Wild Bells to the Wild Sky (29 page)

An outraged squeal caused her to sit up and roll over. Then a fuzzy face with bright eyes appeared from beneath the coverlet and Capabells, chattering angrily, scampered out.

"I'm sorry, Cappie," Lily said, her voice reassuring the excitable monkey that his demise wasn't at hand. He hopped onto her lap, his long tail curling around her arm as he rested against her, allowing her to comfort him for the fright he'd suffered.

"A
re you glad to see me? You love Lily, don't you, Cappie?" Lily said, scratching the top of his head much to the little monkey's satisfaction.

Cappie had just dozed off when a firm knock sounded against the door, startling Lily, who'd been staring bemusedly into the flames.

The monkey quickly
disappeared
beneath the coverlet even though his mistress had made no move to answer the summons that was sounding less patiently now.

Lily continued to sit on the bed, staring in fascination as the door opened to reveal Valentine Whitelaw.

"Tristram tells me you are ill? That you are not going to join us for dinner tonight?" he asked as he shut the door behind him and came to the edge of the bed.

Lily nodded, unable to
meet
his eyes as she tried to
hide
her tearstained face from that hawkish stare of his.

"Are you certain that you do not wish to join us? I will be very disappointed if you do not. I had hoped to escort you into the hall."

Lily glanced up in surprise, a look of incredulous happiness crossing her face. "You did?" she whispered.

Valentine smiled. "Indeed I did. How could I possibly enjoy my dinner if I thought you were up here by yourself? Tristram told you that we leave Ravindzara tomorrow, did he not?" he asked, as if suddenly understanding the reason for her tears. "I would have this evening a celebration of our safe arrival in England, Lily," he said. Noticing the look of fear and uncertainty in her eyes, Valentine added softly, "L
ily Christian. You need
n't fear tomorrow, or indeed what the future may hold.
I will never let any harm bef
all you. On my honor, Lily, I pledge to you now that I will always be there for you should you ever need me. You may be Geoffrey Christian's daughter, and for that alone I would befriend you, but I also happen to care about you very much. I will never let anyone hurt you. Will you always remember that?" he asked, and when she nodded, her eyes bright again with hope, he was relieved, not realizing that she took his words to mean something more. "Of course," he added with a twinkle in his eye, "you can hardly dine in yo
u
r shift"

Crestfallen, Lily glanced over to where the yellow gown lay in a crumpled heap in front of the fireplace. "I cannot come."

Valentine frowned as he followed her gaze. Then without another word, he walked to the linen chest at the foot of the bed. "What about this gown? I rather liked this one better myself," he said as he shook out the creased skirt of the cream-colored, silk gown she had worn aboard the
Madrigal
. "Come, I'll give you a hand. You don't want young Tristram eating all of the pudding on the table, do you?" he said with a grin. "I want some myself."

Quickly
wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, Lily hurried to his side, afraid he might grow impatient and change his mind. Pulling the skirt and bodice over her head, Lily turned to face him, standing breathlessly before him as she felt his strong yet gentle hands fastening the gown together.

"Now, just a tuck here," he said, smoothing the stray curl back into place, "and you look as
beautiful
as any young lady of my acquaintance," he declared, satisfied with the results of his handiwork.

"M'lady," he said, holding out his arm to her.

Lily stared up into his face, her heart aching with her love for him as she placed her small hand on his arm and allowed him to escort her from the room. Proudly she walked beside him. With his promise warming her heart, she had no fear of what the morrow might hold. Valentine Whitelaw had promised he would always be there.

Past and to come seem best; things present worst.

S
hakespeare

Chapter Twelve

D
ownstream
of London Bridge
, and in the shadow of the great tower that stood guardian over the city, the
M
adrigal
rode at her moorings in the Pool of London, where the tall-masted, deep-hulled ships anchored against the tide.

Entering the estuary beneath the cannon of Tilbury Fort, the
Madrigal
had sailed up the River T
hames along it
s meandering path through the marshlands and fens of Kent and East Anglia. Past fertile fields of ripening wheat and oats, green pastures of grazing sheep and cattle, dense woodlands, and peaceful hamlets of thatched-roofed, whitewashed cottages basking in the sun, the
Madrigal
had neared her journey's end.

Striking her topsails when sailing past the rambling brick and timber buildings of Greenwich, Elizabeth's river palace just below London, the captain of the
Madrigal
had honored his queen, whose g
ilded, royal barge was moored alongside the landing. Just upstream, the royal dockyards at Deptford had soon fallen astern, and cries and hails well-met had faded into the distance as the
Madrigal
held steady to her course.

As the
Madrigal
neared London, the open fields and commons had become enclosed by hedges and ditches, and farmsteads and cottages became more numerous as they spread outside the gates of the medieval wall surrounding the heart of the City. Church spires, turreted towers, and the steeply pitched roofs of three-storied, gabled houses rose in a jumble against the hazy skies over London. Smoke from thousands of chimneys mingled and thickened into blackness with the billowing smoke from the forges and furnaces in the workshops squeezed together along the narrow, cobbled lanes twisting through the City.

Open carts, drays, coaches, and pedestrians clogged
the streets that wound past the shops and businesses of merchants and artisans. Every corner offered the loudest-voiced hustler a chance to hawk his wares, ever careful to avoid the open gutters of filth and the slop pails being emptied overhead. The great markets of the City-
-
Billingsgage, Smithfield, Leadenhall, Cheapside, and Covent Garden-
-
were crowded with tradesmen and shoppers haggling over the prices of all manner of goods from freshly caught salmon and oysters to bunches of sweet
-
scented rosemary and thyme.

The Thames, still the most popular and practical thoroughfare through London, was crowded with barges, boats, and wherries, all trafficking up and down the river and plying their trade. While the proud sailing ships continued to ride at anchor below
London
Bridge, with its two-and three-storied buildings tottering on either side of the narrow passage across the river the watermen steered their boats through the arches underneath with well-practiced ease. Ferrying cargoes and passengers to the wharves, landings, and waterstairs that dotted the banks of the Thames from Traitor's Gate to Westminster, the coarse-talking oarsmen gave way to none but the royal swans that, in majestic splendor, sailed the river under the protection of the Crown.

Across London Bridge, on the south bank, was the borough of Southwark with its busy marketplace and yearly fair. Inns and taverns flourished. The dusty road wending into Southwark and becoming a footpath across the bridge
was the only access into London
from the south of England. Bridge Gate, crowned with spikes stuck with traitors' heads, allowed entrance to the City and stood as a warning to those who would challenge the Crown.

Westward along the north bank, the square tower of St. Paul's Church reached toward the heavens, leaving behind the City's steep, tortuous lanes abounding with alehouses, taverns, cookshops, and bawdy houses. Beyond Fleet Street, through Temple Bar, was the Strand, the thoroughfare that led to Whitehall Palace and Westminster. On the heath rising to the north, past the open fields, pastures, and royal preserves, windmills with sails spinning in the wind were silhouetted against the sky.

Thomas Sandrick's London home, Tamesis House, sat in stately splendor on the south side of the Strand. Although a gate-house fronted the Strand, allowing access into the estate from the narrow road,
most
guests arriving at Tamesis House entered through the watergates on the river.

A broad flight of steps climbed from the river landing directly into the great hall. Tamesis House, a turreted and baywindowed
brick
mansion of secluded, inner courtyards and spacious, richly
furnished
chambers, was surrounded by terraced gardens, orchards, and a wide expanse of green sloping down to the river's edge.

Three days earlier, the passengers aboard the recently arrived
Madrigal
had been set ashore at Tamesis House, where at Thomas Sandrick's
insistence
, they were invited to stay during their visit to London.
Thomas
Sandrick's private barge met the ship and ferried his guests to the river mansion, where every
comfort
was to be afforded. Before the barge passed beneath the Bridge, however, it docked below the Tower to allow Sir Rodger Penmorley and his sister to disembark and continue to Sir Rodger's townhouse in Aldgate.

Lily stared out the window of the chamber she and Dulcie shared at Tamesis House. It overlooked the gardens and lawns sloping down to the glistening river beyond. Farther afield, she could see the church spires of London and hear the bells. They pealed in
celebration
of a birth or marriage, sounded a death knell for a loved one, or tooled in warning. She had awakened to the bells' ringing just after dawn, listened to the town crier throughout the day, then fallen asleep to the bells' sound at evening's end. Sleepless her first night in London, she had heard the faint sounds of the watchman
announcing
the striking of midnight, and she had drifted off to sleep hearing church bells and a ship's bell ringing in
celebration
as she dreamed of marrying Valentine Whitelaw.

Lily leaned outside the window, craning her neck toward the river, her eyes searching, but the landing was empty. She gazed back
toward
the Strand, her eyes following the brick path through the flower beds and hedges, but the gates remained closed against the traffic beyond.

Two days ago, Valentine Whitelaw had left London for Whiteswood where he was to tell Sir William and Lady Elspeth that Basil would not be returning to England. Lily frowned, remembering Valentine's expression when he had spoken of sending word to Hartwell Barclay at Highcross Court. Valentine Whitelaw had no intention of informing their cousin in person of their arrival, and Lily wondered what manner of man this Hartwell Barclay was to inspire such a
distasteful
look on Valentine's face.

"Lily?"

Lily turned away from the window to see Dulcie standing in the doorway, her expression dejected.

"I don't like wearing these clothes, Lily," she complained, tripping over the long skirt as she took a tentative step into the room.

Lily had to agree that the clothes they now wore were far less comfortable than what they had worn on
the island and even aboard the
A
drigal
. Indeed, she would hardly have recognized Dulcie. Dressed in a pale blue silk brocade gown with large puffed sleeves and a starched ruff about her neck, her black hair tightly braided beneath a lacy headdress, she looked like a fashionable but tiny woman with very mutinous dark eyes.

"Where is the cove? I can't go swimming anymore, Lily," Dulcie sniffed. "Lily, I can't keep my stocking up. It keeps rolling down around my ankle. I don't like these shoes, Lily. I can't wiggle my toes."

Lily smiled understandingly. "Come here and I'll see what I can do," she told her, sitting her down on the chest at the foot of the big bed they shared.

"I wish the captain would come back. I miss him," Dulcie said, watching curiously as Lily rolled the wrinkled stocking back into place beneath the garter she'd just adjusted.

"There," she said, soothing Dulcie's underskirts back down,

"Are we going to live with him at Ravindzara, Lily?"

Lily pretended to straighten her own skirts. "I do not know," she answered, unwilling to speculate aloud about
something
she had been thinking of constantly since they'd arrived in England.

"Aunt Artemis says that I can stay with her if I want to. She said she wants me to stay with her forever. She said I was very precious to her and she wished I were her daughter," Dulcie confided to her startled sister, for Lily had heard nothing of such an arrangement.

"Aunt Artemis said that my father would want her to take care of his only daughter. She said I could have anything I wanted, Lily. And a pony, too," Dulcie said, her dark brown eyes glowing with excitement at the prospect

"What about Tristram and me, Dulcie? Did she mention either one of us?" Lily asked in growing concern, for Valentine had yet to speak of their staying at Ravindzara rather than Highcross.

"No, just me."

"Where is Tristram?
"Down by the river. He says he hears some of the strangest things from the boats going by," Dulcie told Lily.

"Tristram had better have clean feet and not come tracking into Thomas Sandrick's home with muddy shoes," Lily said worriedly, thinking of how she would be held responsible for his actions.

"Bong! Bong! Bong!
Tristram had better have clean feet!
Praaack! Praaack!"
Cisco intoned as clearly as a church bell before his giggling laughter filled the room. "Muddy shoes!
Bong! Bong!
Past twelve o'clock, and rain!
Praaack!"

"I do wish you would keep that bird quiet," Artemis Whitelaw requested as she entered the room. "And where is that monkey? If he gets into trouble again, well, I do not even wish to contemplate such a thing," Artemis said, glancing around to make certain the creature wasn't hiding in the corner. "I have been searching for you, Dulcie. Where did you go? I have been quite worried. You must not wander off again, dear."

"I wanted Lily to fix my stocking," Dulcie said, unconcerned, for she was accustomed to doing as she pleased and wandering wherever she wished on the island.

"There was no need to bother Lily. I would have assisted you. Why did you not come to me?"

"I wanted Lily to help me. Lily always knows what to do," Dulcie replied, unaware of the look of displeasure that crossed Artemis's face as Dulcie sand her sister's praises.

"In future, dear, please remember that I will see to your needs," Artemis told Dulcie, her slender hands straightening Dulcie's headdress, then smoothing a crease in a pale blue sleeve before she bent low and pressed a kiss against Dulcie's rosy cheek. "So sweet," she murmured, her blue eyes gazing lovingly at her niece.

Temporarily forgotten, Lily watched Artemis Whitelaw fawning over Dulcie and wondered why Artemis did not like her. It was not that Artemis was not civil to her, Lily thought, but she never smiled as nicely either. Lily had tried to be pleasant.
She
had liked Valentine's sister and had wanted to talk to her about so many things she did not understand. Artemis, however, had never had time for either her or Tristram. She cared only for Dulcie, and Lily sensed that Artemis resented her and Tristram. She wondered if it was because Basil had not been their father, and they were not Whitelaws like Dulcie.

"Now, I want you looking your best, Dulcie, and I want you to act in a manner befitting a Whitelaw," Artemis said proudly

"Why?"

"Because Valentine is down
-
-"

"Valentine has come back!" Lily cried out, her green eyes glowing excitedly as she rushed to the door. Dulcie, not to be left behind, squirmed free of Artemis's arms and raced after Lily.

"Yes, but I would
advise
you, Mistress Christian, to present yourself in a more decorous manner. You are no longer running wild on the cursed island. You are a young woman of good family and yet you look and act little better than a street urchin. I fear you set a poor example for your brother and sister," Artemis berated the young girl who'd been halted in her steps by the harshly spoken words, and whose cheeks now
flamed
with embarrassment under the unexpected tongue lashing.

Arte
m
is, seeing the distress evident on Lily's face, seemed to regret her outburst. Moving slowly across the room, she came to stand before Lily. Her words were still impatient, but more gently spoken as she said, "Here, let me wipe this smudge from your cheek."

Taking a slightly dampened and scented handkerchief from her sleeve, she carefully wiped the soft linen across Lily's flushed cheek, a slight smile curving her lips as she stared down into the young, earnest face tipped up to hers. "Please forgive me, I spoke unthinkingly. Now, you look quite lovely. Valentine is awaiting you in the hall. He requests your presence immediately."