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Standard disclaimer.
Please excuse any extreme mistakes, I am very sleepy.
The morning of Arthur's departure, Cassandra didn't come downstairs for breakfast, but sent word that she was suffering a migraine and would stay in bed.
Unable to remember the last time that she had been ill, Gwen grew deeply concerned and went to her.
Finding her in a state, Gwen gave her a dose of Godfrey's Cordial to relieve the pain, then applied a cool compress to her forehead and made certain that the bedroom was kept dark and quiet.
At least once an hour, while Cassandra slept, Gwen or one of the twins tiptoed to the doorway of her room to look in on her.
She didn't wake during any of the visits, only twitched like a sleeping cat and drifted through dreams that seemed far from pleasant.
"It's a good sign that she has no fever, isn't it?" Bia asked in the afternoon.
"Yes," Gwen replied firmly. "I expect, that after the excitement of the past week, she needs rest."
"I don't think that's what it is," Athena said.
She was perched on the settee with a brush and rack of hairpins and a fashion periodical in her lap, experimenting with Bia's hair.
They were attempting to copy one of the latest styles...an elaborate affair, that consisted of locks of hair rolled and pinned into puffs atop the head, with a loose double chatelaine braid falling down the back.
Unfortunately, Bia's hair was so heavy and slippery, it refused to stay in its pins, the locks sliding free and collapsing the puffs.
"Be stern," Bia encouraged. "Use more pomade. My hair will respond only to brute force."
"We should have bought more at Harcourt's," Athena said with a sigh. "We've already gone through half the..."
"Wait!" Gwen said, staring at Athena. "What did you just say? Not about the pomade, the thing you said about Cassandra."
The girl brushed out a lock of her twin's hair as she answered.
"I don't think she needs rest because of too much excitement. I think..." She paused, and then, "Gwen, is it tattling if I say something about someone else that's private and I know they wouldn't want it to be repeated?"
"Yes. Unless it's about your sister and you're telling it to me. Go on."
"Yesterday, when Mr. Harcourt came to visit, he and Cassandra were in the downstairs parlor with the door closed. I was going to fetch a book I'd left on the window ledge, but I heard their voices. You were with the housekeeper, going over the inventory list, so I didn't think it was worth bothering you."
"Yes, yes. And...?"
"From what little I overheard, they were quarreling about something. Perhaps I shouldn't call it quarreling, since Cassandra didn't raise her voice, but...she sounded distressed."
"They were probably discussing the wedding," Gwen said, "Since, that's when Mr. Harcourt told her he wanted to plan it."
"No, I don't think that was why they were at odds. I wish I could've heard more."
"You should have used my drinking glass trick," Bia said. "If I'd been there, I would be able to tell you every word that was said."
"I went upstairs," Athena continued, "And just as I reached the top, I saw Mr. Harcourt leave. Then Cassandra came upstairs a few minutes afterwards, and her face was very red, as if she'd been crying."
"Did she say anything about what happened?" Gwen asked.
But alas, Athena shook her head no.
Bia frowned, reaching up to her hair. She gingerly touched the pinned section her twin had been working on, and said,
"These don't feel like puffs. They feel like giant caterpillars."
A swift smile was wrenched from Gwen's lips as she regarded the pair.
Heaven help her, she loved the two of them. Although she was not wise or old enough to be their mother, she was all they had in the way of maternal guidance.
"I'll look in on your sister," she said, standing.
Then, she reached for Bia's hair and separated one of the caterpillars into two puffs, using a pin from Athena to anchor it.
"What are you going to say, if she tells you that she had a row with Harcourt?" Athena asked.
"I'll tell her to have more of them," Gwen said. "One can't allow a man to have his way all the time."
She paused reflectively, then said,
"Once, Lord Gemswick told me, that when a horse pulls at the reins, one should never pull back. Instead, loosen them. But never more than an inch."
As Gwen let herself into Cassandra's room, she heard the muffled sounds of weeping.
"Dear, what is it?" she asked, moving swiftly to the bedside. "Are you in pain? What can I do?"
Cassandra nodded her head and blotted her eyes with the sleeve of her nightgown.
And Gwen went to the nightstand, poured a glass of water from the jug and brought it to her. Next, she propped a pillow under head head, gave her a dry handkerchief, and straightened the covers.
"Is the migraine still bad?" she asked.
"Dreadful," Cassandra whispered. "Even my skin hurts."
Pulling a chair to the bedside, Gwen sat and regarded her with aching concern.
"What brought this on?" she dared to ask. "Did something happen during Mr. Harcourt's visit? Something besides discussing the wedding?"
Cassandra responded with a minuscule nod, her jaw trembling.
Gwen's thoughts whirled, as she wondered how to help Cassandra, who seemed on the verge of falling apart.
She hadn't seen her this undone since Liam's death.
"I wish you would tell me," Gwen said. "My imagination is running amok. What did Mr. Harcourt do to make you so unhappy?"
"I can't say," Cassandra whispered.
"Did he force himself on you?" Gwen asked, trying to keep her voice calm.
A long silence followed and Gwen grew anxious.
"I don't know," Cassandra said in a sodden voice. "He wanted...I don't know what he wanted. I've never..."
She stopped and blew her nose into the handkerchief.
"Did he hurt you?" Gwen forced herself to ask.
"No. But he kept kissing me and wouldn't stop, and...I didn't like it. It wasn't at all what I thought kissing would be. And he put his hand...somewhere he shouldn't. When I pushed him away, he looked angry and said something sharp, that sounded like...I thought I was too good for him. He said other things as well, but there was too much Welsh mixed in. I didn't know what to do, so I started to cry, and he left without another word."
She gave a few hiccuping sobs.
"I don't understand what I did wrong," she ended.
"You did nothing wrong."
"But I did, I must have." She lifted her thin fingers to her temples, pressing lightly over the cloth that covered them.
'Harcourt, you ham-handed sod,' Gwen thought furiously. 'Is it really so difficult for you to be gentle with a shy young woman, the first time you kiss her?'
"Obviously, he has no idea how to behave with an innocent girl," Gwen said quietly.
"Please don't tell anyone. I would die. Please promise."
"I promise."
"I must make Mr. Harcourt understand, that I didn't mean to make him angry..."
"Of course you didn't. He should know that." Gwen hesitated. "Before you proceed with the wedding plans, perhaps we should take some time to reconsider the engagement."
"I don't know," Cassandra said, then winced and gasped. "My head is throbbing. Right now, I feel as if I never want to see him again. Please, would you give me some more Godfrey's Cordial?"
"Yes, but first you must eat something. Cook is making broth and blancmange. It will be ready soon. Shall I leave the room? I think my talking has made your migraine worse."
"No, I want company."
"I'll stay, then. Rest your poor head."
Cassandra obeyed, laying quietly, whilst Gwen reigned in her thoughts, by counting backwards from one hundred in her head.
Moments later, there was a quiet sniffle.
"I'm so disappointed," Cassandra whispered. "About kissing."
"Sweetheart..." Gwen said, her heart breaking a little. "You haven't really been kissed. And it's different...with the right man."
"I don't see how it could be. I thought...I thought it would be like listening to beautiful music, or watching the sunrise on a clear morning. Instead..."
"Yes?"
Cassandra hesitated, and made a revolting little sound.
"He wanted me to part my lips. During..."
"Oh," Gwen said, understanding clearly.
"Is it because he's Welsh?"
A mixture of sympathy and amusement swept through Gwen.
"I don't believe that manner of kissing is limited to the Welsh, dear. Perhaps the idea isn't appealing at first. But if you try it a time or two, you might find it pleasant."
"How could I? How could anyone?"
"There are many kinds of kisses," Gwen said. "Had Mr. Harcourt introduced you to it gradually, you may have been more disposed to like it."
"I don't think I like kisses at all."
Gwen dampened a fresh white cloth, folded it, and laid it across Cassandra's forehead.
"You will. With the right man, kissing is wonderful...like falling into a long, sweet dream. You'll see."
"I don't think so," Cassandra whispered, her fingers plucking at the counterpane and twitching with agitation.
Gwen patted her hand and said,
"Don't worry too much dear. Give your head a rest and when you're feeling better, we'll talk about it."
Staying by the bedside, Gwen watched as Cassandra relaxed and dosed.
She knew that the cause of her problems would have to be addressed, before her condition would truly improve.
Having suffered from nervous distress in the weeks after Liam's death, she could recognize the signs in someone else.
It made her heart ache, to see Cassandra's cheerful nature crumbling beneath the weight of anxiety.
If it went on for too long, she was afraid that the girl might descend into a deep melancholy.
And with that thought in mind, she decided she had to do something.
Driven by intense worry, she left Cassandra's bedside and went to ring for Claire.
As soon as the maid reached Gwen's room, Gwen told her briskly,
"I need a pair of walking boots, a veil, and my hooded cloak. I must go on an errand, and I need you to accompany me."
Claire looked disconcerted.
"I can run the errand, milady, if you tell me what you need."
"Thank you, but I'm the only one who can do it."
"Shall I tell the butler to have the coach readied?"
Gwen shook her head.
"It would be much easier and simpler to walk. It's a short distance anyway...less than a half mile. We'll be on our way back, before they've even finished harnessing the team."
"A half mile?" Claire, who wasn't fond of walking, looked aghast. "Through London at night?"
"It's still light outside. We'll be walking through gardens and along a promenade. Now hurry."
'Before I lose my nerve,' she thought.
The errand would have to be carried out before anyone had time to object or delay them.
With luck, they would return home before dinner.
Once she was warmly dressed and ready to leave, Gwen went to the upstairs parlor, where Athena was reading and Bia was cutting pictures out of periodicals and gluing them into a scrapbook.
"Where are you going?" Athena asked in surprise.
"Out for an errand. Claire and I will return soon."
"Yes, but..."
"In the meantime," Gwen said, "I would appreciate it, if one of you would make certain that Cassandra's dinner tray is brought up to her. Sit with her and see that she eats something. But don't ask questions. It's better to stay quiet unless she wants you to talk."
"But what about you?" Bia asked, frowning. "What is this errand, and when will you come back?"
"It's nothing for you to worry about."
"Whenever someone says that," Bia said, "It always means the opposite. Along with 'It's only a scratch' or 'Worse things happen at sea.' Isn't that right Athena?"
Athena nodded briskly, but Gwen assured them it was really nothing and then departed the house with Claire in tow.
After a brisk walk, during which Gwen and Claire merged with the mainstream of pedestrian traffic and were carried along in its momentum, they soon arrived at Cork Street.
"Harcourt's!" Claire exclaimed, her face brightening. "I didn't know it was a shopping errand, milady."
"Unfortunately it's not," Gwen said, as she walked to the end of the serried façades, stopping at a grand house, that somehow managed to blend in tastefully with the department store.
"Claire, will you go to the door and say that Lady Pendragon wishes to see Mr. Harcourt?"
The girl obeyed reluctantly, taking no pleasure in performing a task that was usually handled by a footman.
Gwen waited on the lowest step, as Claire twisted the mechanical doorbell and rapped the ornate bronze knocker, until the door opened.
An unsmiling butler glanced at the pair of visitors, exchanged a few words with Claire, and closed the door again.
Turning towards Gwen, Claire said with a long-suffering expression,
"He's going to see if Mr. Harcourt is at home."
Gwen nodded and folded her arms at her chest, shivering, as a chilly breeze whipped the folds of her cloak.
Ignoring the curious glances of a few passersby, she waited with determined patience.
A few minutes later, a short, broadly built man with white hair walked passed the steps, pausing to glance at the maid.
He stared at her with undue attention.
"Claire?" he asked in bemusement.
Claire's eyes widened with relief and gladness.
"Mr. Horace!" she exclaimed.
The man turned to Gwen, recognizing her now, with the veil shrouding her face.
"My Lady," he said reverently. "How is it, that you're standing out here?"
"It's good to see you, Horace," Gwen said, smiling. "I've come to speak to Mr. Harcourt about a private matter. The butler said he would see if he was at home."
"If Mr. Harcourt is not at home, he is most definitely at the store. I will locate him for you."
Clicking his tongue, Horace escorted her up the stairs, with Claire following.
"Keeping Lady Pendragon waiting outside on the street," he muttered in disbelief. "I'll give that butler an earful he won't soon forget."
After opening the door with a key that hung on a gold fob, the valet showed them inside.
The house was smart and modern, smelling of new paint and plaster, and wood finished with walnut oil.
Solicitously, Horace led Gwen to an airy, high-ceilinged reading room and invited her to wait there, while he took Claire to the servants' hall.
"Shall I have someone bring tea for you," he asked, "While I go in search of Mr. Harcourt?"
Gwen pulled back her veil, glad to remove the black haze from her vision.
"That's very kind, but there's no need."
Horace hesitated, clearly longing to know the reason for her unorthodox visit. But he settled for asking,
"Everyone at Pendragon House is in good health, I hope?"
"Yes, they're all well. However, Lady Cassandra is afflicted by a migraine, but I'm sure she'll recover soon."
He nodded, his snowy brows knitting together over his spectacles.
"I'll find Mr. Harcourt," he said distractedly, and left with Claire in tow.
As she waited, Gwen wandered around the reading room. More smells of newness, coupled with a slight staleness in the air, greeted her.
The house felt unfinished. And unoccupied.
A paltry number of paintings and knickknacks seemed to have been scattered there as afterthoughts. And the furniture looked as though it had never been used.
Most of the reading room shelves were empty, save for a handful of eclectic titles that she would've been willing to bet, had been pulled carelessly from bookstore shelves and deposited there for display.
And judging by the reading room alone, she knew that it was not a house that Cassandra could be happy in, or a man she could ever be happy with.
A quarter hour passed, while Gwen considered what to say to Mr. Harcourt.
Unfortunately, there was no diplomatic way to tell a man that, among other things, he had made his fiancée ill.
Mr. Harcourt entered the room, his larger-than-life presence seeming to take up every surplus inch of space.
"Lady Pendragon. What an unexpected pleasure."
He executed a shallow bow, his expression conveying that her visit was providing anything but pleasure to him.
She knew she had put them both in a difficult position.
It was wildly unorthodox for her to call on an unmarried man with no one else present, and she was sorry for it.
However, she'd had no choice.
"Please forgive me for inconveniencing you, Mr. Harcourt. I don't intend to stay long."
"Does anyone know you're here?" he asked curtly.
"No."
"Speak your piece, then, and make it fast."
"Very well. I..."
"But if it has anything to do with Lady Cassandra," he interrupted, "Then leave now. She can come to me herself, if there's something that needs to be discussed."
"I'm afraid Cassandra can't go anywhere at the moment. She's been in bed all day, ill with a nervous condition."
His eyes changed, some unfathomable emotion spangling the dark depths.
"A nervous condition," he repeated, his voice iced with scorn. "That seems a common complaint among aristocratic ladies. Someday, I'd like to know what makes you all so nervous."
Gwen was expecting a show of sympathy or a few words of concern, for the woman he was betrothed to.
"I'm afraid you are the cause of her distress," she said bluntly. "Your visit yesterday put her in a state."
Harcourt went silent, his eyes black and piercing.
"She told me only a little about what happened," Gwen continued. "But it's clear that there is much you don't understand about her. My late husband's parents kept all three of their daughters very secluded. More than was good for them. And all three are quite young for their age. Cassandra is one-and-twenty, but she hasn't had the same experiences, or seasoning, as other girls her age. She knows nothing of the world outside the Priory. Everything is new to her. Everything. The only men she has ever associated with have been a handful of close relations, the servants, and the occasional visitor to the estate. Most of what she knows about men has been from books and fairy tales."
"No one can be that sheltered," Harcourt said flatly.
"Not in your world. But at an estate like Hampshire Priory, it's entirely possible." Gwen paused. "In my opinion, it's too soon for Cassandra to marry anyone, but when she does...she will need a husband with a placid temperament. One who will allow her to develop at her own pace."
"And you assume I wouldn't," he said rather than asked.
"I think you will command and govern a wife, just as you do everything else. I don't believe you would ever harm her physically, but you'll whittle her to fit your life, and make her exceedingly unhappy. This environment...London, the crowds, the department store...is so ill suited to her nature, that she would wither like a transplanted orchid. I'm afraid, I can't support the idea of marriage for you and her."
Pausing, she took a long breath before saying,
"I believe it's in her best interest for the engagement to be broken."
A heavy silence descended.
"Is that what she wants?" Harcourt asked.
"She said earlier today, that she has no wish to see you again."
Throughout Gwen's speech, Harcourt had looked away, as if he were only half listening. At that last remark, however, she found herself the target of a blade-like gaze.
'Perhaps,' she thought uneasily, 'It would be best to leave soon.'
Mr. Harcourt approached Gwen, as she stood by the bookshelves.
"Tell her she's free, then," he sneered.
He leaned his cane against a shelf and set a broad hand on a section of fluted casing.
"If a few kisses are enough to make her bedridden, I doubt she'd live through her first night as my wife."
Gwen returned his gaze without flinching, knowing that he was trying to unnerve her.
"I'll see that the ring is returned to you as soon as possible."
"She can keep it as compensation for wasted time."
Gwen's nerves crawled, as he set his free hand on the other side of the bookcase, trapping her without touching her, while his shoulders blocked the rest of the room from her view.
His insolent gaze raked over her, as he astonished her by saying,
"Perhaps I'll take you instead. One supposes you're a lady. And for all your lack of size, you appear far more durable than Lady Cassandra."
Gwen stared at him coldly.
"There's nothing to be gained by mocking me," she said.
"You don't believe I'm serious?"
"I don't give a monkey's toss whether you're serious or not," she shot back. "I have no interest in anything you could offer."
Harcourt grinned, his amusement seeming genuine, but not the least bit friendly.
As Gwen began to sidle away, he moved to block her with swift efficiency.
And she froze, fear beginning to hum through her.
"Never assume you know what someone's going to offer. You should at least hear mine before you turn it down," he said.
He leaned down until his face was close to hers.
And that small movement conveyed at least a half-dozen distinct threats, any one of which would have been enough to cow her.
"It includes marriage," he said, "Which is more than you'll ever have from Arthur."
Contempt gleamed in his eyes as he saw her surprise.
"No, he didn't tell me that you and he were carrying on. But it was obvious in Hampshire. Anyway, he'll tire of you soon, if he hasn't already. Pendragon wants novelty, he does. But what I want, is to go places where I'm not welcome...and for that, I'll need to marry a highborn lady. It doesn't matter to me that you're not a virgin."
"How fortunate," Gwen couldn't resist saying acidly, "Since virgins don't appear to be your forte."
And as soon as the comment left her lips, she regretted it.
She looked at him, seeing that unsettling cold grin again.
"Aye, Lady Cassandra was a virgin sacrifice for the sake of Hampshire Priory and the rest of the Pendragons."
Brazenly, he used his forefinger to trace the seam at the shoulder of her dress.
"Wouldn't you do the same for them? For her?" he asked.
Gwen didn't flinch at his touch, although her flesh prickled.
"I don't need to. Lord Pendragon will take care of them."
"Who will take care of him? He'll have to scheme and labor a lifetime to keep his estate from falling to ruins. But with the smallest fraction of my fortune..."
Harcourt snapped his fingers in front of her face
"All his debt will vanish. The house will be restored, and the land will be made fat and green. A happy ending for everyone."
"Except for the woman who marries you," Gwen said disdainfully.
Harcourt's smile was edged with a sneer.
"There are women who like it the way I give it. In the past, I've even pleased a fine lady or two, who were tired of lily-white gentlemen with soft hands."
He stepped forward, crowding her against the bookshelves, suggestiveness coloring his low tone.
"I could be your bit o' rough."
Gwen didn't know what he intended, or how far he might go in the effort to intimidate her.
But she would never find out.
Before she could reply, a murderous voice came from the threshold.
"Back away, or I'll rip every limb from your body."
Stay safe!