Chapter 28: Separation, Realisation, Action!
Hershel and Hinda lay, suffocating under piles of hay that itched and scratched, causing their piles of hay to shift, one of many consequences if they moved. So they did not move.
For the concealed gypsies, their rides in the wagons felt as days, though 'twas only three to six hours, varying for each wagon.
At last, the cart stopped and they held their breath. The hay overtop their bodies was being shifted and there! Glorious sunlight! Hinda pushed through the hay, uncaring of who it was that released her from the horrid confines. She breathed deep the fresh air, unfortunately ripe with the scent of hay, a smell she had grown far too accustomed to in her four hour journey.
She quickly turned to help the others from the wagon, eager to find Hershel and pick the hay off him. She helped old Chiam and his wife, Hadara and Ideh, a girl her own age. Even as she rejoiced to see so many of her caravan-mates, she became quite frantic. She helped Japhet and Nizana...but no Hershel... and little Shira and Ariza, her mother's friend, but no Hershel. Ephram and Caleb, Hershel's friends.
Eventually, the wagon was emptied of both people and hay...and no sign of Hershel. Hinda's eyes welled with tears even as her heart welled with a cold, stabbing sorrow.
Hinda began to shake uncontrollably and her collapsed on the dirt road. A wail rose from her lips that carried far into the country and woods.
Hershel sat staring into the bonfire. He sat the whole night, staring...blinking occasionally. He had searched his own wagon thoroughly. Meir wasn't there...neither was Hinda.
Both camps of gypsies stayed in the countryside, working in the fields for the harvest. Neither knew where the other had gone, and every gypsy was forbidden to wander past the confines of their farm.
Keosha wiped the sweat off her friend's pale face. The king had arrested and imprisoned the former Knighted Count DeBracey, stripping Marcus of his titles, leaving him simply as Marcus DeBracey, commoner. He was forbidden visitors, including his noble father.
But Abby, rather than rally to her love, had withdrawn from the world, and taken ill. Her constant shivering fits and profuse sweating had been seen as a menace to the Court's health and they had been bidden home to the Mattensworth Estate, where the Earl, thankfully, was not.
He had been called to business, a chore which, despite his ever-pressing wedding day, had not slowed in the slightest.
Sophia and Keosha had talked at length, while the maidservant tended her mistress and friend. Keosh told her all that had happened, and shared the short letter that arrived from the Royal Castle.
My Dearest Keosha,
The manner in which you were taken from me angered me to no end. Uprooted in the middle of the night, with no time for a farewell! I cannot endure not seeing your beauteous face, your very scent haunts every step that I take...I yearn for your calm manner and loving nature. So much more I could say, but my common sense (too close overwhelmed by my love for you), bids me to continue on to other matters.
I know not how much information Marcus relayed to Lady Abigail, not how much of it she spoke of to you. I shall tell you of Yona, someone who helped us (the naming of 'us' would only give meaning to unwelcome eyes, should any come to read this letter) with the project for which the former count is imprisoned. You must know that your mistress's beloved is not allowed visitation rights, but Yona knows that not. He has spoken with Marcus many times and a plan cannot be devised. His trial is tomorrow, and Marcus is no more prepared for it than the rat who takes the cheese from the trap. I fear he will have an unfair trial, with the expected verdict of death.
I mean not to trouble you, but to warn you and your mistress of the Court's feel in this case. The King is jittery, blowing hot then cold with in the same hour. The Court is a quiet and timid place, and many have left, so cold the climate is.
Queen Moraine's scandal, of course, you heard of before you left. I pity the poor woman, who seems so broken now her last hope for a child is gone. Why the king made it public I do not know. When few knew, there was still a chance that the thieves could be found, but now that all in Arulanthu knew of the vial's worth, the price would be a ten thousand fold the original.
Tend your mistress, but pity her not. I had though she was made of sterner stuff than to be taken ill at her love's captivity. I mean no offence to you nor to your friend, but to wonder that she had done nothing. If I offend, tell me so in your reply and I'll say nothing of the sort again, for I value the very ink of your words which speak of you and your unparalleled beauty.
I cannot away to you just yet as my sister is in dire need of companionship. The loss of her fiancé was difficult for her, and though I understand true love's call, I cannot help but feel anger at Marcus's mistreatment of her. For all he is a friend, a man he is also.
With more love than what would outweigh all oceans,
Your devoted and cheerless paramour,
Antony Dewhurst.
Sophia emptied the used water through the window and into the bushes below. A maid took it after handing her another, filled with warm water, which the two women used to bathe their friend's face and neck.
It was sure that nothing could be done against Sophia's upcoming marriage. She was more or less reconciled to the fact that she was die in a loveless marriage to a cruel and calculating husband. More or less...but not completely.
Sophia stared out of the windows, but saw nothing of the landscape before her. Already, she lived in the Duke's household, although she had seen nothing of him. Her rooms were large enough and well-situated, but they lacked something. 'Comfort. That's what it is, comfort.'
Sophia shook her head and returned to Abby's side. The brunette tossed and turned, her face an alarmingly pale shade. Keosha looked up with her full lips pursed.
" If she continues like this, I fear she'll not live out the week. An apothecary might do her some good, but-" Sophia nodded in understanding.
" Yes. She's lost her will to live." Suddenly the blonde turned on her friend, lying colourless on the bed. " Why? You have a man's love, you are loved!" She yelled at Abby in an irrational manner, too angry to stay calm, even in a sickroom. Abby's eyes had fluttered open and lost their too-familiar vacant look. " WHY? YOU ARE BEING SELFISH!" The blonde glared furiously at the other woman. " You have Marcus' love, and he yours, but as soon as there's a obstacle in your way, you take sick! What right have you to a man's love, when there are those doomed to a loveless marriage!" Sophia shook and her hands clenched into fists. " You may think you love Marcus, but that is obviously a lie! You cannot love that which you will not help!"
The woman's blue eyes filled with tears and she shook her head again.
" Wake up...Marcus is to be tried tomorrow...and you lie here like a sickly grandmother. You disgust me. How can I call you a friend when you've disappointed me so greatly?" She left, closing the doors quietly behind her.
Abby sat up in the bed, her grey eyes wide. She looked to Keosha, but her maid shook her head.
" Don't look at me for sympathy. You, you-" she stopped, not trusting herself not to yell at the noblewoman.
Abby watched as her second friend left her room. She stared at the mirror and was shocked to see how pale she had become, and the dark smudges under her eyes, proof of many restless nights. Her eyes looked unnaturally large, almost scary.
" I'm killing myself." Abby realised. Suddenly one of Sophia's sentences filtered through her sleep-muddled brain, 'Marcus is to be tried tomorrow...' Abby turned to the basin on the side table and washed her face. Suddenly, she got up, shakily, and made her way to her wardrobe.
A half hour later, she emerged, her face still pale, but with a slight flush invading her cheeks. Abby made her way down to the stables, where she ordered the carriage.
After the stables, she went to the kitchen, where she ordered a startled Cook and Cook's Helper to pack enough food for a carriage ride to Mantol.
When she came face to face with Keosha and Sophia in the garden, she stopped. They looked at her.
" When do we leave?" Abby raised an eyebrow.
" We?" Keosha nodded.
" Yes, we." Abby shifted her gaze to Sophia, returned her gaze boldly.
Abby nodded slowly. She had expected that the would want to accompany her.
" Then it's well that I had Cook prepare food for three." They smiled, and the tension in the air became more apparent. Abby turned to Sophia and the blonde watched her friend's eyes fill with tears. " I'm sorry, Sophia. I didn't mean to be unfeeling. I just, I felt too horrible to go on...I thought that there was no hope...I was wrong. So wrong." Her voice was low, and here it began to shake. " Please...please...forgive me..."
Sophie felt her nose prickle as Abby spoke. The prickling was a forerunner to the salty tears that ran down her cheeks, but she choked out her reply.
" I forgive you...please just do something...try something." Abby nodded and they embraced, each crying quietly into the other's shoulder.
The Mattensworth carriage was rolling out of their estate half an hour after they had made up in the garden.
Abby stared out the window into the sunset, the dying rays highlighting her hair and adding a sparkle to her eyes. ' I'm coming Marcus...I'm coming.'
Do you want me to apologise? I've been horribly busy. I am sorry. I've sort of lost interest...but I will finish the story, I promise.
