Page 7 of Elemental Truth (Mysterious Fields #3)

7

OCTOBER 19TH AT ARUNDEL

“ T hessaly, my dear, will you come walk in the garden with me?” Thessaly turned from where she’d been sipping a cup of tea. She had been invited out to Arundel again, for yet another obligation of mourning.

This marked a month since Childeric’s death. Today, the mirrors were uncovered, and the household returned to something like its ordinary function. There had been offerings down at the cemetery, a solemn procession filled with far too many hothouse lilies and more seasonal chrysanthemums. Thessaly had carefully dodged anyone adding wisteria to the flowers she left. That meant purity and true love. She refused to lie like that, even with flowers.

Thessaly had helped clear the previous flowers, and to lay down the fresh ones, however. She wanted to detach herself from the Fortiers as best she could. But she did not see a reason to make enemies if it weren’t actually necessary. And whatever she felt about Childeric, his mother had loved him.

Now, Thessaly set the cup down. “Of course, Lady Maylis.” She waited for the older woman to precede her, and a minute or three later, they were out on the garden paths. It was getting a little brisk, but not actually cold. Thessaly would far rather be at Bryn Glas, but she should be able to make a polite escape before tea time. There was something still nagging her about why she couldn’t find Aunt Metaia’s working papers, the notes to whatever she had been worried about.

It was clear to Thessaly that Lady Maylis had something specific in mind. The others of the immediate family were well away. Lord Clovis was talking to his brother-in-law. Laudine and Dagobert were by themselves. Bradamante and her daughters were talking quietly in a corner with her mother. Thessaly did not actually know where Sigbert had gone, or Garin. Though Garin had probably found a place to sit and read a book, or something else that would not attract too much attention.

“Thessaly, my dear.” They’d just entered the formal gardens when Lady Maylis spoke. “It has been such a help to have you here, to have you joining us for our customs. I hope they have been of some comfort to you.”

Mostly, they had been uncomfortable. Emotionally, physically, usually both at the same time, with a side of decidedly awkward. Thessaly cleared her throat. “They go back a long way. I am glad you have such a respect for them.” She was, at this point, wanting some of her own family customs. That would come on All Hallow’s in another fortnight. She tucked that thought away for later as well. “If my presence has eased anything for you, I’m glad I came.”

“We had such hopes for him. For both of you, for the children you’d have. For his place in the world, I was certain that— well. Whatever childish foibles would have fallen away, like a shed dragon scale.” It was a curious metaphor, that, since a lost scale in lore also suggested the place a dragon might be vulnerable. “I know that some of how he went about things was confusing to you.”

Upsetting, confusing, those were two possible words. She could think of quite a number of others. Perhaps some night she would work her way through an alphabet, playing a game like the parson’s cat. The parson’s cat was an aggravating cat. The parson’s cat was a belligerent cat. The parson’s cat was a conniving cat. Yes, she would be playing some rounds of that in the future.

Unfortunately, it meant she’d missed a reply. She coughed, murmuring a pardon, before she managed, “Very confusing. I always felt at least a step behind, not at all what I wanted.” For all sorts of reasons, both her own comfort but also that it was impossible to attempt to match someone who hoarded information like a dragon. The parson’s cat was a draconic cat.

“Ah.” That single syllable was near impossible to read. The parson’s cat was an exasperating cat. “I was wondering if you would consider something. Will you hear me out?”

Thessaly felt she didn’t really have a great deal of choice in the matter. Turning and fleeing would be rude, and also a sign of weakness. And on a purely tactical level, she was fairly certain she couldn’t get to the portal without someone stopping her. She turned, glimpsing someone who’d been walking along behind the hedge, dividing the formal garden from the alchemical one. By the height and shape, she thought it might be Sigbert, whoever it was moved too freely to be Dagobert.

“Of course, Lady Maylis.” Thessaly turned, slightly, to focus on the conversation, and Lady Maylis paused. They were standing near a gap in the hedge behind her and a gate leading into the poison garden.

Lady Maylis gathered herself, rather literally. She picked up her skirts and rearranged them, the sort of movement every woman of breeding - and bustled skirts - did a hundred times a day. Now, though, it was a point of punctuation. The parson’s cat was a fastidious cat. The parson’s cat was a guarded cat, the way she gathered her power around her. It put Thessaly entirely on edge.

“Have you given any thought to your future, your plans for your life?” It made Thessaly cautious, even more so than she had been. The parson’s cat was a harrowing cat.

“First, to finish my apprenticeship, in due course. I have some projects to work on privately for a few months, likely until the new year. I have not wanted to be out in public, even for that. Anything else is, well. It feels far beyond me.”

“I wondered— Clovis and I wondered— if you had considered certain options for your future. Your father has inquired about that, on your behalf.” Lady Maylis waited a moment. “Would you consider transferring the marriage agreements to Sigbert? The marriage to happen in due course, a long betrothal, suitable for a proper period of mourning.”

Thessaly gaped. She had not expected this. She ought to have expected this. It was exactly the high-handedness she had come to expect. She could feel her heart beating fast and she felt faint. The parson’s cat was an indecent cat, the parson’s cat was a joyless cat, the parson’s cat was a, was a... Her mind stalled before supplying the word ‘knavish’ as a reasonable option.

She frantically gathered her wits. “I had not considered it, Lady Maylis, not at all.” She could still hear her heartbeat thumping. She was about to ask something else, then she saw the figure behind the hedge emerge, looking stunned and flushing beet red. That was definitely Sigbert. It gave Thessaly a direction, at least. “Have you discussed it with Sigbert, Lady Maylis? Or anyone else besides Lord Clovis?”

“Not yet.” Lady Maylis sounded utterly autocratic. “It would suit your father.”

Sigbert was, as she had recently said, an improvement on Childeric, though she did not know how Sigbert might change if he were actually betrothed. Thessaly took a deep breath, watching Sigbert past his mother’s shoulder, then looking back at Lady Maylis before her attention could be drawn there. “I truly had not considered it. My situation has changed in several respects.”

First, there was Vitus, and if she could arrange it, she vastly preferred him. “And my understanding, from my trustee, is that any future marriage agreements would need to be written with my current considerations in mind.” Not least that she would want to write free access for herself to Bryn Glas into the agreements. Also, a preservation of her rights, property, and obligations to it. “I am not declining, but I am not agreeing, Lady Maylis, if that gives you answer enough for the moment.” Turning Sigbert down now seemed too dangerous to risk, honestly.

Lady Maylis pursed her lips. The parson’s cat was a lamentable cat. Also limited. Then she nodded her head, just once. “Do check with your, what was the word, trustee, if you would, and determine what would be necessary. We will discuss it again. We would be glad to invite you out again, of course, so you might spend time with Sigbert on the estate.” Not in public, of course not, given the state of mourning. “Or you could invite him to Bryn Glas.”

“I will be glad to consider whatever invitations you offer.” Thessaly swallowed, feeling sick to her stomach. “Please, if you don’t mind, I’d like some time to think about what you’ve said.” Now, and ongoing, she hoped that came across, but she was sure Lady Maylis would follow her own sense of time.

“As you wish. I shall go back inside, then, and let you think out here. We will have tea in half an hour. If you see Sigbert, do remind him.” She turned, picking up her skirts and walking back down the long path, disappearing into the distance. Sigbert had moved out of the line of sight as they’d finished talking.

Thessaly waited until Lady Maylis was no longer gone, and then commented to the hedge, “I can’t see her any longer.”

The gate creaked and then clicked closed. Sigbert cleared his throat. “I had no idea.” Then he tried again, his voice dropping half an octave, as he tried to sound more in control. “Do you hate the notion, then?”

That put the onus on her to respond. “That’s not how I’d put it.” She turned to face him, mostly so she could get as much information as possible from his expression. “I am startled that your mother would ask, here and now. I honestly am not sure what I think.”

“Childeric did not give you much cause to want to continue with the family.” Sigbert’s voice was quieter now. “I’d do better.”

It would take some effort to do worse, honestly. Thessaly did not say that. She had more sense. It was correct, but saying it would be unkind, especially on these lands. She considered, then said, “It’s the sort of thing I’d want to talk out in detail before even considering rewriting the agreements. And I can’t imagine doing that for a little while yet.” Then she caught something in his expression. “What do you think about it?”

“I knew Maman was going to make a match for me. And there aren’t terribly many choices she’ll approve of.” Sigbert shrugged. “Genevieve Donovan can’t marry yet. Septima Palgrave is betrothed, Winifred Hastings and I wouldn’t do at all well together, Maman won’t consider Felicia Roberts or Alethea Witham. And there are some concerns about whether Rosanna Hedgeworth is healthy. Idonnea Marchant, maybe, but Maman would see that as marrying down.”

Thessaly quite liked Idonnea Marchant, so she wouldn’t wish Lady Maylis on her. “And on my end, the other Heirs right now are promised or not ready to marry. Jupiter Delwyn. I know there’s been some gossip about how Cyrus Smythe-Clive is more eligible now than he had been.”

Sigbert nodded. “We’re both in an uncomfortable position that way.” Thessaly did not agree with him on that point, but she would not argue about it. He went on with a certain earnestness that seemed sincere. “I know you. I know what to expect. I think we could do well together, if we chose to.”

That was an interesting phrasing indeed. Thessaly inclined her head, just slightly. “As I said— you did hear all of it?” Sigbert nodded. “I am not saying no. I am not saying yes. I will consider it. We can talk more about your expectations at some point.”

Sigbert nodded, then let out a soft sigh. “I don’t entirely know what to do. Maman and Father need me to marry. They’d far rather not have the land magic pass to Uncle Dagobert, or to Garin.”

“And your aunt married out, not thinking it might be relevant.” She was well and truly tied into the Nevill’s magics now, whatever they were.

“Exactly.” Sigbert rubbed his nose. “May I be a tad indelicate?”

“Yes.” Thessaly steadied herself.

“There is, of course, the obligation to have children, or at least do our utmost. But I would not prevail upon you beyond that. I would understand if you wanted your own life, your own spaces.” He did not come out and say ‘other people’, but it was hanging there. It made her wonder about his own arrangements, whatever form they took.

Thessaly inclined her head. “I appreciate you stating that.”

“I know your agreements with Childeric made allowances. I wouldn’t object, as long as it was handled with discretion.” He offered that directly, now, and the fact he had made her think a hair better of him.

“Childeric said that, originally.” And they both knew how that had gone, at the first hint that Thessaly was considering even a conversation in private with another man. “We can talk. Now, you’d best escort me in to tea. Simplest way to go forward, don’t you think?”

She did not give him much choice in the matter, really. Having them come in almost at the same moment would be awkward. He offered his arm, and they walked back in near silence.