Page 27 of A Dark and Stormy Knight (A Knight’s Tale #3)

W allace was inside the castle when his mother, Cara, and his sisters came inside.

He watched them approach, and was struck by how beautiful the four looked.

Almost as if they’d drunk some sort of potion since last he’d seen them. Eyes and lips sparkling like jewels, he soon only had eyes for Cara, and could not help but note how her eyes and lips seemed to glimmer, drawing his gaze.

Her hair was different too. Fuller, softer, and he had the fanciful thought that they’d stumbled onto some sort of elixir, had partaken, and were no longer simply mortal, but touched with magic.

He dragged his gaze from Cara to glance around the room, and noted that he was not the only one staring at the ladies coming to a halt before him.

“Any news?” Lady Helena asked, though he could tell from her tone she didn’t expect any, and wished he could prove her wrong.

“Word has been spread, but naught has come of it.”

Lady Helena nodded, her expression resigned, and even as he registered her disappointment, he could not help but take a closer look at her features.

Something had changed, even in his mother.

“What is it?” she asked, and he tore his gaze away, to look at Cara, and his sisters.

“I’ve asked to speak to the king, but so far no luck.”

Just then Lady Marshall came down the stairs, and hurried toward their group. “Oh, Cara,” she said when she reached them. “I’m so sorry to hear about your necklace. We’ll figure it out, don’t you worry.”

“I hope so.”

Lady Marshall’s expression twisted in concern. “We’ll think of something.” She gave Cara a once over. “And can I just say, you look gorgeous. Will you do me too?”

Cara lifted the bag slung around one shoulder. “I brought my supplies.”

Lady Marshall waved a hand. “We’ll do it later, because, guess what?” She squeezed both Cara’s hands with hers and gave a little squeal. “You have an audience with the queen. Apparently, she’s heard about your missing necklace, and wants the details first hand.”

She leaned in to whisper, “She’s totally the biggest gossip that you ever saw, but then, I guess we all are, because, you know, what else is there to do?”

Wallace wanted to keep Cara with him.

Lady Marshall gave a little laugh, and tugged Cara forward, and then she glanced at the others. “Wow, you guys look great. We’ll see you later.”

As the two girls waved at the rest of them, Wallace watched Cara go, immediately feeling the loss of her presence.

* * *

Gillian linked their arms together, and pulled her toward the stairs. As they climbed, Gillian repeated her earlier warning. “Don’t forget, you’re from Wales, which is why your accent is off. They don’t even know about America, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell them about it as they don’t discover it for another two hundred years or so.”

“I couldn’t have told you that.”

“I brought a history book with me when I came back. Super-secret, hidden and all that,” she said with a wave.

“Your ingenuity is amazing.”

“Thank you.”

“Now about that chocolate …”

“Never going to happen. But good try.”

They were laughing as they walked down the hallway, and when they’d almost reached the double door with guards outside, Gillian stopped.

“Are you ready?” she whispered.

Cara drew in a breath. “Yes.”

Gillian gave her a once over, twitched her skirt into place, and gave the guards the signal to open the door.

They both opened one door each at the same time, and when Gillian crossed her hands in front of her, Cara did the same.

This world was going to take some getting used to.

The room was large and opulent, ladies in medieval dresses of all hues were seated on chairs, or standing, or fussing over two women.

One could only be the queen, and the other, the bride.

The queen wore a rich burgundy gown, threaded with gold beadwork and embroidery, the neck of her dress was square, with a necklace hanging down at mid chest that was large enough that Cara could tell from across the room that it resembled the sun.

The bride wore a jewel-colored green gown, and was obviously very young.

As in, too young for marriage.

She’d have to ask Gillian about it later.

It was loud, and apparent that the predominant language being spoken was French, as Gillian had said.

The doors shut behind them, and ladies glanced in their direction, until finally the queen’s attention was caught and she studied Gillian, and then Cara for a long moment.

When Gillian dipped into a curtsy, Cara quickly did the same.

“Lady Marshall, come forward, and introduce your friend,” the queen said in heavily accented French.

They both went forward and Gillian smiled at the queen. “Your Majesty, Queen Eleanor, this is my friend, Lady Cara Jones of Wales.”

The queen remained expressionless, and then finally asked, “Who are your people?” in heavily accented French.

“My father is Mark Jones, and my mother, Lori, is formally of the Fernsby clan.”

“I don’t know them.”

Cara didn’t suppose that she did.

“You are very pretty,” the queen said.

“Thank you,” Cara bent her head toward the queen. “And you are very beautiful.”

And she was. Cara looked at the other woman, probably mid-thirties or so, with brunette hair, dark eyes, and pale skin. Perhaps not as pretty as some of the actresses she’d worked with, but stunning regardless.

The queen’s gaze moved up and down. “Your dress is interesting. Is it a new style in Wales?”

“It is.”

“You cannot compete with France for style, of course, but ’tis passable.”

Cara bit back her amusement. “Thank you.”

The queen looked her dress over again, and then gave a quick nod, seeming to lose interest in them both as she turned away.

Gillian gestured Cara toward a plush bench, and the two of them took a seat to watch the proceedings.

It slowly dawned on Cara that the bride couldn’t be more than twelve years old.

“That is the bride, right?”

“It is,” Gillian whispered back. Cara exchanged a glance with her. She continued. “Don’t worry, from what I can make out, these things usually aren’t consummated for years. The girl will now grow up in the household with her husband until that time.”

“Well, let’s hope it’s a decade.”

“Even five years would be nice.”

The girl’s dark hair made her wonder if she was related to the queen, and she asked Gillian, “Is this the king’s niece, or the queen’s?”

“The queen’s.”

The girl, sitting on a chair in the middle of the room looked unhappy.

The queen did a slow circle around her chair, the other ladies standing back a bit. Though Cara didn’t understand her words, it looked like the queen was giving the maid suggestions for how to do her hair.

“Does she not want to get married?” Cara whispered again.

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t look like it, does it?”

And who would at age twelve?

The ladies paired off into groups for the most part, and the chattering was a low murmur in the room. None of them seemed in a hurry to include Gillian or Cara, so Cara finally said, “Is now a good time to do your hair and makeup? Or do you want to do that in your room later?”

Gillian took a look around. “I guess now is as good a time as any, but you might get roped into doing other ladies if you do it here.”

“I’m game if you are. I love to do this or I wouldn’t have made a career out of it.” Cara spotted a table off to one side, and told Gillian, “Go find a stool, and I’ll get set up.”

Cara laid out her meager stash of makeup, most of which Gillian had helped her gather and fold into parchment paper. Clay, soot, chalk, oiled rose petals, and crushed coal. Gillian’s maid had given up a concoction made with beets that worked surprisingly well a rouge, but only after getting a solemn promise that the priest would never find out.

Cara kept the eyeliner hidden.

She sighed. What she wouldn’t do for her makeup box.

Gillian had one of the servants carry a heavy chair over and set it down beside Cara’s new workstation.

Some of the women threw her curious looks, and others continued to ignore them, including the queen.

“Normally, I wouldn’t do your hair first, but I’m worried if we start with makeup, we’ll never get to your hair if the other ladies try and horn in.”

Gillian giggled. “Whatever you think best.”

Cara set to work, undoing multiple leather thongs and braids in Gillian’s hair. “Is your maid going to kill me for undoing her work?”

“No, but she’ll probably try to copy you later.”

Cara smiled. “She’s welcome to try.”

Cara set the leather thongs and embroidered hair ties in a row, and then headed over for more supplies, snagging a brush, comb, and a backcombing implement.

Others looked curious, but no one protested, and she headed back to lay everything out on the table beside Gillian.

She picked up the brush and drew it through Gillian’s thick blonde hair in big sweeps, parted her hair to one side, then set the brush down and picked up the comb to make a part just behind her bangs and let that hair fall forward as she back combed the crown of Gillian’s hair.

This was a style she’d done at least twenty times on Princess Pat on the set of Rupert the Brave, Wallace the Traitor, so it seemed appropriate.

Hairspray would’ve been nice, but she worked with what she had, using the leather and embroidery ties, as she weaved a thick, loose, half-braid from one ear to the other.

She smoothed the teased hair on top, and tucked it into the top of the braid, grateful for the natural curl in Gillian’s hair as she left tendrils on the sides of her head, and back of her neck.

Using her hand, she curled them in the direction she wanted them to go, then took the ends of the braid, and tied it in place, tugging the pieces to fluff it into a big rosette.

After about twenty minutes, she stood back and admired her masterpiece.

She wasn’t the only one.

The other ladies, including the queen, looked over Gillian’s new style, and though they spoke in French, their wide eyes and excited voices said they approved.

Cara quickly made up Gillian’s face. As the crowd had grown to include everyone in the room, she worried she wouldn’t have much time before her services were required elsewhere.

When she finished, the women were silent.

It didn’t hurt that Gillian was classically beautiful, with her blonde hair, large blue eyes, and sunny disposition evident in her big smile.

“How do I look?”

Before she could respond, the queen said, “You will do the bride next, and then myself.”

Gillian laughed. “That good?”

“You look like a … an angel.” Cara almost said princess, the word wanting to trip out of her mouth. But in this crowd? She didn’t want to cause any trouble.

* * *

The bride, eyes lowered, was situated in Cara’s new styling chair. “Hi, I’m Cara what’s your name?”

The girl looked to her elders, and someone finally responded in accented English, “Her name is Melisande.”

“Oh, that’s pretty.”

The girl was looking up at her, glanced at Gillian, and then said shyly, “Millie.”

“Hello, Millie, I am about to make you look gorgeous.”

She situated Millie where she wanted her, and got to work. And her hair was wonderfully thick, but straight as a rail, and if she’d had her druthers, she’d have braided it tightly before the girl had gone to bed last night.

As that wasn’t an option, she went with the girl’s strengths, thickness and length, and the beautiful dark color, and when she was done, she coiled braids atop the girl’s head, weaving them in and out of each other, leaving the back to hang.

Fortunately, she was used to working with an audience, as she had not only done many a hair show, but on set, there were a lot of people with time on their hands, as they waited either their turn or for the next scene. It was the norm for her to have at least two or three people gathered around at any given time.

Unless, like Princess Pat, her clients didn’t allow anyone to watch.

She’d left tendrils of hair around her face, and made rosettes on one side of the bride’s head with long pieces of hair. When she finished, Millie looked gorgeous.

And so young, it made Cara’s heart ache.

She asked for paper, and was delivered thick parchment, homemade and pressed with flower petals, giving it a very designer look.

She told Millie not to move, she held it carefully under the girl’s eyes, then said aloud, “Can you stay very still?”

Someone translated for the girl, and she nodded and did as Cara told her to.

The girl’s lashes were dark and thick, but Cara still added a little of coal dust to make them pop.

She had the girl blink several times and when no more fell to the paper, moved to the other eye.

“Can someone please explain to her that she’s not to touch her eyes or she’ll mark her skin with black.”

Someone explained to the girl quickly in French.

Millie nodded solemnly and by the time Cara blushed up her cheeks with the beet mixture, and used the rose-tinted oil on her lips, the girl looked pretty as a picture.

Cara stood back to let the others admire her work, and the ladies pulled the girl upright, and turned her this direction and that, and though Cara couldn’t understand their words, she certainly caught their oohs, aahs, and excited chatter.

The queen quickly sat in the chair next, her own gaze excited. She called out something to one of the other ladies, and within the minute, there were several other pots and potions being laid out on Cara’s new makeup station.

Cara smiled as her mind buzzed as she studied the shape of the queen’s face, felt her hair type, and came up with a new idea.

She knew her job, and knew when the top-billed leading lady sat in your chair, she better leave it looking better than anyone else.

Including the bride.

* * *

By the time Cara finished her work on the queen, the woman looked gorgeous!

Cara had gone with a slightly Baroque look, and using multiple leather ties, had forced the queen’s hair to stand up in twisted barrel rolls atop her head, turning it into a crown.

As her hair had been curled previously, she had taken those curls, turned them into fat barrel rolls, and laid them over one shoulder.

Even Cara was stunned at how well it turned out.

Another fifteen minutes doing her makeup, and the woman looked absolutely gorgeous.

When Cara was done, she took a step back, and again the entire room had gone silent.

The queen looked into the ladies’ faces, and smiled.

She stood, walked to the polished shields on the other side of the room, and looked at her reflection.

The shields weren’t much for viewing, but the queen seemed pleased enough as she turned this way and that.

“I would loan her my small mirror,” Gillian whispered. “But I’d never get it back.”

“You have a mirror?”

“What would you bring back if you had the chance?”

Cara nodded. “A mirror for sure.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“What else are you holding out on me?”

“Nothing I’m willing to share at this time.”

They smiled at each other.

After a moment the queen headed back toward Cara. “Thank you, my dear. Tell me, are you married?”

Cara shook her head. “No, not married.”

“Betrothed?”

“Oh, actually, yes, I am. To Wallace of Wolfsbane.”

The queen shook her head. “Oh, non, non, that will not do at all. The man is a disgrace, and has dragged his family down with him. Perhaps we can find you someone at court?”

Cara froze as she realized that the queen was giving her an opportunity to live at court so she could have her personal hairdresser with her. “Oh, I’m incredibly happy with Wallace. Over the moon, match made in heaven, he totally completes me.”

The queen didn’t look convinced, but didn’t argue. Cara looked at Gillian who widened her eyes.

It was apparently time to go and show themselves. Cara expected to be at the back of the crowd, but the queen gestured for her and Gillian to walk behind her.

Gillian’s brows rose, and the slight scowls from the other ladies let her know this wasn’t the norm, so the queen must be pleased.

Cara was feeling pretty good herself. If she could smudge a little soot and clay around and call it beauty, well, she was just joining a long line of cosmetics icons, wasn’t she?

She hadn’t planned it this way, but if she could become a favorite of the queen, perhaps she could convince her to help Wallace?

The long procession continued onward, through the doors, down the long, tapestry decorated hallway, and down the stairs.

“Be careful around King Henry,” Gillian whispered. “And of making Queen Eleanor jealous.”

Cara didn’t have a chance to ask for clarification as they were already on their way down the hall, single file now.

When they arrived down below, the queen was announced at the entrance to the great hall, and when she moved forward, and no longer hid the great hall from view, Cara saw that the king was in residence, seated upon a large chair as others swarmed around him talking and vying for his attention.

Gillian steered her elbow to follow the queen and when the woman was seated, they stood off to one side, and those that followed stood nearby, almost like they were in a wedding line. Women on one side. Men on the other.

King Henry stared at the queen as she took her seat beside him. “My dear, you look stunning.”

Looking pleased, she lowered her eyes demurely. “Thank you.”

The king continued to stare at his wife for a long moment, before reaching out, taking her hand, and kissing it.

Cara felt a warm glow of satisfaction. Nothing like having your work appreciated.

She glanced around, looking for Wallace, and finally spotted him standing with a group of men, looking her way.

She nodded.

He gave a slight nod in return and then broke eye contact when he responded to another man in his group.

Cara glanced around for Lady Helena and her daughters but they were nowhere to be seen.

“And who is this bright young beauty in our midst?”

The switch from French to English jarred Cara back to the conversation and when Gillian elbowed her, she realized the king was looking right at her and his gaze was a bit too warm.

She met the queen’s gaze and sent her an apologetic look before she curtsied. “Your Majesty.”

The queen finished the introduction. “Lady Cara Jones of Wales.”

“One of my subjects then.”

“Aren’t we all?”

The king smiled. “Your accent is different. Similar to Lady Marshall’s.”

“We’ve both spent time in Inverdeem, Your Majesty,” Gillian curtsied.

The king nodded, and gave Cara another once over.

“She is betrothed to Wolfsbane,” the queen inserted.

“Ah,” the information didn’t seem to surprise him. “And by all reports, she has lost her necklace. So, a double misfortune for her.”

Those around them laughed as if it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard and unexpectedly, Cara felt her cheeks heat with anger and she lowered her gaze.

She’d like to come to Wallace’s defense, but as she was still trying to get the lay of the land, and didn’t want to make things worse, she refrained.

Fortunately, the conversation moved on and Gillian released a breath. “That could have been worse,” she whispered.

“Better too, I would think.” No one, herself included, was standing up for Wallace, and she just about couldn’t stand it.

She glanced around. “Do you see the Dinsdales anywhere?”

Gillian looked apologetic. “I’ve never met them.”

“Should we go and join Wallace and your husband?”

“We’re not allowed to leave until the queen gives her permission.”

Cara glanced at Gillian to see if she was being serious, and the other girl simply shrugged. “When in Rome.”

Maybe she shouldn’t be in such a hurry to get away from the main players when she was trying to get Wallace an opportunity to fight again. She glanced at the king and queen in a new light. If they were directors, and she was trying to get a position on a film crew? She’d listen to their concerns, their ideas, try to brainstorm and add her own, based on their vision.

She’d won jobs before by sending her resume, but had learned that the face-to-face meetings were always the better bet.

In fact, she now worked almost exclusively with a handful of directors that knew she was easy to work with, and would do her best to help bring their vision to life.

How could she use those same skills here, to make a difference?

She turned to Gillian, determined to have a bright cheerful conversation so as to attract the queen’s attention, and hopefully get called to her side, when, a pressure from Gillian’s hand against her back alerted her.

She glanced up to see Wallace coming toward the king and queen, a determined expression on his face.

She shook her head at him, and his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t stop his forward progress.

From the way everyone spoke earlier, they held him in contempt, and being a bull in a china shop wasn’t the way to go about it.

But it was too late. He was already there, making his bow in front of the king, and attracting just about everyone’s attention in the room.

For one horrible moment she thought that the king would ignore him completely, but finally, the king waved a hand. “Wolfsbane? You wanted something? Why does that not surprise me?”

Everyone around the king laughed, and sympathy filled her, making her ache for him. This must be so difficult.

He was a man worthy of the esteem of his peers, he was hard-working, concerned for his people, and the one who had been done wrong. This crowd should listen to him, respect him, and yet this is where things stood.

His jaw tightened and he didn’t look at her, and she thought it was intentional.

More pity welled up in her heart for him.

He didn’t deserve this.