CHAPTER FOURTEEN

‘What about here? The roses make a nice backdrop, don’t you think?’

I look at my Lady Cassandra, who is artfully arranging herself with her blood-red skirts spread across the grey stone bench, the rose garden in full multicoloured bloom behind her.

Shaking my head, I turn to point at a low stone wall. ‘Over there,’ I say. ‘The dark-green hedge will provide a better counterpoint to your gown.’

Sighing, she stands and moves to the new position, once again spreading her skirts around her. ‘Is this better?’ Cassandra asks, trying for sarcasm but undermined by the edge of anxiety in her voice.

I move forward to tuck one recalcitrant curl back into place behind her ear. I always feel that her true nature is revealed in the thick luxuriance of her hair, which I must fight into submission every morning with a comb.

‘Perfect. He cannot help but be bowled over by your beauty.’

Cassandra bites her lip. ‘And bowled over he must be,’ she says. ‘Or I am off to the nunnery, and so are you.’

The full horror of the loss of the Fire Star has dawned on her little by little. When I first shared the news, she was full of sorrow and rage at Sullivan’s death. Then came the realisation that, without the stone, she has no option but to marry Sir Garrick, lest she find herself a penniless old maid.

After that came the horror that Sir Garrick may no longer wish to marry her without the stone. After all, the entire marriage is predicated on the Airl’s desire to bring the Fire Star within his house.

Without the Fire Star, Cassandra is merely the youngest daughter, past her prime, of a minor noble. She will end up back in her father’s household, likely never to leave again, condemned to dance attendance on her sisters and their offspring.

It pains me to see her spirit brought so low.

It was easy to talk about preferring the nunnery when the plan had been to take the Fire Star and run, secure in the knowledge that, with it in hand, Cassandra had the means to do as she pleased. But now?

‘The Beech Circle will see us right,’ I whisper to her, adjusting the neckline of her gown so that her creamy skin is offset perfectly. She wears a delicate silver locket around her neck, and I can barely look at it, knowing the gown was designed with the Fire Star in mind.

Cassandra, however, reaches up now to grasp the locket, as though gaining strength from it. Inside the circle of the locket, behind the expected miniature portrait of her parents, is a little painting of trees and a red bird. The Beech trees, a symbol of knowledge and wisdom; the robin, which makes its home in hidden places but can fly as it pleases. Roots and wings, all in a circle.

‘I know,’ Cassandra whispers back, tears pooled on her lashes. ‘I am grateful that you took me to them, Maven, that we have them for support. But . . .’

‘I’m so sorry, my lady,’ I say into the silence as her words trail away, the apology drawn unbidden from my lips. I feel so responsible that our plans are in tatters, although I have gone over it and over it in my mind and cannot see where we went wrong, or who could possibly have known.

Cassandra rests her hand on the side of my face. ‘It is not your fault,’ she says. ‘We gambled and we lost. And it was still worth the risk to imagine the life of freedom we could have led.’

I shake my head. ‘Can still lead,’ I say. ‘I have not given up, my lady. I will find that stone.’

Cassandra removes her hand, and her gaze follows it to her lap. ‘The wedding is the day after tomorrow,’ she says. ‘Half the guests are already here. Presuming that the Airl does not order Sir Garrick to call it off, you have no time to find the Fire Star. And even if you did, our plans for escape are in tatters. We are trapped, one way or another.’

I open my mouth to speak, but she stops me. ‘He is here.’

I melt away behind a small grove of almond trees, noting as I do that the picture we have created is perfect. Cassandra sits straight-backed on the wall, her red gown bright against the deep-green leaves, a haughty smile upon her beautiful face. She looks powerful and in control, the antithesis of how she feels, and I admire once again her ability to do what she must to make the best of any situation.

I was with her when she learned of the death of her elderly betrothed, and watched as her future went up in smoke. She had known that they wouldn’t be married long due to his age, but she’d also known that, as a widow, she would have had the freedom she had long craved.

Marriage to a young, vital man meant a long life of servitude and obedience. Neither of these were traits for which Cassandra was renowned.

‘How did she take the news?’

I jump at the voice, turning from the scene in front of me where Sir Garrick and Lady Cassandra are making awkward small talk about the weather, to face Reeve.

‘Don’t creep up on me like that!’ I sound like an angry viper.

‘I didn’t creep,’ Reeve whispers, holding up his hands as though for protection. ‘You were so involved in spying on my master that you didn’t hear me.’

‘I am not spying,’ I say. ‘I am doing my duty as a chaperone.’

‘Good,’ he says, stepping up beside me to also peer around the bush. ‘So am I.’

We watch in silence for a while, before turning to each other with a grimace. ‘It’s going well, then,’ Reeve says, his tone mocking.

‘Your knight needs more lessons in charming a lady,’ I say, watching Sir Garrick pulling on his ear as he tries to think of what to say next.

‘His reputation suggests that he understands courtly love very well,’ Reeve says, as though speaking to a small child.

I stare at him, taking in the words ‘courtly love’. ‘If he’s over there comparing her face to a summer’s day, we’re all in big trouble.’

‘What do you mean?’ he asks.

I sigh. ‘Cassandra cannot stand all that folderol any more than I can. It’s one of the reasons it took her so long to accept a betrothal, and the reason we get on so well.’

Reeve frowns before crossing his arms, appearing to be deep in thought.

‘Are you willing to help me to get these two better acquainted?’ he says after a moment. ‘After all, when they marry in a few days, we are going to be spending an awful lot of time with the two of them, and it will help us all if they are . . . warmer to each other.’

I glance at the stiff couple on the wall. ‘And just how do you propose to do that?’

‘You mentioned to me that you play chess,’ he says, and I scan the garden to make sure no one has heard before nodding, unwilling to affirm his statement out loud. ‘Does she?’

‘I have been teaching her,’ I whisper, wondering where he’s going with this. ‘She is a beginner but she has promise.’

‘Wait here,’ he says, and is gone before I can ask any further questions.

Minutes pass and, with each, the conversation between the lady and her knight sputters further into oblivion. I hold my breath as Cassandra stares unseeingly into the blue sky, while Sir Garrick gazes at a stone statue of a dragon, as though willing it to life.

‘Okay, take this over to her,’ says Reeve, startling me once again. He hands me a wooden chessboard and a small leather pouch, which I assume holds the pieces.

‘I can’t do that!’ I say. ‘Then he’ll know that she can play. You know that chess is not considered a ladylike pastime. Would you ruin her?’

He proffers the board again, shaking the pouch at me. ‘They are from Sir Garrick’s quarters.’

‘Be that as it may . . .’ I take the pieces and the board from him and stand, weighing them in my hands.

‘Could it be worse than it is now?’ he asks, and there is no malice in the mild query.

‘If he reports to the Airl that she knows this game, it could be,’ I say, cursing my agony of indecision.

‘It will be up to her to decide whether to take them,’ Reeve says. ‘We are just giving her the tools to perhaps forge an understanding. From what you tell me of your lady, she would welcome a . . . challenge in her life.’

‘She has enough challenges,’ I say, but the acid has gone from my tone.

‘A friend then,’ Reeve says, and this time he flashes that winning smile, the dimple peeking from his cheek. ‘We could all use more friends – even you, Maven of Aramoor, though you do not make it easy. And Sir Garrick is a good man, albeit one not born to nobility.’

Ignoring his crack about friendship, I tuck the heavy board under my arm and grasp the pouch more firmly. ‘I’ll take it to her, but what she does is up to her.’

Reeve says nothing as I step out from behind the shrub and make my way towards my lady.

‘Maven? What do you need?’ I do not miss the note of eagerness in Cassandra’s voice. I think she hopes that I bring a message summonsing her away.

‘I, well, I, er –’ I cannot believe how tongue-tied I am. The truth is that I am worried that I may be bringing more trouble upon my lady’s head.

‘You have something for my lady?’ It is Sir Garrick who speaks, and I turn to look at him, for the first time, in the face. For a moment, I am speechless – his rough features have a quiet strength while his dark-brown eyes are kind upon me.

‘Well, I –’ I can almost hear Reeve laughing at me from behind the shrub, so I gather my composure. ‘I had wondered, my lady, if you might have some use for this.’

I hold out the chessboard and pieces, but Cassandra does not move to take them. ‘Where did you get these? What use could I make of such a thing?’ My heart sinks as I register her fury.

After a moment, however, Sir Garrick reaches for the pouch, opens it and looks inside. ‘It is as I thought,’ he murmurs. ‘This is my chessboard and my pieces. Where did you get them?’

I am saved from answering by the appearance of Reeve. ‘It was I who gave them to her,’ he says, with a small bow.

‘Why would you imagine that Sir Garrick would require such a thing in this time and place?’ Lady Cassandra demands.

Sir Garrick looks from Reeve to me, thoughtfully. ‘It is almost as though you expect that the Lady Cassandra might be able to play,’ he says.

‘Oh, what nons–’ Cassandra begins, but Sir Garrick is still speaking.

‘Which would, indeed, be a fine discovery.’

Cassandra pauses. ‘But would also contravene the laws of the land, not to mention mine uncle’s views, on women and learning,’ she says quietly.

Sir Garrick shuffles sideways on the wall, placing the board between them. ‘I have always thought,’ he says conversationally, opening the pouch and beginning to place pieces on the gameboard, ‘that what went on between a betrothed couple was quite the business of that couple. Your uncle upholds the law of the land, it is true, but you will note that few question his living arrangements with Lady Rhoswen, and they offer no explanation. As they should not.’

I breathe a sigh of relief, and feel unexpected tears rise at his words.

‘Is that so?’ Cassandra says, and for the first time since we met four years ago, I hear tentative hope in her voice.

‘Indeed,’ Sir Garrick says, placing the last piece on the board. ‘And so I would expect it to be in my own marriage. Now, it seems that you are white, my lady. You must make the first move.’

There is a long pause. Lady Cassandra looks from the pieces on the board and up to my face. I nod. We have nothing to lose now.

The fact that Sir Garrick did not storm away at first sight of the chessboard allows a tiny kernel of optimism to seed within me. Could it be that this knight she was so determined to flee may be the solution she needs?

Finally, my lady reaches for a pawn, pushing it forward across the board. Sir Garrick mirrors her move quickly. Tucking that errant curl behind her ear, Cassandra bends forward, leaping her knight into position, and I allow myself a small smile as Sir Garrick again mirrors her move. She is playing a classic opening that my father taught me when I was very young.

As Cassandra slides her bishop up to face off against Sir Garrick’s row of pawns, I watch him lean in as he realises that she has more skill than he had imagined.

I feel a hand under my elbow, and Reeve draws me away.

‘Ha!’ I hear Cassandra exclaim as Reeve and I fade behind the shrubbery.

‘She won’t beat him, will she?’ Reeve asks, and I think he’s only half-joking.

‘She will if she can,’ I respond. ‘My lady is nothing if not competitive. But she is also a relative beginner. The good Sir Knight’s pride should remain intact . . . for now.’

Reeve smirks. ‘You would beat him,’ he says, and there is no question in his voice.

‘In a heartbeat,’ I reply, with a courteous bow and a tiny smile.

‘So,’ he says, dropping to the lush grass and stretching out in the golden, late-afternoon sun. ‘What do we do now?’

I stand over him, hands on hips. ‘Technically, we should loll around in the sun, deliberately averting our gaze from our charges whilst keeping their virtue safe.’

Reeve snorts, squinting up at me in the bright light. ‘I sense a “but”.’

‘We have a job to do,’ I say. ‘And little time in which to do it.’

‘Do you have a plan?’ He sounds doubtful but is getting to his feet.

I peer around the shrubbery. Cassandra and Sir Garrick are deep into their game, oblivious to their surroundings.

‘One of us needs to stay nearby, in case someone comes and catches them playing,’ I say. I can hardly believe my words, that my mistress’s reputation is as much in danger from playing a game as it would be if Sir Garrick were to suddenly ravish her among the flowerbeds.

‘The other must go to the stables to see if they can find out . . . anything.’

‘Anything?’ Reeve says, and his lips quirk. ‘Could you be more specific?’

To stop myself from punching him, I cross my arms. ‘Anything,’ I repeat. ‘Was Sullivan followed? Did anyone happen to disappear at the same time? Was anyone hanging around the stables that shouldn’t have been? Actually, you know what, you stay here and I’ll go. At least I’m taking this seriously.’

‘No, wait,’ Reeve says, grabbing my flowing skirt as I stomp past him. ‘You stay here. If anyone comes, it will be Lady Cassandra who will need help, not Sir Garrick. I’ll go – and I promise that I will be as thorough and, er, serious as you would be.’

I consider. He is right about Cassandra needing me.

‘Very well,’ I say, and Reeve is gone before I have a chance to add anything else.

To my horror, it is but moments before I hear raised voices drifting over from the chess game. I rush to the Lady Cassandra. ‘Is all well, my lady?’ I ask, hoping my expression masks my concern.

‘Well, no, Maven, it’s not. This cad has just wiped my king from the board.’ Her voice is bright with merriment.

Sir Garrick holds up his hands in mock surrender. ‘The lady fought bravely and well,’ he says, his eyes twinkling. ‘I just got lucky.’

I smile, unsure of my role in this lighthearted banter, but eager to grasp more time for Reeve to make his enquiries. ‘Perhaps another battle might allow my lady the opportunity to recover her honour?’

‘What say you, good Sir Knight?’ Cassandra says, and her flushed, excited face is more beautiful than I have seen it in many moons.

‘Enchanted,’ says Sir Garrick, and his expression suggests that he does not lie, although Cassandra is so busy arraying her chess pieces that I suspect she does not see it.

As the game begins, little is heard beyond the click of chess pieces and an occasional murmur, and so I wander towards the entrance to the walled garden. If I stand beside the wooden door, I can ensure that no one enters without warning.

I lean against the warm stones listening to the rise and fall of chatter as people pass by outside the door.

‘Well, I told him that it would snow at midsummer before he’d ever . . .’

‘I thought it a fine courser until I saw . . .’

I sink to the grass, spreading my skirts beneath me and, with one last glance in the direction of Sir Garrick and Cassandra, happy to rest for a moment when I know I will not miss the ratchet of the latch that secures the gate.

Time passes, but I hear no shout from the direction of the chessboard. It seems that Cassandra is making Sir Garrick work harder for his victory this time, and I feel a surge of pride.

My ears prick up at the sound of whispering outside the gate. I am able to make out only that it is a man’s voice doing most of the talking, with a woman responding briefly. I get to my feet and creep to the gate, dropping so that my ear is in line with the square handhold cut into the door.

‘I cannot,’ I hear the woman’s voice, or, more likely, a girl’s.

‘You must,’ comes the gruff response. ‘If not tonight then never.’

The girl gasps, and I hear her begin to sob. ‘Don’t say that, you do not give me orders.’ I am startled to recognise Lady Anice’s brittle tones, although they are less strident when soaked with tears.

The man laughs, harsh and knowing. ‘Tell me that you would allow me to go without you.’

There is a silence. ‘You pledged your love,’ Anice says.

‘It is mine to pledge and mine to take.’ His ruthless statement startles me. Who would dare speak so to the Lady Anice?

Then he continues, smooth and wheedling. ‘Come now, let us retire to the garden.’

I freeze as a hand begins to reach through the handhold to lift the latch. I whirl about, ready to run to the Lady Cassandra, but I see that my sharp movements have alerted her, and Sir Garrick is already taking action, deftly flipping the entire chessboard over the wall into the garden beyond while Cassandra rearranges her skirts.

I slow my pace to a genteel stroll, and greet my lady loudly by name. I suspect that whomever it is whispering outside the gate will no more welcome the sight of other people than we would have done a few moments ago.

My thoughts are confirmed when I hear the latch clank back into place, and the gate remains shut.

‘It seems we have lingered long enough here,’ Cassandra says to me when I reach her side. ‘It is time for me to dress for dinner.’

Sir Garrick stands before her and bows. ‘I look forward to seeing you at table, my lady,’ he says, and lays a sweet kiss on her hand.

Cassandra smiles at him. ‘I will also welcome your presence – even if my actions do not necessarily show my joy.’

I smile inwardly, applauding her strategy. Cassandra has been won over here today by this clever knight, but she will not allow the Airl to see that.

‘It is as much to protect you as me,’ she continues when Sir Garrick would quiz her. ‘I am a less valuable proposition to the Airl without the Fire Star, and if he sees value in a friendship between us – or more specifically breaking it up – he will do so.’

Sir Garrick appears thoughtful. I wonder that she trusts him with these words, given his many years of loyalty to the Airl, but he quickly repays the favour.

‘Very well, my lady, then I shall look forward to another quiet moment between us on the morrow.’

As Sir Garrick makes his way to the gate, Cassandra’s eyes linger on his upright figure and I find myself wondering at both her absorbed expression and the bond that has formed so quickly here today.

I cannot help but think that, even if Reeve has found the Fire Star hidden in the stable straw, the Lady Cassandra might now have plans of her own.