Chapter 46
In her rooms, Margery, Duchess of Gwyndonmere, stirred in the arms of her shadow lover. “The wolves are howling again. Oh, please make the wolves stop howling.”
“It is all right, my love, my angel. Nothing can harm you while I am here. All shall be wondrously well, just as I promised you.”
Then the great steppe wolf howled, and she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. “Horrible, horrible,” she shuddered.
“It is all right, Margery. It is all right.”Just as soon as I make end to that precious pair. Who could ever have predicted that the Duke would fall in love, and with a serving girl at that? Well, soon none of that would matter. Now if that idiot would just quit howling at night. I know there are guards. Who does he think I am? The Village Idiot?
All the same, he slipped from his bed, quickly dressed, and tip-toed out the door. Margery would not wake for several hours. It would not do to let matters slide now that they were near their goal. He needed to get up the mountain and see what was going on.
He padded out the door in his stocking feet, carrying his boots in his hand. He could see Smythe and Wilson on guard duty at the door to the Duke’s rooms. Smythe, who was the nearer, winked at him as he passed, and waved one gloved hand.
Ah! They had done it. Now things would truly be in motion. Still, he wanted to check with his revolutionary friends and see how they were doing. In the long run, of course, he would have to get rid of them before they tried to take over the two Duchies. Once he was rid of Jonathan Harper, he wouldn’t need them. He could already see that they were going to be difficult to manage.
Since it was Smythe and Wilson, not a guard team that would cause him a problem, the shadow lover sat down and put on his boots. Standing up, he put a bit of a swagger in his step and went on down the stairs. Let someone else find the Duke. He didn’t want to deal with it.
He let himself out the kitchen door and headed toward the stables. The bay he usually rode resented being wakened out of a peaceful sleep and made little horsey grumbling noises. A wedge of apple and piece of carrot beguiled the sleepy animal, and soon the creature was walking out of the stable, saddled and bridled, with the shadow man keeping the bulk of the beast between him and any observers stationed on the castle walls.
Once he was on the path that led up to the shearing shed, he swung up into the saddle, still keeping low so as to obscure his face. Once around the bend, he slipped on his mask and continued the journey upward.
The Revolutionary met him at the shearing shed. “How do you like the fine mess we made? Is it enough of a distraction? I am certain it was profitable. Who might have suspected that a duke would been growing such a fine assortment of valuable plants. It will go a long way toward funding a troop of revolutionaries. The English will do their part by putting down Napoleon, then my recruits and I will show them what commoners can really do.”
“I know that is your plan,” the shadow man said. Then he blew a fistful of dust into the Revolutionary’s face.
The man began clawing at his eyes and the skin on his face. “Get it off! Get it off!”
“I’m sorry. You have a problem? You won’t in a few minutes. You are very clever, but you see, your plan won’t work for me. I don’t want to give the duchy to the people. I want it for myself and my Duchess. You would take it all away from both of us, so now I need to get ahead of you before you can ruin my plans.”
The Revolutionary fell to the ground, writhing. “That’s right. You shall share the fate planned for the Duke. If my men have done their job right, he will never wake up. He will never have a chance to repudiate the Duchess’s child, and in due course, all of it will be mine.”
The Revolutionary arched his back in a terrible rictus, shuddered, and lay still.
“Step one of counter revolution,” the shadow man whispered. “Now for step two.” He swung up onto his bay mare, and continued his way toward Mabway Tower.
But when he reached Mabway Tower, he found it empty. Even the herbs and the press were gone.
Chapter 47
The upper servants of Gwyndonmere were just finishing their morning repast when the bell rang for Celeste.
“I’ll take care of your plate,” Betty said, “You go on and take care of Her Grace. Wouldn’t do to keep her waiting.”
“So true. Thank you, Betty.” Celeste quickly rose from the table and hastened up the stairs.
When she arrived in the Duchess’s chambers, she found the lady in quite a state.
The Duchess was bent over the chamber pot, retching. There was a thick coating of vomit all over the carpet and Her Grace’s soft woolen gown.
“Your Grace!” Celeste exclaimed. “Let me help you!”
Quickly Celeste substituted the clean wash basin for the half-full and very smelly chamber pot, guiding the Duchess away from the mess. Holding the basin under the Duchess’ nose she guided the Duchess couch in front of the cold hearth. Once there, she was able to undo the laces of the lady’s dress and divest her of the soiled garments.
Celeste emptied the basin into the chamber pot, rinsed it using a little of the water from the bedside ewer, then poured water over a face cloth. She then used the cloth to clean the Duchess’s hands and face. “Can you sit here for a minute, Your Grace? If you can, I’ll have one of the other servants help me clean up so that you can make your way to your bedchamber.”
“Better clean up the bedchamber, too,” the Duchess said faintly. “It began in there.”
“Are you unwell, Your Grace? Should I ask His Grace to send for a doctor?”
