The Prisoner Bride. Susan Spencer Paul

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СКАЧАТЬ as both the tributes and Daman’s good works continued, the Seymour family was safe, but Glenys was the first to admit that it was a most wearying task. She often longed to be free of it, knowing full well that ’twould never be. She and Daman had long since devoted themselves to the good of the Seymour family name, regardless of what it cost them.

      “Now,” Uncle Aonghus said with renewed energy. “I can’t sit about all day.” Taking the arm she proffered, he let her help him to his feet. “There is much to do before you go. But, oh,” he said with open affection, squeezing her hand, “’twill will be so strange and difficult with you gone.” Releasing her, he returned to his table, his beautiful, long-fingered hands reaching out to rearrange several bottles there. “Metolius will be terribly lonely. Indeed, I hardly know how we shall go on. But that can’t be helped,” he stated with all practicality. “And you must not worry o’er us, my dear. I shall make certain that Mim and Wynne behave themselves until you’ve returned from retrieving the Greth Stone. And I shall strictly forbid your uncle Culain to leave Metolius, save to attend Mass.”

      Glenys smiled at him. “I’m only going to the bank to speak to Master Fairchild, Uncle Aonghus, just as I do every Thursday. I’ll settle the matter of our next shipping venture and return home within two hours. And as for the Greth Stone, you know full well that I’ll not set out for Wales until Daman has returned with his men. ’Tis already planned that they will escort me.”

      “Yes, dearest, I know what’s been planned,” Uncle Aonghus assured her as he scooped up a large handful of the crystals that she’d earlier used to stop the smoke, pouring it into a small leather pouch, “but you must be prepared, nonetheless. Now, here, tie this to your belt and make certain not to lose it.” He pulled the drawstrings to the bag tight and brought it to her.

      Glenys gazed at the offering and gave a slight shake of her head. “But I’m sure I won’t need this for such a short visit, Uncle. Can you think it wise to allow one of your mixtures out of the dwelling? Especially this one? I know ’tis not truly magical, but if it should somehow happen to become lost and fall into unknowing hands…” The thought was too unpleasant to finish aloud.

      “Have no fears for that, Glenys.” He placed the pouch in her hand and curled her fingers about it, smiling at her warmly. “You’ll have need of it in future. Trust what I say, dearest. Now come. We’ll go upstairs together so that I may see you off.”

      He led the way toward the small, child-size stairs, climbing them with nimble grace ahead of Glenys. She watched, amazed, as she ever was, at the elegance and ease with which her elderly uncle moved. He was tall, slender and small-boned, as were his sisters and brother, reminding Glenys not so much of an ordinary human being, but of a creature that might be half human and half animal. Precisely what kind of animal, she wasn’t sure. Her aunts and uncles were as quick and sure-footed as mountain goats, as delicate and careful as great-eyed deer and as difficult to make behave as a group of highly independent cats. Their coloring and features were remarkably similar, as well, although since Aunt Mim and Aunt Wynne were twins that wasn’t so unusual a thing. They all had white hair and blue eyes and remained as beautiful—aye, beautiful, even her uncles—as they had ever been. Sometimes, when Glenys looked at them, she found it impossible to believe that she was in any way related to such wonderful and unusual creatures as her aunts and uncles were. Both she and Daman possessed none of their daintiness or otherworldliness, and Glenys, of a certainty, knew that she possessed none of their beauty.

      “Come along, dearest,” Uncle Aonghus called from the midway point, beckoning to her. “You must be on your way soon, lest you miss your opportunity.”

      “I’m only going to see the banker,” she repeated, dutifully following behind.

      “Here’s Dina, holding the door for us,” Uncle Aonghus said cheerfully as he gained the hallway, wiping small remaining bits of dust and powder from the long purple robe he wore. “You’ll need a much warmer cloak, Dina,” he said, taking the door from her as Glenys reached the last step. “Go and fetch your heaviest one.”

      “But, my lord,” Dina said shyly, “’tis not so cold a day. Indeed, ’tis quite warm for May.”

      “Oh, but it will grow cold in the evening,” he told her, patting her arm. “Hurry now. Run and fetch it, just as I’ve said.”

      Dina looked at Glenys, who sighed and nodded. With a slight bob of her head, Dina left to fetch her cloak.

      “And you’ll be needing warmer clothes, as well, Glenys,” Uncle Aonghus told her, reaching to curl his long fingers gently about her arm, “but your aunt Mim has already thought of that. Come into the great room and tell them all goodbye, dearest. And do tie that pouch to your girdle. I shouldn’t want you to lose it.”

      And neither would I, Glenys thought silently, looping the strings about the leather belt at her waist and securing them tightly.

      “Uncle Aonghus, I’m only going to the bank.”

      “Yes, yes, of course you are,” he said kindly as he led her along. “And a very good thing it is, too.”

      The great room of Metolius was a large, warm and inviting chamber. It was the very heart of the entire dwelling. The walls were beautifully paneled with gleaming cherry wood and the floors covered in soft, richly colored Italian carpets. Tall windows along the length of one wall allowed light to fill the room on sunny days, and a multitude of Danish lamps set at intervals about each wall did the same during the night. Six large, handsome hearths kept the room warm the year round, most especially when the weather grew chill.

      The family spent every evening together in the great room, and much of the rest of the day, as well. Each member had a favorite spot. Uncle Aonghus liked to sit near the shelf that was set against the far wall and read from one of his favorite bound manuscripts, which were always kept there. Glenys sat near the fire, usually plying her needle on whatever needed mending, from clothing to curtains, and across from her, also near the fire, Uncle Culain would be sitting at the chess table, moving from one chair to the other, playing a game against himself, just as he was doing now. Aunt Mim and Aunt Wynne liked to sit near the tall windows, gazing out into the gardens and courtyard, chattering away and looking into their special box, giggling and exclaiming over each new discovery. They were in their chairs now, bent over the plain wooden box, gazing at the contents within.

      “What could this be?” Aunt Mim said wonderingly, lifting a small, thin package up into the light, showing it to Aunt Wynne. “What do you think, dear?”

      Aunt Wynne examined the papery object more closely, squinting to read the red letters printed boldly across it. “B-a-n-d–A-i-d,” she spelled slowly. “Hmm. But I’m sure we’ve seen this before…whatever it may be.”

      “No, dear,” Aunt Mim chided, setting the object back into the box and closing the lid. “The box never offers the same article twice. You know that.” She lifted the lid and looked inside. “Oh, look! Now isn’t this pretty?”

      “Oh, in truth, Sister, it is,” Aunt Wynne agreed, reaching one beautifully delicate hand into the box to lift out a long strand of pearls. “How lovely. Such a shame we can’t keep them for Glenys. She has the coloring for pearls. We’ve never looked well in them,” she said woefully, then, with a sigh, let the luminous strand slide back into the box. “When will we ever get the key?”

      The key was what Aunt Mim and Aunt Wynne spent hour upon hour, day upon day searching for. The wooden box offered up mysteries that Glenys felt uncomfortable thinking upon—of all the oddities at Metolius, it was by far the most unsettling—but its real purpose, she had ever been told, was to one day offer up an ancient key that, СКАЧАТЬ