The Wolf of Harrow Hall (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 7) (13 page)

But then I realized what a fright I must look, and how it was rather dreadful that he should see me thus, even though at first I had been very glad of his presence. Resisting the impulse to tear my hands away so I might attempt to smooth my tangled hair, I said, “I can think of far worse things than being restricted to only your company, Phelan Greymount.”

“Indeed? I must confess that I am glad to hear you say so. Now, though, I think you should rest. I will send word to Master Merryk that you are much improved. Do you think you could eat something?”

Now that he had asked the question, I realized how ravenously hungry I was. Not so strange, after all, when I had gone more than two days without any real food. “Yes, I think so,” I told him. “Perhaps some broth, and bread.”

“And some warm cider, I think. I will have Master Merryk see to it right away.”

“I do not wish you to take any particular trouble — ”

Phelan stopped those words right away, holding up a hand as he said, “You are no trouble, Bettany Sendris. You must know how very much you have come to mean to me. So do not be meek, or humble. Let me take care of you.”

What on earth could I say in response to that? My cheeks heated, but not from a fever this time. To think that a young woman such as I could have made such an impact on him! I nodded. “Thank you, Phelan. I do admit that it feels quite wonderful to have you wishing to take care of me.”

A smile spread over his face then, and he took my hand once more, kissing it before he hurried out in search of the steward. For myself, I could only fall back against the pillows, that encounter quite exhausting me after such a long time lost in fever. As wearied as I felt, however, I could not help grinning as I stared up at the ceiling.

I meant something to Phelan Greymount, and if it had required my illness for him to recognize that fact, then I could not regret too much those days I had spent in my sickbed.

A
ny hopes
I might have had of a quick convalescence were dashed by the steward, however. He came to see me, and laid his hand on my brow and looked at the whites of my eyes, and although he said I did seem a good deal improved, I should not dream of rising from my sickbed for at least another couple of days.

“I understand your caution,” I told him, “but truly, I feel myself quite recovered, and not dizzy or weak at all.”

“And how far have you tried to walk?” he asked, expression stern.

An embarrassed flush touched my cheeks then, for I had only gotten up to use the garderobe, hidden in its curtained alcove off to one side of the chamber. I did not wish to confess such a thing to him, even though of course we all had to attend to such functions during our daily lives. “A few feet,” I replied.

“Which is good, but it is better to be careful.” A pause, as if he was weighing what to say next. I watched him with some surprise, because he was not the sort of man to show much hesitation, had always seemed very assured to me. “Mistress Sendris, I took care of you because I have had some small training in these things, but I am no physician. If you were to overexert yourself too soon, you might suffer a relapse and make yourself truly ill. And then there would be very little I could do to help you. For you know there is no chance of summoning a doctor in this kind of storm.”

Of course he was correct. In that moment, I was rather ashamed of my impatience. I had only thought of my eagerness to see Phelan, and had not considered what getting out of bed and wandering around the icy corridors of Harrow Hall might do to impair my slow but steady improvement. “My apologies, Master Merryk,” I said. “I should have thought of that. I will make sure to stay in bed until you deem it safe for me to be up and about again.”

An expression of relief passed over his features then, one so obvious that for a second or two I wondered at his solicitude. Was he truly so concerned for my well-being, or was there some other reason why he was glad that I would be confined to my bed for a while longer?

Because he does not wish you to see Phelan,
I thought then.
His lordship might not care about your mean birth, but it is clear enough that his steward thinks you are not at all suitable. If you are kept away from Phelan for a few days, perhaps his ardor will cool, and things will go back to the way they were. Or at least that is what Master Merryk hopes.

I did not dare utter these truths — if truths they were — aloud. No, I hid them deep within my heart, knowing I was in no position to make any sort of accusation against the steward. I could not even hate him for his attempt to keep me away from Lord Greymount. In a similar situation, I might not have acted so very differently. Any halfway objective observer would have said that I was far beneath him, both by birth and my current station in the world.

But I did not want to dwell on that unfortunate discrepancy. Phelan had said I had come to matter to him, and that was the important thing. He was lord here; whatever he decided to do when it came to this strange attraction between the two of us, that decision should be up to him, and not Master Merryk.

All these thoughts passed through my mind in what must have been the blink of an eye, for it seemed that the steward noticed no hesitation in my manner. He offered me a smile I did not for one second believe, then said he would be back to check on me later in the day. I nodded and hoped I looked grateful, and was more than relieved when he let himself out.

As soon as the door shut, I gathered up the heavy woolen shawl that had been lying across the foot of the bed and drew it around my shoulders, then pushed back the covers and slid down to the floor. Yes, my legs felt rather wobbly, but I held onto the edge of the bed until I thought myself more or less steady. After that I took a cautious step toward the hearth, followed by another. There. That wasn’t so bad, although I was glad to sink down into the chair which had been placed near the fire — and equally glad that the floor was covered nearly from wall to wall by an enormous Keshiaari rug, and so my feet had suffered no risk of touching the icy stone.

My heart did pound from even that simple exertion, and I took in a breath. Perhaps Master Merryk’s estimation of my condition had not been so far off after all. But I had just proven to myself that I could walk farther than the garderobe, and I vowed to do so multiple times, in order that I might strengthen myself and be ready that much sooner to have my long-delayed dinner with Phelan.

And if my speedy recovery should surprise the steward, well, I did not think I would shed too many bitter tears over his discomfiture.

I
was careful
, though. I made sure I was always back in bed anywhere close to the time when I might expect Master Merryk to check in on me, and I meekly swallowed the broth he brought up, and also that terrible willowbark tincture, even though I knew my fever had gone and I had no real need of it. Each time he would tell me that I needed more rest, and I did not bother to argue.

Phelan came to see me several times, but his visits never lasted very long. Perhaps the steward had admonished him not to tire me, or I would have to remain in bed that much longer. Each time he came to see me, though, he remarked on how improved I was, and how he had no doubt that I would be up and about in no time.

To which I would nod and smile, but reveal very little. For I thought it best to surprise him, to show that I was entirely recovered, and that perhaps his steward’s judgment on the matter had not been entirely accurate.

Several days passed in such a way. As the third evening passed into full dark, however, I thought it time to prove to Phelan that I no longer needed to be confined to my bed. The steward had come and gone with my meager meal of broth and bread, and I knew I should not be disturbed again until the following morning. Perhaps the thought of venturing out into the dark castle should have daunted me, but I believed that I recalled the way to Phelan’s chambers well enough, and surely they must have lit some of the candles in the hallway sconces so the servants might take their lord his supper. If I was very lucky, I might get to see him before they even arrived; I had gotten the impression that the steward brought me my meals sometime before the rest of the household sat down to dine.

After listening carefully at the door to make sure I could not hear any footsteps out in the corridor, I got out of bed and selected the wine velvet gown I had worn on my first day here. Once I was dressed, I went over to the little table with its attendant mirror and brushed my hair, then pinched my pale cheeks to bring some color to them. Biting my lips several times also made them flush redder, and I inspected my reflection carefully. Yes, I thought that should do rather well. I did not think I looked like someone who had spent the greater part of a week in her sickbed. In truth, I was not, because once my fever broke, I felt more or less restored to myself. But certainly the steward did not know that.

I unlatched the door and let myself out into the hallway, then paused and looked from side to side in order to determine that I truly was alone. Certainly there was no reason for anyone to be about in this wing of the castle, but I thought I should take care nevertheless.

As I had hoped, candles did burn in some of the sconces, and so I was able to see well enough to make my way over to the great stairwell and ascend the three levels to the story where Phelan’s suite was located. By the time I had reached that floor of the castle, I did feel myself somewhat winded. It seemed I was not quite as recovered as I had hoped. No matter. I was still able to walk more or less normally, and the descent to my chamber would of course be much easier than the climb here had been.

I did not think it was all exertion that made my heart beat more quickly as I approached the double doors which opened onto Phelan’s chambers. Would he be angry with me for coming here unannounced and uninvited, or instead worried that I had put too much strain on myself for coming all this way so soon after my fever had broken? I had to hope that he would only be relieved I was so recovered, and also happy that I so desired to see him alone, I had not thought of myself or my still fragile health.

When I approached the door, however, I stopped, for I heard not one, but two voices within. Phelan’s, and Master Merryk’s. My heart sank, for I had not even considered that the lord of the castle would not be alone in his suite.

But then I held my breath, for their words were coming to me clearly enough that I could hear what they were saying. It was wrong, but I could not prevent myself from listening to their conversation. No, I did not press my ear against the door, but I did stand very close, and held myself there as quietly as possible.

“…taking a very great risk, my lord,” Master Merryk was saying.

“What risk?” Phelan returned. “I have spent all this time with her — been more intimate with her than you would like, no doubt — and I have suffered no ill effects. How can such a thing be possible, save that she must be the one?”

A silence, during which I dared not stir even the slightest bit for fear they might discover that someone was listening at the door. “I do not know,” the steward said, his tone heavy with doubt. “But I cannot understand how this is possible. After all this time — and those previous incidents — ”

“What is there to understand? We both have the evidence before our eyes.”

“
You
have the evidence, my lord. I am still not entirely convinced.”

A muffled noise followed that statement, although I could not guess whether it was caused by Phelan getting up from his chair, or perhaps because he had merely made a sound of disgust at his steward’s words. “Would you be offering these arguments if she were high-born?”

“I will not lie, my lord. Of course my heart would be easier if Mistress Sendris were not a mere peasant.”

“Her grandmother is the daughter of a tin merchant.”

“Oh, well, then, that makes all the difference.”

I wondered at the steward taking such liberties, for the sarcasm in his words was plain enough for anyone to hear, even coming through the door as those words were. But then, I did not know all that much about the relationship between the two men. Master Merryk was a good deal older than Phelan, and I had inferred that the previous Lord Greymount had died fairly young, so perhaps the steward had taken on something of the role of a father to the young, orphaned lord. Even so, I was surprised that Phelan did not take the older man to task for what he had just said, or at least at the manner in which he had uttered the remark.

“It makes some difference,” Phelan said, his voice uncharacteristically mild. “But beyond that, Bettany herself confessed to me that she does not know who her father was.
No one
knows, apparently. So because of that fact, and because I have not reacted to her the way I should have, I am led to believe that he must have been one of
them
. Which makes her perfect.”

Them?
Who on earth was he talking about? There was some mystery here, something I could not begin to guess at, for I had no context. Of course, such a lack did not prevent me from listening further. Perhaps if they kept talking, they would offer more enlightenment.

Another pause. When Master Merryk spoke next, reluctance was clear in his every syllable. “I suppose that is possible. It does offer the only plausible explanation. But she truly has no idea of who her father is? Her mother never said anything?”

“From what Mistress Sendris told me, it seems the mother disappeared as well when Bettany was very young. She said nothing to her daughter, or to her parents, of the man who had fathered her child.”

“That would make some sense, if the father was truly one of
them
.”

“So you see why I have come to my decision. The meanness of her birth means nothing to me, not when she herself is the answer to this curse that has plagued me ever since I came of age. And besides — ” He stopped himself there, and I wished I could see his expression, could have a better chance of determining what he might be thinking. Up until this point, it seemed that all his defenses of me sprang only from what I was — whatever that might be — rather than who I was. Did he care for me at all, or was I only a convenient answer to this “curse” of his? I recalled then, the touch of his lips on mine, the heat in his kisses, and told myself he must care, that no man could kiss a woman in such a way if he did not care a great deal.

But then, my experience of men was not large. Perhaps such things were easy enough to counterfeit. I knotted my hands in my skirts and strained to hear what they would say next.

“And besides, at least she is young and pretty?” Master Merryk said dryly.

“More than pretty. She is a very beautiful young woman. But her beauty only made matters more difficult for me at first. I needed to know that I was not making this decision merely because I wanted her.”

While these words did not precisely make me relax, they did do something to lift the cloud that had begun to darken my thoughts. Although it seemed obvious that Phelan had some overriding reason as to why he had made his “decision,” he also thought I was beautiful. He wanted me. It was something to be desired by a man like Phelan Greymount, even if that desire was only a fraction of his current motivation.

“And you are not making this decision based on that?”

“No.” A pause, and then Phelan added, “At least not entirely. At any rate, I need to act now, while she is still here with us.”

“Since we have seen no sign of the storm stopping any time soon, I believe there is not much chance of Mistress Sendris leaving us in the near future. But if your mind is made up — ”

“It is.”

“Well, then. It seems some preparations will be required. When do you plan to speak to her?”

“Tomorrow. It grows late, and I would not wish to intrude on her rest.”

Shame flooded through me at his words, at his believing that I was safely confined to my bed, rather than wandering these drafty halls and listening in on his private conversations. True, this particular conversation involved me, and one might say I had a right to know what Phelan and his steward were discussing. But I could not find much relief in that particular rationalization.