§ § § - August 26, 1996
Leslie's composure was back in place the next morning at the plane dock to see their guests off, and Roarke was impressed by how well she managed to hide her roiling emotions. Her smile dropped as soon as the plane taxied away, but she was calm and under control.
"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked her on the way back to the main house.
"Numb, I guess," she said through a heavy sigh. "I think last evening, facing Christian, burned out my emotions…I just don't feel anything at the moment."
Roarke nodded. "A natural defense mechanism," he said. "That's fine. Christian and Marina and their entourage will be leaving this afternoon, and although I hate to do it, I am afraid I must ask you to face him one final time and see them off with me."
She shrugged. "I just hope the numbness lasts till then." Roarke smiled in sympathy and squeezed her shoulder.
Shortly after they returned, the mail arrived and Leslie took over the task of sorting through it, happy to have something concrete to focus on. Roarke checked his date book, then set it aside and began to return phone calls. In the middle of all this, the foyer door opened and someone came inside, pausing at the top of the steps and surveying the study. Roarke spotted the visitor, quickly wound up his call and hung up.
"Come in, please," he said, making Leslie look up. "May we be of assistance?"
Leslie's stomach plunged again when she recognized Marina, Christian's wife. The younger woman was frightfully thin, even more so than she had appeared on television; she looked on the verge of starvation. Her night-black hair provided vivid contrast to her unnaturally pale skin. She stepped into the office and came to stand in front of the desk, her large dark eyes scrutinizing first Roarke and then Leslie. Leslie met her gaze, but it was all she could do not to shudder under Marina's frank stare.
Then Marina smiled, fully and wholeheartedly, surprising both Leslie and Roarke. "I hope I am not intruding," she said questioningly. She was soft-spoken, her voice not much above a whisper. "But I wished to speak with you, without Christian present."
"By all means," Roarke said and gestured at the chairs. "Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable. May we get you anything?"
"No, but thank you, Mr. Roarke." Marina gracefully lowered herself into a chair and folded her hands in her lap, focusing on Leslie. "So you are the light of Christian's life," she said warmly.
"You know about…him and me?" Leslie asked dumbly, beyond amazement now.
Marina nodded. "Christian's niece, Anna-Kristina, explained everything to me. I bear you no ill will. This was no more my choice than it was his, please understand that. This should never have happened."
The question that had plagued Leslie for weeks would no longer be denied, and plowed out of her seemingly of its own volition. "Christian claims you can't get either an annulment or a divorce. Why not? This isn't the sixteenth century, when parents controlled their children's lives well into adulthood. What can the king and the count possibly do to you if you put an end to their forced matchmaking?"
"More than you know, Leslie," Marina told her sadly. "I was only five when I was betrothed to Christian, and I barely remember the trip to Lilla Jordsö for the signing of the marriage contract. Just like Christian, I too fell in love with another; and when my father announced that it was now time for me to fulfill the obligation he had entered me into, I tried to rebel. But he told me something that forced my hand.
"My father cultivates a particular spice called amakarna, and it's a very rare one—so rare that only a few can tolerate it. But those few find themselves with more energy, a reduced need for sleep, and overall excellent health. And a scant handful need that spice to survive. It's true of me and my father and sister; perhaps amakarna is the only thing that keeps me alive in the face of my illness. In any case, it is very popular on Lilla Jordsö, and its kings and queens have included it in their diets for several generations. The late king, Christian's father, was no different; and neither is his brother, the current king. As a result, those of Christian's family who are directly in line for the throne have grown dependent enough upon this spice that they can no longer live without it.
"Amakarna must be grown in a warm climate, and Lilla Jordsö is too far north to allow for its cultivation. So it has been necessary for the royal family to import it; and until King Arnulf I took the throne, there was never a problem with this. My grandfather was always more than generous in his dealings with them, and he grew wealthy from the trade.
"Unfortunately, my father is not so magnanimous of spirit; he is ambitious, what you might call a social climber. When my grandfather died—of the very illness I now have—he contacted King Arnulf with an ultimatum. He wanted one of his daughters to be wed to one of Arnulf's sons, and if arrangements were not made to that end, he would cut off their supply of amakarna. No one else on earth grows it, as far as we know, so he knew he had them in a very bad position. 'Over a barrel', I believe the phrase is." She hesitated, then said, "I apologize, Mr. Roarke, but perhaps I could impose upon you for a glass of water?"
"Of course," Roarke agreed immediately. Leslie glanced at him as she got up to fill the request; he had an extremely intense look on his face, one so concentrated that she wondered what about Marina's narrative had ensnared his interest so thoroughly. She filled a heavy lead-crystal glass and brought it back; Marina smiled her thanks and drank some.
"I think you can guess what happened," she said after a moment. "The king knew he must have amakarna: it was as necessary a nutrient to him as any vitamin or mineral. His other children were married, but his youngest son had recently been widowed, he said, and he would be happy to offer him in marriage. My sister wasn't available, so my father offered me, even though I was only five years old and Christian was twenty-two.
"So they drew up the contract, and Arnulf signed on his son's behalf—apparently without ever telling him what he had done. He died last year and Arnulf II ascended to the throne; and I reached my twenty-first birthday last month. My father demanded fulfillment of the marriage agreement. Like his father, Arnulf II must have amakarna to survive, so he pushed Christian into this marriage, just as my father pushed me."
Leslie and Roarke looked at each other, Roarke still with that intense expression. "So the king's very life is at stake," Roarke said slowly, "and in light of that, he felt that he had no choice but to sell his brother, in a sense."
Marina winced but nodded. "Yes, that's exactly right. Amakarna is not easy to grow, and the annual supply is quite limited, which gave my father even more of an advantage. He was quick to take it, I'm afraid. So you see, Christian and I were both sacrificed for the sake of a trade agreement, and there is nothing I can say, since I myself need amakarna to live as well. Even with it, I will be dead within five years." Her voice was steady. "I have lived with my illness since my early teens and have long since accepted that it will kill me."
"You're so calm about it," Leslie marveled, impressed in spite of herself.
Marina lifted her shoulders slightly. "To deny it, or to rail and rage over my fate, will not change it. So I made my peace instead. Leslie, I know that Christian pleaded with you last evening, without success; so perhaps I can sway you. Knowing what you do now, will you wait for him? Will you be here for him when I am gone?"
Leslie stared at her, astonished all over again. "Christian said you gave your blessing to the whole idea, but it sounded too good to be true, as desperately as I wanted to believe him. Now I see it really is true." She heaved a deep sigh and closed her eyes in an attempt to stave off the telltale stinging that presaged tears. "And the fates help me, but I love him too much to refuse." She opened her eyes again and nodded at Marina. "Yes, I'll wait for him."
Marina smiled broadly. "I'm so glad. I only want you two to be happy."
"You are an extraordinarily generous young woman, Marina," Roarke said softly, his voice and smile warm, his eyes alight. "To go out of your way in this manner to see to it that my daughter and your husband should have their chance at happiness together…"
Marina raised a hand, stopping him. "We were manipulated, all of us, and it's my way of trying to set things right," she said, shaking her head. She drank some more from her glass, then set it on the desk and stood up. "I've accomplished what I hoped to do, and I thank you both so very much for your time. I had better get back to our bungalow, since Christian doesn't know I am here." She nodded at Roarke, who returned the gesture, and smiled at Leslie. "I wish you both the very best, and thank you again." Seeming to glide more than walk, she quietly let herself out.
Roarke and Leslie sat in contemplative silence for some time after Marina's departure, both lost in thought. Leslie, still trying to absorb all that Marina had said, eventually turned to her father to say something, only to find him watching her. "What's that for?"
Roarke chuckled. "You look a little overwhelmed, Leslie. Has this made the situation any easier for you?"
"I don't really know," Leslie said slowly, her voice trailing off as she considered the question; then she frowned, bit her lip and nodded. "Yes, I think it has, believe it or not." She gave Roarke a surprised look. "It actually has. I still can't get over Marina's incredible generosity. I wonder what sort of illness she has that she's so certain she's going to die? I mean, don't you think they might have looked for a cure?"
Roarke's dark eyes took on that strangely intense look again and his gaze lost focus. "There is no cure, my child," he said softly. "What she has is so rare, no doctor has ever even heard of it…" Her stare sharpened; he seemed to grow aware of this and came back to the moment immediately. "I suggest you do as Marina has done, and simply accept the way of it. One day, you and Christian will be together again. Take hope in that, and utilize all possible patience. After all, you know that a happy ending lies somewhere in your future—so for now, let Christian go, and give yourself the chance to move on."
Leslie smiled faintly. "I've done it before, I can do it again," she said, and cleared her throat as if to begin the long wait. "Well, there's work to be done." With that, she went back to the stack of envelopes in her lap. Roarke smiled and turned his attention back to his own tasks, secure in the knowledge that she would be just fine.
What does Roarke know that he isn't telling Leslie? The answer lies in a future story…stay tuned!