Disclaimer: I do not own GW/AC.
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The Lighting Of The Fires (Chapter 06b)
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Informed that Lady Orville had arrived and was now awaiting her hostess in the drawing room, Relena, in the library, discussing a rare edition of Percy's Reliques dated 1765 with Mr. Barton, flushed and wished she dared say that she was not at home. Unfortunately she could not issue such a rebuff to dear Hilde, even though in the last week she had declared herself not at home to those visitors who, having met her on the night of Lady Orville's dinner, had sent cards.
She had also declined an invitation from one Lady Kirwan, whom she vaguely remembered as having sat next to her at the dinner. Lady Kirwan had invited Lord and Lady Winner to attend a gathering in her gardens, which, Relena had heard, were famous. She had not even communicated Lady Kirwan's wishes to Quatre, for she knew full well that he would not have wanted to attend.
Upon Sylvia's recovery from her husband's brutal assault, evident in the angry discoloration of her upper arm and in the swelling of one delicate wrist which her enraged spouse had twisted, nearly breaking the bone, Quatre had assigned himself the task of being Sylvia's unofficial physician and official comforter. He had spent a great deal of time in her chamber, reading to her and otherwise soothing her lacerated feelings.
On the third day after her arrival, Sylvia had pronounced herself well enough to rise from her bed. Quatre had obligingly carried her down to the conservatory. Sylvia had pronounced the rare plants much to her liking, and indeed had contrived to amaze Relena by telling him that she, too, had a passion for gardening and was particularly fond of the rare blooms that the late Lady Dorothy had collected.
However, when Relena had attempted to find out what her brother-in-law had done to send Sylvia flying from the house, she had waxed hysterical again, and an angered Quatre had scolded Relena for needlessly distressing her frail sister. He had sought to alleviate the damage her thoughtlessness had engendered by taking the invalid for a long drive in his curricle. Then, on the following day, when Sylvia had told him that she was feeling much more the thing, he had taken her to Glastonbury. The visit had lasted all of the day, after which Sylvia had pronounced herself too weary to undertake the journey back to the castle. A footman had been dispatched to Relena, explaining the circumstances and assuring her that her husband and her sister would be returning the following afternoon.
As it happened, they had not returned on that designated afternoon. They had returned mid-morning of the next day, blaming a broken wheel on the coach, which had necessitated a return to Glastonbury. Sylvia had been full of apologies and praise. The praise had been divided equally between the kindness of her dear, considerate brother-in-law and the charm of the town. In common with herself and Quatre, they had gone to the George and Pilgrim, whence they returned to stay the night. Sylvia had woken her brother-in-law in the middle of the night with the quavering announcement that she had seen the ghostly monk. He had spent the rest of the night sitting on a chair in her chamber, lest the specter return again, Sylvia had told Relena in tones of awe and gratitude, her eyes wide with surprise because she had never known a gentleman to be so very considerate. She further complimented Relena, saying that she had made the best marriage in the family!
On this day Sylvia and Quatre were bound for Bridgewater Bay, Sylvia having expressed a hankering to view the sea. Relena grimaced. Quatre had seemed embarrassed and even reluctant to accede to his sister-in-law's request. The time was approaching for the festivities attendant upon the Eve of St. John, and in an expansive moment he had invited Lord and Lady Orville to attend and had also asked several other persons present at that never-to-be-forgotten dinner.
Relena had dutifully written the invitations. She had also overseen preparations which, in ordinary circumstances, must have been allocated to her husband. However, a gently persuasive and wistful Sylvia had prevailed, as she always must. They had left early in the morning.
Consequently Relena, with the events of the last week whirling through her mind, said reluctantly to the waiting servant, "You may inform her ladyship that I will be there directly." She bestowed a warm smile on Mr. Barton. "I do thank you for bringing this volume to my attention. I do love old ballads."
"As I do myself, my lady," he said.
A few minutes later Relena came into the drawing room but did not find her ladyship. Then Tim, one of the footmen, came to inform her that her ladyship was in the garden by the fish pond.
As she arrived at the pool Relena found her friend staring into its dark green waters on which floated lily pads and other aquatic plants. On exchanging greetings and an embrace with Relena, Lady Orville said, "I expect there are carp in this pond, but they are proving to be as elusive as you, my dear. Do you suppose that they, in common with yourself, are beset by a visiting sister?"
Relena blushed. "I am sorry that we have not met recently, but these last few days have been extremely hectic."
"Yes, I understand that your sister recovered rather quickly from whatever ailed her at the time of her arrival, and that she has been much in the company of her brother-in-law, who is endeavoring to ease the distress she has endured at the hands of an Othello-like spouse-by showing her some of the felicitous spots around the countryside. They are currently in Bridgewater, I hear."
Relena gaped at her. "How…" she began faintly.
"My dear love, the servants, of course," Lady Orville explained. "They know everything- as I think I told you some time ago. I believe that they engage in those marathons so popular in ancient Greece, save that instead of passing on a torch, they substitute information."
Relena said, "Sylvia was very badly treated by her husband, and Quatre was much exercised over the matter. He has felt it incumbent upon himself to be kind to her."
"Hmm..." Lady Orville grimaced. "Evidently he has not yet learned that it is quite useless to be kind to crocodiles. Ply them with meat from a distance. If you get too close to them, they would as likely take your hand with the meat. I am quite annoyed with you, Relena. Why have you not sent Sylvia on to your mother? That is the usual destination for a battered bride."
"I did suggest that she go to Mother, but Quatre was quite indignant and asked me if I could not see that she was in no condition to travel."
"How did she get from Cornwall to Somerset? On the back of an eagle, perchance? Or perhaps she hired a balloon."
"She came by post-chaise. She was ill on the way."
"However," Lady Orville responded caustically, "the air of Somerset being more healthful than the sea winds that drift over Land's End, she recovered her health, thus giving the lie to those who tout the curable quotient in a sea breeze. Are you so utterly naive, Relena, or have you, like the turtle learned to draw your head into your shell and remain oblivious to danger, if not actually protected against it? I understand that a turtle is quite helpless if turned on its back. If you do not watch yourself, my dear, that will be your charming sister's next move."
Relena said unhappily, "She does resemble Dorothy. I expect that must be extremely unsettling to Quatre."
"Something of which I am sure your sister is completely aware. Oh!" Lady Orville stamped her foot and glared at Relena. "I could shake you, my dear. Are you going to stand idly by while that little witch…oh, my poor child," she said in a softer tone as, coming to Relena's chair, she bent down and put her arms around her. "I do wish you were not so vulnerable, so much in awe of your wretched sister, who thrives on making you miserable because of her own selfish needs."
"Her needs?" Relena repeated confusedly.
"Do you not see?" Lady Orville cried angrily. "Without even knowing her I can guess what she is like. She feeds on admiration, adulation, and adoration. If she cannot find them at home, she will seek them elsewhere, and most determinedly. They are the fuel that lights her fires. She could not exist without them, and since she can give so very little in return, she must constantly seek for new sources. I have a strong feeling that she does not wear well, my dear Relena. Her husband was cruel to her? Probably he finally probed her depths and found no more than an inch of water in the pond. Consequently she must seek for others who do not realize that beneath that beautiful reflection on the surface of that same pond, there are only weeds beneath."
Almost against her will, Relena laughed. She sobered quickly enough. "I do not believe that Quatre would agree with you."
"Damn all women who die too young," Lady Orville said in exasperated tones. Then, with her habitual abruptness, she added, "How is the librarian progressing?"
"Mr. Barton is most knowledgeable. He has found some real treasures," Relena said enthusiastically, glad to be diverted from the unhappy topic of her infatuated husband and her beguiling sister.
Fortunately for her further peace of mind, Lady Orville, after listening patiently to the number of marvels Mr. Barton had exhumed from the library archives, took her leave. Her parting words were, "Since you are disposed to do nothing about Sylvia, I will pray for a deus ex machina- possibly Zeus to come in his flaming chariot to rid you of her just when matters appear to be at the very worst."
"I will pray too," Relena heard herself reply, much to her subsequent embarrassment. "I mean…" she began hastily.
"If you do not mean exactly what I hope you mean, you are no friend of mine," Lady Orville replied with her usual candor. "I will see you the day after tomorrow, and at what time will you be lighting the fires?"
"You may come at any time, but the fires will be lighted after sundown."
"Let us pray that they will do as they are supposed to do, which is to avert disaster and bring luck. You need both, my dearest Relena."
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"The midsummer fires are a pagan survival," Mr. Barton remarked, as in company with Relena, Sylvia, and the Orvilles, they strolled down the hill in the direction of the keep where a huge pile of kindling wood, gathered by the gardeners on the previous day, stood ready to be ignited.
"A pagan survival, really?" Sylvia asked. She laughed lightly. "That would be dating from the time when the early Britons painted themselves blue, I expect. I am glad that custom did not survive. What an odd idea, to be sure!"
"I would think it no more odd than some of the exaggerated garments that are worn today by the dandies." Mr. Barton smiled.
"Oh, indeed?" Sylvia gave him a chilly stare. "Are you setting yourself up to be an arbiter of fashion, then, Mr. Barton?" She let her eyes rest on his shabby garments.
"Sylvia!" Relena protested. "Mr. Barton was doing nothing of the kind, and some of the garments that are affected by gentlemen are ridiculous. What about that odd creature- I do not remember his name- who chooses to wear nothing but green and eats only green food?"
"And what about neck cloths that keep the chin tilted at an unnatural angle, preventing the wearer from looking down? I have heard it said that many a dandy has sustained a serious fall, and deserved it too." Lord Orville appeared to shudder. "I am of the opinion that garments must be comfortable first and stylish second."
"Precisely, my love," his lady agreed. "It is the way I wish to live my entire life."
"And have," her husband said impishly. Putting his arm around her waist, he gave her a loving little squeeze.
Sylvia visited a chilly glance on Lord and Lady Orville. Then, turning to Relena, she said, "When will Quatre be lighting the fire? It is getting quite dark."
"I expect he is waiting until we arrive," Relena said, thinking that he was probably waiting until Sylvia arrived. "Gracious!" she exclaimed as they approached the keep. "I did not think they would make three piles of wood... and they are so high."
"Three is a mystical number," Mr. Barton observed.
"Yes." Lord Orville nodded. "And generally the piles are as high as those and even higher."
"There is quite a little wind tonight," Relena said worriedly. "Do you think it safe?"
"The keep will act as a windbreak," Lord Orville said soothingly.
"It is like you to fret over nothing, Relena." Sylvia laughed. Before her sister could answer, she added, "It bids fair to be a lovely evening." She held up her arms. "Night's candles are all aglow, some poet has said."
"He has said," Lady Orville corrected, "'Night's candles are all burnt out and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops.' He has also said, 'Oh, grim-locked night, oh, night with hue so black, oh, night which ever are when day is not, oh, night, oh, night, alack, alack, alack.'"
"Hilde…" Her husband groaned.
He received a mischievous smile as Lady Orville said, "I am following Lady Yuy's lead and quoting the bard, do you not like it? I have always been particularly partial to 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', and certainly it is an apt quotation for this particular midsummer's night," she responded challengingly.
All she received by way of response from her lord was a raised eyebrow, and subsequently a glare from Sylvia, who moved swiftly ahead of them.
A few minutes later the small group of people, with Sylvia still in the lead, reached the keep, its time and war-scored lineaments softened in the glow from a three-quarter moon over which pale clouds drifted. In the west, a faint and fading line of red still remained.
"Oh, how beautiful," Relena said softly. "Ah, there are the servants," she added as a babble of conversation reached them.
"My dear Relena, why are they here?" Sylvia asked disapprovingly.
"Because Quatre gave them leave to watch the lighting of the bonfires. It is a tradition here," Relena explained. "Did he not tell you?"
"We did not discuss the event, Relena, dear," Sylvia murmured, her meaning all too clear. She added quickly, "Where is Quatre?"
"He is probably having his torch lighted so that he might ignite the fires," Lady Orville explained, indicating the three piles of timber.
"He will ignite the middle one first, I understand." Relena frowned. "I hope the blaze will not frighten his horse."
"Dear Relena, always borrowing trouble," Sylvia said with a little laugh
"It does not usually catch on so quickly," Lord Orville assured Relena.
"Ah, look," Sylvia cried a few minutes later, "the sunlight has faded completely! It should be time and here he comes! Does he not sit that great black horse like Lancelot himself'?"
"Yes, very like Lancelot, himself," Lady Orville said so dryly that even though she was not in the mood for laughter, Relena could not restrain a giggle.
In that moment Quatre rode forward to fling his torch upon the middle pile, and of a sudden there was a puff of wind and a burst of flame which seemed to envelop horse and rider. With a neigh that bordered on a shriek, the stallion reared, unseating its rider and dashing away- the while Quatre, thrown heavily to the ground, lay very still.
Sylvia screamed and started toward him, but it was Relena who reached him first, kneeling beside him and easing his head onto her lap.
There were great cries and a babble of comment from the assembled observers, and then Lord Orville, reaching Relena's side, said urgently, "We must get him home." He looked about him, and seeing a servant, he yelled, "Bring a plank…a door, if you can find one."
As the man nodded and dashed away, Sylvia, standing just beyond Relena, began to cry. "Is…is he dead? Oh, God, he cannot be dead!"
The librarian, who, all but unnoticed by Sylvia and Relena, had come to Quatre's side, now knelt beside him.
"He is not dead. He is breathing, but," he frowned, "I think a doctor must be summoned immediately."
"Can a doctor help him?" Sylvia wailed. "He lies so still."
"I beg you will stop shrieking and make an effort to contain yourself," Lady Orville said icily. "We…-none of us know anything, and will not until the doctor arrives."
"His face…" Sylvia shuddered. "It is so red. He must have been burned."
"I believe that be was singed by the flames." Lord Orville frowned. "And it is possible, judging from the angle of his leg, that he has broken a bone. His ankle is also swelling."
"Oh, God." Sylvia wrung her hands. She moved to Relena's side. "I must be with him. He will want me."
"On the contrary, Lady Yuy," Lady Orville snapped. "I am sure that were he conscious, he would prefer the less hysterical ministrations of his wife."
Sylvia whirled on her and seemed on the point of delivering a sharp retort, but meeting Lady Orville's cool stare, she appeared to think better of it and instead came to stand near her kneeling sister. "How…how is he?" she said, quavering.
Relena shook her head. "He… he is still unconscious." She looked anxiously about her. "I do wish they would hurry with that plank. We must get him to his chamber."
"Yes, yes, of course," Sylvia agreed. "He cannot lie out here. Oh, dear, why did this have to happen?"
"I would imagine," said a chilly voice behind her, "that he rode too close to the flames, and fire is inimical to both men and moths."
Sylvia whirled on the speaker, who of course was Lady Orville. "I find your wit sadly misplaced at such a time."
"Indeed? And what has caused you to imagine that I was being witty?" Lady Orville retorted. "I had the impression that I was saying no more than the truth."
Sylvia was prevented from uttering the sharp rejoinder that trembled on her tongue by the two men from the castle, who came carrying an old door, which they set beside the fallen man. Under Relena's directions they gently eased him onto it, and in a few minutes they started back to the castle, followed by Relena, Lord and Lady Orville, Mr. Barton, and an increasingly distracted Sylvia.
By the time Quatre had been brought into his chamber and put to bed by his concerned and nervous valet, the doctor arrived, and after requesting more light, he curtly ordered everyone out of the room.
As Relena, Sylvia, and Lord and Lady Orville moved into the adjacent sitting room, Relena sank down in a chair, and the Orvilles sat on a nearby sofa. Sylvia, pacing back and forth across the room, looked at them in angry amazement. "How can you be so c-calm?" she cried, her accusing glance falling on Relena's face. "He…he has been badly hurt, I am sure of it."
"I am not sure of it," Lady Orville responded coldly. "I will reserve my fears until the doctor gives us his opinion."
"But surely you…, you saw-," Sylvia began.
"Sylvia," Relena interrupted softly. "It is useless to conjecture. We must wait until Mr. Chatterton finishes his examination."
"If...if it were my husband, I would not leave his side, not for an instant!" Sylvia cried.
"But your husband is in Cornwall, is he not?" Lady Orville inquired.
"Just what are you implying?" Sylvia demanded angrily. "I was not implying anything," Lady Orville responded serenely. "I was merely stating what your sister led me to believe was the truth."
"My love…" Lord Orville muttered warningly.
"My…my husband was uncommonly cruel to me," Sylvia said in a quavering voice. "It…it was for my own safety that I fled. Relena knows and understands my plight."
"I am sure she does," Lady Orville said sweetly.
"Hilde!" her husband hissed.
"If you imagine…" Sylvia began, and paused as the door to Quatre's chamber was opened by Mr. Chatterton, a tall, portly man who said in a low voice, "Lady Winner, would you please come in?"
"Is he awake, then?" Sylvia cried as Relena, rising swiftly, hurried toward the door to the inner room.
"No." The doctor shook his head. "I have given him a dose of laudanum. It will quell his pain, at least for a little while."
"Is he in much pain?" Sylvia demanded hysterically as she started to follow Relena.
"His eyes..." the doctor began.
"Oh, God, you will not tell me that he… he has been blinded!" Sylvia shrieked.
"Will you have the goodness to be quiet?" Lady Orville rose and confronted Sylvia, standing between her and the door.
"How dare you?" Sylvia cried as Relena went inside, followed by the doctor, who swiftly closed the door behind him.
"It is Relena's place to be with her husband, and none other," Lady Orville said pointedly. "She is his wife."
"But he…but we…" Sylvia blurted.
"Yes, I know." Lady Orville nodded. "But not at this time. I suggest that you return to your seat and, better yet, to Cornwall, Lady Yuy."
"Hilde!" Lord Orville groaned.
"My dear Duo," his wife said coldly, "I hardly think that at this time poor Relena is in need of houseguests."
Sylvia glared at her. "I must say that you take a great deal on yourself, Lady Orville."
"I am your sister's friend," the latter responded pointedly.
"I…you. . ." Sylvia glared at her and left the room. "Ah." Lady Orville favored her husband with a triumphant smile. "Let us hope that she will soon go home."
"Yes, do let us hope that she will, my dear, but all the same, you do walk in where angels fear to tread." Lord Orville gave her a half-censorious, half-admiring look.
"I am no angel." Lady Orville permitted herself a small smile, which faded immediately. "That wretched young woman! I wish it had been her on the horse, and I wish he had tossed her into the flames!"
"My dear," her husband protested. "Evil intentions…"
"'Evil intentions return to plague the inventor.' Shakespeare again, and those lines do not apply to me. If anyone were ever evil-intentioned, it is that creature. I used to be sorry that I did not have sisters. I am not sorry anymore."
"The mills of the gods grind slowly..." Lord Orville began.
"Too damned slowly," Lady Orville snapped, and was silent, staring anxiously at the door. "It is time that Sylvia paid the piper. I am sure it was she who egged poor Quatre on to lighting that bonfire on horseback."
"Now, Hilde, my love, you know full well that is a tradition here."
"If it is, it should be 'more honored in the breach than in the observance.'"
"I am quite in agreement, my dear. I only hope…"
"Yes," Lady Orville said grimly. "So do I."
A short time later Relena came out, followed by the doctor, who was finishing some directives. "The compresses must be applied three times a day- good, hot water. I have set his leg, and I would not worry too much about his ankle. It is not broken, it is only a bad sprain."
"Will he take long to recover, Mr. Chatterton?" Relena asked anxiously.
"I cannot predict that, milady, but he is young and healthy. And fortunately the bone did not shatter. He suffered a clean break of the tibia. I have bound it, and I would think that in two or three months he will be quite himself again. His ankle, of course, should heal more quickly. You must see that it, too, is soaked in warm water three times a day and kept tightly bandaged."
''His…his eyes…'' Relena began in a voice that was not quite steady.
"You need follow my directives and apply the cornpresses. Keep him in a darkened room. I would think that in a matter of four to five weeks they will have healed. Again, he is young and healthy and not given to overindulgence either at table or the bottle. He will, of course, require careful nursing." The doctor grimaced. "In view of what is available here in the way of nursing…"
"I will see that he is well tended, sir," Relena assured him.
"I am sure you will, milady." Mr. Chatterton gave her an admiring look. "I must congratulate you on your admirable good sense in not revealing your anxiety while in the presence of the patient."
"I did not wish to alarm him," Relena said.
"You are quite right. He must be kept as calm as possible."
"I will see that he is, Mr. Chatterton." Relena said.
"Then I will bid you good evening, milady."
"Good evening, sir, and I am grateful that you came as quickly as you did."
"I would always come in haste, milady. Your husband and his family have been my patients for a number of years. And I beg you will not worry-as long as my directions are followed, he will mend easily. He needs only to be kept quiet and reassured as to his eventual recovery,"
"He shall be," Relena assured him.
"I pray that you will take the doctor's directives to heart, dearest Relena," Lady Orville said shortly after the doctor had gone. "I take it that Quatre is awake."
"Yes," Relena said. "I will have to return to him soon. He is naturally anxious and in some pain. The doctor has administered laudanum, but it has not yet taken effect."
"Yes, certainly you must go back to him. We only lingered to hear what Mr. Chatterton would say. We will go immediately," Lady Orville assured her.
"I… I do thank you, Hilde. You have been kind." Relena murmured.
"My dear, you need not thank us. We are friends, friends of yourself and poor Quatre. And though it is quite useless to offer you advice, I would suggest that you do not spend all the night and all the day at your husband's side. Let others minister to him as well."
Relena nodded. "Yes," she said, wishing that her friend would leave.
"See us to the door, my dear," Lady Orville smiled, "and we will do your bidding."
Relena regarded her confusedly, "My bidding? I do not understand you."
Lord Orville laughed. "My wife believes that you wish her to go- and quickly, as do I."
"Oh, no, b-but…"
"But I would wish the same were anything to happen to dear Duo, I can assure you," Lady Orville assured her warmly. "I will expect you to keep us informed as to his condition, my dear."
"Oh, I will," Relena nodded. "Where is Sylvia? Quatre has been calling for her."
"I imagine that she is in her chamber," Lady Orville said coolly. "She seemed on the edge of the vapors, and I did not believe that she should treat either you or your husband to such a display at this time. I fear that I told her as much."
"Oh, I am glad that you did!" Relena exclaimed. "Sylvia is prone to the vapors."
"I also suggested that she return to Cornwall," Lady Orville said. "I hope you will do the same. Or, if not that, to your mother's house. Either would be a logical destination."
Relena regarded her unhappily. "In Quatre's present condition it might be better were she to remain. Mr. Chatterton said that he should be kept as calm as possible."
"And you believe that Sylvia would have a calming effect on him?" Lady Orville demanded caustically.
"My dear. . ." Lord Orville began.
Relena said doggedly, "He appears to like her. I think he would be disappointed were she to leave."
"And I think you ought to change your name to Patient Griselda!" Lady Orville snapped.
"My dear. . ." Lord Orville protested.
Tears stood in Relena's eyes and were determinedly blinked away. "I am not a Griselda," she said with an actual stamp of her foot. "it is that the doctor said he must not be disturbed, and I happen to believe that Sylvia's abrupt departure would prove very disturbing to him. She will probably not remain here very long. Indeed, she will undoubtedly leave of her own accord within the week."
"That seems logical," Lady Orville said dryly. "She…but no matter, you know my opinion regarding your sister, my dear."
"I am sure she does," Lord Orville said wryly. "You have certainly made no secret of it, my love."
"Were it to be as silent as the tomb, Sylvia's own actions would furnish the corroboration I require. But enough. We will leave you. I will speak to you in a day or two regarding Quatre's condition, though judging from what Mr. Chatterton has said, he is in little danger."
"I do thank you," Relena said. "I will see you to the door."
"No, see us only to the top of the stairs," Lady Orville replied. "We will have no trouble finding our way out."
Having done as Lady Orville asked, Relena hurried back in the direction of Quatre's chamber, coming to a dead stop in the hallway as Sylvia emerged from the door in question. She was looking less concerned than angry.
"He is asleep," she said accusingly. "I could not rouse him, though I called his name quite loudly."
Relena quelled a rising anger only with difficulty. She said coolly, "Why would you want to wake him, Sylvia? It is better that he sleep. That is what the doctor told me."
"I am sure that he would have wanted to bid me farewell," Sylvia said crossly. "I will be leaving first thing in the morning. I have asked the stable boys to see that my post chaise is in good order. I am going to London to stay with Lady Grosvenor. We were best friends at school, and she has been wanting me to visit her for an age."
Caught between concern and relief, Relena said, "But will you not wait to speak to Quatre? I am sure he would want to wish you farewell."
"I think not," Sylvia said coldly. "And you need not resort to any further subterfuges. I am quite aware that it was you who asked Lady Orville to speak to me in that horrid way. If you wished me to go, you had only to tell me so-straight out. If there is anything I cannot abide, it is deceit."
"But I assure you, Sylvia. I said nothing to Lady Orville," Relena began earnestly.
Sylvia drew herself up. "Please, I pray you will not resort to further prevarication. I am quite aware that you deeply resented the friendship between your unfortunate husband and myself. And since above all things I wish to avoid any further unpleasantness of the nature I suffered before I was forced to flee my home, I will leave him to your tender mercies, Relena."
"I expect that you mean, Sylvia, that you do not find my husband quite as fascinating now that he is ill and unable to squire you about," Relena said coolly.
Sylvia glared at her. "On the contrary, Relena, dear. if there is anything that I abominate, it is envy and jealousy, and you have been demonstrating both in ever-increasing proportions. Furthermore…but I have already expressed myself on this regrettable situation, and I trust I need say nothing more."
"You are quite right, Sylvia, you need say nothing more," Relena responded equably. "And now, if you will excuse me, I think I must go to my husband."
"I do wish you joy of him," Sylvia said spitefully.
"I have had great joy from him," Relena could not help responding.
"Really?" Sylvia drawled. "That is not the impression I received from him. But you were always rather obtuse, were you not, Relena? Mama has often told me that she wondered at your lack of sensitivity." Turning her back on her, Sylvia walked away.
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Of course she had invited such a response, Relena reasoned, but had Quatre really confided his unhappiness with a marriage to which he had agreed mainly because of his need for an heir-to her sister? That did not seem likely, but how could she be sure? She thought unhappily. Quatre had certainly spent a great deal of time with Sylvia, and undoubtedly those hours had not passed in silence.
She did not acquit her sister of complaining loudly and lengthily about her unhappy marriage to a sympathetic Quatre. Had he responded with a spate of similar complaints in regards to his own? It was not beyond the realm of possibility- especially given Sylvia's uncanny resemblance to his late, beloved Dorothy, especially now that the sun had lightened her hair. Possessing those attributes plus her own beauty, Sylvia was certainly a formidable rival, but, Relena thought with a surge of happiness, she was leaving.
A few minutes later, coming into Quatre's chamber, Relena tiptoed to his side and started to sit down, but unfortunately she passed too close to the table and something crashed to the floor.
"W-who is it? Who is there?" Quatre questioned in a trembling voice as he tried to sit up.
"It is only I, my love," Relena said softly. She put a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. "Do lie back, my dearest. Mr. Chatterton has said that you must lie very still."
"Oh, Sylvia, my dear," Quatre said happily, "I was wondering if you would come."
Relena stepped back from the bed. Her heart was pounding in her throat again. It was on the tip of her tongue to enlighten him. But at the same time she was truly angry with herself for not identifying herself immediately. Unfortunately she had quite forgotten the one characteristic that she shared with her beautiful sister, the characteristic that had even confused and startled her mother-that soft, slightly husky voice which was so entirely beguiling when it issued from Sylvia's lovely lips. She opened her mouth on a hasty denial and hastily swallowed it. She said instead, "But, Quatre, dear, you knew I must."
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End Notes: Alright, I believe I should specify titles and why I am changing them halfway through the story. Lord and Lady Maxwell are the Lord and Lady of Orville. Therefore, you can call them Lord and Lady Maxwell instead of Lord and Lady Orville. Quatre and Relena are the Lord and Lady of Marne, therefore they can be referred to as Lord and Lady Marne or Lord and Lady Winner. Heero and Sylvia are the Lord and Lady ofLudlow but for the purposes of this chapter, they are Lord and Lady Yuy instead of Lord and Lady Ludlow.
Would you guys like it more if I referred to the Orvilles as Lord and Lady Maxwell or Lord and Lady Orville? I will keep it Orville for this chapter but please state your preference.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter and as always, review please. )