“And I’ll see if anyone here can get the scorch marks out ofoneof your gowns,” said Alice.
“Ach,” Cathal said offhandedly, “use one of Agnes’s. She left half a dozen when she married, and she’s not much taller than you are. One of the serving maids can help you.”
Then he bowed and went inside, clearly thinking, manlike, no more of the matter at all.
* * *
Manlike too, or speaking from a vantage point of well over six feet tall, Cathal had been wrong aboutnot much taller. Judging from her gowns, the absent Agnes had overtopped Sophia by at least a head. The skirt pooled on the floor around Sophia when she tried the dress on, and the sleeves hung well past her fingers.
She and Alice were both decent with a needle, however, and taking clothing in wasn’t nearly as difficult as letting it out, particularly when it was merely a matter of making the gown shorter. In figure, Agnes and Sophia were evidently close enough not to cause trouble in clothing cut along slightly old-fashioned lines; a belt easily settled any discrepancies there.
The dress itself was beautiful: white wool and a surcoat over it of burgundy velvet, thick enough for Sophia to run her fingers through as she otherwise stood still and let Alice dress her hair. Long ago, she’d resigned herself to plain clothing as more suitable for experiments and travel both, but her eyes and heart delighted in the rich colors, and she was glad to have the excuse for finery.
Alice, who’d been gentler to her best clothing, wore blue and green, though cleaned as best the castle could manage in early spring. Sophia had offered to help with another of the dresses, sure that Cathal had meant them both.
“I’ll do well enough with my own,” Alice had said in response. “I’d rather not be obliged.”
“But you think I am?”
“I think his friend wouldn’t have lived this long without you, and you’ve put your life at risk for him. A few scales and an old dress are no more than you’ve earned.”
She’d spoken very firmly, and Sophia had wanted to ask more, to say that she wouldn’t have gotten to the castle without Alice, nor survived long enough to succeed, but one of the maids had joined them then. In the day or so since, Alice hadn’t encouraged conversation along those lines, and Sophia hadn’t had the energy or the nerve to take the subject up again.
When they went into the hall together, though, Sophia reached for her friend’s hand and squeezed it, then whisperedthank youwhen Alice turned to look at her. Both knew it was for more than the dress or Sophia’s hair, now neatly braided and pinned into a coil near each ear, and when Alice smiled and returned the pressure, Sophia didn’t much mind that the guests were staring at both of them.
There were four. Cathal’s brother was easy enough to recognize, though his hair was red and his eyes ice blue. More than the build they shared, or the strong outlines of both faces, each brother carried himself with a confidence lacking in anyone vulnerable to bad meat or steel blades. With him sat a middle-aged woman, slim but not frail, and two men, clearly father and son themselves. The elder was the shorter of the two, and his hair was more white than black now, but he had the same gray eyes as his son and the same sharp features.
All the new arrivals were dressed very well. Sophia marked silk and fur, jeweled rings, and a silver fillet around the woman’s head, and was glad for her made-over gown. If Douglas recognized it, he didn’t say as much, but bowed to her and Alice with sober politeness. “My brother speaks well of you.”
“That’s good of him, my lord,” said Sophia. She knew Cathal had probably restricted his praise to her alchemical skills—she wasn’t certain that her performance elsewhere even merited remark, though Cathal had seemed to enjoy it at the time—but still she blushed. “And he’s done the same of you.”
“That’s kind to say,” said Douglas, with a mocking grin and a sidelong glance at Cathal. He didn’t wait for an answer but moved on to indicate his guests. “Lady Eleanor Bellecote, late of England. Rhys, Lord Avondos, and his son, Madoc, of Wales.”
“I’m honored,” Sophia said and curtsied.
“Rhys knows my mother’s people,” Cathal said when Sophia and Alice had been seated.
“Yes,” said Rhys, looking carefully back and forth between Sophia and Lady Bellecote before he responded, “though not, I fear, his mother.”
“Not save in stories,” Madoc added. “But there are many for those of us who take the time to listen.”
The look that passed between him and his father was the sort that Sophia knew well—well enough not to comment on. Family was family, whatever part of the world it was in. “Legends can take patience,” she agreed, steering for a neutral path, “though I suppose that yours are near to home, and that must help.”
“Mistress Sophia is a scholar,” Cathal said. “I think I mentioned.”
“Your brother certainly did,” said Lady Bellecote. “And your father as well.” Her voice was low, befitting a gentlewoman, but she spoke with conviction. “It was for that reason, among others, that I offered myself as hostage when the bargains were being made.”
“How do you mean?” Alice asked.
“Firsthand is the best way to gain knowledge. Even such imprecise knowledge as I have to offer. I heard the legend you had from your sister, you see, and it was familiar to me. Unless there are two such men, my brother’s lands border his.”
Twenty-seven
Lady Bellecote’s father was Scottish, she explained. In friendlier times, she’d wed an Englishman, who’d died of a fever a few years before, but her family had always lived on the border, and her brother even closer to the English.
“I visited from time to time in my girlhood,” she said, and a nostalgic smile had only a moment to live on her face before her lips tightened. “Even then, I heard a few of the stories, and in time I managed to get the rest out of my brother… What he knew of it, at any rate. I was only curious then. What youngster doesn’t like a grisly tale?”
Madoc chuckled in agreement. “I think I knew of every ghost supposed to be on our lands by the time I was ten, and I might have made up a few that I felt were wanting. But you sound as though your brother took this other man more seriously than I ever did my ghosts.”
