Page 19 of Elemental Truth (Mysterious Fields #3)

19

D ecember 23rd

Thessaly had been making the best of the event. They were in the liminal space between Solstice and Christmas. She knew the Fortier tradition had a great bit of feasting on Christmas Eve, various expected events on the day, and the extended family gathering on Boxing Day. Those weren’t the rituals that mattered in the magical sense, but they had become custom long ago, and custom they remained.

She had not been invited last year. She was not yet betrothed. And she was not invited this year, as she was not betrothed again. She gathered the festive part was smaller, understandably, since this was still a house with parents in mourning, a brother, aunts and uncles and cousins. But she had been invited today, on the twenty-third, when there was no standing custom, encouraged to spend the afternoon.

Thessaly had, of course, permitted Sigbert to escort her to the orangerie again. He’d kept up his end of the conversation, congenial and pleasant, even focusing more on her interests than his own. However, he mentioned something he needed to check on, elsewhere on the estate, and so he’d gone off to do that, leaving her sitting on her own. She’d rather be in the orangerie than inside the house, with the repressive expectations of Lady Maylis and the Dowager Lady Chrodechildis.

She startled when she heard the doors to her right creak, and then the sound of footsteps. No, footsteps and a cane. There was a murmur and a set of footsteps going in the other direction, the others coming toward her. Thessaly figured out who it was by outline, the sun was behind them, before she could see them well. “Laudine, Dagobert.” She considered for a moment. “And Garin, off to play at the far end.”

“To read, probably, but yes. We needed a brief break from the rest of the house. May we join you? Did Sigbert leave you on your own?”

“He said he had something he needed to check on before tea. His father had asked. I’ve no idea what. He was very polite about it.” Thessaly gestured. “Please sit.” She and Sigbert had been sitting on the wicker bench. There was a separate chair. Laudine claimed the other seat on the bench, and Dagobert the chair, settling down with a soft grunt.

There was a silence, an increasingly awkward one. Thessaly was certain they were here with some purpose, but she wasn’t sure what it was. They were careful not to leave their son in the house, even, presumably, up in the nursery or their own rooms, and that was telling, actually, in a dozen ways. But it wasn’t anything she could ask about.

After perhaps a minute, Dagobert cleared his throat. “I beg pardon, I must ask something delicate. Well, more than one thing. First, I do not know if you had heard the news, but someone should make sure you knew. Henut Landry died sometime over the night of the twentieth, or early on Solstice day.”

Vitus had told her by note, but since he’d overheard it from Sigbert, she didn’t feel she could entirely admit to that source. “Oh, no. Alexander will be heartbroken, I’m sure. Was it an illness of some kind?”

Dagobert had the good grace to look embarrassed. “We’re not sure. We called for the undertaker; her man of business had all the necessary documents, since Alexander is abroad. But once her body was removed, the gatehouse wards sealed behind her, and we can’t get in. No investigation.”

That was— well, that was the sort of problem that estates like this didn’t admit to. Thessaly considered her options, then raised one eyebrow inquiringly. “I hope you might let me know when the funeral is?”

The two looked at each other, but it was Laudine who spoke. “I beg pardon, were you closer than I thought?” Was it a personal grief, to add to the others, or was it something else? That was what she meant.

“Not close, no. But she was kind to me, after Childeric, and she gave me some thoughtful advice. And I know her people feel strongly about the proper rites after someone is dead. Alexander isn’t here, but perhaps in due course, I could tell him about it.”

“Ah, you would think of Alexander, I suppose. We have sent him a letter. Clovis did, and I added another to the packet. It will be—” Dagobert shook his head. “He is in Egypt right now, with some of his mother’s family. At least they will be some comfort.”

Thessaly was not entirely sure about that. They were family Alexander had not met previously. She didn’t know the details of his itinerary, but she thought he might only have been there for a month or so. That wasn’t enough time for trust, for being able to rely on them. Especially not for someone like Alexander, who knew a show of emotion as a weakness. “I hope he is well, and that his mother’s family is all that might be hoped.”

Now, Thessaly thought back to that conversation, what felt like years ago, instead of months. “I was in the cemetery the day Sigbert was announced as Heir. She was tending Philip’s grave. She told me a little of their customs.” Then she took the risk, because she could see a way forward. “She said, Dagobert, that— I do not have context for this— that you had had correction for your past choices. And that you were listening to Laudine more, and that was good. I don’t know if that means anything to you.” She would carefully dance around what Laudine had confirmed for her, that Dagobert’s curse had come from family.

It did. She could see it in their eyes, though not what the context was. Laudine cleared her throat. “Thank you for sharing that. A particular choice, and we respect and thank you for that.”

“You have been more generous with information that I might find helpful, it seemed proper to do the same in return.” Thessaly turned her palms over. “May I ask about the rest of the family, if there are any particular considerations I might want to know about?”

It made Dagobert almost laugh, the sort of sound that was frustration and amusement tangled together. “Clovis is furious, but of course, there is no one he can reasonably be furious at. Father, perhaps, he was the one who made the original oaths with Henut, and who approved her warding and all. They had quite a negotiation, as I understood it from him, though he thought we did well out of the arrangement.” He tilted his head. “Would it help to hear the summary?”

Thessaly felt that information generally helped, so she nodded. “I’ve heard a bit over the years, but it occurs to me I am likely missing something. Nothing personal, of course, but...” She let her voice trail off.

“I was still fairly young at the time, just twenty-five, and it was near a decade before Laudine and I would marry.” Thessaly had not considered their respective ages, and Dagobert’s mouth twisted up slightly. “She’s eight years younger. I was finishing my apprenticeship that year. There was a family connection. That was why Henut came to us, of all the places in Albion. Her husband had been killed in fighting in the siege of Paris in the Franco-Prussian War. A miserable mess, and the worse because of the number of French magicians who died in it. She and Philip, who was, what, twelve, had been in Paris, taking shelter near the Grand Salle des Portes, and she managed to get through.”

“A siege would not take the portals into account, no,” Thessaly said. “And you said a family connection? Via her husband?”

“Just so. Gaultier Landry was from an old French family. He was a cousin to my father.” Dagobert paused, as if trying to count the relations.

“Distant cousins. Third cousins, once removed.” Laudine said it primly and crisply, and Dagobert smiled at her. Childeric would have resented Thessaly speaking up in that sort of situation, and she was fairly sure Sigbert wouldn’t care for it either, though not as harshly. It made her think better of them, beyond what Henut had said. “They shared a passion for history, as I understand it. They didn’t meet often— Gaultier spent much of his early adulthood in Egypt, and then they were in France. But they wrote letters. I’ve seen a number of them.”

That was also interesting, that the letters had been kept for some period of time. And that Laudine had been that much in Lord Vauquelin’s confidence, though perhaps the letters did not have many secrets in them. “And she came a few months before Alexander was born. I remember hearing that.”

“Just so. Mid-September, and Alexander was born in November. There were private negotiations. Just Father and Henut, the sort that were entirely civil on the surface. It was clear to me he wasn’t sure how it was going to go, and he took precautions. Sending Philip to play with Bradamante’s daughters, for example, and I’m sure Maman had a part in managing things.” Dagobert shrugged. “They were given the gatehouse, and there were expectations on her side, once she was recovered. Aiding the family, that sort of thing. She did all the protective charms for bare skin, as for your betrothal. Also a fair bit of the household warding, and a number of the more complex rituals. Especially as Father got older.”

“Did they, I mean, obviously, they were around a fair bit. But separate?”

“She had her own maid. Another would help with the heavy cleaning every week. Her meals were brought over from the kitchens, and every so often, she and her sons would join us for a meal. Once a week, once a fortnight, it depended on what else was going on. She was never, mmm. Henut could charm if she wanted to exert herself, but she rarely bothered with anyone in the family. She saved her attention for Philip and Alexander, and for her work. She certainly did not flatter, even when it would have smoothed the way.”

It gave Thessaly a good idea. “And she was mourning Philip’s death, right up to the end.” She considered. “Do you know any more about how Alexander is doing? I thought it a little odd that he went away so soon after Philip.”

“Some of the arrangements couldn’t be altered easily. Time with his father’s family, and they have been touchy about the whole thing. They did not approve of Henut. And then other arrangements, from there. But I rather got the sense Henut preferred him to be well away from Albion. It is not as though she explained her reasoning to me. Or that I was in any fit state to notice much at the time.” He cleared his throat. “I gather Philip’s funeral was rather a production?”

Thessaly nodded. “There were other people there. I gather there are people in Albion who know the proper rites, as she would have put it. Is she to be buried here, or ...” There weren’t a lot of other options, beyond the Trellech cemetery.

“I believe that’s what her will says, part of the agreements with Father. Maman is trying to find a way around them. But Clovis has argued that her son is buried here. And that Alexander will be returning in due course, and it is the only home, that and their townhome in Trellech, he’s ever known. Maman admits that is true. But she will not be buried for some time. I gather there are extensive preparations after the ritual itself.”

Thessaly thought back to a previous visit to the cemetery, and yes, she remembered something about seventy days, though she didn’t know when that was counted from. “I’m glad she’ll be by Philip. I suppose it’s silly, really, but it brings me a little comfort to think of it. Only, I wish she’d had a happier year of it, before— before whatever...”

Laudine blinked at her several times, as if Thessaly had said something unexpected. Then she changed the subject, “Chrodechildis is being a tad difficult about other matters. I’m assuming you still do not wish to give an answer regarding Sigbert. May we assist you with changing the subject at tea?”

“I am fairly sure Sigbert will also assist. He’s worked up a fairly good line in saying I should have time to decide without pressure. I do appreciate that. Even if I suspect it’s at least half because he thinks that the best strategy to my agreeing to what his mother wants.” She glanced at the sky, measuring the sun. “We should probably get back, actually, I don’t know what the time is.”

“I will go fetch Garin.” Laudine stood, brushing her skirts into place, while Dagobert was slower to rise and prepare to move. He looked, Thessaly thought, more recovered, but still not actually all that well. He was lacking vitality in some fundamental way that flavoured the colour of his skin, the ease of his movements, but wasn’t just about those things. She’d have to think about that more. It had not escaped her notice that while he’d spoken fairly about his family, he had not chosen to protect their reputations in several places.