The gown was certainly rich, but as Ariel looked closely she saw a stain on the sleeve ruffles as if they had been dragged through a plate of gravy. "I wonder who was married in it first," she observed, pointing out the stain. "I trust you will furnish me with bride clothes that haven't come out of someone else's wardrobe, brother." She turned in disgust from the stained gown.
Ranulf tossed it onto a chair, remarking carelessly, "Her Majesty is renowned for her frugality, but your maid may be able to do something with it."
"I'll not stand at the altar in someone else's castoffs," Ariel declared, unconsciously squaring her shoulders. "I may have to go through with this travesty, but I'll not be insulted further."
To her annoyance, her voice shook, but Ranulf was in great good humor and merely laughed, saying, "No… no, of course you shan't. No Ravenspeare ever went to the altar in borrowed plumage." He drew a leather purse from his pocket and tossed it onto the table, where it fell with a heavy chink. "There's gold, little sister. You may trick yourself out as you please." He picked up a second package. "This, too, is Her Majesty's gift. Is it worth opening, d'you think?"
"I doubt it," Roland said, holding out his hand. "But let's see anyway." Ranulf tossed the flat parcel to him.
Ariel wondered if she would ever be permitted to open her own gifts. Not that it mattered particularly. She looked at the string of topaz that her brother now held up. "Pretty enough bauble."
"Aye, but they're not the best stones," Oliver said, taking the necklace and examining it in the candlelight. "Badly flawed, some of 'em."
"I trust not an omen for your marriage, my dear." Ranulf laughed at his own sally. He took up the third, much smaller package. "But you'll find no fault with this. A gift from me because you're such a good and obedient sister." He pinched her cheek carelessly and dropped the package into her upturned hand.
Ariel unwrapped the tissue. Her eyes widened. She lifted out a gold, pearl-encrusted charm bracelet shaped like a serpent, with a pearl apple in its mouth. The gold was most intricately worked, the design unlike anything she had seen before. She fingered the only charm it carried, a perfectly carved emerald swan. She opened her mouth to exclaim at its loveliness, but the words remained unspoken. Because it wasn't lovely. It was beautiful, certainly. Intriguing, certainly. But she felt there was something amiss with it, and she couldn't for the life of her see where, what, or why. "Where did it come from, Ranulf?"
His eyes shifted and caught Roland's gaze, then he said, "Call it a family heirloom. If you open the little box, you will find something else."
She opened a small box. "Oh, it's another charm." She lifted out an exquisite silver rosebud; deep in its center glowed a ruby, the rich red reflected in the furled silver petals. This time her response was without reservation.
"How beautiful. It's perfect." She looked up at her brother, puzzled. Ranulf had never given her a present before, except the usual birthday and Christmas trinkets. It occurred to her that he was buying her cooperation, but why would he need to? He had only to command it and he knew that while she remained under his roof she would have no choice.
But perhaps he was afraid she might make things difficult for him. She might be forced to obey his commands, but there were covert ways in which she could sabotage his designs, or at least create difficulties.
"My wedding gift, little sister." He pinched her cheek again in a clumsy gesture intended to denote affection. But Ariel wasn't fooled. "You will play your part in Ravenspeare vengeance, and when the work is done, then you shall have another charm for the bracelet."
Dear God, he was bribing her! Was he afraid that she might slip from his control? That marriage to the earl of Hawkesmoor, even a mock marriage, might somehow affect the balance of power and control? It was a fascinating idea.
"I shall endeavor to earn it, brother," she said demurely and saw his eyes flash with anger at her clear insolence. The dogs shifted against her skirts and Remus growled low in his throat.
"Take those beasts out of here," Ranulf ordered. "And you'd best keep them away from me, little sister, if you expect them to live a long and happy life." He took up his goblet and drained its contents, his gray eyes hard as granite yet filled with malevolence as he stared at her fixedly.
Ariel was not about to push her luck further. She curtsied with every appearance of humility and left the room, the dogs pressed to her skirts.
The men wouldn't give her a second thought if they didn't see her again this evening. Ranulf had had his fun for the time being, and they would settle into their usual companionable stupors after another bottle or two.
But there was no way Ariel could keep this disastrous turn of events to herself. She hastened back to the stable-yard, the dogs still trotting beside her. She hailed a groom crossing the yard. "Josh, saddle the roan. I'm going to visit Mistress Sarah and Miss Jenny."
The man touched his forelock. "You need me to come wi' you, m'lady?"
Ariel considered. In daylight she wouldn't risk incurring Ranulf's wrath by going out unaccompanied, but he'd not want her again tonight, and once the drink took hold it would be out of sight, out of mind. And the last thing she needed was a groom kicking his heels in Sarah and Jenny's small cottage while she was spilling her news. And she could hardly expect him to sit outside for however long the visit lasted.
"No," she said. "I'll go alone."
It was a relatively bright night; scudding clouds dimmed the moon now and again, but the stars shone clear over the North Sea across the flat fens to the east. Just before she reached the village that skirted the grounds of Ravenspeare Castle, she turned the roan down a marshy track that led to a narrow drainage cut taking surplus water from the Great Ouse back to the Wash and out to the North Sea.
Her destination, a small reed-thatched cottage, stood on a hillock above the dike. It was a lonely spot. But a lantern glowed in the window, and as Ariel dismounted and unlatched the garden gate, the cottage door opened.
"Is it you, Ariel?" Blind Jenny rarely failed to identify visitors before they announced themselves.
"Yes. I'm in need of cheer and advice," Ariel responded. On reaching the woman, she kissed her cheek. "I'll put Diana in the lean-to and then I'll be in. Don't stand out here in the cold."
Jenny smiled, returned the kiss, and went back into the cottage's one room. "Ariel's here, Mother. Something's worrying her."
The woman bending over a cauldron on the range straightened. Her eyes were sharply assessing but her tongue had been locked for close on thirty years, so her thoughts remained unspoken. The door opened again and Ariel came in, the hounds still at her heels. They went immediately to a corner on the far side of the fireplace and lay down, resting their heads on their forepaws.
"Good evening, Sarah." Ariel bent to kiss the woman's faded cheek. One could see that Sarah had once been a very beautiful woman. Her features were regular, her face a perfect oval, her body tall and slender. But the eyes were haunted, the face deeply etched with the lines of endurance, the long hands chapped and rough, the once glossy black hair snow white, the supple slimness of youth reduced to gaunt thinness. But a gentleness radiated from her, and a certain strength belied by her air of frailty.
Sarah reached up and stroked Ariel's cheek, then she gestured to the chair by the fire and returned to the cauldron.
"You'll have supper with us, Ariel?" Jenny took three bowls from a shelf above the range.
"It smells like rabbit stew." Ariel sniffed appreciatively.