In the sitting room of the inner keep, Maude’s comfortable beige chair was unoccupied. Not because its usual occupant was absent from the sitting room, but because she was too agitated to sit.
“It is your fault they died,” Maude said, jabbing her finger into Marcus’s chest forcefully.
“Again, I say that we cannot know that,” Marcus said, shuffling two steps backward as he raised his hands to repeat his reasoning once more, in terms more succinct and confident than his previous recitation. “The attacker used uncommon means. Partially alchemical in nature, though we presume magical as well. He – or she, we do not even know that much – surely required substantial advance preparation to carry out the attack. And yet the attack took place but one bell, perhaps two, after I left the Golden Fleece. It must have been planned before my visit, rather than in reaction to it.”
“Suppose I grant that,” Maude said; but before Marcus could finish breathing a sigh of relief, she continued. “Granting that the attack must have been prepared in advance – what if someone predicted your course? Divined it in advance? Wizards have such arts at their disposal.” Maude gestured widely, as if the nearly-empty sitting room was full of wizards.
A maid glanced uncomfortably over at the two of them and then scurried out of the room unnoticed.
“If they could predict a man’s decisions the day before, the York Textile Company would not have sent in so many doomed petitions.” Marcus glared. “And that has as its investors York’s most skilled wizards. Predicting what Baron Greystoke and I might say to one another in our cups – only a master diviner could accomplish such a thing.”
“Then pray tell me, what sort of visiting wizards have we in York?” Maude met Marcus’s eyes, stepping forward again. “Why, for dinner tonight, we have not merely a master diviner but an archmage diviner. Then we have also a full belted member of the Order of the Luminous Rose besides, who is rumored to be a master of two schools ready to put any of our local talent to shame. And who knows who else? And all for what? His Grace needs fewer fiancees, not more.”
“In full fairness, His Grace may have more yet coming to meet his terms no matter what I do,” Marcus said. “His promise was quite open. I feel sure that at least Sir Thomas would have come forward on his own once his son returned – by all accounts, Sir Simon strongly favored pairing Gelle with the duke, and only his absence prevented them from stepping forward.”
“And Merilda, whose father you plied with drink and talked around?” Maude shook her head. “The girl is of uncommon size – she’s your height, which is most remarkable for a woman! – and her mother was of common birth. She will be remarked upon as a duchess if such she becomes. For all Sir Malkin’s renowned process, his daughter is hardly a suitable bride for the duke. I will try my best to remedy your mistakes, but you must stop making them.”
“You overstep yourself, Lady Maude.” Marcus glared down at the older woman. “You have no office here.”
“I am the nearest he has to a mother,” Maude said sharply. “He needs a mother looking after his interests.”
The door to the sitting room opened, revealing Avery. “Enough shouting. You’ve started to frighten the servants. Sit, both of you.” He fixed both of them with a glare, and a cool breeze whispered through the air.
Maude settled in her accustomed chair, her fingertips resting on worn spots in the beige upholstery covering the arms. Marcus retreated to a couch, sitting on the edge of the seat, his back ramrod straight.
Avery sat down on another couch and cleared his throat. “I am told you have been arguing about the unfortunate fates of Gelle and Ivette. Gregor and I have assumed that it is a strike at my house, motivated by their betrothal because prudence dictates we act accordingly, not because we know who slew them or why. That, so far, remains a mystery.”
“We had shifted topics of argument. Your aunt was telling me she thinks that Merilda is a poor bride.” Marcus gestured broadly across the room at his opposite.
“Merilda was on the list, was she not?” Avery looked over at his aunt.
“Placed there sight unseen, knowing she met the minimum possible social requirements,” Maude said. “I did not know she was taller than most men, and that was when I thought I was struggling to find any remotely suitable woman you would take interest in.”
Avery shook his head. “I promised to marry her if she met my requirements, and as I understand, Sir Marcus – Lord Marcus, I mean – took her father's oath of allegiance then and there. The girl herself is presently his only child and therefore heir, so she met the terms of my promise to the letter.”
“But he would not have sworn unless Marcus had talked him into it,” Maude said. “We must endeavor to reduce the number of your brides if at all possible.”
Marcus frowned in disagreement. “We need the firmest possible loyalty from as many of York’s knights as we can get. That part of Avery’s plan was sheerest genius. A belted knight is worth ten ordinary men on the field of battle – twenty or more in the case of Sir Malkin Guy. Marry his daughter and you have his allegiance – and in the coming years, the allegiance of his sons, should he have any with his new wife.”
“Still, though – you could seek his allegiance without pasting his daughter to the duke’s bed,” Maude said, her voice beginning to grow louder as she leaned forward in her chair. “And as you are seneschal, I do not need to tell you the keep has already become crowded.”
Avery held up a hand, stilling the conversation. “My aunt is correct. I wished to offer my hand widely to build alliance, but if a knight or lord is reluctant to take that hand for his daughter… you may offer what else you can to convince him I want his fealty, but I do not need to fill my castle with dozens of wives. You and I have already discussed the possibility of creating new ducal baronies; that is certainly one enticement we could offer without attaching my hand in marriage to it.”
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Marcus flushed, then slouched, letting his weight lean back into the couch. “I apologize for my intemperance. In truth, I thought Your Grace was eager to gain many wives. That is all.”
Avery cocked his head. That is not all, he sent silently to his illegitimate cousin. I can tell there is more to it.
“Apology accepted,” Maude said.
Damnation. There was a flicker of emotion from Marcus’s mind. Isolde had irked me. And… also, I promised Sir Malkin Guy a title of baronet to seal the deal between us; I doubt he cared much if you married his daughter or not.
Maude looked between the two tall young men and frowned. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have matters I ought to attend to.”
“By all means,” Avery said. “I need to bend Marcus’s ear on a different subject in any event.” As his aunt got up to leave, he continued his silent second conversation. I am not angry with you – you have been looking after my interests and promised nothing that I did not already privately agree to.
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Perched on top of a well-flattened embroidered cushion in a well-worn wooden chair behind an oaken desk, Maude gestured in the general direction of a chair upholstered with faded red velvet. “Please, Rose, do sit. We've been waiting on you.”
Rose glanced at the empty chair, then past it to Anna perched on a small couch. Merilda was sitting on a rug at the foot of Maude's bed, and Fiona was sitting in another chair. Fiona's long copper hair was loose, and the quarter-elf girl was combing it out with a bored look on her face.
“I hadn't realized. My apologies,” Rose said, and then picked her way over to the couch. “If you don't mind?”
Anna nodded, scooting over a little bit. Rose sat down next to her friend.
“I wanted to talk to all of you, and I didn't want to repeat myself or make it look like I was playing favorites,” Maude said. “I know not all of you have come into this project happily or eagerly. I'd like to make it clear that you don't have to marry the duke if you don't want to, or if you're worried for your safety. We can find another way to reward you and your families for your loyalty.”
Silence greeted her. The four women looked at each other.
“So, how does this work?” Rose asked. “I'm assuming that you're talking about finding another marriage, or a position of some kind?”
“Yes,” Maude said. “I could arrange for a meeting between one of you and one of Avery's eligible cousins. Or even one of your brothers or sisters, if you're not personally marriage-minded at all, to give your families a similarly valuable tie.” She looked around the room. Disappointingly, nobody spoke up to volunteer their interest in marrying one of Avery's cousins, though Rose seemed to be deep in thought.
Maude continued. “I know it's not very well known now, but after the Great Famine of 1315, the Silver Duke asked the Emperor for the permission to create small ducal baronies on his own authority, which became known as baronets, to fill the gaps left behind, particularly along the borders of York. Most of those lines were eventually enlarged to imperial baronies or went extinct, so there are very few around today,” Maude said. “Mostly, in York, they survive on the borderlands with Lincoln and Nottingham. But Avery can create new ones. Lord Marcus was formally enlarged to a baronet when he was appointed seneschal, for example.”
Anna nodded knowingly. “I've read all about the baronetcies. The title is still listed in the better etiquette books.”
This was the first Rose had heard of a baronet. She kept her mouth shut and looked at the others. Fiona still looked bored, and started re-braiding her copper-colored hair. Merilda's bushy blonde eyebrows furrowed with worry.
“Your fathers don't yet hold patents of nobility. We can change that,” Maude said. “Avery can, rather. He can make new baronets with a simple decree. If any of you doesn't want to be Avery's eighth wife, you could go back home to your father and be the daughter of a newly-enlarged baronet, a favored vassal of the duke.”
Merilda stood. “No.”
Maude blinked, surprised. “What?”
Merilda looked away, then took a deep breath and looked back at Maude. “No. I can't go back to my father,” she said, softly. “I won't go back to my father.” She straightened up to her full height.
“Why not? Don't you love your father?” Maude asked gently.
“I did. I do. I love him dearly, milady. But he… he's not a kind person. He's a bully. And he doesn't want me. He came here to throw me away, and left happy because he thought he'd gotten a good price for me from the seneschal. He already promised him a baronetcy. If the duke wants to throw me away, he can tell me himself. I just…” The taller woman shook her head, overwhelmed. She turned away and rushed out of the room. Fiona followed after her.
“Well,” Maude said, with a tightly controlled expression. “Anna, Rose, what about you?”
Rose and Anna exchanged glances. Rose opened her mouth. Anna held up a finger. Rose shut her mouth.
“A baronetcy without an estate is little more than a courtesy title,” Anna said. “And there's nothing to say a young woman couldn't hold a baronetcy in her own right. We'll think on it, milady.”
Maude stifled an exasperated sigh as she watched the two of them leave. Even if Avery wasn't willing to diminish the lands held directly by the duke, she did have an estate of her own that she hadn't visited in more than a decade. Isolde would hardly miss anything if she gave away a few choice parts of her estate, she decided. Maude wasn’t even sure that her daughter expected to inherit her estate.
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“Of course I'm not going to give up my duke,” Anna said. “I was bargaining for you. You would have settled for your father being decreed a baronet. You could get a lot more than that from her. If I don't miss my guess, the duke would eventually enlarge your father to a baronet anyway if you married him anyway – as his man has promised Sir Malkin. I bet you could get land and a title of your own from Lady Maude, if you want that.”
Rose frowned. “I don't know. I'm not even sure what I want.” She thought about her brother. Walt wanted glory and recognition. He wanted to be a knight like the ones in the stories they'd grown up hearing. She'd assumed that eventually she'd have a family of her own and be something like her mother. Did she want to be a baronetess? Did she want to marry the tall silver man she'd only briefly talked with, and live the rest of her life with Anna and the others? Did she want to go back to her family?
“Sleep on it, then,” Anna said. “Maybe you'll get the answer in a dream. Better than standing around here in the hallway.” She pushed Rose towards Isolde's room, steering the smaller girl in a friendly manner.
When they entered, Isolde herself was nowhere to be seen; Johanna and Elizabeth were already getting ready for bed. They were the senior brides-to-be, Elizabeth by rank and Johanna by virtue of having sworn her oath first. Neither seemed to have a particularly domineering personality, at least not on first acquaintance – not like Anna. Rose wondered how well the two of them were getting along with each other.
“I'm sorry I'm not much help,” Anna said. “And I’m sorry I was angry at you, before. Your engagement seems so very much different to me now that Lady Maude has made it clear she wishes to take the duke away from the both of us. Friends?”
“Friends. You've helped more than enough,” Rose replied with a hug. “I'd be lost without you."