27th Day of Goodmonth, 565 CY
The Castle Chauv, Furyondy
Lady Bigfellow couldn't breathe.
A terrible crushing pain encircled her torso, tightening more with every second around her chest and back.
She knew she was going to pass out soon.
Caroline didn't want to act, but she knew she had no choice.
Her hazel eyes flickered over to where the Baroness Chauv stood, watching her.
"My Lady," Caroline gasped. "This corset is killing me!"
The Lady Chauv sighed, equal parts sympathy and exasperation evident on her face.
"Is it really that much worse than that dreadful armor you wear?" she asked, no doubt thinking she was sounding completely reasonable. "I daresay you'll get used to it in time, Lady Bigfellow. Now, watch me again."
Caroline grimaced and hoping fervently that being able to breathe was really more of a luxury than the necessity she'd always thought it was, turned her attention back to her tutor.
She still wasn't exactly sure why the Baroness had taken it into her head to instruct her in the manners and customs of nobility. Caroline didn't care for such things, and she knew Argo certainly didn't. The Lady Chauv's official explanation was that Caroline's husband, upon his return and seeing his "new" courtly wife, would realize at once what he had been missing and appreciate her all the more.
Caroline suspected it in fact had more to do with the fact the Baroness had no daughter of her own. There was a governess who lived at the castle who instructed the ladies-in-waiting in the noble arts, but the Baroness seemed determined that Caroline Bigfellow was to be her own personal protégé.
Lucky me, Caroline thought to herself sourly. Fortunately, her oxygen-starved grimaces served to cover up any outward evidence of her grumpiness.
And she did have to admit that on the whole, she very much liked the Lady Chauv.
The two women had spent much of the previous day together, talking. Caroline found the Baroness surprisingly easy to confide in; easier, Caroline had to admit with a silent stab of guilt, than Talass ever had been.
So they had talked of their lives and of their loves. Their triumphs and their tragedies. The day had just seemed to fly by, and Caroline felt better than she had-
-since that night.
Caroline had not confided in Lady Chauv about her miscarriage, but that was still not a subject she could even bear to think of herself, so she threw aside her internal objections and agreed enthusiastically when the Baroness had broached the idea of coaching Caroline in some of the finer points on being a nobleman's wife. If nothing else, it would serve as a distraction.
Then again, Caroline thought as she returned herself to the present, suffocation works surpassingly well as a distraction all by itself.
Caroline had never worn so many layers of clothing in her life. The serving girls Jolene and Aleena had helped Caroline into them, just as they did daily with their mistress, but for some reason it had seemed to take twice as long to get Caroline dressed as it had the Baroness. She had scowled as the ladies-in-waiting shot glances at each other, clearly communicating in silence just how much of an irritant Lady Bigfellow was to work with.
Caroline had often waited impatiently in the past for Argo to don his plate mail, usually with help from someone. Now she knew her husband had nothing on her.
Over white satin underclothes of breeches, hose and the abominable corset was put an ivory silk slip. Then came a long, trailing gown of deep blue velvet fringed with red lace on the hem and the low neckline. Over this went a long overcoat of cotton dyed a sky blue. Then to Caroline's horror came a full-length mantel covered with fox fur and trimmed at the shoulders with a brooch. The slippers were pleasant enough; made of plush and fur-lined velvet and fashioned with a buckle on top, but they were worn inside uncomfortable wooden overshoes.
Caroline's black hair had been plaited, which involved a hairdresser Lady Bigfellow was certain must have been previously employed as a torturer. A long piece of undyed linen had then been pinned over the remains of her hair, wrapped around her throat and tucked down the hemline of her dress. Caroline thought that this served to complete the strangulation motif very well. Apparently the unspoken aim here was to cause her skin color to turn a shade of blue to match the gown-
"Are you watching, Caroline?"
Lady Bigfellow gave it her honest, best attempt at an attentive expression. "Yes, your Ladyship."
The Baroness shook her head in dismay, but Caroline caught the brief puckish smile.
This certainly seemed like an odd place to hold an etiquette lesson to Caroline. Rather than in a chamber or courtyard, the women were standing in the midst of the section of Chauv Castle that was still being reconstructed. It was a wide and very uneven dirt ramp that ran from the castle grounds up to the sections being mortared. It had rained the previous night and dirty water;, thin mud and stones ran in a jumble own a sluice that meandered its way down the ramp. There was as yet no ceiling and Caroline could see the unbroken clouds of grey above. She fervently hoped it would not start raining again.
Serfs tramped by in both directions, many carrying buckets of mortar or pushing wheelbarrows laden with stone blocks. None passed by without a curious peek at the noblewomen. Those whose looks lingered too long however, were quickly dissuaded by a sharp glance from the Baroness.
"Observe," instructed Lady Chauv and with that the Baroness began to move around the perimeter of their surroundings, her wooden shoes somehow managing to avoid getting mud-splattered despite the filthy surroundings, protruding rocks and flowing rivulets of water. Her dress had the same massive sleeves as did Caroline's, yet she got no dirt on them even though they fell within an inch of the uneven ground.
The noblewoman then stopped and gestured to Caroline. "Now you."
Lady Bigfellow grimaced again and tried to recreate her instructor's circuit around the ramp area, but it was hard to balance in these shoes. The sleeves of her gown were absolutely enormous and unwieldy. Caroline lifted her arms to avoid trailing the sleeves on the dirt.
Lady Chauv shook her head. "No."
"But how-"
"Lady Bigfellow, a nobleman or woman can always be identified by their bearing, even if they were clad in rags," the Baroness explained. "All your movements must seem effortless to any onlooker. Otherwise, you are but an imposter playing dress-up."
"It seems rather pointless." Caroline was trying hard, but she could feel her temper rising.
Lady Chauv's smile was tight. "Your grace is as important an identification as a signet ring, except it is much harder to forge. The clothes we wear are cumbersome not without cause, Caroline. Our ability to wear them without displaying discomfort is expected of us, and it helps mark us as nobility, not only in the eyes of our peers, but to the masses, as well."
"If I trip and break my neck, they'll mark me as a casualty."
The Baroness chuckled for a moment but then eyed Caroline seriously, her head tilted slightly. She bit her lip. "Your Aeridian accent is rather pronounced, Lady Bigfellow. Clipped on your long a's. Try repeating after me: The rain in Aerdy falls mainly-"
"Your Ladyship," Caroline interrupted, unable to stop herself. She then paused for a moment to gather her thoughts before proceeding.
"My husband has the same accent I do and is he quite fond of it."
Lady Chauv seemed to realize she had crossed a line. Her head inclined slightly. "Of course. Forgive me, Lady Bigfellow. Let us return to-"
She stopped. A young boy of perhaps twelve that Caroline recognized as one of Sir Kenneth's squires had entered the area and was staring at Lady Bigfellow.
"You have a message for me, young Higgins?" asked the Baroness coldly.
The youth seemed to shake himself, his cheeks looking pink. "Um, yes. Of course, Your Ladyship. Your son reports that the Earl of Farlyow has arrived and awaits your presence in the Manor Room."
The Baroness turned a grim expression to Caroline. "I'm afraid we must stop here, Lady Bigfellow. Affairs of state such as these now fall upon me, whether I wish it or not. I shall see you at supper."
With those words she turned and followed Higgins back up the ramp.
Caroline could not help noticing how much more slowly and sadly the Baroness was moving now.
She turned to see two servants watching her. Caroline, feeling grateful that she was no longer sharing a room with them, gave the ladies-in-waiting a wan smile.
"If you two could release me from this corset before I asphyxiate, there's an extra wheatshaff in it for each of you."
The offer did not seem to brighten the two girls' expressions any, but they turned and headed up the ramp, Caroline following. When they reached the top however, Caroline tapped Jolene on the shoulder.
"Where is your companion, Michelle?"
The teenager's eyes sought the floor before replying. "She fell ill this morning, Lady Bigfellow. Right after she-"
The two girls exchanged a furtive glance.
"Right after breakfast," finished Jolene. "The physician says she has brain fever."
"Brain fever?" repeated Caroline, concerned. "That sounds serious."
"As I was told by Her Ladyship, she is expected to recover fully," Jolene replied, glancing down before wiping her nose and starting to walk again. "Let us get back to your quarters, Lady Bigfellow."
They had just reached the corridor outside the guest chambers that had been set aside for Caroline when she gasped and instinctively put a hand against the cold stone wall to steady herself.
Monsrek's voice had entered her mind.
Caroline, I reached Elrohir yesterday. Argo is fine; Slave Lord organization destroyed. Party returning to Chendl. Will be in touch again when possible.
Caroline stopped where she was, her eyes unfocussed, oblivious of the servants' calling her name.
Then she leapt into the air.
"Yes! Yes! Argos' alive! My husband's alive! They all are! They're all safe! They did it! They accomplished their quest and now they're coming home!
Still shouting, she hugged the two girls fiercely who, after a moment's hesitation, hugged her back and murmured congratulations, even if their expressions suggested that Lady Bigfellow had utterly and completely lost her mind.
"I'll be right back!" she called to the servants while pelting back down the hall. "I've got find Sir Dorbin and give him the message!"
Caroline was pretty sure Dorbin was at the edge of the castle grounds hawking with Sir Silverton. She had almost reached the main door of the castle when she suddenly stopped dead.
The message.
Frowning, Caroline went over it in her mind.
Argo is fine.
Sir Dorbin knew of course that Caroline pined for her husband, but he also knew how deeply she cared about all of Argo's friends.
Why then simply not say, everyone is fine?
Caroline's heart has started to slow down, but now it pounded worse than ever as she quickened her pace to find Sir Dorbin.