The Glittering Court (29 page)

Her smile was kind, despite a cracked tooth. “Perhaps. But you're very young. And I know how hot young blood can run. While you're under my roof, I'll make sure you're respectable and keeping with the virtues dictated by Uros. But when you're not under my roof . . .”

I couldn't meet her eyes. “Mistress Marshall, we intend to behave with the utmost decorum until we're married.”

“Intentions and actions rarely line up. And in the event your intentions go awry, I don't want you to get in trouble.” She handed me a small burlap bag with a spicy smell. “These are cinnamon thorn leaves. You know what these are for?”

I gulped and, impossibly, felt my blush heat up even more. “Yes, ma'am. Our teachers at Blue Spring Manor—back in Osfrid—told us.”

“Well, that's good,” she said. “Saves us both from an embarrassing conversation.”

I wasn't so sure about that. As it was, I really didn't think my
mortification could get any worse at that moment. I tried to hand the bag back to her.

“Thank you, but I really don't think I'll need these.”

She refused the bag. “I've got plenty. They've kept me at six kids. If they keep you from having one before you're ready, it'll be well worth it.”

I might have tried handing it back to her again, but then I heard a shout from farther up in the caravan. “The eastern tributary! We're at the eastern tributary!”

Cheers sounded, and I looked back to Mistress Marshall. “What does that mean?”

“It means, my dear, that we're about to cross into Hadisen.”

Chapter 23

Aside from the tributary itself, there was no ostensible difference between Hadisen and the far reaches of Denham. We crossed the shallow water and continued on. Certainly, the land had shifted from what we'd left in Cape Triumph and its outskirts. Vegetation had thinned out, and the peaks of a low mountain range grew clearer in the distance. The famous gold mines were located in the foothills of those mountains. The lowlands contained greener farmlands, such as those the Marshalls claimed.

We'd been traveling for just over a week when we arrived in White Rock—Hadisen's capital city, such as it was. Excitement and a renewed sense of energy filled our party as we crossed into the town's limits. Had I seen it immediately after Cape Triumph, I would've been disappointed. But after days and days of trees, it felt as urban as Osfro. In reality, it was still a city in its early stages, with dusty tracks for roads and at least half the businesses being run out of tents. As in Cape Triumph, a mix of people walked the streets, but there were no elite well-to-do in this group. All belonged to the rough working class.

There was one fairly large house noticeable on a hill in the distance, almost as nice as Wisteria Hollow.

“That's the governor's house,” Warren said, riding up on his white horse. He dismounted effortlessly. “Where I'll be staying.”

The words hung between us a moment, and I regarded the fine house with a moment of envy. “Tamsin will be pleased,” I said at last.

He gave me a small smile. “I hope so.”

In White Rock, a new sort of chaos ensued. This was the launching point for all the settlers. Some already had claims and plots assigned to them. They looked over maps and surveys, trying to determine where their lands were and how long it would take to get to them. Other settlers had come here blindly, carried along by a dream. They either solicited Warren's agents for land to buy or lease, or else they sought work among those more established. Residents of White Rock, seeing new blood, were eager to come and sell their wares.

“I'm going out to my claim tonight,” Cedric told me later. He'd been consulting a map with several other men. “Ours are near each other, and we'll go together.”

“I wish I could go too,” I said.

“I saw where the Marshall place is. It's only about two hours' ride by horse.”

“A regular horse or Lizzie?” I asked.

“Lizzie will do just fine. Let me see what shape the claim is in, and then I'll bring you by.” Seeing my disappointment, he touched my face and drew me close. “It'll only be a day or two.”

“I know. I just hate parting again after everything that's happened.”

“Cheer up, you lovebirds aren't parting for long,” said Mistress Marshall, striding up to us. “And he's right—we are relatively close by. You'll get there soon enough, though you might not want to after you've stayed with us. A wild claim isn't going to look nearly as comfortable as a well-to-do homestead.”

Mister Marshall had been out to Hadisen a number of times, overseeing the construction of a house before bringing his wife and children. I wanted to be with Cedric, but a secret part of me was eager to sleep under a real roof in a real bed—especially since the sky was finally threatening rain. I also wondered what the odds were of taking a bath. There was so much dirt under my fingernails that I could no longer see the whites.

Cedric and I parted with a kiss, and I watched him for as long as I could as I rode away in the Marshalls' wagon. The scrappy little town
grew smaller and smaller, and I caught one last sight of Cedric holding up his hand to me before all was lost in dusk's shadows. When we reached the homestead, night had fallen completely. I could just make out the house, a cabin built with crosswise logs. From the outside, it didn't look very big.

As it turned out, it wasn't that big on the inside either. We had a large common room to be used for pretty much every household task: cooking, eating, sewing, entertaining, and so on. A tiny bedroom to the side was reserved for Mister and Mistress Marshall. Upstairs, in a loft, a partition separated out two bedrooms—one for the girls and one for the boys. I was sharing a large bed with the three girls. I hoped none of them kicked.

We spent the rest of the evening hauling in supplies before the rain came. Cape Triumph's sheltered position protected it from storms, but they could sometimes blow through to Hadisen with a vengeance. Most of the journey so far had been about endurance, and this was my first real taste of hard labor. Mister Marshall and a couple of the boys helped put the livestock in their barn. We finished just in time, and Mistress Marshall cooked us a pot of millet and dried meat for dinner over the hearth. We sat on a long bench at the table to eat. It wasn't comfortable, especially with my aching muscles, but it saved us from sitting on the hard-packed dirt floor.

“It won't stay like that forever,” Mistress Marshall said, pointing down. “We aren't savages. We'll soon have straw to cover it.”

When it came time to sleep, I picked a spider out of the bed and hoped there weren't any more. We blew out the candles and listened to the rain pound against the roof as we lay huddled together in the large bed. It turned out to be a steady downpour, not a fierce storm. The roof didn't leak, so it had that going for it at least.

Lying there in the dark, I remembered that I was a countess of the blood, a peeress of Osfrid. The anxiety I'd felt on my first day on the Hadisen journey rose within me, and I tried to think of Cedric's words, that my difficulty came in simply adjusting to a situation I
wasn't perfect at. It was comfort enough to help me fall asleep, though I had to wonder how anyone could feel like an expert at living in a cabin on the brink of civilization.

Cedric didn't come the next day as he'd said he would. Or the day after that. At first, I was annoyed by the delay. But as more days added up, I began to worry. The Marshalls told me all was probably fine, but the fear gnawed at me. I had plenty of time to think about all sorts of terrible possibilities because I was constantly engaged in manual activities that taxed my body more than my mind. My academic lessons wouldn't begin until the homestead was set up, and I didn't mind pulling my share for the Marshalls. But I was hopelessly underprepared.

The skills I'd learned as a noblewoman were useless. And most of the Glittering Court's lessons were as well. No marriage possibility had ever ended in a scenario like this. We'd practiced tasks that the mistress of a modest household—like Nicholas Adelton's—might need to supervise or even help out with if the other servants were busy. But there'd been no preparation for the chores that met me out here. I learned to milk cows and churn butter. I ground hard corn into fine grain. I dug in the earth to plant seeds for vegetables and herbs. I cooked batches of simple, hearty fare that was low on taste but could feed a large crowd. I made lye soap—which was pretty much my least favorite job of all.

There was no party planning. No dancing. No sugared glass plates. No music in the conservatory. No conservatory.

And my hands were . . . well, not what they once were.

When Cedric finally showed, I was sweeping the cabin's earthen floor—something that seemed completely pointless to me. It mostly felt like I was moving dirt around. I'd been up since sunrise, and it was only one of many grubby chores I'd performed. I looked up to wipe my brow, startled to see Cedric standing in the doorway, regarding me with an astonished look. I let the broom drop to the
floor and threw myself into his arms, nearly knocking him over in the process. He used the doorframe to steady himself and then wrapped me to him more closely. I rested a hand on his chest, taking in how real and solid he was.

“You're not dead,” I breathed.

He choked on a laugh. “Nice to see you too, dear.”

I wanted to make a joke to hide my true feelings. I didn't want him to know how afraid I'd been these last few days, that I'd imagined terrible things happening to him, that I'd feared all these dreams we'd built would be lost. But as Cedric looked me over and his smile faded, I knew he could see it all in my eyes.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly.

“Cedric, where have you been?” I tightened my hold on him and could see now that he was as dirty and worn as I was. “I've been so worried.”

“I know, I know. I should've sent word, but there's been so much to do. More than I expected. You'll see soon enough.”

“We just finished breakfast, but you're welcome to some porridge,” Mistress Marshall said from behind me. I'd forgotten she was there. Her tone was friendly, but there was an edge to it Cedric and I both understood. We quickly sprang apart.

The aforementioned porridge had been one of the blandest things I'd ever had. Cedric had always been picky at Blue Spring Manor and Wisteria Hollow, insisting his eggs be poached and his pastries warmed. I figured he'd turn down such a mundane meal, but to my surprise, he accepted and ate two bowls. When he finished, he asked the Marshalls if he could bring me to his claim.

“I know she must have all sorts of things to do here, but I'd like to show her the land,” he said. “I'll return her by dinnertime.”

“Certainly,” said Mistress Marshall. “And then you can stay and eat with us.”

Cedric looked immensely pleased by that.

Another rainstorm had made for a cool morning, and I donned
my suede pants and coat, along with the wide-brimmed hat. It was as much for practicality as to put on something clean. I tended to wear the same work dress each day, and the Marshalls took baths only on weekends.

“Don't you look like a proper frontier woman, ready to ride off and tame the wild,” Cedric said.

“Makes sense, since I'm a better rider than you.” I walked up to Lizzie. “Are you sure she can carry two of us?”

“You tell me, horsemistress.”

I patted the old mare's neck. “Sure she can. Just no hard gallops.”

We'd been too fresh out of Cape Triumph to even think about riding a horse together on our initial journey. Here, on the edge of civilization, the rules were more relaxed. Customs were dictated by expediency, and if we'd travel faster by horseback, so be it. He helped me up to the front of Lizzie and then jumped up behind me, much more gracefully than other times I'd observed him while traveling.

We followed a narrow, nearly overgrown trail through a wood of mixed trees. The morning soon warmed up, and I shrugged out of the coat. Our relationship might not be exactly forbidden anymore, but that didn't change the electric connection between us. My body still buzzed with awareness of his, and as we made the two-hour journey, I realized I'd never had his arms around me for so long—aside from our nighttime getaways on the road to Hadisen.

The land sloped upward rapidly, but Lizzie plodded on. The claim was perched on a foothill that had been given the fanciful name of Silver Dove Mountain. A wide river flowed through it, and the view was breathtaking, revealing other mountains as well as the fertile lands we'd just ridden out of. I was so transfixed by it that took me a moment to really take in the rest of the claim.

“Wasn't there supposed to be a house here?” I asked.

“There,” he said, gesturing to a small rise of land.

I followed him over and made out what I'd mistaken for a storage shed. It had a significant slant to it, and it was unclear to me if that
was intentional or not. The outer planks were a mix of woods—some old and weathered, some new and yellow. The roof looked aged but sturdy, except for one corner that was covered by a tarp.

Cedric followed my gaze to it. “I still have to work on that.”

“Have you . . . have you been working on the rest of it?” I asked delicately. I didn't want to offend him, but it was really hard to tell.

“It's why I was so late. When I got here, this thing was barely standing. I spent that first rainy night on the ground, huddled under the tarp. I've made trips into town for supplies and did a lot of the repairs myself. The prospector on the next claim over helped me with some too.” Cedric looked over the shack. “I didn't want you to see it—or even this whole place—in such a state. There's so much work to do. But I knew I couldn't stay away any longer.”

I found his hand and laced my fingers with his. “I'm glad you didn't. And you can't be ashamed of any of this, not if we're going to share a life together.”

He lifted my hand and studied it. The skin was cracked and raw from the lye. Dirt was everywhere, especially under my nails. There was a long cut I didn't even remember getting. Releasing the hand, he sighed.

“Hey, now. Don't so sound so dejected,” I told him. “It's nothing some moisturizer and a little soap—real soap, not that cursed stuff Mistress Marshall made—won't fix. I'll be back to my same old beautiful self in no time.”

He turned me to face him. The afternoon sun lit him up, turning his dark auburn hair to fire. “You're already your same old beautiful self. Maybe even more so than when I first met you. I think about that day a lot, you know. I remember every detail. I remember that dress you wore—blue satin with rosebuds on the sleeves. And every curl perfectly arranged. I'd never seen anything like you. Lady Witmore, Countess of Rothford.” He sighed again. “And now look what I've brought you to. If I hadn't darkened your doorway that day, where would you be now? Certainly not in the middle of nowhere, scrubbing
some farmwife's house while desperately hoping your heretic husband can scrape together enough money to buy us both out of suffocating contracts. You'd have been married in silk, on the arm of someone whose bloodline matched yours. You're still like nothing I've ever seen, and you're the first thing I think of when I wake up each morning . . . but sometimes, well, I'm just not sure if I've improved your life or made it worse.”