“My dear child, you do know what your father will say.” The Duchess fixed her with a steady gaze, at which Genevieve flushed, shivering. “If you are to have time to consider this matter, you must be gone and be known to be gone before the Prince makes a formal request and before your father makes a commitment of any kind.” Her voice became ominous, weighty: “For if he makes a commitment to Yugh Delganor, he will be expected to keep it at the cost of his life or yours, or both.”
Aufors grimaced. “She’s right, Genevieve. If your father says yes, both you and he will be totally bound by that promise. That much of the covenants is well known! Far better move while you and he still have some freedom of action. When the household is asleep, meet me in the stables. Dress warmly and bring only what you must have with you. I’ll make up a small pack of travel necessities for you.”
He ran along the house and around the corner, to return through another door, while the women returned to the terrace, the Duchess pulling Genevieve along like a little wagon, she trundling obediently, weighed down by so many feelings of mixed horror and anger that she could not form any intention to do anything at all.
“What has my foolish daughter been up to, dragging you out into the night?” bumbled the Marshal, with a frown at Genevieve. “Most thoughtless of her.”
“It was I who took her out into the night,” said the Duchess, laying a pale hand against her own forehead. “The conservatory was so warm, I was suddenly taken a bit faint, Lord Marshal. Now, if you’ll be so kind as to summon my driver.”
In moments she was gone, not without sufficient chatter to distract the Marshal from Genevieve, which allowed her to flee to her room, like a rabbit from a blundering hound. There Delia helped her with her clothes, distressed by the sweat on her forehead and the way her hands shook.
“What’s the trouble, my lady? You’re looking peaked. Did something go wrong? Wasn’t the food good?”
“The food was wonderful, Delia. I’m just tired. These dinners seems to affect me like running for miles or riding all day. When they’re over, I feel wrung out. Pull the pins from my hair. I’ll let it down and brush it. You go on to bed, it’s late and you rose earlier than I.”
Delia went away, with only a normal amount of nursemaidish grumble and instructions. Genevieve braided her hair in a long plait, as she usually did at bedtime, but then wrapped it into a tight knot at her neck, pierced it with enough pins to hold it fast under any circumstances, dressed herself warmly, put her nightgown on over the clothing, and finally packed a small bundle that included a change of shoes and clothing, her comb and hairbrush, and a few little bits of jewelry that might be used instead of money. That made her think of the Duchess’s coins, and she tucked the small sack into the full sleeve of her cloak, which she hung in the armoire. Then she lay down, the covers drawn to her chin.
After a time, the Marshal’s footsteps came down in the hall. He paused at her door, it opened a crack, he peered in, then he shut the door and moved on.
She remained still, in turmoil, her mind chattering like birds in a tree, saying six things at once, none of them helpful. If her mother had meant this particular hard road, then she had a duty to stay where Delganor could do … whatever he was going to do. But what if she only thought so, and her mother had meant something else? She had no way to judge. Surely she could take a little time to judge?
When the house had been silent for some time, she took off the nightgown, replaced it with the heavy, hooded cloak, and slipped down the long hallways and out through the kitchen, easing through the heavy outside door that was often left unlocked because it opened only into the walled and gated yard. Just inside the stable she sat on a pile of hay that had been forked down from the loft to be ready for the stable boys in the morning. When Aufors found her, she was slumped in exhausted sleep with her bundle close at her side.