Thessaly was none too sure that any of those had been kind to the Fortiers, honestly. “And you have no concerns about the rumoured curse?”
“Oh, not Sigbert, surely. He is young. And even if there were, somehow, that would not mean it would touch you.” Father shrugged, leaning back again now he was sure she was behaving. “You must marry. You have a choice in which of those three.”
It was not much of a choice at all. The thing of it was how much she wanted to fight. Here and now was neither the time nor the place. She did not trust Mother to support her, or Mother would have done so already. Father had chosen the field. The more Thessaly thought about it, the more she was increasingly sure that her best option was to delay any sort of signing until she made agreements of her own. Presenting her marriage, or at least a formal betrothal, to her parents as a fait accompli would be tricky, but more certain.
She did not want anyone other than Vitus, but she would not risk his livelihood and passion for his work on rushing that. The scandal of it, the way people would choose sides, that could destroy any hope he had of making his name. If she thought she could hold off another six months, perhaps the landscape would change enough. She’d have to talk to Vitus about it, though, and see what he thought. Thessaly swallowed. “I understand.” She did not agree, she did not concede.
Father took it for what it was, and perhaps a trifle more. He stood. “Pardon me.” He strode out of the room, parting theprivacy warding like a curtain. Mother looked over. “He means what he says about Hermia. Don’t test him.”
“Oh, I know he means it. Does she know?”
Mother’s mouth twitched once. “She understands. He won’t let Hermia see you until things are settled.” That put another boulder in the way. Though Thessaly had a few options for managing that one, potentially. “What are you going to do?”
“Consider my options. Speak with the Scali, at some length, about what might be contractually included. Write to Sigbert. Though he hasn’t replied to my last two messages, but I didn’t expect it. He must be busy with matters at Arundel.”
“I thought the funeral was very tasteful.” Mother and Father had attended, of course, with Hermia in tow, though Thessaly had been with the family and not able to speak to anyone on her own account. She’d helped mostly with alerting the staff to various needs, to spare Laudine having to stand or walk so much. It had at least felt like something that might help someone there, since Sigbert had continued to be stone. “Maylis would have wanted things to flow smoothly, as they did.”
Thessaly inclined her head. There wasn’t much she could say to that.
“You know your duty. You are being asked to do as I did, as your grandmothers did.” Mother spoke quietly.
“But not as Aunt Metaia did.” That was the thing that kept catching at Thessaly. Aunt Metaia had given her freedom, if Thessaly could just figure out to reach for it. The trick was doing so without destroying everything else around her. Around her and Vitus and Hermia, who should all have a chance at happiness beyond duty. Then, finally, she decided to take a risk. She didn’t have long before Father came back.
“Why is Father so insistent? Power, and connection, certainly.” Thessaly couldn’t ignore those. “But it’s something more than that.” She hesitated, considering Mother’s dress,then what jewellery she was and wasn’t wearing, what she should have been wearing with this dress from her collection. “Money?”
Her mother didn’t say a word, but she couldn’t entirely hide the widening of her eyes or the slight movement of her mouth. Nothing Thessaly could swear to, nothing definite, but enough. Money, then. Even with Mother’s inheritance from Aunt Metaia and Hermia’s, then. “I see. I will consider, Mother. I can promise that much.”
Her mother patted her hand. Then there was a little flurry as the staff returned to remove the plates and bring out the cheese plates. Thessaly managed this part without thinking about it, with smiles and quiet gratitude, while waiting for her heartbeat to eventually slow after the tension of the conversation. By the time Father returned, she had pulled dignity around her again, and he kept the conversation on easier topics for the rest of the evening. He tucked in news of the Lytton cousins. There were a few plans for summer activities she might enjoy. She knew it for the illusion it was. Everything was not well, and his words could not hide that.
35
APRIL 18H AT ARUNDEL
Vitus was not at all sure what the etiquette was in this case. That was despite the fact that it was the fourth Fortier funeral inside seven months, and he was in fact now familiar with their customs. For one thing, he wasn’t sure that he ought to be attending. But he’d had a note, specifically from Dagobert, now Lord Dagobert, and Laudine, asking him to attend. And another from Florent, encouraging him to come as well.
In the litany of the dead - and the causes of death - this one was even odder than usual. Sigbert had fallen from a horse, Vitus gathered, and died almost instantly. Certainly, no one could argue with that. Vitus heard a murmur, from someone near him, talking to a knot of what must have been Sigbert’s yearmates, that there had a been a swarm of bees nearby, perhaps they had spooked the horse.
It was another death out of season, uncertain, and a thing of gossip. This funeral was far less well attended than either Childeric’s or Clovis’s had been. The mourners were cautious, quiet, and mostly those obliged by family ties or by connections. And a few too afraid of angering the remaining Fortier relations, though it was hard to count exactly who was in that group.
Thessaly was here; Vitus had seen her, lending a hand to Laudine, mostly. A handful of the Council were in attendance, though more as a nod to Sigbert’s brief time as Lord of the Land. Dagobert seemed to be bearing up well enough so far, though he looked more exhausted than usual. The bees were slightly better in shape, but less detailed, as if the crafting had been rushed. Once the graveside offerings had been made, he and Laudine had both been seated at a table in the garden, and the mourners came to them. Thessaly stayed close to them, just nodding at him when he paid his respects.
Their son sat beside them, near silent, and Vitus wished he knew what to say there. It must be a tremendous amount of change for him, much of it different to explain. The adults didn’t have answers. How could they tell Garin anything that made sense? But Vitus certainly didn’t have answers for that.
When he was leaving, as the numbers dwindled down to the immediate family, he saw Thessaly taking Garin off for a quiet walk. It made him wonder, all of a sudden, what she’d be like with her own child. But he could not linger and watch, and instead went back to Bryn Glas to wait for her.
He had some time to wait, as it turned out, a good two hours, two and a half, before Thessaly turned up. She was trailed by Collins, who followed her into Thessaly’s bedroom. Vitus could hear the sound of the bath running, and in about ten minutes, Collins came out. “I’ll be bringing supper up in half an hour. Mistress Thessaly suggested some wine might be in order, if you agreed?”
Vitus was bemused to be consulted, but he nodded. “If Thessaly wants wine, certainly. I admit that seems a good idea. I don’t need anything further. I’m sure you’ve plenty to see to.”
Collins nodded her head once and disappeared. Near enough on the thirty minute mark, Thessaly appeared from her bedroom. Her hair was in a thick braid down her backand mostly dry, her wrapper on, and she looked as if the bath had helped, but not quite enough. She opened her mouth to ask, “Food?” when there was a knock on the door and Collins brought in a tray on a cart.
“There we go. I’ll be sitting up in the kitchen, should you need anything, Mistress?” Collins disappeared, leaving them to a supper of stew, good bread and butter, and yes, wine.
Vitus let Thessaly eat in quiet until she set her spoon down and blinked at him. “You’re not saying anything?” Her voice was a little uneven.
Vitus shifted to offer an arm. She immediately leaned into it, her head on his shoulder. That meant he could probably ask a question or three. “You seemed to need to eat first? It looked rather awful, from what I saw. How are Dagobert and Laudine? Or Garin, I saw you with him.”
“Exhausted, both of them, and worried. If there is a curse...” Thessaly’s voice trailed off. “And Bradamante is apparently being difficult. An unpleasant combination of coming over big sister and would-be-matriarch. Only then her husband keeps pulling her away. I gather they’re going on an Atlantic crossing, so Yves obviously plans to put distance between them and whatever curse or misfortune there might be.”
