In the early hours of the morning, while the Vale of Mists prepared to celebrate the betrothal of Lady Nyrielle with a day of games for children and contests for adults before the grand banquet that would begin with the setting sun, very different preparations were underway in Lothian Manor.
Walking through hallways that bustled with servants even at this early hour, Isabell fought the urge to pluck the folded slip of parchment from her breast pocket to read it yet again before she arrived at her destination. The message had been perfectly clear, leaving little room for doubt about who had sent it and the purpose of their message.
~In two nightâs time, join me for dinner at the Broken Blade Tavern in the village of Maeril. Reunions are joyous and conversations may run long, be sure to pack accordingly.~
Marcel, the mysterious Black Merchant who seemed to know things that no boy his age should know, had promised her and Master Tiernan both that he would arrange a meeting with Lady Ashlynn if they could secure the rights to settle lands near the mouth of the Vale of Mists.
After days of traveling with Owain Lothian, touring not only Hanrahan Barony but the territory claimed by the Dunns as well, Isabell had yet to secure a promise to allow her to settle the lands that she and Master Tiernan had selected.
In fact, when sheâd suggested that they camp in the wilderness for a day or two if needed to allow her and Tiernan to inspect the lands as they passed through them on their way to Dunn Barony, Owain Lothian had reacted as though sheâd suggested camping in a bearâs den while wearing a suit of raw meat. He not only flatly refused her request, he berated the coachment to drive their horses faster when they drew close to the Vale of Mists.
Now that they had returned, however, Owain seemed to be strangely reluctant to bring her request to his father. Day after day, he sent excuses for denying her meeting, citing the Marquisâs workload, preparations to receive visiting barons from the east, and even his fatherâs health in order to delay the meeting.
Now, it seemed like even Mister Marcel was tired of waiting for a resolution to the issue. Isabell had no doubt that a man as well informed as he seemed to be had a number of men in the manor in his employ, doubtlessly feeding him whatever gossip or news they could gather. When she received the note, lying folded on her nightstand and seemingly placed there while she was washing after dinner, her suspicions were all but confirmed.
Packing would be easy. Even though she traveled with multiple trunks on the long trip from Blackwell County, she had learned long ago how to live out of the single chest allowed to an officer among soldiers, and she could make do with even less if she was required to. But while packing could wait until the last minute, her business of the morning could wait no longer.
"Please announce my arrival," Isabell told the bored-looking serving girl sitting outside Lady Jocelynnâs chambers. "Her ladyship is expecting me for tea and pastries this morning."
"Yes, yer ladyship," the young serving girl said, hopping up from her chair and dropping into a deep curtsy before rushing into Lady Jocelynnâs room to deliver the message. She hadnât even hesitated long enough for Isabell to explain that she was just a commoner herself before sheâd vanished from sight. A moment later, the door opened again as the servant dashed down the hall, no doubt having received fresh instructions, while a woman dressed in white and crimson robes appeared in the doorway to greet Isabell.
"My lady Jocelynn has been looking forward to your visit, Master Isabell," the dark-haired confessor said warmly, though her dark eyes seemed to hold none of the warmth her voice did. "Sheâs waiting for you on the balcony."
"Thank you, Confessor Eleanor," Isabell said, carefully keeping her tone even as she addressed Lady Jocelynnâs chaperone. During the time that she traveled with Jocelynn and Owain, sheâd the severe looking Confessor intervene between Jocelynn and Owain more than once, clearly deflecting Owainâs inappropriate overtures which led Isabell to tentatively consider the other woman a potential ally.
Still, it was difficult to tell how much of Eleanorâs protectiveness came from a sense of religious doctrine about propriety and how much of it came from a genuine desire to watch over her young charge, leaving Isabell uncertain where the Confessorâs ultimate allegiance lay.
"Will you be joining us for breakfast, Confessor?" Isabell asked politely as she entered Jocelynnâs luxuriously appointed sitting room. From the gilded furniture to the elegant paintings and rich tapestries hanging on the walls, it was clear that the Lothians spared no expense in treating Jocelynn like an honored guest. To Isabellâs eyes, however, it was perhaps the most gilded cage sheâd ever seen.
"Since Master Isabell has come to visit without Master Tiernan, my presence is hardly required," Eleanor said smoothly. "Iâve already sent Epina to inform the kitchens that Iâll be taking my meal in the halls below. Before I retire," Eleanor added as her dark eyes flicked in the direction of the balcony. "Can I ask you for a small favor?"
"You can always ask," Isabell responded, lowering her voice and slowing her pace as the women crossed the room. "A good merchant entertains every proposition, no matter how preposterous, and judges it only on its merits."
"You may not have heard," Eleanor began slowly, coming to a complete stop next to the crackling hearth in the room. "But Lady Jocelynn and I can be considered cousins, even if the relationship is somewhat distant."
"I thought that noblemen renounced their household when they entered the Church," Isabell said, raising an eyebrow at the Confessor, who wore a strangely conflicted look on her face. "Even if there are blood ties between you, surely those were forgotten long ago when you donned the robes of a Confessor."
"No one can sever all earthly ties, Master Isabell," Eleanor said with a slight shake of her head. "Too many of us are called to return to our families when misfortune strikes. One misfortune has already struck the Blackwell family in Lothian March. I fear that another may devour Lady Jocelynn, no matter what advice I give."
"Lord Owain," Isabell said, not bothering to mince her words now that the Confessor had said as much as she had. "That manâs eyes divide the world into tools he can use and people he must conquer. He seems to look at women with the very same gaze," she said. "Are you worried that he intends to use Lady Jocelynn as one of his tools?"
"Worse," Eleanor said with a heavy sigh. "Iâm afraid that he sees her as a woman he must conquer."
Instantly, the warm air from the fireplace felt several times hotter, as if Isabell had stepped directly in front of one of Master Tiernanâs smelting forges rather than a simple hearth. Behind her silver-rimmed spectacles, Master Isabellâs eyes tracked rapidly around the room, looking for any sign that Lady Jocelynn was close enough to hear them or that anyone else was in the room with her.
While her eyes searched the room for hidden observers, Isabellâs mind worked with lightning speed as she tried to understand just how much the other woman knew about the truth. Taken on its own, the statement that Owain Lothian wanted to conquer Ashlynnâs younger sister was all but a condemnation that he intended to commit adultery or worse.
But if Eleanor knew that the âAshlynn Blackwellâ in the Summer Villa was an impostor, and if she believed that Owain was moving onto the next Blackwell sister, then the simple chaperone must know some of the deepest secrets that swirled around the Lothian and Blackwell families in the March. In which case, the question of whether she was an ally or not became even more important to resolve.
"Iâm sure the Church has strong opinions on the notion of a married man âconqueringâ his sister-in-law," Isabell said carefully.
"In this case, the Church has no opinion at all," Eleanor said lightly. "And by extension, as a Confessor, I have no opinion on the matter either. But, as someone who once carried the Blackwell name, and as a woman who has heard the confessions of countless young women who have been led astray by charming men in positions of wealth and power..." she said, allowing her voice to trail off suggestively.
"Well," Eleanor said lightly as she straightened her shoulders, as if she were standing up under a heavy burden. "You can imagine that such a woman would have many worries about her charge that she isnât permitted to express. And perhaps you can also imagine why such a woman would seek out the aid of someone whom her young charge has come to admire for her tales of bravery in battle and love that defied a kingâs wishes."
"You want me to deliver a warning to Lady Jocelynn?" Isabell asked. "Can you tell me what Iâm supposed to be warning her against?"
"Iâve said more than I should already," the Confessor said, raising the crimson cowl of her robes to cover her head and giving Isabell a long, searching look before she turned toward the door. "But I believe that Master Isabell must have already seen the truth of Lord Owainâs character. Perhaps youâve even learned things about him during his stay in Blackwell City," she suggested.
"The truth is one of the most powerful weapons the faithful can wield against evil, Master Isabell," the Confessor said as she crossed the room. "I just hope that you can open Lady Jocelynnâs eyes to a few truths today."
With that, and without giving Isabell a chance to respond, Eleanor slipped out of the sitting room, closing the door quietly behind her and leaving Isabell alone to find her way to the balcony where Jocelynn waited for her company.
"Lady Jocelynn," Isabell said softly under her breath. "Just how much trouble are you in that even a Confessor is powerless to intervene?"