Chapter 23: Parties, Plots and an Engagement
Merry Christmas!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! screw political crap...Merry CHRISTMAS....hehehe.
Thank you to Frosty Pickle Juice for being my 70th review! ooooo, I don't like that glare...I'm sorry... :(
Golden Rose ah-hem....hehehehehe .:does a stupid, but amusing dance:. YES! NEW REVIEWER!!!!!!!!!!! Hmmm, in my haste and anxiety to keep it in ONE scene, I had forgotten about whats-er-face...Abby....(see, people-who-complained-about-too-many-scenes! I need those other scenes to remind me!). Yaya, good pint (wooops, had one too many of those, lol) point about the other nobles, I promise they'll be in chapter 23 and/or 24. Promise. I like your name.
Misty- Hmmm, thankyou very much indeedy! Yay! You all say it... '...an extremely well-written chapter.' HAH!
Lindy!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mymy, your name's fun too...hehehehe! Thankyou thankyou and thankyou again! Kk, Yona in this chappie too!!!!!!!!!!!
Damn! I forgot the singing woodland creatures.....ooops. Don't feel pathetic, Cheeky, s'all good. I was reading stories on Christmas Day as well, none of them were any good however, but I was all like, 'I can't flame, 'em, it's Christmas, after all.' Kk, thanks much. I'm trying to outline my next few chapters now so that I have a backing when I go back to horror hall (the 'educational' .:coughcough torture coughcough facility:.) I can write quicker.
As much as some of you may have like the single-scene chapter, I hated it and shall continue my old way with a limit of 2-3 scenes as a compromise.
" Quick, Jeanine...before she sees!" Marcus pulled Jeanine into the bushes and peered out through the leaves. The two held their breath as Ardella ran past. They breathed a sigh of relief as the younger DeBracey child passed them. Marcus leaned back against the tall oak shooting up from the clump of bushes they hid in and gave Jeanine an easy smile.
" Della never checks here 'til later, so-"
" We're safe 'til she finds Antony." Jeanine finished for him and smiled back. She shushed him as she pointed to her brother, who was slinking along the treeline of the Dewhurst's apple orchard across the small clearing. His blonde hair shone in the pale afternoon sun and the two other children watched as he creeped along towards the 'Free' area. Suddenly the bushes near Antony rustled and Della burst out, her dark hair bouncing in their curls. Antony began running toward the small hedge where Della had counted, and she set out in a dead sprint after him, her skirts hitched up above her knees. They were ten feet from the hedge when Della suddenly snapped towards Antony like a hunted doe and hit him at his knees, bringing him down.
" Oof!" Della's laughter far out-sounded Antony's objections in regards to fair play. Marcus seized Jeanine's hand and they raced to the hedge. Before either Della or Antony realised, they were at the hedge, panting and lau,ghing.
" We win!" rejoiced Marcus. He walked over to Antony and knelt by him, " And you, poor fellow, lose! Horribly!" He managed to choke out before erupting into a fit of laughter.
'He was wonderful, even then.' Lady Jeanine thought
" My dear, I say, Lady Jeanine, are you quite alright?" The small but plump Baron of Qualton's Rook inquired gently as he touched her arm in a uncle-like manner. He peered up at her through small, round spectacles and Jeanine looked down at the nobleman who had interrupted her recollections of her childhood.
" No, no, Baron, I am quite fine, I assure you. I was simply a tad overcome with a small worry, nothing to trifle over. Please forgive my inattentiveness, I am quite undone lately." Jeanine said, feeling guilt ooze through her belly. She quite liked the Baron, and was normally attentive, but nothing anyone said tonight seemed to be able to hold her attention like her memories of Marcus were.
The Baron nodded in understanding and continued chatting. Jeanine nodded and 'mmmm'ed at appropriate pauses (as expected) as she surveyed the largeish room. The small circular tables scattered about the room held floral arrangements, filling the evening air with the scent of gardenias and hyacinth. The noblewomen in their dark evening gowns each added their own scent to the air. The popular 'personalised perfume' rage had taken ahold of the Arulanthian Court, and all the noblewomen had a unique scent. 'Not a bad thing, really.' The blonde thought. The gentlemen they chatted with wore their caramel-coloured breeches with forest green, burgundy, deep blue or black shirts. All in all it would be a rather bleak assembly if it were not for the bright lights that glittered upon either gender's jewels.
Jeanine tuned into the Baron's one-sided conversation long enough to add a suitably long response of,
" Oh yes, it was a terrible shame really, we were all looking forward to his music," and returned to her searching of the crowd.
She picked out several handsome and desirable noblemen in attendance, along with the squires who when wearing their over-knight's colours stood out. A good thing for the handsome ones, a pity on the less comely. But though these men were quite out-numbered in their lady-admirers, none could have out-done Marcus DeBracey, accounted one of the best catches of the Arulanthian Court in a decade.
He was, of course, not in attendance, as conspicuously absent as he been at the last three balls and parties, though more so tonight. Tonight was sort of a welcome-home party for him, though it was never officially announced.
But his absence meant more than that the other virile males had more followers than usual, but also that Jeanine was without a beau or young man her own age that evening. As an engaged woman, she was no longer sought by other men. Her companions were, therefore, nobles too old for any gossip or her fiancé, who was 'not here.'she thought, disappointed. Her eyes grew worried as she searched thoroughly through the crowds of people.
Her gaze sharpened as the Duke of Lormington entered and was immediately set upon by a group of young noblewomen clustered by the door. 'Oh Solaro and Remaneen,' she prayed fervently, 'Let him keep his distance!' Jeanine tuned back into the elderly man beside her and nodded at his statement.
" Well I'll be moving on, then, milady. My Lady wife has finally come, wotwot! Came with her sister, Solaroburn me if I know why! Give that brother of yours my warmest regards, eh?" Jeanine assured him she would and smiled as he departed to greet his wife. She liked the Baron and Baroness of Qualton's Rook like she would a distant Uncle and Aunt.
She turned back to the doorway to shift accordingly if Lormington's Duke had moved closer. She turned and nearly upset her glass of wine in surprise as she looked directly into Hubert of Lormington's eyes. He smiled at her surprise and took her glass from her.
" A pity that Marcus is not here to assist you, darling." She flushed with embarrassment and anger and said quietly,
" You should not address me in such a familiar manner, Your Grace." She said as she edged subtly away from him. He smiled and stepped closer, far too close for an innocent chat. She pursed her lips and looked up at him. His blue eyes crinkled near the corners and his rough beard concealed what Jeanine knew to be the weak chin of a coward and bully. At least, a coward with other men. As long as there weren't any more men around he was in his element. Other women hadn't seemed to notice, but both Jeanine and her own circle had.
The Duke took placed her glass on a table used for the floral arrangements and pushed her gently but firmly out of the crowd.
" Now, Jeanine, is that really necessary? Use our given names is one gesture of our..." he leaned close to her and whispered in her ear, "intimacy." His warm breath on her neck filtered down to her breasts, making her shiver, but not with arousal. With nauseousness and disgust. Jeanine felt her throat constrict, her vomiting reflex acting up. She swallowed convulsively, trying to keep it down.
He pulled her towards the wall and stroked her cheek gently. 'He would mistake my shudder.' she thought, thoroughly irritated and somewhat afraid. Jeanine looked around desperately for someone to rescue her, but he had somehow manoeuvred close to the wall, near a corner. 'Oh Gods.' He angled his body so that if anyone looked, they were chatting, so that if anyone looked, he was not tracing her collarbone...and other more private places.
" This could be construed as assault, Duke Lormington" Jeanine warned as she tried to walk away. He pulled her back in,
" Perhaps...but you'd not do anything to hurt me...would you my little Jeanie?" She turned to face him, intending to either scream or say something to scare him. She didn't get that far. As she opened her mouth, he leaned in and kissed her.
Sort of. A kiss cannot be a kiss when it hurts, and Jeanine was hurting. Hubert of Lormington forced his tongue into her throat as he groped at her breasts.
Jeanine struggled, but it made little difference. He took his mouth away and whispered in her ear,
" Remember, my little whore, that I know you better than that dear little Count of yours....I know your mind. And body." She stared at him, her eyes filling with angry tears.
" I helped you. Could you not leave me be?" She whispered, her voice catching slightly. The Duke of Lormington smiled. " Leave you be? How can I, knowing what you have to offer?" he asked, taking his other hand off her breasts and gesturing towards her body. " Are you sure you don't want dear little Marcus to know about you...and me? You could be rid of me and my pesterings." Jeanine glared at him,
" You know he wouldn't marry me if he knew." She turned towards the wall and let her tears flow freely. 'If he knew....He's honourable, he would not make a scandal, but he would not marry me.' The thought made the woman's heart ache.
" No, he wouldn't...pity. But then you would be free to marry me, or continue in you other...occupations." She looked back at him, her gentle eyes filled with hate.
" I was young. I didn't know any better. You seemed so, so, wonderful. And Marcus was away, gone for what seemed like..." Jeanine paused, the hate filtering out of her eyes. "...an eternity." The hatred returned as the noblewoman continued. " You were there, and you took me. You took my soul...wasn't that enough for you? Do you have to pursue me? Why?" She glared at him, but the hopelessness overtook her and her tears overflowed.
The Duke felt a twinge of regret. He hadn't meant to confront her like this here. But he needed a favour.
" Why? Because I feel you may forget who has the power here, whore. If you are so desperate to be rid of me, do this one thing for me, and I'll leave you be." She looked up from her handkerchief, looking so forlorn.
" What is it? I'll do anything...." He smiled. 'I have her right where I want her.'
Quietly, he led her out of the ball room and away from the other nobles. Marcus watched them leave from his high vantage point.
Old castles are interesting as a rule, and almost always have ingenious hiding places. Marcus's hiding spot was behind a large floral arrangement on one of the ledges above the assembly. Half in shadow, half in the flickering of torchlight on the wall bracket. He plucked a hot-house carnation from the vase and left.
"Sir Marcus DeBracey!" The herald announced to the courtiers. A group of women flooded him as he entered, the flower in one hand.
Countess Ellen of Witherbury, watched him, smiling as he delicately fought his way from his admirers.
" I see you haven't lost your popularity. Welcome back Marcus." The Count smiled tightly and drew his sister-in-law towards a somewhat abandoned table.
" Have you seen Jeanine anywhere?" His friend and removed relative-by-marriage raised an eyebrow.
" Seeing as how you've been to at least two parties with your fiancé, I don't see how you can be inquiring after her now that you have abandoned her. Divorce her quietly, Marcus, if you love her no longer. But you mustn't play these games." Marcus shook his head and replied quietly,
" You know nothing about it, Ellen. Yes, I ought to have come to more parties, and yes, at least one would have been acceptable. But I have not abandoned her. I do not like parties, truly, I loathe them. Everyone knows this and yet they are surprised that I do not come. She has no need to come either."
" You know she adores seeing people. She loves dancing."
" Do you know anything of Jeanine's past?" The question was so startling that the Countess answered before she could think.
" Why, yes. She was-" She cut herself off there and glared at him. " How much do you know, Marcus?" Marcus sighed and ran his hand through his wavy hair.
" I know enough to say that most men would not marry her knowing what I know." Ellen of Witherbury's eyes widened.
" And still you proposed? You would still marry her?" She whispered, shocked.
" Aye. I mean yes... yes I would have."
" Wait. Would have? Why would you change for mind now?"
" Because of what I have just witnessed." Ellen looked at him, impatient. " She and the Duke of Lormington just walked out, incredibly close to one another. I do not know how she can stand being in the same palace as he, let alone close enough to touch. After what happened-!" Marcus shook his curly head and looked past Ellen to the door that Jeanine had exited through. Ellen followed his gaze.
" You ought to have followed them. Broken them apart and confronted them." She turned him to face her. " You showed your honour in many ways, not the least by proposing to a broken woman. Marcus, do you love her?"
Keosha help Abby out of bed, Lord Dewhurst on the Countesses other side. They held their breath as she walked unaided to the doorway of her room in the Healing Quarters. A nurse stood outside, waitng for her to continue. Abby began her daily ritual of walking down to the large doors and back again. She finally returned to the doorway and walked slowly back to her bed.
Abby took one more tremulous step before collapsing onto the mattress. Keosha and Antony applauded happily.
" I'm getting better. Slowly, though." Abigail said as she gasped for air. After being in bed for two weeks, she needed to build up her strength.
" But you are right, Abby, your much quicker at it. I'm glad you insisted on beginning." The woman on the bed smiled tiredly.
" you'll come back at noon, to help me through it all again?" The serving woman nodded and Abby bid them farewell.
After they had gone an apprentice-nurse brought a tray to the table. Abby asked her to leave it on the table by the door. The woman left quietly.
Abby got up again and quickly walked over to the tray and without difficulty, carried it back. She ate ravenously, hungry from weeks being unconscious and unable to eat or nauseous and unable to keep anything down. Within minutes she finished her dish or thin soup and bread. She poked at the wobbly sort of jelly before swallowing that too.
' All in all, I am doing quite well.' she thought happily. 'It would never do for Keosha to know how well I'm doing already.' Abby shuddered at the thought of all those horrid balls. "It wouldn't do at all." she muttered.
" Iloria!" Yona embraced his friend happily. " Do you have anything?" he asked, grasping her shoulders. Iloria rolled her eyes.
" What sort of thief do you think I am, Yona? Honesty, give me some credit...I am the best lifter in all of Lennicks." She grinned and sat down on the lumpy tavern bed. The woman bent down and rolled up her skirts, revealing two black bags strapped to her legs. She unbuckled them and opened them, drawing each item out individually.
" First is the Duke's. Here we have half his purse, 16 gold coins and four silvers. No coppers." She dug into the first bag again. " A pocket watch, of the best quality. Ummm, ah, yes... those papers you wanted." Iloria handed her employer the watch and a rolled scroll of paper, the Duke of Lormington's waxen seal, sealing the scroll-letter, which Yona examined with interest.
" Thank you. I need these very much." The brunette frowned,
" So this wasn't a job...its personal." Yona nodded as he read over the papers. He leaned forward,
" The Duke hired me for a job. And as with all employers, I watch them and spy on them as well. I became very suspicious of that noble, and now, thanks to you, my suspicions have be irrevocably confirmed." She shook her head, saying,
"The way you talk, most think your noble anyhow." She held up her hands to stop his indignant reply, " I know, I know, all good thieves and spies can change their identities, and you just happen to be better than good. Do you want to see what the Earl had on 'im?" Yona nodded and she opened the other bag.
" He was far more interesting. The used packaging of a sleep-amnesia spell, a small dagger, and..." She paused and Yona glared at her, " and a replica of the key to the King's outer rooms." She finished with a smile and handed the key to him. The slenderly-muscular man examined it closely.
" He made it himself...out of lead."
" A man of many talents, then." Yona nodded. He pocketed the key and placed the other things in a black bag of his own. Yona poured them both a glass of rum and they sat, staring out the grimy window, watching the trees of the Royal Forest sway in the breeze.
" The Royal Forest has played host to us for long enough. Two days from now, we leave." The Gypsy Master had announced over the morning meal.
Hershel and Hinda wandered through the forest, listening to the swallows singing their own songs to one another.
" Hershel?"
" Hmmm?"
" What happens now?"
" Now, my little doe? Now I kiss you." Hinda received his kiss happily, but continued,
" No, though that was nice, what I mean is, do you love me enough to marry me? Or do we kiss and touch and then part?" Hershel raised an eyebrow at her, but not mockingly. He loved her too much for that. Hinda was flushed, it was an embarrassing thing to ask. 'Well,' she thought, 'Not so much embarrassing as awkward.'
They walked in what was not quite so comfortable a silence as before.
Finally, Hershel stopped her under a large tree, one with small white flowers growing on the ground and up the thick trunk. He bent, plucked some flowers and turned Hinda away, so her back was to him.
" Hinda, I love you. I love you way you smile, the way you laugh. I love the way you think and how you are direct, sometimes too much so for you are easily embarrassed. But I love you. And that's what matters." As he romanced her, he threaded the white, five-petaled flowers in her dark hair. When he was done, he turned her and kissed her softly, lovingly. He looked her in the eyes and told her this,
" I am but a poor gypsy, and far unworthy of you. For some reason you seem to love me, and as you know I love you too. I love you so much that if it were my choice, I would marry you now, with the woodland creatures for witnesses, with these flowers for your attendants, and those bushes as mine." Hinda's eyes filled with tears and she hugged him close. Hershel whispered the rest in her ear.
" You have shown me the world so differently that I could not bare to lose you. Hinda, if you would have me, I would marry you."
" I love you, Hershel. And I would marry you now." They ended their embrace and walked close together, back to the camp. Hershel resolved, as he stroked Hinda's arm and held her close, that he would ask her Father for permission that very day.
There, singing woodland creatures....or at least birdies...ok?
Review! .: Glares evilly:. Do it..... Posted On: December 26th 'o4
