The Magicians and Mrs. Quent (53 page)

And soon I will be as well. You must forget everything I wrote earlier, Father. While my feelings for him are different than what I felt prior with Mr. Rafferdy, you must not think them in any way inferior. Cannot a rugged and misty landscape be adored by the eyes as much as a sunlit garden? Perhaps it is adored even more for not seeking to make itself adorable.

I had thought him dull and somber. Only it was I who had been dull! Yet now I was able to think with a clarity I had never known before, and my heart argued as strongly as any logic. So it is I can tell you, Father, that even if I had not known this marriage would assure your security and that of my sisters, still I would have said yes. Know that I respect him, and admire him, and hold him in the highest esteem; that I love him. Then you shall be as content as I and see how it is that I now consider myself to be the luckiest woman alive in all of Altania.

W
ELL, IT IS done.

I had thought we would go to the church at Cairnbridge. Instead, the priest came here at Mr. Quent’s bidding, and we walked down the road to the ruin of the ancient chapel past Burndale Lodge. The only ceiling above us was the sky, for the roof had fallen in ages ago, and the floor was clover and green grass. The windows were gone as well, but ivy had grown up between the stone buttresses, and sunlight mingled through the leaves in emeralds and golds more vivid than any hues produced by stained glass.

I confess, I think Mr. Quent would have forgone the village priest altogether had it been possible, but it was not, and he was very civil to the man and paid him for his trouble.

It was a small party. Only myself, Mr. Quent, and Jance came from the house. Mrs. Darendal remained behind. “Someone must prepare the meal,” she said. Happily, Mr. Samonds came. He brought his aunt with him in a surrey, and they stood as witnesses.

I was very glad to see Miss Samonds, and was grateful beyond words that she had been able to come in response to the wish I relayed to Mr. Quent. She handed me a bundle of wildflowers.

“They’re lovely!” I exclaimed.

“No more lovely than you,” she said. I squeezed her small, bent hand, and then went to Mr. Quent by the entrance of the chapel, whose doors had long ago fallen to dust. We stood together not twenty feet from Mrs. Quent’s grave. However, this did not trouble me in the least. I felt only a benevolence when I thought of her, and I believe she would have been happy. My only regret was that my sisters could not be with me on this day.

It took little enough time, and when it was finished Mr. Samonds drove his aunt back to Heathcrest while the rest of us walked up the road. We ate dinner, though I could not recall the taste of anything or how many glasses of wine I drank. I could hardly bring myself to look at Mr. Quent.

After we ate, Mr. Samonds had a wish to look around the house, for he had many fond memories of it.

“Then you shall see it again,” Mr. Quent said. He proceeded to take Mr. Samonds on a tour, and the priest went with them.

“I find I prefer chairs to stairs,” Miss Samonds said, and so I sat with her in the front hall, and she found great amusement in admiring all the various mounted creatures from her seat.

“Sometimes,” I said, “as twilight falls, it feels a very wild place, with all the beasts around me. It’s like I’m in the middle of some great forest.”

Miss Samonds gave me a sharp look. “Like a forest, you say?”

I do not know why, but this question made me shift in my seat. I pointed to her cane, which leaned against her chair. “That’s very pretty,” I said. “The way several branches are twisted together—it makes me think of the chair in my room, the one your nephew made long ago.”

“As well it should, for he made this as well.”

“He has a gift with wood. Though I would think a farrier would prefer to work in iron.”

“Prefer it? No, I cannot think he does, but iron is better for him. Safer.”

I laughed. “I can hardly believe
that
. Certainly the metal he works with is very hot, and sparks must fly all about. It must be quite hazardous. What harm can wood cause?”

Even as I said this, my mirth ceased. Miss Samonds touched the cane. “He gathered these sticks by the Wyrdwood. They had dropped from over the wall. He soaked them in water, and braided them together, and let them dry this way. So he made your chair as well, but that was long ago. He has not been to a stand of Wyrdwood in many years.”

We were silent for a time. Then I said, “Do you think Mr. Samonds will ever marry?” I do not know precisely why I asked. Perhaps it was simply the cool weight of the new ring on my finger that made me wonder it, and that he was a kind and handsome man.

Miss Samonds shook her head. “There are few sons of Addysen women, and none of them has ever married that I’ve known of. I fear no woman will ever catch
his
eye, no matter how young or pretty she is.”

I believed I understood her; my heart ached for him.

“He would do better in the city, I think,” Miss Samonds said.

“Then why does he not go there?”

“He would never say it, but he could not bear to be far from the trees for long. No child of an Addysen can, not once they’ve held Old Wood in their hands and bent it to their will. Or, rather, found it willing to bend for them when it would not for another. There’s a life in it, even when it’s fallen from the tree, and it knows the touch of one who can feel that in it.”

I wanted to ask her what she meant, but then the men returned from their tour, and Mr. Samonds helped his aunt from her chair. They departed in their surrey and took the priest with them.

Mr. Quent and I were alone then, for Mrs. Darendal was nowhere to be found. He came to me. I found at last I could bear to look up at his face and meet his dark eyes. He took me by the hand and led me on my own tour of the house. The things we spoke of as we walked can be of no consequence to anyone else. I can say only that I have never in my life been happier than I was in those hours. No matter what the almanac said, it was the longest of lumenals, and the umbral that followed could only have been a greatnight for how changed I was before it was through.

At last the morning did come, as it must. He rose with the sun and put on his boots and riding coat.

“I will be back the night after next,” he said.

“Let me go with you,” I said, though I knew it was foolish.

He took my hand, stroked it, and kissed it in the gentlest manner. “I promise I will take you on a journey soon. To anywhere you say.”

“To the city?”

“If you wish it.”

With that he was gone. And so began my first full day as mistress of Heathcrest Hall.

T
HAT DAY WAS lonely, I confess, but I knew it would be and had prepared myself. The house was quiet without Chambley and Clarette. How I longed to hear their voices! I went into our parlor. The curtains were thrown back, and a book lay open on the table, bathed in a beam of sunlight. I picked it up. It was the
Lex Altania
.

They had been gone a quarter month now, and still I missed them. I had thought saying good-bye would be more bitter for me than for them. However, it was not so, and the pain of my tears was lessened only by the force of their own. I could only gasp in wonder as not only Chambley threw his arms around me at our parting, but Clarette also. At last I was forced to release them, for the carriage their uncle had sent stood waiting.

“Were we very bad children, then?” Chambley said, sniffling. “I don’t remember. I think we were.”

“No,” I said in a solemn tone. “You were not so very bad at all.” I smiled and touched his chin. “Indeed, I can truthfully say you’re one of the finest badgers I’ve ever met.”

“I’m not a real badger, you know.”

I leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I know.”

I helped them into the carriage and closed the door. However, before I could step away, Clarette reached through the window and grasped my hand.

“You didn’t,” she said. Her dark eyes were full of anguish.

“I didn’t what, Clarette?”

“You didn’t leave us.”

“No,” I managed to say. “No, I didn’t. I made a promise, you see.”

“And do you promise that we’ll see you again? Will you swear to me that you will?”

My heart stilled. For a moment I wondered—was it better to make a promise I knew I could never keep, if it soothed her fears at this moment?

I smiled and squeezed her hand. “Take care of your brother.”

She nodded and pulled her hand inside the carriage.

I stepped back, and the driver cracked his whip. The carriage rolled down the track. As it did, I saw Clarette’s round face peering out the back window. Only she was not looking at me, or at the house, but rather at the straggled silhouettes atop the ridge to the east. Then the carriage dropped down over the shoulder of the hill and was gone from sight.

Now, in our little parlor, I sat and read a few pages of Telarus for comfort. Then I shut the book and placed it back on the shelf with the others.

That day, and those that followed, all seemed very long. I filled them as I could, by setting down these words and writing to my sisters. I confess, I cannot wait to see the look on Lily’s face when we come to the city. I imagine she will think Mr. Quent extremely ancient and dreadfully out of fashion, but she will come to see him as I do, and Rose can only love him.

Such thoughts lifted my spirits, as did making plans for my family’s removal to Durrow Street. Feeling brighter inside, I did what I could to brighten up the house, much to the perturbation of Mrs. Darendal. It had come to the point where she would refuse to be in the same room with me and gave me the coldest of looks should we even come within view. I could not say I minded. The silence and the sunlight were better companions, and I spent my days rearranging the rooms and bringing in flowers from the heath.

Now, Father, I fear I must set down my pen for some time. He will be returning soon, and after that we will be coming to the city. Then I shall see you and Lily and Rose. It has been far too long. I promise I will never be away so long again. I have heard very little news of late from Lily; she has been remiss in writing letters. Well, I will learn everything myself soon enough. Look for me in no more than a quarter month.

F
ATHER, WHAT THINGS I have to tell you now!

I can hardly think it possible to explain all that has happened, but I must try—if only to help make myself believe that it is done, that it is in the past now, that we are both of us safe.

But neither are we together! Mr. Quent has gone west to Torland with a company of the soldiers on business of the Crown, and it will be a month at least before I am to see him again. Nor am I at Heathcrest Hall, and whether I shall ever lay eyes upon it again, I do not know. At this moment I sit in a room at the inn at Morrowset, waiting for the next coach to come, as the mail was already booked from this point onward and I was forced to give up the seat I had occupied since Cairnbridge.

Yet it is just as well I must wait for the coach, for I need more time to compose myself before I see my sisters. I do not want to alarm them. Even as I write these words, my hand seems to shake a bit less. I suppose it will take me the rest of the umbral to describe all that has happened since last I set pen to paper. That suits me; I have not yet the capacity for sleep.