5

5

It was not until fully a week later that Gerold Ankatel informed his daughters he had met for a third time with their suitors.

Aimee looked up eagerly from her soup. “You have, Father?” she asked excitedly as Ursula dropped her spoon.

“Suitors?” Ursula repeated faintly. “You mean – ?”

“It is all settled,” he told them with satisfaction. “Did I not tell you girls your father would see to it?”

“You have settled on a wedding date?” Aimee asked breathlessly, clasping her hands in front of her.

“I have,” he replied sagely. “Three weeks from this very day.”

“Three weeks?” Ursula moaned, swaying in her seat.

Aimee jumped up and rounded the table to squeeze her father’s shoulders. “That’s wonderful, Father! We are to be wed on the same day?”

Gerold Ankatel patted her hand. “Yes, yes,” he agreed, looking pleased with himself. “One after the other at the chapel of St. Genesius.”

“You are the best and greatest of all fathers in the world!” Aimee praised him, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

Gerold chuckled as Aimee drifted back to her seat as though she was walking on air. In truth, she had been a little worried following the meal Lord Kentigern had taken at their house. He had barely seemed to notice her, despite the fact she had decked herself out in her most impressive finery, had sung like a linnet, and played her most impressive pieces on the symphonia.

Afterward, she had worried that she had expended too much energy trying to draw Ursa out of her shell that night. Her sister had sat like a stock while poor Sir Renlow tried to engage her in polite conversation. Aimee had been forced to take the lead. Though Ursa had endeavored to reply to the leading questions thrown her way, she did so in a joyless, wooden fashion.

As such, Aimee had not been able to devote her attention adequately to the object of her own affection. She did not blame Lord Kentigern for the fact they had exchanged no meaningful conversation. From everything she had heard about his reputation, his social skills were likely rusty as he was not used to mixing much in company.

Still, she thought as she sat back down, everything had turned out as it ought. A blissful smile spread over her face. She could not have left such an underwhelming impression on Lord Kentigern as she had feared. Glancing across at Ursula, she saw her sister push her bowl of soup away half-eaten.

“What is this, Ursula?” their father asked. “You have lost your appetite?”

Aimee reached across to touch her sister’s cold hand. “She will likely be a bundle of nerves from now until three weeks hence.”

Ursula’s lips trembled. “Oh, don’t, Aimee!” she whispered, turning her face away from them.

Gerold’s brow crinkled. “I can scarcely understand you, daughter,” he said sounding aggrieved. “Is this Renlow not the young man who captured your fancy? I would have thought, if anything, your reactions would have been the other way around.” He shot a troubled look at Aimee. “No doubt you have determined a title will do for you and nothing else, but this Lord Kentigern is not the manner of man I would have chosen for you, my child.”

“Please, Father, I have already explained to you –”

Her father waved her protestations away. “Yes, yes, I know. He is a mighty champion, but if Ursula does not favor this young knight, then mayhap the two of you should exchange bridegrooms. Their respective ages would suit far better if you swapped and –”

“Father!” Aimee and Ursula exchanged startled glances, for both of them had burst out hotly at this.

Gerold Ankatel spread his hands wide. “I was only remarking that if Ursula is going to take this attitude, then she might as well be given a reason for it!”

Aimee’s chin came up. “I fail to see why Lord Kentigern’s bride should have any reason to repine.”

Her father looked as though he disagreed but kept his own counsel. “Well, well, if you are determined on this course, daughter,” he sighed resignedly. “Then there is nothing more for me to say.”

Aimee glanced across at Ursula, but her sister refused to meet her eyes and was gazing sightlessly ahead of her. She hoped Ursula wasn’t going to balk at the final fence. Three more weeks she would have to bolster her up for. Aimee almost sighed aloud. She could scarcely enjoy her own excitement when she was constantly having to soothe Ursula’s nerves.

After supper, when Aimee would have escaped upstairs to snatch an hour to herself, her father summoned her instead to his private study and, after shutting the door behind them, informed her he had that morning purchased Bartree Castle from the Crown.

“Bartree Castle?” she repeated.

“Lord Kentigern’s seat.” He drew a map across his desk and tapped a finger against it. “The estate lies here at the top left corner of Karadok.”

Aimee peered at the map and felt a strange lurch of her stomach to see how remote the spot looked and how far from Caer Lyoness. “Vettel,” Aimee read aloud, seeing the name of the biggest town thereabouts.

Her father nodded. “Apparently, his estate lies some eight miles from thence.”

“I’ve never heard of it.” Her eye wandered to the town below. “Adarva,” she read aloud. “Now that does sound familiar. It is a place of some fame or repute?”

“You are thinking of the Battle of Adarva, my child,” her father told her ruefully. “There was fierce fighting there, and some do say it was the turning point in the war. Many northern standards fell there, and many noble lines were ended that day.” He paused heavily. “I believe it was at that place that your betrothed suffered his grievous wounds.”

With a shiver, Aimee cast about for something else to focus on. “Vettel lies on the coast,” she murmured. “It looks even closer to the sea than we are here at Caer Lyoness.”

Her father murmured in agreement. “Though you must not expect the summers there that we have here in the south,” he warned. “A cold, bitter place is the north.” He shivered. “We must hope that your husband prefers to spend most of his days at the fine town residence I have bought you instead.”

Aimee looked up quickly. “Father, you have not bought us a house here in town as well?” she asked with a gasp.

He nodded, his eyes twinkling. “The townhouse will be your wedding present, daughter. Bartree Castle is –” he broke off with a wince. “More of a condition to the marriage taking place. From what my agents tell me, it is in poor repair and not currently fit for habitation.” Her father gestured to a chair before the fire, and Aimee, rather warily, sat herself in it. Why did she feel suddenly apprehensive about what her father wanted to say?

“I had heard that the king’s forces leveled Lord Kentigern’s home,” she admitted slowly. “Was it reduced to mere rubble, then?”

“The outer structure is somewhat intact,” her father admitted. “But the roof was burned and the place sacked. No one lives there now, though he has kinswomen installed in the lodge house still.”

Aimee looked up quickly at this. “He does? Kinswomen?” Her father nodded. Aimee wondered if her bridegroom would invite these kinswomen to their wedding.

“It will take a lot of work to restore the place to its former glory,” her father said ruefully. “Luckily for Lord Kentigern, his father-in-law has very deep coffers.”

Aimee reached across to clasp her father’s hand. “How happy he must be at the place being returned both to him and its former glory,” she said fervently. “And all thanks to you, Father.”

Her father nodded and pursed his lips. “It is times like these that I most miss your mother,” he sighed. “You and your sister won’t remain for long under my roof now.”

Aimee found herself a little choked at the thought. “Will you be lonely, Father?”

He gave a startled chuckle. “Lonely? Oh, I shouldn’t think so. Always plenty of company willing to eat at an old widower’s table.”

Aimee knew full well her father never lacked for company and eyed him shrewdly. “Have you never thought of remarrying?” she asked, thinking of the Widow Hemmings whose society he often enjoyed.

Gerold Ankatel immediately looked evasive. “I have never given it much thought,” he said blowing out his cheeks. “A new broom always sweeps clean, is that not what they always say? Well, I’m vastly comfortable in my own house with my own ways. I doubt Burchard would like a new mistress. Very gently and respectfully Ursula has always treated him.”

Aimee snorted, “That’s because she’s afraid of him!”

Her father chuckled. “Well, Burchard’s previous master was a very learned man. They do say as he was once tutor to the prince before the old man retired.”

“And Burchard’s current master is sponsor to a king,” Aimee reminded him. “And equally bragworthy.”

Gerold Ankatel laughed, though he looked gratified by his daughter’s words. “It is true, the king has been good enough to meet with me now some half dozen times,” he reflected. Aimee held her tongue between her teeth. Surely, granting an audience was the least the king could do for the privilege of dipping into her father’s funds!

Her father frowned. “I had hoped to take you girls to court with me before you were married,” he admitted. “But alas, thus far I have only attended one banquet and the other times were in his majesty’s private chambers.” Aimee nodded, but made no reply. “Still,” her father brightened considerably. “When you are the wife of a baron, no doubt you will attend court on your own merit and will not need an introduction from your old father.”

Aimee smiled, though she did not think Lord Kentigern looked very much like a polished courtier. Then again, her only experience of such things had been the two months she had spent with the Wycliffes over the spring. They had been a very cultured family who applied themselves diligently to the study of literature, art, and music.

Even mealtimes at the Wycliffes had been accompanied by earnest discussions of these topics and a new guest invited each night to supper who would provide some fresh point of view or lecture them on some subject of interest. Lady Wycliffe had been most shocked to hear neither girl could play an instrument and had insisted that both Aimee and Ursula take up lessons immediately.

“What did you think of our playing the other evening, Father?” Aimee asked now, with a trace of unease. She knew full well her fingers had fumbled over the notes in the middle section of her solo and shrank with embarrassment to think of it. She had neglected practicing now Lady Wycliffe was not there to insist on it. Lord Kentigern was sure to have noticed that Ursula’s playing was far superior to her own. Ursula never shirked her duty.

“Very pretty, my dear,” her father assured her. “Only I much prefer it when you stick to the old country tunes. Why did you not sing that one your mother taught you? About the tree, the moon, and the lover’s promise.”

“Lady Wycliffe did not think that one suitable for mixed company,” Aimee admitted.

Her father looked startled. “Eh?”

“She explained that there is – um – a hidden meaning behind the absent lover and the tree that bursts into blossom and then bears fruit with the waxing and waning of the moon,” Aimee said turning red.

Her father scratched his gray hair. “Ah,” he said clearing his throat. “But the young man returns in the last verse and weds the wench, so where’s the harm in it?”

“I do not know,” Aimee admitted. “But Lady Wycliffe said Ursula and I were not to sing it anymore.”

Her father blew out his cheeks and grumbled something under his breath. “Well, well,” he said after a moment. “I suppose sacrifices must be made if my girls are to be fine ladies.”

Aimee eyed him uncertainly. “We could still sing it for you, Father. When no one else is around to be shocked, I mean.”

He reached across and patted her hand. “Rest assured, child. I am not so easily offended. I know full well what manner of man I am, and you and Ursula must not fear I will embarrass you once you are set up in your new lives.”

“Whatever can you mean, Father?” Aimee cried, looking up. “Such a thought never entered my mind!”

He shook his head ruefully. “I know that, Aimee, but you must learn to feel differently when you are a baroness.”

“I hope I shall never grow ashamed of where I come from!” she argued hotly.

“Not ashamed, no,” her father agreed painstakingly. “But there is no denying these nobles feel differently about such things than plain folk like myself. You will need to heed their ways in future and be led by them in such matters.”

Aimee gazed at her father in consternation. She had not considered before that marrying her true love could have such repercussions. “Father …”

Gerold Ankatel blew his nose. “There now, I’ve said enough,” he said stoutly. “Do not let it trouble you. You girls have plenty to see to over the next three weeks. Gowns to be made up and your dowry items to be picked out. Those wedding chests I commissioned were delivered this morning. All that remains is for you to fill them with your trousseau items.”

“They have been delivered already?” Aimee asked, startled. “I did not realize.”

“Fit for a king they are too,” her father said proudly. “Painted and glazed all over and gilded with gold leaf.”

Aimee clapped her hands. “I cannot wait to see them, Father!”

He nodded sagely. “You are good girls, you and your sister both. You deserve the best.”

Aimee rose impulsively from her chair and embraced her father. “You are so very good to us, Father,” she said feeling choked.

He patted her back. “And now you must go and rouse your sister from her mopes. Tell her she may have first choice of whichever of the chests takes her fancy. Maybe that will put a smile on her face.”

Aimee found Ursula sat in the front room, staring distractedly into the fire.

“The wedding chests have arrived,” she told her sister excitedly. “Shall we go down and view them? Father said you are to have the first pick as you are the elder.”

Her sister rose to her feet with a slight frown. “I am sure they will all be lovely,” she murmured and together they proceeded down to the entrance hall where they found the chests had been placed to one side. Aimee drew back the cloth which had been thrown over them and gasped at the grandeur of the lavishly decorated trunks.

“Oh, they are beautiful!” she gasped, kneeling down to examine the intricately painted scenes that decorated the sides. “These two depict a bridal procession,” she exclaimed, tracing the glossy figures with a careful finger. “See, here are musicians and guests in all their finery. Look, Ursa! The finest artist must have worked on these scenes.” When she glanced up, she saw a frown on Ursula’s face. “What is it, sister? You do not care for them?”

“No, no,” her sister said quickly. “It is not that. Only …” She bit her lip.

“Only, what?” Aimee looked at her mystified. She straightened up when Ursula did not speak and moved to the second pair. “If these ones are not to your liking, then perhaps these two will be more to your taste.”

She drew the cloth away, revealing another pair of matching trunks, this time decorated with fruit trees, birds, and beasts all bathed in gold leaf. “Oh, these are beautiful too!” Aimee could not help but burst out. She could hardly decide which pair she thought the more lovely. When Ursula continued silent, Aimee felt a rush of impatience. “What is it?” she asked. “Why do you stand there so still and sulky?”

Ursula started at this. “I am not!” she protested, and indeed, Aimee knew deep down her claim was unjust. “I never sulk!”

“Tell me, then, why you stand there as dull and stiff as a stock at the sight of our father’s fine gift.”

Ursula fidgeted, staring down at her hands. “’Tis only that … Well, they do not much resemble the wedding chests that Lady Wycliffe showed us at Wycliffe Hall,” she mumbled.

Aimee cast her mind back. In truth, she could scarcely remember the gloomy furnishings at Wycliffe Hall. “They do not?” she asked uncertainly. Ursula shook her head. “How do they not?”

“Those were not painted and gilded,” said Ursula in a small voice. “But only carved about with borders of fruits.”

Aimee gazed first at her sister and then at the dazzling chests. “What are you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything!” Ursula responded quickly. “I am sure these chests are perfectly adequate.”

“Adequate,” Aimee repeated in dazed accents. “Ursula, these chests are exquisite and must have cost Father by far in excess of what a pair of plain carved chests would have cost him.”

“I know that, Aimee,” her sister answered impatiently. “You do not understand!”

“No,” Aimee answered, raising her chin. “I do not.” Seeing the martial gleam in her younger sister’s eyes, Ursula reached across and captured her hand.

“It was nothing, naught but a piece of foolishness. Do not let us quarrel, sister dear,” Ursula urged. “For I have just had a very good idea.”

“Oh? What is that?” Aimee asked, still feeling ruffled by her sister’s attitude.

“We will not each have a matched pair but split them, so we both have one of each.”

Aimee brightened at that notion. “That is a very good idea,” she approved, gazing back down at the golden trunks.

The next couple of weeks passed quickly with tradesmen coming to the house every day to display their wares. She and Ursula selected fine linens, wall hangings, and every household item they could think of for the new townhouses their father had promised would be theirs on the occasion of their marriages.

“I do not think all of these items can possibly fit in our trunks,” Ursula observed in consternation as they looked about at the growing piles.

Aimee agreed. “Can we not ask Father if the furnishings and linens could not be installed in our new houses ahead of time, so they are ready for us?”

“You know Father does not wish us to see them ahead of time,” her sister reminded her. “He wants the houses to be a surprise.”

“Yes, but they still will be,” Aimee pointed out. “If others hang the tapestries and place the furnishings in the rooms for us.” When Ursula hesitated, Aimee sprang to her feet. “Let me talk to Father,” she said decisively.

For once, though, Gerold could not be persuaded by his youngest daughter, for he was convinced the dowry should be paraded through the streets in a procession accompanied by musicians and the bridal party.

“But, Father …” Aimee protested. “I do not think our friends and neighbors will enjoy carting so many wares before them, especially after they have sat down to such a lavish meal!” She tried and failed to imagine her father’s business friends hobbling through the streets carrying chairs and tables over their heads.

Her father waved this away. “Nonsense, Aimee! I have employed many attendants along with the musicians and entertainers. When you and your sister leave my house, it will be to the accompaniment of great celebration and pomp. No one shall think I have not acted handsomely by you both.”

Aimee regarded her father with sudden misgiving. “I thought you were inviting only fifty of your closest friends and acquaintances to the wedding banquet,” she reminded him.

“Yes,” he agreed. “That is correct.”

“And how many paid attendants have you engaged?”

“One hundred and fifty,” he answered grandly.

“One hundred and fifty?” Aimee squeaked. “Then the attendants shall outnumber the guests some threefold! However shall we fit them all in the supper chamber?”

“Well, we shall squeeze them in somehow, I daresay,” her father shrugged. “We can leave fifty outside to dance and play for the crowds.”

“Crowds?” Aimee’s heart sank.

“I am the richest merchant in all Karadok,” he reminded her. “The wedding of my only daughters will not be some paltry affair!”

Aimee gulped and wondered how to break the news to Ursula that their wedding would now include a street show. Everything their father had said before had led them to believe the wedding feast would be a wholly modest affair, attended only by people she and her sister had known for years.

As such, she and Ursula had not ordered much by way of decoration for their father’s house. Lilies and roses had been ordered to be strewn among the rushes underfoot and matching wreaths to adorn the mantle and door. Now Aimee wondered if this was going to be enough by way of adornment when one hundred and fifty attendants were trampling all over the flowers and filling their father’s house to overflowing! Not to mention a baying crowd outside who would be expecting entertainment and spectacle to brighten their day.

Rather than focusing on the feast, which the sisters had imagined would be a quiet and intimate affair, they had concentrated their efforts instead on items to furnish their new homes. Aimee made her way slowly back her sister. She would have to tell Ursula, and once again, her sister would go into a quake.

Ursula hated being the center of attention. Aimee knew her sister was already dreading her role as bride, and this would make everything ten times worse. Perhaps heavy veiling might be a good suggestion? As usual, though, Ursula rose bravely to the challenge. She turned pale, it is true, but then she immediately fetched ink and a quill and started making lists.

“We will need favors for the crowd,” she said biting her thumbnail. “Treats to distribute and additional casks of ale.”

“It is too bad of Father not to have warned us,” Aimee grumbled as Ursula’s pen scratched over the parchment.

Her sister smiled wanly. “Father is a man and never thinks of such things.”

“These attendants will all need something to eat and drink throughout the day as well. Did Father think to neglect them all day?”

“Purses of pennies, too, to give out,” Ursula mused aloud. “It is too late to get commemorative tokens made up now.”

Privately, Aimee thought the crowd would prefer money in any case than some trumpery token that would be worthless hereafter. “What about decoration?” Aimee asked. “I do not think two floral wreaths will now be enough.”

“No indeed,” her sister agreed. “We will increase the order and have a quantity of garlands made up as well. I suppose we could order swathes of fabric to decorate the house.” Her eyes glazed over. “Maybe the attendants could all wear a ribbon sash?” she suggested with a hopeless shrug.

“Yes, very good,” Aimee enthused.

“Green?” Ursula suggested.

“The very thing,” Aimee agreed aloud, then privately she wished the colors could be blue and yellow which were the colors of Lord Kentigern’s shield. Still, it was a joint wedding celebration, and she could hardly expect to take over when Sir Renlow’s crest was, if memory served, a very faded red and muddy brown.

“We had better don our cloaks and set about putting in our orders now,” Ursula sighed. “The sooner we do so, the better the chance they can actually fulfill it.”