Lady Trent (8 page)

Rachel eventually blocked out her voice; not
intentionally, but she’d unexpectedly spotted a particular
gentleman standing off to himself, merely watching the people in an
obvious state of content.

“That man there,” she pointed out,
interrupting Zaria. “There by the fountain.”

“Ah, that would be Sir Marcus Wren. I did not
think he would be here…not that he does not care.”

“Who is he?” She seriously wondered.

“A very dear friend of every notable noble in
New Ebony, including the emperor. I thought he was away tending to
affairs of the Southern Commons.”

“The Southern Commons?”

“My, but you have lived a secluded life.
Come, your Lord Trent will wish to introduce you to his guests and
to make his announcement.” She took her hand, guiding her away.
“You will be properly introduced to Sir Marcus as well, which will
serve to my advantage.”

“We have met,” she explained as they strolled
along, “The day I first arrived…in Harp.”

“Then you know him already.”

“There were no introductions, Zaria, only
late in the evening he was spying on me.”

“And taking great pleasure in doing so, I
would imagine.”

“Oh, you do say the most terrible
things.”

“Have you never so much as indulged in common
conversation?”

“That depends what you call common. I am
respected in Westerly. People do not mention these so-called common
things in my presence.”

“Well, milady, you are no longer in Westerly.
In a few weeks you shall be wed to the noblest man in all of New
Ebony. Everything will change. You will change.”

“No, Zaria, I will not.”

“Fortune changes people, and power. You shall
see.”

“He is wealthy, not me, and I will never
consider myself in any position of power.”

“And the manor? What about it?”

“What manor?”

“You do not know about the manor?”

“What manor, Zaria?”

“Orland Manor.”

“Orland Manor,” she repeated, giving her head
a gentle shake. “What is it?”

“Perhaps I should let Lord Trent explain it
to you.”

“No.” Rachel stopped them both and turned to
face her. “Tell me.”

Zaria inhaled a deep breath and exhaled
slowly, as if dreading to go into it. “Orland Manor is a small
estate with a manor house and lands. It is placed into the hands of
whoever becomes lady of the Great City. When you become his wife,
Orland Manor becomes yours.”

“I don’t understand.”

Before she knew it, Zaria had taken her
hands, urging her to look into her mysterious, dark eyes. “Such an
arrangement works in Lord Trent’s favor, just as it does any other
noble who counts for that matter, more commonly and specifically
the Higher Nobles. To have his lady effectively overlook a place no
matter the size of it…well, it is very significant. A noble with a
wise wife is considered all the more wise for choosing and having
her, and the eyes of the emperor are upon them all. Tis that
simple.”

Rachel quietly whispered, more to herself
than anything “why did he not mention this?”

“There is but one agreeable way to look at
it. The residents will be in good hands, will they not?” She took
her by the elbow and ushered her along. “So, you see, there will be
changes. Not only because of the manor, but you are human, are you
not? A woman soon to be wed to Lord Trent, aging but very handsome
and strong. Such things draw passion from a woman. Trust me,
milady, once you have been made love to, you are never the same.
Now, I have noticed your practices. You drink only water or tea and
eat very little.”

“You must remember my calling, Zaria. To shun
gluttony and the fruit of the vine has come quite natural to
me.”

“You cannot say you do not plan to drink or
to eat for pure sport, or even to please your husband.”

She found it impossible to think of ever
becoming a glutton or a winebibber much less a lover.

Zaria cast her eyes upward while she strolled
along beside her. “You are in a sense stubborn, milady, to reject
even minor pleasures. Those of lovemaking…I do not think you shall
withhold it from your husband. I wonder now as we speak what you
normally did for sport. It would seem you have lived a very somber
and quiet life…a dreary one.”

“A peaceful life,” she recalled. “As for
sport, well, human nature is amusing in itself. If I watched this
crowd long enough I would find plenty to laugh about.”

“That I will not debate,” she said, and led
her the rest of the way. By now, Jacob had positioned himself near
a platform that’d been specifically designed for this purpose. He
was glancing about, obviously searching for her. Zaria led her
directly to his side.

“Ah, there you are.” He took her hands and
dropped a kiss upon her forehead. “I see you got my gift.”

She raised a hand to touch the diamond
necklace he referred to. “It is very beautiful,” she complimented.
“A surprise.”

“I hope you like it.”

“It would be a lie to say I do not.”

“I intend to bequeath you with all the fine
ornaments this world has to offer.”

“Then you shall spoil me and I will be good
for nothing.”

“I shall spoil you until you insist upon it.”
He motioned for Caleb to come closer. “Now, stay put here,” he told
her. “I will have the harkers silence the people with their horns,
and after I have announced you, Caleb will escort you up to the
platform.”

She nodded, feeling suddenly nervous. Her
chest began to rise and fall while her heartbeat quickened. Zaria
took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Jacob stepped up to
the platform, the harkers brought the crowds to silence, and he
began making the announcement. It was very simple and to the
point.

“First, I thank you for coming to take part,
and stand in as witnesses to this public announcement of my
engagement to wed…and to meet this remarkable woman who has
certainly stolen my heart. With great pleasure I introduce to you
Rachel Pimbrook, also known as Rachel the Elder of Westerly…my
soon-to-be bride…the future Lady Trent.”

Caleb led her up onto the platform and Jacob
took her gloved hand, turning her about to face the people, and
they all began to applaud. She felt a great sense of relief that
her trembling legs had not caused her to fall, and then that the
people seemed pleased with her. She cast her eyes from one happy,
content face to the next. She smiled back at them, relieved that
the applause was genuine, at least so far as she could see. Some of
those from the outer yard—the city—called out, cheering and
bellowing out their enthusiasm. She smiled at this, and then up at
Jacob who was equally pleased by the response.

He waved a hand to silence them all. “Now,”
he began, “Now I want to propose a toast.” A glass of wine was
offered on a silver platter, not just to him but her as well. He
continued, “To my lovely bride-to-be. May she be exceedingly happy
here, and come to call this home so long as life grants it.”

They all raised their glasses to toast, and
she to take her very first sip of wine.

Afterward they were properly greeted by their
noble guests: earls, lords, dukes—men who patted his shoulder,
shook his hand, and kissed the top of hers. The ladies were all
well-mannered. She’d long since learned it was very proper to
accept and give a simple kiss on the left and then right cheek.

After a while the man Sir Marcus, whose
dazzling green eyes were sure to captivate any onlooker, came up to
greet them.

“Rachel,” Jacob began, “you recall my
friend.”

“I do,” she agreed, her mind taking her back
to the brief discussion between them. “I believe he was spying on
me in your stead. But no proper introductions were exchanged
between us.”

“In that case…Rachel, Marcus Wren,
Marcus…Rachel.”

She allowed him to take her hand on which he
dropped a soft kiss. “Milady,” he greeted, his green eyes peering
into hers. She could see clearly into them now unlike that
particular night when it’d been too dark to see. “As you realize,”
he began straightening himself, “I was correct in pledging all was
well.”

“That you were,” she replied to him, and then
to Jacob, “he was faithful to keep the truth to himself when I
questioned him.”

“Marcus is a very faithful man,” he properly
returned. “I would trust him with my very life.”

Marcus extended a hand. “If it is well with
you,” he said to Rachel, “I am going to steal away your
handmaiden…just for a time.”

Zaria cast Rachel a sly, sidelong glance.
Marcus guided her away. At the same time, she and Jacob turned
their backs to the people and made their way to the head of them
and two massive chairs that’d been arranged specifically for them.
Yet holding her hand, he waited for her to be seated, and then
claimed the chair at her left.

She immediately spotted Zaria and this Marcus
character. They’d gone off to themselves to quietly converse. Zaria
was amused by something he’d said. She brushed him flirtatiously on
the shoulder and laughed. At that point, the musicians began to
play their instruments: flutes, horns, drums and harps, and some
keyed instrument she’d never before seen.

“Marcus is quite a lady’s man,” Jacob
praised, “and also my dearest friend.”

“Is he a spy by trade?”

“If ever a noble is in need of one,
specifically a Higher Noble which is these days on a rare occasion.
He is mostly a regulator of common affairs amongst the nobles, and
of political matters. He helps maintain peace in New Ebony,
specifically amongst the Higher Nobles. We all have access to
fairly large armies. It’s important we are at peace with one
another.”

“These political matters…are you as heavily
engaged in them as he is?”

“As engaged as you are in spiritual
ones.”

“Then I will not see much of you.”

“Would that please you?”

“No.” She honestly replied, “not at all.” She
stared ahead, and covered her mouth with a gloved hand when one of
the guests from the outer yard tumbled over the partition
separating it from the inner. He fell onto the other side, clamored
back onto his feet and began to dance; a peculiar dance which made
her laugh. Jacob gently squeezed her hand, grinning at her
amusement. The guards were quick to detain him, pushing him thru a
gate in the partition and back to the other side.

For some reason this caused her to remember
the manor. Her smile faded and her gaze lowered. “You are
troubled,” he regretfully replied. His expression became
reassuring. “You needn’t suppress your thoughts. What is it that
bothers you?”

“You had not mentioned the manor.”

“I see someone has gotten to it in my
stead.”

“The handmaiden.”

“Then you have questions.”

“The first is why you did not tell me. Of
course the first could answer the second. And then the third. What
will become of Westerly?”

“I’m afraid you’ve confused me. But I sense
you have come to conclusions without my answers.”

A servant came along, offering them a glass
of wine. She’d already had one and accepted a second.

“Well, it would make perfect sense,” she told
him. “If a noble lady’s character is expected to be…well, I hate to
use the word dominant, but that is what the view appears to be.

“I dreaded you would assume this of me since
you do have a sort of reputation for being able to administrate,
and the quality to do so is not to be taken lightly, not so far as
the Higher Nobles are concerned. Our wives are committed to their
own place, although in reality most of them have little to do with
the goings-on in these manors and villages. You will adapt to
it.”

“I did not govern Westerly, nor did I try or
intend to.”

“If this is so,” he began, “why do you worry
what will become of it without you?” He paused a moment staring
upon her profile while she thought his words over. “You see?” He
came to say. “You are worried as to what will become of them
without you. That is a proof of the significant role you’ve played
in keeping peace and order amongst them.”

“Then I should be given Westerly opposed to
this manor.”

“Westerly is a two week journey by carriage,
the manor merely three hours under normal conditions. Besides, the
lady of the Great City has been ruling Orland for
decades…centuries. It is a tradition that must be kept. It isn’t so
great a deal, although very significant. You may even speak with
the duchess of Tarot; she has a manor of her own and could confirm
the simplicity of the position. Orland Manor is home to only a few,
not like here. You shall adapt to it.”

“How many?”

“I cannot say for sure the number of them,
although a census is frequently conducted. It has been a long while
since I have had the slightest dealings with it. The manor
functions on its own, and for two years without proper
governance...well, according to our traditions.” He patted her hand
as she rested it atop the armrest. “No need to fret. It is a simple
place. Most of its situations are handled by the local council.
Father Nelson goes on occasion to see to the religious affairs of
the community. He will accompany you your first visit, along with
your handmaidens and plenty of guards to see to your safety.”

“When will I go?” She asked without looking
at him.

“So soon as we are wed, shortly after.”

“Will you go as well?”

“I regret my failure to mention it now seeing
as to how you’ve become so troubled by it. But, no, I’m afraid not.
None to worry. You will be well, and the council will acquaint you
with the position. My other wives had little to do with the affairs
of the manor. They merely listened to the goings-on amongst the
people, and if something was complained about in excess, they
changed it.”

“I see,” she understood.

“I hope you will not be uneasy the remainder
of the night because of it. All I can do to ease your mind is make
this one promise…that I called upon you for one reason and one
reason only. It is just as I have said from the beginning.”