into his wife's decision.
"The Lanes are neighbors of Ma's. Any visit to her would have demanded a visit to them, and that is something Lois likes to ration."
"Why, does she not like her family?"
"It isn't that she dislikes them. Her father is a good man, a hard man. He and Lois are more alike. He has always considered her his favorite child. But he isn't terribly affectionate so he wouldn't be offended by his daughter's absence."
"Favorite child? Does Lois have siblings?"
"A sister, Lucy."
"Do they not get along?"
"There relationship is a bit more complicated. Of course, Lois loves her sister, but there is a nine-year gap between them. Lucy is only 12, and they are very different. I'll wager you never met two sisters who were less alike."
Diana thought of Shani, Nadira, Sultana, and Shayera and knew he would've lost that bet.
"Lucy is a sweet girl who could benefit from a closer relationship with her sister. I know that Lois wishes they were closer. But Lucy does grate on her nerves."
"So it is Lois's mother who is the broken chain."
"I think you mean severed link, but yes."
"Severed?"
"It means broken."
"Then why can I not say broken?"
"Well it isn't how the saying goes."
"But if they mean the same thing then why can they not be used the same?"
"It's complicated."
Diana let out a groan and slumped back against the upholstery.
"Everything English is complicated."
Clark did his best to hide a bemused smirk.
"I suppose it is."
They continued the rest of the ride in comfortable silence. Diana being again distracted by the passing scenery.
After several hours of riding through idyllic pastures and farmland, the gracious sight of Riverfoot Hall came into view.
It was an elegant and unassuming country house in the Georgian style. With a simple, unadorned façade of even cut grey and white stone that rose a mere three stories high. The windows were evenly spaced with white trim and the front door was beneath an overhang supported by four stone columns.
Several chimneys dotted its slate roof. Vines of Ivy and late blooming flowers climbed its walls.
The house set in a little clearing surrounded on all sides by forests and parkland. Various winding paths led the way to the village and tenant farms.
By a poor man's standard, it was grand. For a rich man's fancy, it was pleasant. To a girl who had spent her whole life in an endless oriental palace, it was cozy.
The carriage rolled more smoothly now over the pebbled driveway. As they neared Diana spied a small figure race out of the front door. Catching sight of a blonde head bobbing up and down and arms waving in the air.
"They're here! Ma! They're here!"
The carriage came to a stop in front of the door.
Clark exited first.
As soon as his feet hit the ground the little girl flew at him. Laughing, Clark swung her in his arms and tossed her into the air.
Giggling the little girl wrapped her arms around his neck.
Setting her back on the ground Clark turned to the carriage and held out a hand to help Diana down.
She accepted and once on solid ground felt the crunch of gravel beneath her slippers.
Smiling, Clark put his hands on the little girl's shoulders.
"Diana this is my little sister, Lady Caroline Kent."
"Kara."
The little girl corrected as she stuck out a hand for Diana to shake.
Diana accepted and the little girl proudly shook her hand as an equal.
"You're tall," Kara observed.
Diana smiled at her refreshing bluntness.
"So I have been told."
"I am not tall, but I am only 9. Maybe when I am 10 I will be taller."
Diana's smile grew and she happily fed Kara's dreams.
"Oh, I am sure you will be, after all, look at how tall your brother is."
Kara studied Clark and nodded her head in approval.
"Yes, he is tall. But Ma says that is an accident."
"Why would she say that?"
"Because Ma's not tall, neither was Pa, so Clark is just odd."
Diana snorted. Struggling to contain her laughter.
Clark ruffled his sister's hair with his large hand and she beat him back with small but powerful fists.
"Come now Kara, we mustn't keep Ma waiting."
Kara took Diana's the hand and pulled her into the house. Keeping up a steady chatter all the way.
Bursting through the parlor doors at breakneck speed Kara slid to a stop. Throwing Diana to the floor in the process.
She was surprisingly strong for such a little girl.
"They're here!" Kara announced.
Diana stood and tried to regain her composure.
The room was painted a cheery yellow with white trim. A polished pianoforte sat against a wall beneath a bank of family portraits, and the rest of the mahogany and yellow upholstered furniture was angled toward it. Two large windows across from the fireplace let light pour in.
Sitting in a straight-backed chair under the window sat a woman. Dressed all in black, she was busy working at an embroidery stand.
She raised her head and her face glowed with love and admiration.
Diana found herself longing for the woman to take her in her arms and smooth all her cares away with gentle words.
"Diana, may I introduce my mother and your aunt, Martha Kent."
Clark smiled at his mother who held out her arms to him. He crossed the floor to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Kara ran over to her mother and pushed herself in front of her brother for a pat on the head and kiss of her own. Martha laughed at her daughter's shenanigans and the room filled with the sweet melody of her voice.
Diana watched the picturesque family scene with longing ache.
Martha looked away from the joys of her heart and saw Diana. Standing on the other side of the room in her white traveling dress and bonnet.
Tears sprang into the older woman's eyes as she stood and crossed the room.
Diana dropped into a deep curtsy.
"I am very happy to meet you, Aunt Martha."
She didn't even have a chance to straighten before the woman took her in her arms and hugged her fiercely.
Releasing her Martha gently took Diana's face in her hands and studied her. Trying to memorize every detail.
Blinking through the tears that streamed down her cheeks she smiled.
"You look so much like your mother…..Polly would be proud."
Again she embraced her. This time it was Diana who had to fight back tears.
Martha began to laugh as she let Diana go and wiped her tears away with her handkerchief.
"Oh, I'm sorry dear. I am so glad you are here."
Diana smiled in return and took a moment to look her aunt over.
Kara was right, she was short.
She had a soft sweetness about her that her sister lacked. She was a middle-aged woman of 46 who had been quite pretty in her younger days. Now she had a quiet elegance and dignity that had replaced the vivacity of her youth.
Martha had light blue eyes and white hair that was once a rich honey blonde but had changed prematurely. Her figure was fuller than Mary's stretched-out bony frame but she was by no means obese.
The sound of a masculine throat clearing made the group turn to the door.
A fat and important looking servant addressed Aunt Martha with plenty of drawn-out syllables and gravitas.
"Forgive me Madame but Mrs. Lane and a Miss Lucy Lane have arrived."
"Oh!"
"Thank you Desmond, please see them in. Oh and Desmond. Please make sure that Lady Diana's trunks are taken to her room and that Ellen knows to put the gilded mirror in there."
The butler bowed, not an easy task given his sizable girth.
Leaving to deploy the servants.
Martha smoothed down her dress and brushed a few stray hairs back into place.
Diana moved back to stand with Clark and Kara.
"Is Lois's mother and sister here?"
Clark nodded.
"The Lane's rent a cottage not far from Riverfoot. They probably saw us drive by. Miss Charlotte isn't one to waste an opportunity."
"She's a gossip and an insufferable bore."
"Kara!"
Clark hurridly covered his sister's mouth with his hand.
Kara gave his hand a good lick.
Clark pulled it away in disgust.
Prompting Kara to stick her tongue out at him for trying to silence her.
Diana bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
The doors opened.
In walked an overly dressed woman.
Following her was a slight girl who looked almost identical to Lois. Excepting for her eyes were blue instead of violet and instead of Lois's strong Romanesque nose hers was small, turning up at the end.
The girl made eye contact with her shoes and stood behind her mother like a scared rabbit.
Diana could see why Lois and Lucy did not get on well. Lois could never have appreciated the company of anyone so spineless.
"Martha dear!" Mrs. Lane crooned as she embraced the more sophisticated woman.
With a sweet smile, the Dowager Countess greeted her guests.
"Ella, what an unexpected surprise. And you've brought Lucy! It's a pleasure to see you again dear."
"Likewise Lady Kent." Lucy murmured.
As if hearing her voice reminded her of the girl's presence Mrs. Lane turned to her daughter.
"Don't slouch Lulu."
The young girl flushed at her mother's reprimand and tried to straighten her posture.
Kara wanted to give Mrs. Lane a good slap in the face. But, as much as she favored the direct approach, she wasn't about to invoke the disappointment of her own mother.
Mrs. Lane turned glinting eyes toward Diana and a brief look of envy flickered across her face. Soon replaced by a serene smile.
"You must be Diana, aren't you beautiful, I'm Charlotte Lane."
"Lady Diana."
Charlotte's smile became more forced.
She did not like remembering her lower social status.
She had risen as far as she could in life. Now her only opportunities were through the advancement of her daughters.
So far she had done well with Lois. But no matter how successful her children, it would never lessen the sting of her daughter being a Countess while she remained just Mrs. Samuel Lane.
But, connections were the next best thing to rank, and the long-lost Lady Diana Princeton was a profitable acquaintance.
"This is my youngest, Lucy."
Charlotte motioned the girl forward and she gave Diana a curtsy.
As quickly as she acknowledged her Mrs. Lane ignored her daughter once more. Moving on to more interesting subjects.
"I believe you know my eldest, the current Countess of Lonworth, darling Clark's wife."
Clark shifted uncomfortably. Feeling like a prize Miss Charlotte had won.
Sensing the tension Martha intervened.
"Clark I do hate to do this to you seeing as how we have guests, but, Mr. Dent left some papers and I can't make sense of them. Would you have a look for me?"
"Of course Ma."
Clark looked relieved.
"Thank you, they are in your father's…they're in the study."
Clark nodded to his in-laws and then left to do his own mother's bidding.
Turning her attention to the girls Aunt Martha gave them the gift of sweet freedom.
"Kara, be a dear and show your cousin the stable. I am sure she would love to meet Allura. And Lucy, why don't you go too, no need for you three to be hanging about while we talk."
Kara didn't need to be asked twice. Taking Diana by the hand she broke for the door; Lucy following docilely behind.
Once outside the little girl gave an exaggerated sigh and began marching down the hill. Expecting her charges to follow her. Lucy and Diana exchanged confused looks before following Kara down the hill.
"Lucy, why did Aunt Martha call your mother Ella? She said her name was Charlotte."
Lucy kept her eyes on the ground careful not to trip on the incline that Kara had run down.
"Mother's middle name is Elinore, she likes it better than Charlotte so her friends call her Ella. But mother thinks it is disrespectful of children to refer to their elders by such a familiar name. Everyone else calls her Miss Charlotte or Mrs. Lane."
Diana nodded at the explanation and tried to think of something else to talk about.
She couldn't think of anything so she turned the conversation to Kara, hoping Lucy might join in.
"So who is Allura?"
Kara turned around, now walking backward, showing off her superior agility.
"My horse! Ma finally let me have one of my very own. I had three ponies but they didn't go fast enough."
She turned back and slowed down, giving Diana and Lucy a chance to catch up.
Reaching the stable Kara ran inside, leaving the older girls behind.
"Kara don't run, it isn't lady-like."
Lucy's advice was ignored. Whilst Diana silently rejoiced that Lucy had demonstrated independent thought and speech!
Yes, there might be hope for Miss Lucy Lane yet.
As she followed Lucy and Kara she thought how nice it would be to have a friend nearer her own age.
Later that evening
The Lanes had finally left.
But not before Mrs. Lane talked about how the one mile walk from the cottage to Riverfoot Hall. Mentioning how tiring it had been and it taxed her health.
Taking the hint Clark had ordered the carriage. Personally escorting his mother-in-law to the safety of her own home.
The departure of their guests gave Aunt Martha the opportunity to give Diana a tour of the house.
The tour ended with Diana's bedroom.
Opening the doors Diana fell in love with the cozy atmosphere. It was larger than her room at Lois and Clark's but in some way felt more intimate.
Painted a soft sky blue with a four poster bed and a marble fireplace. The bed curtains and drapes were midnight blue. Embroidered with green and gold thread, depicting vines of gold roses and snowdrops.
The room held the normal furnishings of a bedchamber. Including a mahogany chaise at the foot of the bed and a simple oak writing desk on one of the longer walls.
Diana spied her trunks stacked against the wall. She wondered how she would ever fit all her clothes in the armoire.
She turned to tell her Aunt how much she loved her room.
But froze before the words escaped her throat.
She almost tripped running back across the room, to the portrait on the wall.
It was of a couple. A man with raven black hair looked unsmiling from the frame. Next to him stood a woman with yellow hair, high cheekbones, a straight Grecian nose, and magnificent azure eyes…. her eyes…She looked out of her painted prison with indifference and a bit of sadness.
"I thought you might like to have that. I had a bit of difficulty finding it. but Mary does have such an odd elephant-like memory, it proved less puzzling for her."
Diana reached out and touched the canvas.
"Is she…are they…"
"Your parents."
Diana took a shaky breath.
"I remember her…at least I think I do…I remember her hair…"
A pounding knock on the door made both women jump.
"Sorry." Said a deep female voice.
"That's alright. Diana, this is Barda, she will be your personal maid."
Diana stared dumbfounded.
The woman was a giant! A true giant!
She was taller than any woman, or man, Diana had ever seen. She must have been 6 foot 4 at the very least! The maid's skin was tan and she carried herself more like a soldier than a servant. Her arms were muscular and she moved with the graceful stealth of a lioness. Her long black hair hung in a high ponytail and her dark brown eyes assessed Diana with cool calculation. Making the girls skin crawl.
Barda? More like Big Barda!
Something about her seemed vaguely familiar.
"My Lady."
Barda gave a gesture that resembled more of a bow than a curtsy. Then ignoring the pair, she crossed the room with large pounding strides and began to unpack the trunks.
There was a slight accent to the maid's words that teased Diana's thoughts, but again, she could not place it.
But there was no time to wonder about that now, it was time for dinner.
October 9, 1843
"Diana, where are we going?"
"Exploring."
"For what?"
"I don't know, what kinds of dragons do you have in England?"
"Dragons don't exist."
Kara was becoming annoyed at her cousin's obvious lack of common sense.
"Oh, but they must!"
Diana continued down the forest path, breaking a twig of a tree that had gotten in her way.
"Why?"
"Because while I was at Clark's Beth told me about an English knight named George, who killed a dragon! And apparently, everyone was so grateful that they made him a saint! Whatever that is."
"But that was a thousand years ago! Dragons don't exist anymore."
"Of course they do, they're just much smaller now."
"How much smaller?"
Diana stopped, turned around theatrically and bent down so she could look the nine year old in the eye.
"Have you ever seen a little creature covered in scales, with a long tongue, who can run up walls, and is occasionally green or blue?"
"You mean lizards?!"
Diana shook her head.
"No, baby dragons."
Kara perked up again at the idea of the fantastical living right under her nose.
"Are there dragons in Dagra?"
Diana shrugged.
"Hundreds."
They spent the rest of the morning on a thrilling dragon hunt. Which alas proved unfruitful, but was a lot of fun.
After luncheon, Kara had lessons with her governess, Miss Spencer. Aunt Martha planned for Diana to also have lessons but not until she was more settled in her new home.
She spent the latter half of her afternoon with her Aunt in the parlor. Watching while she embroidered and attempted to teach the skill to Diana.
The older woman smiled as for the 73rd time Diana stuck herself with the needle.
"Your mother never liked needlework. I never understood why she was wonderful at it. But, Polly always preferred to be outdoors rather than cooped up in a sitting room."
Martha took the hoop away from her niece and began to unknot the thread which Diana had maimed.
"What was she like?"
Martha's eyes misted over and took on a faraway look.
"She was my sister, and as far as I was concerned the most wonderful person in the world. From the moment I was born I was her subordinate, at least that's what she told me…but Polly was also my protector."
"Were you close?"
Martha chuckled.
"She was a perfectionist and a controlling. If she was going to do anything you could be sure she was going to be the best at it. But yes, despite our differences, we were very close. Besides, it wasn't me that her competitive spirit ran afoul of, it was Mary."
"Why?"
"As I am sure you have noticed Mary can be something of a non-conformist, and a recluse. My sister has always preferred books to people. She finds the latter more rational and interesting. Made her something of a know-it-all, and neither she nor Hippolyta could stand being wrong. They would argue for days. Mother used to threaten to lock them outside! She would say that if they were going to squeal like hogs, then they could live like hogs! She did it once too. We opened the door the next morning to find them both dripping wet, shivering, and still arguing as passionately as ever."
Diana smiled.
"Things got better between them after Mary's marriage to Benjamin. Such an odd man, to this day I believe that if those two hadn't found each other than no one would ever have come along. For either of them."
"What is wrong with Uncle Benjamin?"
"Well let's just say that as much as Mary loves books, Benjamin loves animals even more. Especially birds. Did you know that when Dinah was born he wanted to name her canary!?"
Martha laughed.
"Of course Mary named her after a character in one of her books instead…or was it the Bible? I can't remember. Anyway, so not wanting a fight Benjamin decided that Mary could call her Dinah and he would call her canary. Mary went along with it, assuming that the name would drop off once she got older. The nickname only stuck more of course once everyone discovered her remarkable singing voice, so Mary did end up losing that battle."
"So they are happy together?"
"Surprisingly yes. I think that was what made things better between Hippolyta and Mary…and eventually drove them even further apart."
"What do you mean? What happened?"
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder. With Mary out of the house Hippolyta had no one to battle with, and after a few months, she began to miss her. Their relationship improved as both began to grow up. Well, Polly did at least. She was still a perfectionist but she seemed to blossom. She became much more regal, more refined. She had always been self-assured and serious. This made her quite attractive to the gentlemen of our acquaintance. Used to make me so jealous. I thought no one would ever notice me as long as she was around. But, Hippolyta seemed bored with the idea of being courted. None of the men we knew interested her. They fell over themselves trying to win her affections! But the harder they tried, the more removed from their grasp she became. Until Zachary"
"My Father?"
"Yes, he was different from the rest. Zachary wasn't a love-sick boy, he was a man. Roguish and exciting, with an insatiable thirst for adventure. He had a reckless abandon that fascinated her, and Hippolyta was equally as infatuating to him. She was so proud and sophisticated. Our mother did not approve. The great Diana Lennox thought him boorish and unrefined, despite his being a duke. Mother used to say that a titled person without good breeding was no better than a mule pulling a carriage. When Polly informed her that after a short acquaintance of only three months that they intended to marry mother was horrified."
"Did they run off together?"
Diana's mind filled with romantic tales of forbidden love.
"No, mother relented. She could hardly have stopped them. When Hippolyta wanted something she tended to win out in the end. And by that time I had already left home to marry Jonathan. I think Polly saw her youth ebbing away. Watching our contentment, she longed for a change for herself."
"Were they happy together?"
Martha looked at the young girl and Diana thought she saw a look of regret pass over her face.
"No, they were not. For all her beauty and intelligence, and his recklessness and excitement, they were not happy."
"Oh."
Martha felt guilty for having told her the truth. Afraid she'd tarnished her view of her unknown parents.
But Diana felt no sorrow. What rationale could have justified such a feeling for people she had never known?
She had seen unhappy marriages and the knowledge of one more hardly held any real sway in her thinking.
"You said that something drove my mother and Aunt Mary apart again?"
Martha took a deep breath.
"As her own marriage began to fall apart, Polly, came to resent Mary's and my happiness. She became closed off and bitter. I was here in the country, but poor Mary was in London. Things got so bad between them that they quit speaking altogether. Benjamin would bring Dinah to visit, but Mary never spoke to her again… When she died…. I have never seen my sister so distraught."
Aunt Martha had ceased her work on the embroidery hoop.
Instead turning to look out the window.
Diana reached out and took her aunt's hands in hers.
Martha turned back to her niece.
"Was my father a very hard man to love?"
"He had his faults, as we all do. But he was not cruel. I believe the main issue on his part was that he didn't understand her, didn't know her. And Polly, she never had anything to give her life purpose."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I had my family, Jonathan and my children. Mary had her books, numbers, phonetics, philosophies. But Hippolyta never had anything like that….until you."
"Me?"
"I don't know who was more surprised at the news that your mother was expecting, us, or your parents. To be completely honest she was uncertain about the whole thing. Hippolyta had never imagined herself as a mother. But from the moment you were born, you were the light of her life, and your father's as well. You've never seen a man so taken with a child as he was with you. Before you could even hold your head up Zachary had bought you a pony, and Hippolyta spent every waking moment with you in her arms. She completely dismissed the idea of having a nanny, not wishing to share you with anyone else."
Martha smiled at the memories.
Diana listened in fascination.
"And then, were they happy?"
"Perhaps not with each other, but very much with you."
The door burst open and in flew Kara, released at last from her lessons.
"DIANA! Can we go look for Dragons again? We haven't checked the churchyard yet!"
11:25 pm that evening.
Crossing the polished wood floor Diana held her candle aloft. Feeling her way in the dark, trying to find her desk.
Her white nightgown billowed across the boards as she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders.
Taking her seat she opened one of the drawers and pulled out a stiff piece of paper.
Carefully, she opened the inkwell and checked the point on her pen.
Moving the candle closer to cast more light she began her letter.
Dear Bruce,
I have finally met Aunt Martha! She is wonderful! You were right, I like Riverfoot Hall very much, though it is a bit small, but Clark said it was simply cozy, I pretended to agree with him at the time because I didn't want to admit that I did not know what cozy meant. I have since looked it up and find that I do agree, Riverfoot is quite cozy. Kara is proving interesting and very informative, already she has taught me the proper technique for dunking biscuits in milk and the use of something called a skipping rope. I also have had the misfortune of meeting Mrs. Charlotte Lane, a miserable and untrustworthy person in my opinion and I would challenge you to disagree. She is insufferable and never tires of poking her nose in other people's business. One of the maids, Vanessa, told me that she actually forced her daughters to walk for hours in the rain to keep their complexions white! I think that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard of! I asked Vanessa why having white skin was so important but she wouldn't answer me and instead crinkled her face up all funny like she had sucked on a lemon and told me to run along and not ask such silly questions. Of course, I found her answer unsatisfactory and went looking for someone with a bit more intelligence than Vanessa, but they all acted like I should have known the answer already. Really it is astounding how simple these English folk can be, of course, I did not know the answer, otherwise I would not have asked the question. Anyways the housekeeper, Ellen, finally gave me an answer. She said that pale skin was the mark of a lady, I told her that there were two more obvious tellers and she got very pink in the face. Don't you think that is odd? To judge a woman as a lady because she sunburns more easily? I don't believe I shall ever understand how the English think…I am happy here Bruce, or at least I am happier, but I wish you were here too. It is very lonely sometimes, Kara is charming but she is very young, Aunt Martha is loving and kind, but it is not the same. I don't feel I can tell her, or any of them really, the truth of my feelings because I know they all so desperately want me to be happy here, with them, I can't stand the thought of upsetting them with the truth. I want to be happy here, to truly be Lady Diana Princeton, proper and fine English lady with completely pointless white skin that will make Mrs. Lane squirm with envy. Though my gaining the latter is not very likely since I have no desire to be shut away from what little sun there is to be had in this wet country. But the truth is that when I close my eyes at night, my dreams betray my true feelings that I try so hard to keep secret. In my dreams I am back, back home, I can see the desert, feel the salty breeze, hear the sound of cool precious water flowing in the palace fountains, I see my sister's face, I can feel my mother's love, and it hurts. It hurts so bad I can't breathe, I wake up every night with a pain in my chest and tears I don't remember shedding on my face. I miss them, I want to go back, but at the same time going back would equally break my heart. For then I would have to say goodbye to Aunt Martha, and Kara, Clark, Lois, everyone. No, I suppose going back would not solve my problems. I think I am learning to accept the inevitable. But still, it would be so much easier if you were here. I imagine it must be so exciting sailing around the world on your ship! You must think I am being ungrateful and complaining, so just to prove you wrong I have some happy news. I have decided to make a friend! Along with the burdensome acquaintances of Mrs. Lane, I have also met her daughter, Lucy. To be perfectly honest I understand why Lois cannot abide her. She is a mealy-mouthed little thing who seems incapable of making eye contact with anything besides her shoes and is being held captive underneath her mother's oppressive thumb. But I believe there is hope for her. I must go now, I can hear Barda coming to make sure I'm asleep. I'll write again soon.
Love,
The Proper and very English Lady Diana Princeton.
The Next Morning, October 10, 1843
Diana was the first down for breakfast the next morning. She had something to discuss with her Aunt.
She found Martha sitting at the breakfast table sipping a cup of hot tea. She smiled and motioned for her to join her.
Diana sat opposite her Aunt as the latter poured the darkish liquid into a cup with small purple flowers edged in gold painted on its surface. It wasn't large enough to quench someone's thirst. Diana supposed it was more for appearances than convenience.
She accepted the cup and took a sip.
"Aunt Martha, there is something I wanted to ask you."
"What's that Diana?"
"When Bruce left, he gave me this."
Diana produced the note Bruce had given her from the folds of her skirt and handed it across the table to her Aunt.
Martha took the letter and read the name on its surface.
"Alfred Pennyworth!"
"Do you know him?"
"Yes, quite well, he is a dear old man."
"Wonderful! Bruce asked me to give that to him, but I have no idea where he is."
"Why he lives at Wayne Castle."
Martha returned the letter.
"Would it be possible to send him this letter?"
"Why don't you deliver it yourself."
"May I?"
"Of course, Gotham is only an hour by carriage. I think the old gentleman would be delighted with the company."
"Thank you, Aunt Martha!"
Diana squealed while Martha smiled.
"I'll order the carriage for this afternoon."
That Afternoon, Road from Riverfoot Hall to Wayne Castle.
Diana watched the passing scenery as they made their way through the forest on the road to Gotham.
According to their driver, Baxter, they wouldn't actually be going to Gotham itself. Wayne Castle was right outside of it on an expansive estate.
Diana tried to imagine what Bruce's home looked like, but for once her imagination failed her.
She couldn't picture anyplace that Bruce would call home. The ship seemed such a natural environment for him. She hadn't given much thought to his existence outside of it.
The carriage rocked as they went over a particularly deep pothole.
"Careful!" barked Barda as she gripped the edge of the seat, shooting deadly looks into the driver's back.
Diana turned to her maid.
Barda looked like she was waiting for an attack.
She decided to attempt conversation, if for no other reason than to keep Baxter from Big Barda's wrath.
"Did you grow up around here Barda?"
The maid didn't answer. Continuing to survey the forested road like a solider.
Diana sighed.
If someone had to accompany me why did it have to be Big Barda!?
The palace harem may have been a walled-in gilded world but at least she had been able to navigate it unabated.
Aunt Martha had explained to her the social rules of young ladies being chaperoned. Especially when visiting someone for the first time. She found such a rule insulting.
She could have tolerated it if her companion could have been anyone else. Ellen maybe, or even Aunt Martha. But no, it had to be Barda.
Dull, unspeaking, critical looking Big Barda!
The rest of the ride passed in silence. Big surprise.
At last, the trees lining the road began to thin and give way to a clearing.
They emerged from the main road to a graveled path and Diana caught her first glimpse of Wayne Castle coming into view.
Diana let out a gasp and even Barda lost her sour look, for a moment.
If England had been a shock then Wayne Castle was unfathomable.
A medieval fortress of dark stone it rose higher and higher into the sky until almost meeting the clouds.
Complete with turrets, towers, and even a drawbridge!
The castle stretched up and out in all directions. Swallowing the green landscape as it went. Various types of windows marched along the proud facade and on the largest tower, she could see narrow arrow slits. The kind archers would have used to defend the castle centuries ago.
It looked like an old knight standing watch that had aged beyond even the nature that surrounded it.
Completely unfazed by the powerful visage Baxter drove the carriage over the drawbridge and through the looming gate.
As they passed under Diana looked up and saw the iron teeth of the gate starring down at her.
The Carriage came to a stop in the central courtyard and Baxter held out a hand to help the ladies down.
Barda ignored him. Leaping from the carriage, causing the vehicle to lurch.
Baxter watched her go with an offended look on his proud face. Displeased with Barda's rudeness, Diana accepted his hand and exited more gracefully.
"I'll be back for ya in an hour."
"Thank you, Baxter."
He nodded. Giving Barda another disgruntled look before climbing back into the driver's seat and urging the horses out of the castle.
For the hundredth time, she felt to be sure the letter Bruce gave her was safe in the cloth bag. Ellen had called it a handbag and it was impressive. Deep purple and embroidered with birds, it was so small that she didn't know how she how to keep from losing it. However, it did prove convenient.
Removing the letter, she tried to straighten what creases had formed during its confinement in the cloth contraption.
Barda waited.
Satisfied with its appearance Diana climbed the stone steps to the main doors, with Barda following close behind.
Diana lifted the brass circular knocker and let it fall back against the wood with an echoing bang.
Deciding one knock might not be enough she gave the knocker another three swings.
Halting when she heard the faint sound of footsteps slapping stone on the other side.
The giant door creaked and groaned as it inched back into the darkness. A man appeared, stepping forward into the light.
He was around sixty years old and carried himself with a dignified air.
He was thin, bordering on bony, but his back stood straight and strong, refusing to bend to age. His face was oval in shape with a thin but strong nose. His hair had once been black but was now peppered with gray, at least what remained of it as the top of his head was bald.
His hair formed a carpet ring around his skull except for his forehead. Which was also bare and creased with permanent worry lines. His blue eyes were small and sincere, squinting in the sunlight. A strong chin and thin mouth framed beneath a stiff mustache that sat in two black lines on either side of his cupid's bow.
Seeing the young girl standing before him in her mint green dress and straw bonnet his eyes widened. The sweet older face took on the appearance of being in a dream.
"Lady Diana?" he asked with disbelief and a note of hope.
How did he know who she was?
"Yes? I am Lady Diana Princeton."
Something of what she said, or perhaps her accent broke the spell.
His face lost its dreamlike quality, replaced with keen interest.
"Are you really? I hadn't believed it when I heard you had returned, but I can see now I was wrong."
Diana smiled. Not sure if his comment was in need of a response.
Remembering her reason for being there she held up the letter.
"Excuse us for intruding sir, but I am looking for a mister…"
Diana looked down at the name written on the note to be sure she didn't mispronounce it.
"…a mister, Alfred Pennyworth…Do you know if he is here or where I might find him please?"
The old gentleman bowed.
"I am Alfred Pennyworth, Butler to the Wayne Family. How may I be of service to you Lady Diana?"
Diana's smile grew. She handed the letter to him and returned his bow with a curtsy. As Bruce had taught her to.
"Oh I am so glad to meet you! Bruce gave me this letter to give to you."
Alfred took the letter. His face concerned.
He opened the note and scanned it.
He kept it close to his person making it impossible for Diana to sneak a peek at the contents.
His face relaxed and he turned back to her with delight.
"Thank you so much for bringing this to me dear Lady. Now, won't you and your companion please stay for tea?"
"Oh yes, that sounds awfully nice."
With surprising spryness, the butler threw open the ancient door. Flooding the entryway with light. Bowing again and motioned for the pair to follow him down the hall and prattled happily about the joy of having guests.
They followed him down a large stone gallery to another set of enormous polished dark wood doors. He opened the door and motioned the ladies inside.
The hall was dark with various objects concealed beneath sheets. The parlor was bright and, if not exactly cheerful, it at least felt more welcoming and lived in.
"I will return momentarily."
Alfred left the room and closing the door behind him.
Soon as he had gone Barda picked up an ornate clock from the mantle and studied its various designs and gold inlay.
It was all Diana could do to keep from slapping the clock out of her hands.
"Barda! Put that down!"
The giantess gave her a look that suggested she didn't care what Diana said one way or another. But she did put the clock down and instead clopped over to the window.
Diana curled her hands into fists.
Biting down on her tongue.
Never in her life had known such an incompetent servant!
That Big Brute! She didn't behave like a servant at all! More like a warden.
The door opened. Distracting her from her indignation.
Alfred entered smiling, holding a shiny silver tray.
He put it down on a small table in front of a green settee.
"Now, please, make yourself comfortable."
Diana plopped down on the sofa. Hearing the crunch of her skirt against the upholstery.
Alfred turned his attention to the other woman in his company.
"And you miss?"
"Barda." A deep voice growled.
She was a good six inches taller and stared down at the man's bald head.
Unfazed by this tower of strength Alfred offered her a respectful bow and kissed her hand.
Diana could have sworn that for a moment Barda blushed, and, could it be possible a tiny smile teased her lips?
She's actually quite pretty when she's happy.
Barda, once more stoic, pulled her hand away and crossed her arms.
Alfred acted as if her behavior was normal, instead of the rude insult he should have taken it for.
"Would you care for tea?" He asked.
Motioning toward the settee where Diana waited.
Barda eyed the couch and looked back at the butler.
The silence dragged and Diana strained as she watched the maid.
Answer him! You're not a mute! Answer when spoken to!
"Of course it is such a lovely day, and this window holds quite a majestic view. Would prefer your tea here? Then you can enjoy it for yourself."
"Yes."
The man's eyes lit up.
My god! She actually answered...
With efficiency, he retrieved an armchair. Placing it for her at the base of the large window. He then returned to the tray and retrieved a cup of tea and a small plate of sweets.
"Here you madam. I do hope you enjoy them."
He presented Barda with the tiny porcelain cup, which all but disappeared within her large hand. Sitting the tray of sweets in the window sill. Bowing he returned to his other guest at the settee.
Barda looked at the chair, then the cup, then the chair.
Pausing, she sat down with care in the fine chair.
Looking to the plate she picked up a sweet, rubbing it between her fingers she gave it a sniff. Finally taking a small bite.
She must have enjoyed it as she reached for two more before turning her attention to the window. Munching away on a biscuit as she watched the view.
"Now," said Alfred. Taking a seat beside Diana.
"Do you prefer crème or sugar?"
"Both please."
He served the tea and the two sipped in silence.
Diana looked around the room while Alfred helped himself to a jam tart.
Pointing to a gold and gem-encrusted curved sword that hung over the mantle she asked.
"I didn't know the English had access to anything like that."
"Oh, do you like it? As I recall it is Indian in design...but I could be mistaken. Master Bruce's father was something of a collector. He brought that back with him from his last trip to the east. That must have been around 1826. It was right before—Master Bruce is something of an adventurer himself. He has even added his own selections to the collection."
Alfred took another sip of his tea.
"No, now that I think about it, it couldn't be from India….Heavens, where is it from?"
"It's Persian," said Diana. Helping herself to another scone.
Alfred looked at her, eyes wide.
"Really? Remarkable! You know I have always wondered, do you perhaps know what it's called?"
"It's called a Shamshir."
"Amazing!"
"You weren't entirely wrong in supposing its origins were Indian. But, they would have called it a Talwaar."
Alfred set down his cup and listened in fascination.
Feeling important Diana sat a little straighter.
"The Egyptians have another name for it, Kilij. No, wait…that is the Ottomans. Or maybe they both call it that, I suppose I can't remember."
"But then how do you know this one is Persian and not Indian or Turkish?"
"Because it says so."
Alfred looked back at the sword but found no words written on it.
"Where?"
"Right there. Do you see that golden design?"
"Yes."
"That is Persian writing."
"Well good heavens! I had always supposed it to be mere decoration. How did you come across such fascinating information?"
Diana paused mid-sip.
Her voice shrunk and grew quiet.
"My sister taught me."
Alfred waited.
She didn't continue. But stared at the cup in her hands, her thoughts far away.
Her Melancholic look broke his sentimental old heart.
"Won't you tell me about her?"
His voice was so kind. She'd fought so hard, but, a few tears rolled down her cheeks.
She turned away.
He took the cup from her hand and placed it on the table, understanding.
For all her grown-up dresses and fine speech, she was still a scared little girl.
Not so unlike another young woman he had once known.
"I cannot talk about them at home….They want me to be happy here...it's hard to act as if the past didn't exist... If I talk about it, they will think I am unhappy, and that would hurt them. I don't want to hurt them."
The older gentleman nodded.
"It can be hard to protect all those you love. Sometimes the best person to talk to is the one you know least….What is your sister's name?"
Despite the tears that still glistened in her eyes Diana's face spread into a beautiful smile.
"Shayera, Princess of Dagra. She loved to learn about swords!"
Alfred's eyes widened.
"A princess? I knew you had been raised in the east, but I had no idea it was a palace!"
Diana raised her head high.
"I was raised a princess. In the palace of Sultana Garsiv of Dagra."
Alfred stood and bowed again.
"You're Highness."
Kingdom of Dagra
Shayera watched as Prince Kareem left his mother's rooms.
He didn't acknowledge her. Even though she watched him go with her arms crossed and hawk-like eyes boring into his back.
He appeared frantic. Trying to escape this realm of women as fast as possible.
Pushing some poor girl to the ground in his haste to flee.
What did that snake do?
Shayera loathed Kareem.
He was a two-faced jackal who delighted in cruelty. He had a reputation within the harem as an abusive master and without as a cold-blooded soldier.
A servant came running toward her, forgetting to bow in her haste.
"Princess Shayera! Please, you must come quickly!"
Shayera ran past the girl towards the rooms that Kareem had fled.
She could hear the wailing as she neared, making her skin crawl.
Running through the various chambers she finally found her.
Servants cowered around the edge of the room, too terrified to venture near.
Jumping at each new scream as it assaulted the air.
Nura threw herself on the floor! Wailing she banged her fists against the stone until they bled.
Horrified Shayera watched her, rooted to the floor in shock.
The woman pulled herself to her knees and began rocking back and forth.
"WHY! ALLAH WHY?"
The Servants Backed Further Away.
"WAS IT SO UNFORGIVABLE?! DID I DESERVE THIS? WHY HAVE YOU CURSED ME?"
Another Scream Pierced the air and Shayera covered her ears as her spine vibrated at the sound.
"MERCY! I BEG YOU!"
"N-Nura?"
"I have no sons! I curse you all! Hear me! The day they were born bitterness entered my life! MAY NONE OF YOU KNOW A DAY'S PEACE FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE! DO YOU HEAR ME GARSIV? MAY YOU DIE A THOUSAND DEATHS YOU SON OF BLOOD! SHACKLE AND CHAIN OF MY EXISTENCE MAY GOD STRIKE YOU DOWN!"
She continued to spew curses against the Sultan and their sons.
Shayera felt a cold fear work its way up her body.
No one, not even Nura, criticized the Sultan!
Nura reached up and began pulling out clumps of her magnificent hair.
Shayera raced for her.
Flinging herself to the ground.
Capturing the hysterical woman's wrists she held them tight! Before she could do any more harm to herself.
Nura continued to wail and thrash.
Shayera turned to the servants.
"GET OUT ALL OF YOU!"
With madness driving them they fled the scene.
Nura continued to fight.
Shayera struggling to maintain her grip.
"NURA! NURA! WHAT HAS HAPPENED? NURA STOP!"
Nura ceased.
Collapsing against Shayera she dissolved into choking sobs.
Shayera didn't know what to do.
Wrapping her arms around the older woman she tried to speak in a calm, soothing tone.
But her voice wouldn't stop shaking.
"Nura...N-Nura, calm yourself. What...what's wrong? What's happened? Has Kareem done something?"
Hearing her son's name Nura jerked back away.
Crawling hurriedly away from Shayera.
Crouched in a corner she spit on the stone, cursing her son and his descendants.
Shayera watched helplessly.
What was she supposed to do? She didn't know what to do?
Getting on her hands and knees she crept across the floor.
Holding out a hand she tried to coax her out of the corner.
"Nura? Nura I want to help...but you have to tell me what you need...Nura? Do you hear me?"
Nura stared at her with wide frightened eyes.
Covering her face she began to rock back and forth again.
Sobs palpitated in Shayera's ears as she edged closer.
Moving slowly, Shayera pulled her away from the corner.
Wrapping her arms around the older woman she held her arms tightly. Hoping she could keep her from hurting herself further.
"Sold." Nura hissed through her tears.
"What?"
"Sold!" Nura repeated.
"What are you talking about? What was sold?"
"A throne bought with blood! A throne bought with blood! Sold!"
Nura continued to chant as Shayera began to fear she had lost her mind.
What is happening?
