Wild Bells to the Wild Sky (28 page)

"I would hardly call Artemis a cripple, and I have never yet met a woman as capable as Quinta Whitelaw," Sir Rodger commented.

"
I did not mean to be cruel, but Artemis does have a limp. Unfortunate, since she is a very attractive young woman, but I dare say she will always be something of a burden to Valentine. You cannot deny that, my dear. A pity, for I would have liked to have seen her married before I assumed my position as mistress. However, I think we will deal together well enough."

Sir Rodger eyed his sister as if seeing her for the first time. It was apparent that she had every detail planned. " And our host? How would you deal with him? Are you in love with Valentine Whitelaw?" he asked curiously, a slight smile curving his lips as he noticed her sudden agitation. Apparently Honoria was not as cold-hearted about the affair as she would have wished to appear.

"
Undeniably, he is a gentleman of honor and breeding," was all Honoria allowed before quickening her step to reach the end of the corridor without further delay.

"
I must congratulate you, my dear, for you have indeed given this a great deal of thought. I would, however, remind you that you have yet to receive Valentine Whitelaw's proposal of marriage. I do not believe the gentleman is even aware of your intentions. How do you intend to convince him of the suitability of your plan?"

"I shall leave part of that up to you," Honoria replied.

They had not quite reached the window where Lily still sat in silence, her presence undetected, when Sir Rodger halted to stare in surprise at his sister.

"I happen to have complete faith in your abilities to capture the hand of Cordelia Howard."

"I see," Sir Rodger said slowly, a strange look on his face that momentarily puzzled Honoria. "I am flattered, my dear, by your confidence in me. And with the fair Cordelia no longer available you expect Valentine Whitelaw to turn to you."

Honoria glanced down modestly at her carefully folded hands.

"You are a very beautiful woman, Honoria. Our host would have to be blind not to appreciate your sterling
qualities
as a future wife and mistress of his home," Sir Rodger spoke the appropriate words.

"Thank you, that is very kind of you."

"You know it is true. Indeed, Valentine Whitelaw should think himself luck
y
that I would even consider him as a possible
candidate
for your hand," Sir Rodger said.

"Oh, Rodger, please, you will not be difficult when Valentine comes calling. Promise me, you will not interfere," Honoria pleaded, concerned now that she had revealed her innermost thoughts to Rodger. If he ruined all that she had worked for because of a misplaced pride and need to prove himself superior to Valentine Whitelaw, a Polgannis.
.
.
.

Reading her mind, Sir Rodger patted her arm. "I promise I will not thwart you on this, Honoria. In fact, I promise that your wedding will be the envy of all of England and your dowry will rival that of a queen's," he told her. "I only wish I were as certain of my future."

"What do you mean? Surely you do not doubt that you can win the affections of Cordelia Howard? I admit that I am not overly fond of her, but that is because she prefers the gaieties of London. I am a far more serious-minded woman. However, she would make you a good wife, Rodger," Honoria said a trifle urgently, lest Rodger not continue his pursuit of the
beautiful
Cordelia. "She is considered a great beauty. She is popular at court. She has a respectable fortune. She has influence which could be useful to you. She would prove a valuable hostess when you entertained in London. She is witty, indeed, she is far more intelligent than she would have her gentlemen friends believe."

"You need say no more, my dear," Sir Rodger said, raising his hand in supplication. "You do not need to convince me of the charms of Cordelia Howard. I am well aware of them. And I will do my best to see that Valentine Whitelaw marries you and not her. I only hope he will realize how fortunate a man he is."

"Thank you, my dear. I knew I could count on you," Honoria said, smiling for the first time as she tucked her slender hand around his elbow.

"I think you may have forgotten something," Sir Rodger said as they resumed their walking.

"Oh?" Honoria inquired doubtfully. "And what could that possibly be? I think I
have
been most thorough."

"The child."

Honoria laughed. It was one of the few
unattractive
qualities about her. "The child? Oh, Basil's daughter."

"Yes, I should think Valentine, and Quinta and Artemis, being the child's only living relatives, would wish to have her live here at the Hall," Sir Rodger predicted, bringing up a possibility Honoria had not had proper time to deal with.

"That is a situation I will not allow. I will suffer his aunt and sister's presence in my home, but not his brother's illegitimate children," Honoria declared.

"There would be only one," Sir Rodger corrected her.

"Do you really believe that the boy is not Basil's son? I seem to recall that Geoffrey Christian and his wife had only one child when they left England. The boy is not old enough to be anyone's son but Basil's, despite what the brat claims."

Sir Rodger frowned. "Why, if the boy is Basil's son, would Basil have led the child to believe that he is Geoffrey Christian's son? He recognized the girl as his daughter."

"My dear, 'tis obvious," Honoria said rather impatiently. "Basil, thinking they might one day be rescued, wanted to protect the lady's reputation. To have become lovers so soon after her husband's death, especially when Basil still had a wife in England, would not have been at all seemly. Indeed, I wonder if they may not have been lovers even before they left England. Why else was Basil Whitelaw aboard that ship? Not that I am
surprised
about what occurred on that island. Magdalena Christian was never decorous. I was always of the opinion that Geoffrey Christian made a
mésalliance
when he wed that foreigner. And now the boy stands to inherit Highcross Court, if, of course, his claim can be proven. Which I think is doubtful. There is no record of his birth. He was born on the island within a year of their being stranded. I should think most people will find it hard to believe that he is Geoffrey Christian's son. He does no even resemble him."

"Either way, 'twould seem as if Hartwell Barclay loses. If the boy's claim is denied, then the girl, as Geoffrey Christian's only child, inherits the estate. And," Sir Rodger added a bit maliciously, for his sister's
smug
assumptions
had irked him, "Valentine and his wife inherit Basil's children."

Honoria Penmorley's lips tightened into a thin, unattractive line. "We shall see," she said unpleasantly, her steps more
purposeful
and nearly outdistancing her brother's as she hurried along the hall, her ladylike decorum temporarily forgotten in her haste.

Lily's lips were trembling with anger as she listened to the footsteps fading down the corridor.

"She just can't marry him," Lily whispered. How dare she say that about Tristram, Lily thought, her fist clenched. It
wasn't true. Worriedly, Lily
wondered if Valentine would try to keep Dulcie. Artemis was always holding Dulcie on her lap and fondling her and kissing her, as if she were her own little girl.

Lily pulled back the heavy curtain and crawled from the window seat. Standing up, she straightened her gown and tried to smooth the wrinkles from her underskirt. With a look of dismay, she noticed the streak of dirt marring the pale yellow silk. She must have dirtied it when she'd crawled beneath the bed to catch Cappie, who had been chased underneath by one of the maids.

As Lily looked closer, she became aware of a rip along the seam of the bodice, and that she'd caught the toe of her shoe in the hem. Lily could imagine the horrified expression on Honoria Penmorley's face when she caught sight of the elegant gown she had donated to Valentine's orphaned charge out of the goodness of her heart. But Lily had heard Honoria claiming later that she seldom wore the gown since she found the color less than agreeable.

Lily stared down at the yolk-colored material of her gown and for once had to agree with Honoria Penmorley. The color was ugly. It made her sun-darkened skin look sallow and dirty, and the dark red hair Basil had always claimed was so beautiful suddenly seemed a brassy color.

With a defiant shrug, Lily stomped along the corridor, knowing she could delay no longer in joining the rest of the guests in the great hall below. But when she reached the top of the stairs, she hesitated and stood looking down at the crowded room, a sudden awkwardness over
-
coming her. Surely all eyes would be watching her and noting the ripped seam, stained underskirt, uneven hem, and the strand of hair that hung so unattractively across her cheek. Lily swallowed the painful lump rising in her throat and knew that her cheeks were burning with embarrassment.

Lily saw Valentine Whitelaw standing in intimate conversation with Honoria Penmorley, who was nodding her head in polite agreement to all that he said. Lily's wide eyes clung to him. Never had she seen him looking so handsome. He was dressed in a black doublet and gold-embroidered black breeches, with a starched, white ruff about his tanned throat
.
The gold earring he wore gleamed softly against a black strand of hair that curled against his neck. As Lily continued to watch, she saw Honoria place her slender hand on his arm and he lowered his head to catch her softly spoken word, his deep laughter filling the room in appreciation of her witty remark.

If only she could have walked down the steps as proudly as a queen. Dressed in a gown of her own choosing, and the same color as her mother's emerald pendant, her hair woven with pearls, she would enter the great hall, and Valentine Whitelaw would be waiting for her, his eyes never leaving her until she reached his side, then he would take her into his arms and.
.
.
.

"Are you all right, Lily?" Tristram said in his squeaky voice, standing where the captain of the
Madrigal
should have been standing.

"Of course I am. Why?" she demanded in disappointment, for Valentine Whitelaw still stood attentively beside Honoria Penmorley in the hall below.

"You look kind of sickly," Tristram said with brotherly candor
.
"I was
just
wondering if I could have your pudding tonight? Please, Lily, please. I love pudding. Lily. 'Tis my favorite thing in the whole world. If I'd known about pudding I would have built a boat of my own and rowed to England years ago. I would've loaded up a whole cargo, Lily, then sailed back to the island with it," he confided with a wide grin. "So can I, please? Please? Dulcie won't let me have hers. She started to cry when I asked, and Artemis promised her a second helping. You never eat all of yours. 'Tis just wasted. And, besides, I don't know when I'll get to eat pudding again. Did you know, Lily, we're leaving Ravindzara tomorrow and sailing for London. Valentine's aunt and sister are coming, too, and even Sir Rodger and his sister are sailing with us. I wonder if we'll ever get to come back here again? I heard Valentine
say that
we would be going to Highcross. I wonder if it is as nice as Raindzara?"

Lily stared at her brother as if he were crazed. Pudding? Tristram frowned as he saw the look on Lily's face; then, much to his delight, Lily nodded,
but
before he could properly thank her, she had turned around and fled back down the corridor.

Had he really heard right and he could have her dinner tonight? Tristram watched her hurrying figure disappear and thought she had been wise to let him have her dinner, because from the look on her face he didn't think she could have kept it down.

A cheerful fire was burning in the hearth of the small chamber she shared with Dulcie when Lily entered, closing the door firmly behind her and shutting out the awful truth of Tristram's words.

"Prrraaaack! Prrraaaack!
Cisco wants a kiss and something sweet to eat! Sweet to eat!"

Lily stared through her tears at the parrot sitting on his perch in the corner of the room, the sound of his voice comforting to her.

"Prrraaaack!
Man the halyards. All hands! All hands! Avast heaving, me hearties!
Prraaaack!
Land-ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!
Prrraaack!"

Lily struggled with the fastenings of her gown, pulling off the offending dress and tossing it with a vengeance across the room toward the fireplace. Cisco flapped his wings nervously as he watched the strangely colored yellow bird fly toward the fire.

Lily glanced around the oak paneled room. The flickering firelight cast its warmth across the room and the big bed with its velvet hangings and fur coverlet that she loved to snuggle beneath. A linen chest sat at the foot of the bed and held most of her belongings
-
-the rest remained aboard the Madrigal.

The room blurred as tears welled in her eyes. Lily ran to the big bed, her feet barely touching the shallow steps placed before it
as
she threw herself across the fur coverlet.