Even before Cecily’s chastisement, Alys realized she had once again let her tongue run away without her good sense, as any small glimmer of mercy was now gone from Sybilla’s blue eyes.
“I have always wanted the best for you, whether you believe that or nay. I understand that, as her youngest, Mother indulged you, and allowed you to claim your happiness by whatever means you chose. Running about Fallstowe like a rough squire rather than a titled young lady. Passing your time with the peasants. Saying what and behaving however you pleased. She did it out of love, I recognize, but I believe that she has done you a grave disservice.”
“Do not speak poorly of Mother, Sybilla, I warn you,” Alys said quietly.
“Not intentionally,” Sybilla placated. “And I loved her too, and miss her more than you will likely ever know. But she is gone. And I can no longer try to control you on my own. Mayhap your future husband will fare better than I. We will all pray that he does.”
“We’re not going to discuss finding me a husband again, are we?” Alys rolled her eyes. “Cecily is four years my senior, torment her.”
“I shall likely take the veil, Alys,” Cecily reminded, still seated in her chair, but now her stitchery lay forgotten in a jumbled heap on the floor.
Graves, now stoically studying the monkey who was leaning over the canopy in a crouch and returning his appraisal, sniffed loudly.
Alys had to agree.
“Oh, you will not, Cee,” Alys scoffed. “You’ve been saying that for years now. Sybilla is the only one who likely believes it anymore.”
“Nay, we are not going to discuss finding you a husband,” Sybilla said, as if the interchange between Alys and Cecily had not occurred.
“Thank God,” Alys sighed.
“For I have this night secured your match.”
Alys’s stomach tumbled. “What? Who?”
“Clement Cobb has asked for your hand, and I’ve given my blessing, as has Lady Blodshire. As a token of peace, she’s offered to let you keep the animal you absconded with as a wedding gift.”
“You promised me”—Alys slid off the window seat—“toClement Cobb?”
“Yes. It was either him or Lord John Hart, and I took it upon myself to choose the match most appropriate to your age and temperament. Lord Hart is more than two score your senior, and a widower with no heir. Although he seems anxious to marry quickly, I believe he would have little patience for your immaturity and fits of temper, and would most likely beat you or send you home in shame. As it is, your rash behavior this evening is costing Fallstowe handsomely with your dowry to the Cobbs.”
“Sybilla,” Alys croaked. “No! No, I refuse to—no!”
“It is already done.” Sybilla rose from her chair. “You will be married in thirty days, here at Fallstowe. I will make the formal announcement personally, this night. If you like, and promise to behave, you may accompany me and receive everyone’s well-wishes. It is a fine opportunity to redeem yourself and show that you are not the child everyone thinks you to be.” She turned her back to Alys and made to cross the bedchamber.
“Sybilla, you must not have heard me,” Alys said in ashaking voice. “I will not marry Clement Cobb. I would rather take my chances at the Foxe Ring.”
Sybilla’s laugh rang out before she stopped and turned to face Alys once more. “Oh, Alys—youaresuch the child, still. To put faith in a superstitious set of crumbling old rocks, for shame.”
“‘Tis how Mother and Father met,” Alys said defiantly.
“It is a tale. That’s all,” Sybilla chuckled. Then she glanced toward the window, and her expression grew contemplative. “But the moonisfull this night. The weather kind for December. Hie yourself to the ring, if it shall give you some sense of control of your future. Sit there for the entire month if you like. Should a man appear—not only in the middle of Fallstowe lands, but within the very ring of grown-over stones itself—and take you for his bride, my best to the pair of you. I shall be so moved as to pay equal dowry to both Blodshire and your new husband, quite happily.”
Cecily stood. “Sybilla, don’t tell her such foolishness! You know she will attempt it!”
Sybilla shrugged. “I care not how she passes the month. But you will be married in thirty days, Alys.” She paused for a moment, and then lifted one of her rapier-slash eyebrows. “Are you coming below, or nay?”
“Nay,” Alys’s voice shook. She swallowed and gathered all of her hurt and anger. “I hate you, Sybilla.”
Alys saw Sybilla’s faint smile. “I know.” Then she turned to Cecily. “Would that you join me, Cee. I’d have at least one of my sisters at my side this night.”
“Of course, Sybilla.” Cecily gave Alys a disappointed frown but then an instant later, crossed the floor to embrace her tightly. Alys did not return the gesture, letting her numb arms hang at her sides.
“Don’t fight this so,” Cecily whispered into her hair. “You yourself said that Clement is a dear man, and—God forgive me—I do believe you might find him quite biddable after his mother is dead.” She leaned back, grasping both Alys’s upper arms. “Anddon’t go to the Foxe Ring.‘Tis cold and damp, and naught will come of it but further disappointment for you. If any should find out, they will mock you.”
Alys stared past Cecily’s shoulder to the fire in the hearth. “I cannot believe you of all people would stand against me on this.”
Cecily sighed. “I do love you. And I am happy that you are to marry.” She kissed Alys’s cheek, and then swept past Sybilla out the door. Alys turned toward the window once more, so that Sybilla would not see her childish tears.
