She closed her eyes against those words, remembering a face, hearing sounds of agony, smelling the metallic reek of blood. A woman’s voice whispering, “Jenny, Jenny, oh, my darling girl . . .” Had it worked well enough, their marriage? Not for Mother, she did not say. Mother died, she did not say. You killed her, she did not say, feeling the first fluttering of something other than panic, something foreign to her, a loose thread of fury, hanging there, tempting her to grasp it, let what would unravel!
She ignored the thread, saying softly, “My education is unfinished, and I will miss my friends here at school.”
“That also is of no matter. The honor you are offered outshines any such concerns, and Mrs. Blessingham can no doubt recommend tutors at High Haven if you wish to continue your education.” He turned on her, face hard. “Keep this in mind! This whole matter may be in the nature of a test, to see whether we, you and I, are the kind of people who will make difficulties! Believe me, Genevieve, if you think of doing such a thing, think again. Rejecting an invitation from the Lord Paramount, brought to you by no less personage than the Prince, would not be good for me, and if you are not thoughtful of my reputation, as you have a duty to be, it will not be good for you, either. Whatever the Prince proposes comes directly from the Lord Paramount, and I am sworn to serve the Lord Paramount.”
“His invitation is actually your command, then.” She was surprised at the calm in her voice. “You are saying that I have no choice.”
“No honorable choice, no. Later on, well . . .” He barked laughter, as though at something he had just discovered. “Yugh Delganor may well marry again. It is not impossible he might find you attractive enough to consider you for . . . some very exalted position.”
And there she was suddenly, at center stage. The lights were on her, the attention of whoever it was, out there in the darkness, the watchers, among whom she had hoped to stay, always, always. Now the action centered upon her and the plot lines knotted and wove and all other characters faded into shadow. She drew away from him, hearing the rustle of her gown on the tiles loud in the silence, feeling the evening air clammy on her bare shoulders while a greater coldness froze the pit of her stomach.
She whispered, “Does he have family?”
“He has family, yes. He’s been married two or three times, but his wives died.” He said it offhandedly, as though it didn’t matter. “As I recall, his first wife died in childbirth and one of the others died of batfly fever the year it swept the lowlands. Such things happen. I must say, your attitude surprises me.”
“Forgive me, Father,” she said from that brightly lighted place where she stood, that cell in time where all seemed to converge. “It is only that I, too, am much surprised. You have never mentioned any of this to me. This invitation comes out of the blue in the hands of a man who was not even polite to me when he visited Langmarsh House. Perhaps he is above politeness.”
This time her father laughed with genuine amusement. “Well said, daughter. Perhaps he is, indeed. Whether he is above it or not, I know you will be sensible enough not to insult him. He has received good report from Colonel Leys, who has confirmed Mrs. Blessingham’s opinion of you. She has said you are poised and quiet and your purity of soul has been approved by the scrutator. The Colonel has seconded this judgment.”
“The Colonel . . .” She shook her head, confused. She had not been quiet with the Colonel. He had not asked about her soul. Not at all!
“The Colonel will be going with us to Havenor,” the Marshal said, misunderstanding. “When the Lord Paramount suggested the Colonel give an opinion it was for good reason. Leys is my equerry, and he would be responsible for your safety and comfort at court. His making an assessment of your manner is appropriate.” He turned away, as though finished with words.