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The Lighting Of The Fires (Chapter 2)
"What is this I am told?" Lady Peacecraft said loudly as she pulled up the shades in Relena's bedchamber. Sunlight came blindingly through the windows, battening upon Relena's closed eyelids and reddening the darkness beneath them. Relena, opening her eyes, blinked against that brightness and would have rolled over to bury her face in the pillows had not her mother seized her arm.
"You danced a country dance with Lord Winner?" Lady Peacecraft questioned.
"Yes…" Relena moaned, unhappily reminded of that dance. "I stepped on his foot. I wish he would not have asked me. I much preferred speaking to him. He did not wince, but I cannot think it was very comfortable. I expect that is why I did not see him anymore." She groaned and buried her face in the pillow.
"Sybil tells me that you had quite a conversation with him," Lady Peacecraft said, appropriating the pillow. "Do wake up, Relena," she continued impatiently. "It is fifteen minutes past the hour of ten, and you have slept quite long enough."
Relena regarded her mother blearily. Generally Lady Peacecraft did not care how long she slept. She read eagerness and hope in her mother's gaze and had no trouble tracing them to their source. "We conversed about Maria Edgeworth, Mama. I was reading one of her books, and he told me that his wife used to read them too."
"His wife is dead," Lady Peacecraft said with satisfaction that Relena, now reluctantly awake, found most inappropriate."
"She died two years ago. He has had time to recover from her passing. He is the last of his line, you know."
"I do feel sorry for him," Relena said. "Poor man."
"He is not poor, my dear. He is exceedingly rich and he belongs to a fine family. It is small wonder that his godmother, Lady Cavendish is anxious for him to marry – his sister Iria too."
"They…they want him to marry his sister?" Relena sat up straight, staring at her mother incredulously.
"May heaven preserve me!" Lady Peacecraft exclaimed. "You are not usually so dense, Relena. I said that his sister, Iria, Lady Belmore, wishes him to marry again. She has given birth to twin daughters and cannot have any more children. Consequently, if he does not marry, the line will end with him. He must have an heir!"
"I do not believe that he should be pressed to marry again, at least not immediately," Relena said staunchly. "I have the feeling that he is very unhappy. His smile never reaches his eyes." She added, "I heard last night that his wife was very beautiful."
"She was beautiful and, unfortunately, of a poetical bent, my friend Lady Latimer told me. She had a slight acquaintance with Dorothy and said that she reminded her of Lady Caroline Lamb, tiny, wispy, and frail. I understand she was much more beautiful than poor Caroline; but no matter, she loved roaming through the high grass when it was touched with morning dew or some such folderol, and did so even when she was with child with the result that she caught a fever and subsequently died in childbed, losing the child too. Not even Caro Lamb was that silly! But of course, Lady Latimer said, he – Lord Marne – was inconsolable. She had captured his imagination along with his heart. Oh, dear, I do not know why I am giving you all this nonsense. It is far more important that I tell you that you have received a large bouquet of roses from Lord Marne, and he has written that he hopes he may wait upon you this afternoon at three."
"Surely you jest!" Relena cried.
"Of course I do not jest," Lady Peacecraft responded irritably. "I do not blame you for being surprised. I, too, was surprised – and coming immediately after your second night at Almack's. I think you must wear your blue lutestring, my dear. It does bring out your eyes. Your eyes are, by far, your best feature, Relena, and I suspect they would be larger were you less plump, but they are a lovely color – cerulean blue. Your hair is pretty too."
"I cannot imagine why he would want to see me again," Relena said wonderingly.
Since Lady Peacecraft was caught between a hope she hardly dared express even to herself, and a normal confusion, she said vaguely, "I expect he enjoyed talking to you, my dear. You are intelligent and you are not flighty. Furthermore, you are an eligible young lady and -,"
"You cannot imagine that he regards me in that light!" Relena exclaimed incredulously.
"Well, no, I really do not imagine that he does," Lady Peacecraft allowed as she mentally and reluctantly summed up the unlikely aspects of her fugitive hope. "I understand that he is just beginning to go about society again…" She left that comment trail off, adding finally, "I will know better after I have seen him."
Quatre Raberba Winner, Lord Marne, arriving at Lady Peacecraft's town house at the stated hour of three, approved its classic lines. It had belonged, he knew to the family for at least two generations and, in common with the daughter of the house, it suggested stability if not beauty. He reminded himself that stability was what he wanted. Relena, large, at least a head taller than dearest Dorothy (he winced as he considered the contrast), breathed stability. He doubted if there were a flutter in her whole makeup. A memory of Dorothy's breathless speech, her adorable little half sentences, leaving one to guess just what she might mean, arose in his mind and almost kept him from lifting the knocker. Yet lift it he did, feeling its metal chill against his palm. He was half inclined to put it gently, gently against its plate and leave, but he did not. He left it fall, and the resulting clang was, he though a signal.
It was opened immediately by a footman in dark blue livery who gave him an interrogative glance. Once more he hesitated, thinking that he could say he had mistaken the house, but again he did not. He gave his name and was ceremoniously ushered into a well-furnished hall. As he waited for the butler to announce him, he looked about him approvingly. There would be no problem about the dowry, he was sure. He knew the Peacecraft family to be wealthy. One of the problems of his first marriage had been his Dorothy's meager portion, something that had mattered not at all to him – but his father, alive at the time, had not been at all pleased. Only Dorothy's heritage had served to soothe the elder Marne. She had been descended on one side from French aristocrats, who traced her lineage back tot ye Yves Saint-loud who had fought the infidel in Jerusalem, and on the other side to the Greys, that same family that counted among its members the unfortunate Lady Jane Grey.
"If you lordship will come this way, her ladyship is awaiting you in the drawing room."
Lord Marne banished Dorothy and her connections to the vast area of his mind that she still inhabited and from which she was incessantly summoned. He said, "I thank you," and stood a little taller as he prepared himself for what he decided must be the first step in an unhappily undertaken, but most necessary, courtship.
On his way to the drawing room he had reason to approve a long hall, the walls of which were hung with some excellent paintings. Then they were at what he privately termed the "fatal threshold." His name was announced, and taking a deep breath, he expelled it as he stepped into a tastefully decorated apartment. A swift glance showed him Relena in some blue garment, and Lady Peacecraft, whom she did not resemble except in eyes and hair. Undoubtedly, she took after her father's side of the family. Her mother was small and fair. Laura was, as he had noted last night, darker. Her eyes were deep blue, and her hair was golden shot with reddish lights. She had a lovely complexion, but she was plump, which he decided was all to the good. Relena would never remind him of Dorothy. Indeed, she could have made two of his late wife!
He returned Lady Peacecraft's warm greeting, bowed over her hand, and subsequently greeted and bowed over the trembling hand of her daughter. Relena, he noted, looked exceedingly ill-at-ease. He was sorry for that. He guessed that her mother's presence was intimidating. No doubt Lady Peacecraft was already building castles in the air – or perhaps churches. He had a mental sigh for the preliminaries of a courtship, based on necessity rather than passion. If he wished, he could turn this visit into a mere courtesy call and never appear again, or he could let it be the first of a series of visits – formal, interspersed with riding in the park and ultimately an unchaperoned drive in his curricle. He wished that poor Relena, so delightful when she was being herself, was not currently so constrained. Then he was reminded of the book he had brought with him. Breaking the silence that had fallen now that the preliminaries of the visit were at an end, he produced the book, bought that morning in Hatchard's. Holding it up, he said, "I do hope you have not read Ennui. It is another work of -,"
"Maria Edgeworth!" Relena finished hastily, and then cowed by a look from her mother, she added awkwardly, "I mean…"
"You are right," he said hastily. "It is the work of Maria Edgeworth. Have you read it?"
"Oh, no, I have not," Relena said excitedly. "I do thank you."
Quatre, seeing traces of the Relena he had encountered the previous night, smiled as he gave it to her. "You are quite welcome. I hope it does not live up to its title."
"Ennui? Oh, I do not believe Miss Edgeworth could ever be boring." Seeing an interrogative look on her mother's face, Relena blushed. "I…was reading one of Miss Edgeworth's other books last night -,"
"Last night at the ball?" Lady Peacecraft raised an eyebrow.
"I did no expect that I would be asked to dance," Relena responded bluntly, and then blushed deeply. "I…I mean…"
"I think," Quatre said gently, "That you have altogether too small an opinion of yourself, Lady Relena."
"She is all unspoiled, my lord," Lady Peacecraft murmured, unconsciously echoing Lady Howard.
"I can see she is," he replied. "I think it charming."
"You do?" Relena blurted, and then blushed deeply again.
"I do," he averred, feeling very sorry for her. Even without knowing Lady Peacecraft, he could envision the scene that must needs take place after his departure. He had best stay a little longer and talk of matters inconsequential, he decided, even though with every moment he remained in the Peacecraft house he would be more deeply committed to a plan which, at first, had been rather vague and amorphous. Yet, oddly enough, he felt strangely protective of Relena, almost as protective as he had been of his lovely sylph of a wife. Relena certainly was not lovely, but she was needful and embarrassed and, unless he were being too impossibly conceited, in the throes of her first love.
He stayed and they talked; rather, he and Lady Peacecraft talked of people they knew. They discussed the Byron scandal which, though several months old, was still a topic to generate comment. Finally he took his leave, but not before he had asked if Relena would care to go riding with him in the park.
"Oh, I most certainly would," Relena cried. "I should like it above all things."
"My dear," Lady Peacecraft murmured, her manner suggesting that such a burst of enthusiasm ill became her daughter.
Quatre, seeing the enthusiasm fade from Relena's face, said hastily, "I am pleased that you have agreed, Lady Relena. I will look forward to our ride."
He took his leave shortly after having made arrangements where and when they would meet. Much to his surprise, he found himself annoyed by Lady Peacecraft's habit of constantly quelling what he guessed to be Relena's native exuberance. She had been a different person at the ball – different, he reminded himself, until Lady Howard woke. The girl gave promise of being quite delightful when she was not being badgered by her elders. If she were in his household, he would see to it that she would be allowed to be her own person. As the implications inherent in that thought suddenly hit him, he realized that he was very near a decision that he had originally believed must needs take months or even a year or even two.
"Do not be too hasty," he murmured to himself, belatedly remembering the reasons for a marriage that was based on considerations other than love. He could almost hear his sister telling him he should wed someone older, someone who understood these arrangements.
"Lady Relena Peacecraft…I know a Sylvia Peacecraft, or rather, Sylvia, Lady Ludlow, wife of Heero Yuy," Iria commented the day following her brother's visit to Lady Peacecraft's house. "She had a sizable dowry, I remember, but such a flighty girl. If her sister is anything like Sylvia…"
"I have not had the pleasure of Lady Ludlow's acquaintance," Quatre said. "Lady Relena is not flighty. On the contrary, she is quite shy and self-effacing."
"And she is Sylvia's sister?" Iria looked surprised. Then, before he could respond, she added, "But, wait, there is a third one, not long out of the schoolroom, I should imagine."
"I would think that Lady Relena is no more than eighteen," Quatre replied a trace uncomfortably, the whole he waited for a burst of derision from Iria.
"Eighteen to twenty-six," Iria murmured. "Well, you are certainly not old enough to be her father. I always believe it more pleasant when there are some years between a man and woman. Eight is adequate. It is close on the amount that stretched between you and poor Dorothy, is it not?"
"She was four years my junior," he said.
"Gracious, I should not have though so," Iria commented, and flushed. "I mean, she did look exceptionally young, not to say" – her flush deepened – "very young."
Quatre, having a good idea of what his sister had meant to say, responded coolly. "I am quite aware of your opinion of Dorothy. You should have made an effort to know her better."
It was an old bone, and one that ought to have been picked clean by now, Iria thought indignantly. However, since she was quite anxious to satisfy herself if her brother invited her to ride with them, she said merely, "You will remember that I was only just wed myself."
Her brother gave her a long, measuring glance before saying obliquely, "Very well. And will you be joining us in the park, then?"
"I will be delighted," his sister said enthusiastically.
Relena, riding Charity, her spirited chestnut mare, and with Lady Howard close at her side mounted on Fraxinella, a dun mare called after a well-known racehorse but with a deliberate disposition that quite belied her name, listened impatiently to her chaperone's adjurations concerning the inadvisability of cantering along these paths.
"You will not wish to be thought mannish," her ladyship concluded.
"Might I not at least suit my past to his?" Relena demanded disappointedly.
"I suggest that you attempt no more than a decorous trot." Lady Howard said after a moment given over to considering her charge's question.
With considerably difficulty Relena refrained from asking Lady Howard how one might manage to be decorous on horseback. Besides, as she watched her chaperone guide her hose along the bridle path, she realized that she had before her a more than adequate example. It was truly amazing how her mentor managed to take the joy out of every occasion at which she was present. In fact, she seemed to carry her own rain cloud with her – for directly she had arrived at the stables, a gray-edged cloud had drifted over the sun. More clouds were presently appearing, she noted, and she hoped devoutly that it would not rain. Still, she thought bitterly, that might be well within Lady Howard's province too.
Her unhappy thoughts were scattered as two riders suddenly appeared in the distance. As they drew nearer, Relena saw Quatre Winner, Lord Marne in the lead and mounted on a magnificent black stallion. Behind him was a very lovely young woman riding a chestnut gelding. She was wearing a brown habit that was almost the same color as her eyes. As she and his lordship came closer, an agonizing Relena was relieved to find a strong family resemblance between the pair. Before she could come to any more conclusions, they had ridden up and she must control a suddenly fractious Charity, while being introduced to Lady Belmore, his lordships sister.
Having finally subdued Charity, Relena looked up to find Lord Marne beside her. "G-good afternoon, my l-lord," she stuttered, and agonizing again over having stuttered, and agonized yet again as she realized she had already exchanged that greeting with him.
"Good afternoon, Lady Relena," he said cordially. "May I congratulate you on your admirable control of your mount?"
"I thank you. Poor Charity gets rattled ever so often," Relena explained, feeling rattled herself as she found it necessary to rein Charity in again, thus needing to reluctantly divide her attention between his lordship and her steed.
"I find that the weather often has a less and salubrious effect on these spirited horses." He glanced upward at a sky that was becoming more overcast by the minute. "I awoke to sunshine," he continued, "but it seems as if Apollo's chariot is being overtaken by Jove."
"Oh, dear, I hope not. I have been so looking forward to…" Relena reddened. "I mean…"
"I hope that you meant you had been looking forward to our ride," Quatre said. "I know I have." He added, "Shall we go on ahead and hope that we are not driven back by the elements? Perhaps we might even race?"
"Oh, I should like that!" Relena exclaimed enthusiastically. Then, mindful of Lady Howard, she added, "Only…"
"Only what?" he demanded. "This path will lead us to within a sight of the Serpentine. The first one who sees it will win the race. Come…" he urged his horse forward.
He was not even going to give her a handicap, Relena realized joyfully as she, in turn, urged Charity onward. Lord Marne was a few paces ahead and unmindful of a warning cry from Lady Howard. Relena clicked her tongue at Charity and in another few minutes had outdistanced his lordship. He, of course, did not remain passively behind. He was ahead of her in another few moments, his triumphant laughter inciting her to further burst of speed.
Relena was in sight of a shimmering length of blue behind the sheltering trees, and the word Serpentine was gleefully forming on her lips when, with a searing flash of lightning and an ominous roll of thunder, the skies opened to allow the descent of a veritable deluge. With an actual scream of fright, Charity tossed her rider into a thicket and, turning tail, fled back in the direction of the stables.
"You will get no sympathy from me," Lady Peacecraft said icily as she stood just inside the door of Relena's chamber, where the latter lay on a pile of pillows. "You promised Lady Howard that you would not race."
"I…I did not intend to race," Relena moaned. "He suggested it."
"I cannot believe that," Lady Peacecraft responded sharply.
"Well, he did, Mama." Relena wished strongly that her mother would leave and allow her to suffer in peace. She had fallen amid thorns and these had not only penetrated into her riding habit, they also had pierced portions of her nether parts. That was what was hurting her the most – the fact that Lord Marne, while extracting her from the thicket, had necessarily viewed those same parts. Her only hope was that they had no really registered on him as, looking extreme concerned and unmindful of the pelting rain, he had carefully pulled the thorny branches away and then, placing her on his saddlebow, had ridden back to the stables.
She had read a great deal about gallant knights placing distressed damsels before them on their saddle bows – but those damsels had invariably been slim, fairylike maidens with glowing golden locks, and they had generally assumed that particular perch in clement weather. They had certainly not been held against a gallant quite as soggy as the maiden he had rescued and with hands, scratched and bleeding from dealing with the thicket. Furthermore his light, wavy hair, probably concealed by a helmet in those days, was not lying wetly across his forehead, and above all, such a gallant would not have been shaking with laughter for which he apologized over and over again, only to continue laughing.
"You," her mother said coldly, "were determined to show him your prowess in the saddle. Well, my dear Relena, you have shown him. Pride goeth before a fall and never was a saying more true…" She paused at a tap on the door. "Yes?" she asked loudly and crossly as she opened the portal.
Thomas, one of the footmen, said, "There's a letter come for you, Lady Peacecraft. It was just brought 'ere." He held out a silver tray on which reposed an envelope.
Lady Peacecraft took the envelope. "Thank you, Thomas," she said in less pejorative accents. "You may go." As the door closed behind the footman, Lady Peacecraft, glancing at the envelope, said, "It is from Lord Marne. Very possibly he wishes to clear you of blame for your folly this afternoon, and take it upon himself. He is the very soul of courtesy. What a pity that we will probably see him no more."
A sob escaped Relena. "He did not seem angry…he was only s-sorry that my horse threw me."
Lady Peacecraft, her lips pressed together in a thin line of disapproval, opened the envelope, Taking out a folded sheet of paper, she opened it so impatiently that she tore off a corner. Then, as she perused it, she let it drop to the floor as she exclaimed, "Good God!"
"What is it, Mama?" Relena said up and then sank back with a groan as she was assailed by aches and pains in all portions of her anatomy.
Lady Peacecraft had retrieved the letter, and she read it yet again. "The man is mad!" she cried.
"I…I do not understand you, Mama! What does he say?" Relena demanded.
"He says that…that…" Lady Peacecraft gasped, and then suddenly sat down on a nearby chair as if her legs had just collapsed beneath her.
"Mama!" Relena exclaimed. "You...you have turned white. Do you need the hartshorn? What is it? Please t-tell me!"
"Lord Marne wishes…he…he wishes to…to marry you, Relena," Lady Peacecraft said in faint, unbelieving tones. "As…as soon as you have r-recovered." She held the letter up. "It…it is a formal offer. I never…I never thought such a thing would ever happen."
Relena paid no attention to her mother's unflattering reception of news that was filling her with a most unfamiliar emotion. It was only after it had persisted for some little time that she was able to define it as ecstasy.
AN: By the way, since Quatre is the Earl of Marne, he usually has to be referred to "Lord Marne". It's confusing but hopefully it'll be easier to catch on as the story goes along…Anyways, I thought it might help if I offered some facts about the figures mentioned in this story.
Caroline Lamb – Lady Caroline Lamb is an actual historical figure that had lived during the Regency Era. She is, perhaps, most famous for her scandalous (but tolerated) affair with Lord Byron (a famous poet of that time). She was so infatuated with him, that after he tired of her and broke up their affair, she obsessed over him. When he married her cousin, Annabelle Milbanke, she accepted it but still obsessed over him. She followed him several times and threatened to stab her own self, if he didn't come back however, he always refuted. It's rumored he still cared enough for her but was turned off by her fascination with him. After he scolded her at a masquerade ball (where everyone talked about it for days), she started slanderous rumors of him confessing to incestuous affairs with his half-sister, Augusta Leigh. It broke up his marriage with Annabelle Milbanke and he left England because of it. Ah yes, did I mention that during the time of their affair, Caroline was already married? It was a very passionate marriage at the start but when he became more interested in his political affairs Caroline decided to break away. She is also famous for dressing as a page.
Lady Jane Grey – When King Henry VIII died, Edward, his nephew, came to the throne. Jane, as the oldest of his cousins was expected to marry him so from when she was 3, she began her education. Both her and Edward seemed like a great match for they were both the same age, very precocious, and fervently Protestant. However, Jane never married Edward for he died. The Duke of Northumberland who had received care of her when she was in her teens, devised a plan to keep himself and the monarchy in Protestant hands (and namely, his hands). Though the title of Queen should've gone to Mary, Edward's sister, the Duke of Northumberland spread lies claiming her unfit because she was a Catholic. Tricked into marrying the younger son of the Duke, Jane and her husband, Guildford, didn't care at all for each other. In fact, when she refused to claim him as her King, he broke down into tears and ran to his mother. The Duchess ranted at Jane for an hour but that didn't change Jane's mind. In fact, right after Edward died (even though it was kept a secret from Jane), suspicions started rising in Jane's mind (which is probably why she refused to name Guildford as the King). Jane ruled for nine-days (she's called the Nine-Day Queen) before Mary's supporters over threw her and demanded she renounce her title. Jane did so gladly (she never even wanted it in the first place!). Mary promised Jane that she would be safe from becoming beheaded but because Jane was a Protestant and the focal point for Protestant rebels, Mary removed her clemency and Jane was beheaded (Jane did have a chance to live though if she renounced her faith – as you can guess, she refused). Mary ruled for five unhappy years before her half-sister, Elizabeth, took over the throne as one of the greatest monarchs in time.
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