The Dark One: Dark Knight (104 page)

     The 'morning room' was simply a glorified
name for a large solar. Richly appointed, as was the rest of the castle,
Remington took a small plate of food and studied the artwork as Lady Anne and
Father de Tormo kept up a running conversation. Jasmine and Skye ate like pigs,
eating as if they had not eaten all day.

     Rich custard pies covered damask-covered
table, breads of cinnamon and currants, almond-and-sugar pastes molded and
colored into a variety of shapes. Jellied raisin puddings were decorated with
lovely flowers and a half of a pig sat dead in the middle, smelling
deliciously. It was an impressive spread, which did not go to waste on the two
younger sisters.

     Remington delicately nibbled on a marzipan
pastry as she intently observed a particularly fine painting, a lovely scene of
flowers painted on bone-white linen. The watercolors were striking.

     “Do you like it?” Anne came up behind her,
smiling.

     Remington nodded. “It's lovely. Did you
paint it, my lady?”

     “My daughter did,” the smile faded from
Anne's face as gazed at the painting. “Alicia painted it the year before she
died.”

     Remington was saddened. “She had a
tremendous talent, indeed. I am sorry to hear of your loss.”

     Anne gazed at the painting a moment longer
before tearing her eyes away, smiling brightly at Remington. “'Twas God's will,
my lady. She died in childbirth, although she was no more than a child herself.
I lost my darling at seventeen.”

     Remington was doubly saddened, glancing
over her shoulder at her remaining sisters. “We suffered a similar loss last
year. Our sixteen year old sister was killed in an ambush.”

     Anne put her hand on Remington's arm. “Then
we both know what it is like to lose one so vibrant and sweet,” gently pulling
Remington with her, the two of them walked back toward the food-laden table. “I
understand you recently bore twin daughters. How very wonderful.”

     Remington smiled. “I miss them already.”

     Anne smiled sympathetically. “Well, I have
an idea as to how to ease your ache.”

     She tinkled a little silver bell on the
table and instantly there were servants whisking through the open door, laden
with trays of more food for the table. Remington glanced disinterestedly at
them and almost turned away until she caught sight of a smaller servant
bringing up the rear.

     A very familiar figure!

     Dane Stoneley caught sight of his mother
the very same instant that she recognized him. They both froze, unsure of what
to say or how to act. Gaston had always been all too clear about protocol.
Remington's eyes were huge on her son; he had filled out, grown up, and was
nearly as tall as Skye. She felt hot tears filling her eyes, but she refused to
give into them, at least not until she greeted her son properly.

     Anne gave her a nudge. “Well? Do you
recognize your fine young man?”

     She could only manage a nod, her throat too
tight to speak. She couldn't take her eyes off him.

     Anne could see her dilemma and motioned to
Dane. “Put the food down, Dane. And then you will retreat to my solar.”

     Dane snapped out of his trance, doing as he
was told. He set the tray down carefully and bolted from the room. Remington
stood, dazed.

     “My solar is across the hall,” Anne said
softly. “I shall tell Gaston where you are when he arrives.”

     Remington looked at the woman, a million
words of thanks rushing to her lips, but all she could squeeze out were two.
“Thank you.”

     Dane was waiting stiffly in the solar.
Remington shut the door softly behind her, turning to face the son she had not seen
in nearly a year.

     “Hello, sweetheart.”

     “Hello, mother.”

     She smiled. He did, too. She was shocked to
see that his missing front teeth had grown in, as had several more new
permanent teeth. He almost did not look like the same boy and she felt herself
crumbling.

     “I have missed you terribly.”

     “You have?” he swallowed. “Mother, I….are
you and Sir Gaston married yet?”

     “Not yet,” she said softly, emotions
tightening her throat. “But soon, hopefully. We are traveling to London right
now to finish the proceedings.”

     Dane's sea-crystal eyes stared at her a
moment. “What if the church says no? Then what?”

     She lowered her gaze and perched herself on
the edge of a heavy silk chair. “Then we continue to love each other and raise
your new sisters at Deverill. And we will continue to love you and Trenton very
much. Nothing will change.”

     Dane thought a moment, lowered his eyes and
staring at the floor. “I have heard some of the squires call you a whore. The
knights do not, because they respect Sir Gaston, but sometimes...sometimes I
have heard them talking about Sir Gaston and then they shut up when I enter the
room. Do you suppose they think he is wrong to annul your marriage to my
father?”

     Remington felt sick to her stomach. She
knew Dane would be subjected to this kind of talk and wasn't surprised at his
question. “It does not matter what they think. We know what is right, do not
we? We know that Sir Gaston loves us far more than your father ever did, no
matter if he is my legal husband or not,” she studied her son's face a moment,
his boyish features transforming into young manhood. “I am sorry if you are
ashamed of me, Dane. I never meant to humiliate you.”

     His eyes met hers, shocked. “I am not
ashamed of you! And Trenton beat up the last squire who said bad things about
you. Everyone is afraid of Trenton.”

     “They are?” she asked, puzzled. “Why?”

     “Because he's so big.” Dane insisted. “He's
as big as you are.”

     Remington looked at him doubtfully. “He's
not a bully, is he?”

     “Nay,” Dane shook his head. “Not at all.
But he does not like it when people say bad things about you or Sir Gaston. It
makes him mad.”

     Remington gazed at her son, thinking how
very much he had grown in the past year. He was nearly nine years old, and
Trenton was almost ten. It was hard to believe how much had changed.

     “How do you like it here?” she asked,
feeling a little better now that the most ugly subjects had been dealt with.

     Dane's face lit up and he proceeded to tell
her all about his six months at Oxford. Remington listened intently, laughing
and genuinely enjoying his tales. Time flew past as she listened to her son, so
very glad to see him again that she was content to listen to him all night. In
the middle of one particularly comical story, there was a soft rap on the door.

     Dane, as he was so trained, opened it.

     Gaston entered the room, a young man at his
side. It took Remington a moment to realize she was looking at Trenton.

     She stood up, her eyes wide. Trenton was,
indeed, as tall as she was. Probably taller, and he out-weighed her, too.

     “Trenton!” she gasped.

     Gaston grinned, looking down at his son.
“My reaction precisely. Greetings, Dane.”

     Dane bowed a polished gesture. “My lord de
Russe. Congratulations on your dukedom, my lord.”

     Gaston's eyebrows rose faintly as he let go
of Trenton's shoulder and moved to Remington. “My, so formal. You have learned
your lessons well.”

     Remington couldn't take her eyes off
Trenton. He was growing into the exact image of his father, and he smiled
weakly at her.

     “Good health to you, my lady.”

     She went over to him, her mouth open,
inspected him. Then she looked at Dane. “You were correct, Dane. He is as large
as I am, larger, in fact. Forgive me for doubting you.”

     Dane grinned and Gaston put his hands on
his hips. “By God, Dane, you have all of your teeth in. And look how fat you
are. I must speak to de Vere; he is feeding you far too much. Both of you.”

     Remington laughed at the expense of the
boys. “It’s not just the food, but the exercise, too. We have been putting in
hard hours on the training field since we are to be promoted to squires at the
end of the summer,” Dane said proudly.

     “So I am told. I am also told that Sir
Steven de Norville has demanded you both squire for him,” Gaston said with
approval. “A fine knight, indeed.”

     “De Norville?” Remington recognized the
name. “Did not he serve Courtenay?”

     “He did until de Vere bought his services
from the bishop,” Gaston replied, his gaze still warm on the boys. “The man is
a splendid warrior and de Vere was willing to do anything to gain his
loyalties. De Norville's own squire is due to be knighted next month and he is
in need of a new one. Two new ones.”

     Remington smiled proudly.” How wonderful.
Imagine that I have two sons who are squires.”

     Trenton looked to his father, surprised
that Remington called him 'her' son and looking for a reaction. Gaston merely
smiled faintly. “And they will be the finest, will they not? As befitting the
sons of the duke of Warminster.”

     If there was ever any doubt that Remington
and Gaston had not completely accepted the boys as their own, as if each
respective boy was not loved any less because they were not of the same blood,
those fears were dashed. Blood or not, Dane and Trenton were brothers.

     After living for nearly a year with boys
whose parents were glad to be rid of them, young men who were abused and cast
aside and forgotten, Dane and Trenton knew how very lucky they were to be loved
as much as they obviously were.

     Dane thought the sun rose and set on
Gaston. The man was his hero, his father, and his friend.

     And Trenton loved Remington as if he had
never had another mother.

     No one got very much sleep that night. The
four of them retreated to the chamber provided by Lady de Vere and spent most
of the night talking. Both boys proudly showed off their blossoming muscles for
their parents, Trenton's being far larger, like his father's, but Gaston
praised both boys for their physical development. They spoke of their new
sisters, their new cousins and life in general at Oxford.

     No one brought up London, or the papal
council, or the proceedings. It was as if it did not matter anymore; Gaston and
Remington were married in their hearts and in their minds, even if the church
did not recognize it. Nothing could change their love and devotion to one another.

     Toward dawn, Remington fell asleep on the
big bed even as Gaston and the boys continued to talk. Dane seemed to do most
of the talking for Trenton, who would chime in every now and again in his
already-deep voice. Gaston could see so much of himself in his son that it was
frightening.

     When dawn finally broke, Gaston knew the
boys had assigned duties and reluctantly bid them a farewell. He promised that
Remington would seek them out to say her own good-byes before they departed.

     Just as he snuggled in beside her and
closed his eyes, Remington woke and demanded to break her fast with her sons.

     With a weary groan, Gaston rolled out of
bed.

       Jasmine and Antonius, Skye and Nicolas,
Remington and Gaston, and the earl and his wife broke their fast in Lady Anne's
small solar. Dane and Trenton joined them a short while later, feeling peculiar
sharing a meal with the earl when they should be serving him.

     Father de Tormo did not show up for the
meal and the earl sent a servant to fetch him. Not ten minutes later, the
servant was back.

     De Vere was conversing with Gaston when the
manservant bent over and whispered in his ear. Shocked, the earl turned to
Gaston.

     “Gaston,” he said hesitantly. “I have just
been told that your priest was found dead in his bed. Mayhap we should see for
ourselves.”

     Gaston bolted out of the chair, on the
heels of the earl. Remington, ashen at the earl's words, watched with horror as
the men disappeared from the room. After several long, shocked moments, she
turned wide-eyes to her sisters.

     “My God,” she rasped. “What will we do now
that he's dead? He was our counsel, our chief witness, our....friend!”

     Jasmine touched her arm. “All's not lost,
Remi. You still have us.”

     Skye nodded eagerly. “We shall convince the
papal council. Jasmine can cry and carry on a good act, and I shall….I shall
faint for good measure.”

     Remington was too shocked to respond to
Skye's attempt at humor and encouragement. De Tormo was dead. She remembered
yesterday, how terrible he had looked, and she knew something had been wrong
with the man. She had even told Gaston her fears. The priest simply had not
looked well at all.

     And de Tormo....he had not eaten well, and
mostly slept the entire trip. He certainly wasn't acting himself, and when he
had given her the scroll....

The scroll.