In Service Of The King (Book 2) (15 page)

Elizabeth stood at the railing for several minutes, silently watching the shifting colors and their effect on the water. So wrapped up in the beauty of the scene was she that she did not hear the approaching footsteps.

“Enjoying the view, Miss Elizabeth?” came a friendly voice. Elizabeth turned towards the speaker with a smile. Harold stood a little ways away, his expression one of amusement.

“Yes... quite so,” the young woman replied, giving a slight curtsy. “You oversee a wonderful home, Harold. It is the most beautiful manor I have ever seen.” The steward of the Stone Mountain castle smiled at this, looking out at the view, himself.

“It is not the largest castle in the kingdom but it is secure and very well situated,” he agreed.

“There you are, my dear,” called General Hays. The man walked up to Harold and Elizabeth and beheld the Bay view for himself. “My, my... this lord is quite lucky to see such a sight every day,” he observed. “I harbor a wish to see the rest of the castle; it is so well designed. That dome is a wonder...”

Harold turned to his former employer with a smile.

“It is within my power to grant your wish, general,” he said. “Unbeknownst to the rest of the guests, my lord has been called away this day on important business.”

“How odd,” General Hays said, eying his wineglass. “Mrs. Mays will be disappointed not to lay eyes on the man.”

“It is an urgent matter,” Harold continued. “I doubt he will return for the ball at all, but such will be announced later.” He cleared his throata little. “However, in the meanwhile I can show you and Miss Elizabeth the whole castle, if you wish.” The General beamed.

“That sounds capital, Harold. Lead on!”

New duties of steward notwithstanding, Harold seemed to know his way around quite well. Leading Elizabeth and her father through an amazing array of doors and furnished passageways, he showed them the formal dining hall and then the large kitchen, alive with its bustling cooks and servers. After they admired the activity and cleanliness of the place Harold led them across the entry into a fine library. Tomes of all sizes and colors sat on the many bookshelves, though a few shelves stood empty.

Harold took great pleasure informing his former master and his lovely daughter that the lord was very fond of books and added to his library as often as he could. The billiard room proved itself as fine as any the General had ever seen, furnished with green velvet chairs and a burnished wooden billiard table. Elizabeth liked the feel of the study with its neat, wide desks and large casement windows.

“The quality is no surprsie,” she remarked, somewhat to herself. “But, this lord seems ot favor simplicity as well.”

Harold smiled at her.

“He does indeed,” the man replied. “Follow me please to the second floor.” He led them up one of the grand staircases, past a guard who prevented other guests from joining them.

“One of the advantages of being castle steward,” the general commented. Harold smiled.

“Yes. One of them,” he replied. The steward showed his two charges several empty guest bedrooms, positioned around the dome of the ballroom; each boasted a small window where one could look a little ways into the great room below. In the daytime--Harold explained--it let in much light to each room. Elizabeth felt impressed as she walked through the guest rooms. With clean linens and washed floors, and no dust or cob-webs anywhere, they seemed to be waiting for guests. Even the back halls were clean and well-lit with the glass-encased candles. Beuatifully woven atpesteries, featuring past battles and lively hunting scenes lined the walls.

Harold surprised his guests by leading them up to the third floor.

“Surely the lord will not want us in his private rooms?” Elizabeth said, hesitating at the stair. Harold smiled at her encouragingly.

“My master has not yet moved into the main bedchamber,” he explained. “It is suitable to look at and you may find the prospect from its balcony worth the walk.”

“Yes, my dear. We’ve permission enough,” her father said, following Harold up the polished, wooden staircase. Lifting the front edge of her skirt, Elizabeth stepped up, her foot resting on the fine carpet that lined the steps.

A wide, white-washed hall greeted them, as well lit as the others had been. Elizabeth walked along, especially admiring the white linen curtains hung over the windows. During the day, the whole floor would be full of sunshine. The lord’s bedchamber doors were hard to miss, being the widest and tallest entrance on the floor; they opened like two halves of an arch, ornately carved and whitewashed as well. Shining, silver handles adorned the doors, along with the Lord’s crest. Inside, Elizabeth saw the great, canopied bed, hung with white, linen curtains of the finest make, the bed itself large and wide. The wooden furniture was light and highly polished, with a large study desk in the corner.

A neat stack of papers sat on its top; though curious, Elizabeth did not venture near the desk. A low chaise sat at the foot of the bed, one where a weary nobleman might sit to remove his boots. A high, handsome wardrobe stood empty, waiting to receive clothes. Indeed the room did not look inhabited at all; Elizabeth thought a lady would bring more color to this room, though it was neat enough in its current state.

One wall--facing the Bay--housed three arched window casements of wrought iron and many shined pieces of glass. Harold opened a door in this wall and led the guests out, onto a small balcony. This place Elizabeth liked most of all; it was much smaller than the grand balcony below, but from its higher vantage more of The Bay could be seen.

The sun had long set; stars twinkled in the sky above. Light from the ballroom below and to the right streamed out to reflect on the water far below. The balcony they stood on had a small, round polished table and two chairs to one side of the door. Looking up, Elizabeth let out a small gasp; a lovely trellis could be seen above them, even in the twilight; sleeping flowers and thick leaves hung on vines intertwined above.

“I have never seen a more private sanctuary,” Elizabeth said, at last. Harold smiled at her words, nodding apprivngly. He led the visitors out of the chamber and down the flights of stairs, to once again re-join the other guests on the main floor.

“I thank you for the tour, Harold,” Elizabeth told him. “The lady of Stone Mountain is a fortunate woman indeed.”

Harold barely restrained his laugh.

“My lord is yet unmarried,” he said, eyes twinkling with humor. “But, he is not so advanced in years not to marry.” With that, he bowed and walked away.

“A splendid tour,” the General remarked, accepting another glass of wine from a passing servant. “A well designed castle such as this is easy to walk around without tiring quickly.”

“It is a lovely home,” said Elizabeth. “We’ve been lucky to see it so compeltely.” Her father murmured something about dinner and they wandered back into the ballroom.

The General strolled up to his wife’s side as she chatted with the Count and Countess Beckenridge; Elizabeth hovered behind them, hoping to be overlooked. Looking around, as discreetly as possible, she did not see Joseph anywhere. She wondered if he was delayed, or perhaps he had some work to finish.

Amid the bustling crowd of beautiful strangers, Elizabeth longed to see Joseph’s face, and speak to him; his conversation was more welcome to her than any in the room. Looking around, Elizabeth spied Harold moving through the crowd of guests; he stepped up onto a small dais, by the dining room doors. Striking a metal bell, the castle steward managed to commandeer the attention of the entire room.

With decorum unrivaled, he announced his name and position and apologized for the master being absent. The Lord of the Stone Mountain, the man informed them, had urgent business attend to but wished his guests to dance, eat and enjoy themselves. His speech finished, Harold stepped down from the dais; he moved once again towards the entry hall.

Low murmuring and whispers lifted into the air; it was unheard of that a nobleman should decide to host a ball and then not show up for it; rumors of the man being anti-social, or somehow too disfigured to be seen publicly flew about the room with alarming speed.

“I heard the man was once in the army…” the Count Beckenridge said, with a sniff. “Perhaps he is scarred, or his face maimed in some way, and he is too ashamed to show himself.”

“You would know, Beckenridge… being well acquainted with shame.”

A cool, even voice sounded out from behind the Count. Even Elizabeth looked over at the sound of it, her eyes wide; no-one spoke in such a fashion to a high-born noble. A tall, distinguished man stood behind Beckenridge, un-intimidated by the stares directed his way; the marshal’s ornate uniform, with its many polished medals, was impressive by itself ; the man’s white-plumed hat gave him an extra boost of height. He towered above the count; his sharp blue eyes held a flinty look.

Count Beckenridge grew pale at the sight of him. Something very close to fear flashed--breifly--in his eyes.

“Er… Marshal Walters,” the nobleman said, recovering his composure. “How… good it is to see you.” He glanced down at the inaid sword scabbard, strapped to the Marhsall’s belt. The count fingered his glass nervously. “I see you are in good health.”

The countess looked from one man to the other, appearing puzzled over the tension betwixt them.

“I am,” the Marshal said, smiling at last. “The very best of health.” The man’s smile made a shiver go through Elizabeth, for it was not a friendly one. “I have not been slothful and have won several more awards for swordsmanship.”

At this, the man bowed a little to the ladies and walked away, the plumes on his hat swaying majestically. The Count Beckenridge drained his glass of wine and went to find more; his face appeared to hold relief and horror, all at once. Countess Beckenridge told the small group what she knew of the distinguished stranger.

“Marshal Hezekiah Walters… a fine man,” said she; she spoke elegantly and fanned herself. “Head over all the Southern Army; he has a mansion in Angelo City; he’s a brilliant tactician, though perhaps a trifle unsociable. His wife and I were very close friends, but she had been suffering of an illness lately and is far too unwell to attend any social occasions.”

“That is terrible,” Mrs. Hays said, taking out her fan; she did her best to imitate the smooth motions of the Countess’s hands. “I hope her illness is abated soon.” The Countess did not answer but smiled slightly at the General’s wife.

Glancing at the richly dressed noblewoman, Elizabeth spied an exceptionally large jewel at her neck, placed in the center of an ornate, gold necklace; the deep red hue of the gemstone reminded Elizabeth of blood. Having finished her piece on Marshal Walter the countess turned, apparently looking for her husband.

A rather portly servant--with red, slowly graying hair--wandered all over the ballroom and dining hall; he held a silver tray of empty wine glasses as if collecting them. Occasionally he would bump into a guest or another server; uttering copious apologies he’d continue on cheerfully. At each guest, the man glanced up at any bit of jewelry which caught his eye; most of it did not make him halt his stride.

Passing Mrs. Hays, the servant paused, catching part of the conversation between her and the Countess Beckenridge.

“It is indeed highly bad form to be absent at your own ball,” the Countess said, her mouth twisted downward. “This Lord of the Stone Mountain appears to disdain us all with his lack of propriety.”

“Yes...” Mrs. Hays said, eagerly. “Even some of his servants appear horribly uncouth. The one at the door...”

“Wine?!” Gazeto asked the ladies, loudly; his sharp tone made them jump a little. The red-haired servant’s gaze fell on the large stone in the Countess’ necklace; he glared at it. The lady saw this and drew in a large breath to chastise his rudeness. Count Beckenridge suddenly appeared at her side and gestured at Gazeto’s tray.

“The red,” he said. “Take care to handle it by the base.”

“Yes, my lord,” the server replied, carefully using a clean cloth to hand him the glass. The Count took it and waved the servant off, continuing his conversation with a nearby Senator.

About to leave, Gazeto felt a strong rumbling in his stomach; the fair amount of cheese and wine he’d consumed earlier felt to be speedily fermenting within him. Hearing the music’s tempo wind upward, the red-haired man took the opportunity to relieve himself of a bit of the pressure, and walked onward without batting an eye.

Mrs. Hays and the Countess, speaking with a senator’s wife and her daughter, were suddenly enveloped in a powerful odor, rising in the air; unable escape the smell, lest they be assumed the origin of the foul stench, they fanned themselves furiously and pretended to smile. The Senator’s daughter held a perfumed handkerchief to her face and made an excuse and hastily existed the ballroom to seek from fresh air.

Some moments later Gazeto sped up the grand staircase, past the guard at its top. Finding a certain dark balcony--overlooking the ballroom--he slipped inside. Hezekiah stood in the small space, looking out over the room below from the curtained balcony’s shaded depths. He’d taken his large hat off and surveyed the activity below with keen eyes.

Seeing the red-haired servant walking up to them, the Marshal smiled.

“Well, Gazeto,” he said. “What has your jeweler’s eye seen?” Gazeto set down his tray, looking out over the crowd.

“Five so far,” he said, scornfully. “It is disgraceful to the trade…”

“All will be rectified shortly, brother,” Hezekiah interrupted. “It is good news, nonetheless; I did not expect so many.”

“Yes,” Gazeto replied, nodding. He looked over the crowd carefully and pointed. “That man, with the white hair, in the deep blue velvet coat, standing by the large harp. It is the large blue stone in the ring on his right hand.”

Following the jeweler’s direction with his eye, Hezekiah’s expression grew surprised; he glanced quickly at the shorter man beside him.

“That is Senator Reblyn,” he said, carefully. “You are certain?” Gazetto looked at Hezekiah with astonishment.