Page 73 of Triumph at Pemberley

Roderick pointed to the left. “There – that is Granny’s house.” A narrow arched bridge led across a brook to a charming stone building.

“Oh, yes! You made an illusion of it when you first arrived at Pemberley.” She had been astonished by it, a finer magical vision than any she had seen. That was before meeting Granny, whose illusion-casting was unmatched.

Soon a wall appeared on the right, a finished one unlike the many rough drystone ones they had passed. Half a dozen chimneys poked up from the treetops, and then a two-story stone edifice emerged. It was more of a manor house than she had expected from Roderick’s description back in London, with leaded multi-paned windows that spoke of Tudor origins.

Roderick drew up outside it. “Home,” he said quietly, and then led her through a brick archway into a small garden courtyard.

The ivy-covered walls of the house enclosed it on two sides. Definitely old-fashioned, but charmingly so. She could certainly live with this, if the other inhabitants proved friendly.

A gardener ambled over as Roderick dismounted and spoke to him volubly. Roderick answered him, also in Welsh, and then slapped the man’s back as if they were old friends. He gave the gardener his reins as he turned to help Frederica down.

She was going to have to work on both her Welsh and her dismounts from riding astride. She could exit a sidesaddle with grace, but the riding masters had never even considered teaching her this. Still, she got her leg over the saddle easily enough and slid down into Roderick’s waiting hands.

The gardener grinned at her as Roderick introduced her. At least that was what she guessed had happened, since she made out ‘Frederica ferch Gwilym’ somewhere in that mass of musical syllables. At least he did not seem displeased by her presence. Perhaps it was a good omen.

Frederica smoothed the skirts of the dress she had changed into. Not that it would help much; only an iron could get out those creases. Still, it was better than her dirty riding clothes for meeting his difficult stepmother.

She nodded to Roderick, and he led her through a double doorway.

She blinked in surprise. The other parts of the house had been medieval in appearance, with blackened beam ceilings, flagstone floors, and inglenook fireplaces large enough to roast an ox. This room had the same bones, but patterned rugs covered the floor, and the furnishings were more decorative and modern. Someone had gone to an effort to bring this space into the current century.

A dark-haired woman of middle years sat with a basket of what appeared to be mending, given the needle and thread in her hand. Her high-waisted dress showed attention to fashion, with an edging of lace by the neckline in the style of a decade ago. A girl of perhaps ten and a careworn elderly woman were also sewing, though the girl looked up eagerly and ran to embrace Roderick.

Roderick addressed the woman in the middle. “Stepmother, may I present Lady Frederica Fitzwilliam? We have just come from introducing her to my father. Frederica, this is Angharad ferch Hywel, my father’s wife. My sister Mari and my aunt Bronwyn ferch Hywel.” Why had he used her maiden name? Was it because he never went by Glendower?

She would trust him, though, and not perform the Welsh version of her name. Dropping a small curtsey, she said, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Angharad’s brows drew together. It was not a look of welcome, rather of one more problem landing on her already burdened shoulders. She turned to Roderick and spoke sharply in Welsh.

He interrupted, “In English, please. She is our guest.”

His step-mother’s eyes flashed. “Then you may take her belongings to your room. We have no time to entertain a fine lady right now.”

Frederica lifted her chin. She had faced worse enemies than this. “I require no entertainment. I had not known how serious the situation is here when I came, but I would like to help however I may.”

“What skills do you have? Can you sew? Cook?”

Frederica had intended to be polite and conciliatory, but that was too much. “If that is the best use of my time, I can learn, but I imagine Roderick has better employment for a battle-tested mage. The English generals were certainly sorry to lose me.” That was even true, although mostly for the support she gave Jack.

Roderick narrowed his eyes. “My wife has had a long journey and will require refreshment, as would any guest.”

“Then take her to the kitchens and get her something to eat,” Angharad picked up the fabric in her lap and turned back to it.

Apparently they were dismissed.

Frederica kept a pleasant smile on her face as Roderick took her arm. Once they were outside, he said quietly, “I am sorry about that. She is dreadfully worried about my father, as are we all, but that is no excuse for her rudeness. She knows you will supplant her one day.”

“You warned me that I would not be welcomed.” Not that it felt any less unpleasant, but she was accustomed to facing down people who disapproved of her in the ton.

Light, quick footsteps came from behind them. The girl, Roderick’s sister, skipped up beside them. “Mother said I should go with you and help Lady Frederica. And translate for her, if needed. Is it true you are a lady?”

Frederica chose her words with care. “In England, yes, but here I am plain Frederica, Roderick’s wife. I hope you will call me that.” It was going to be an odd transition for her, calling everyone here by their first name, since the people of Gwynedd still used the old style of Welsh names. At least this girl did not seem to hate her merely for existing.

Roderick reached out and ruffled the girl’s hair. “Good for you, Mari, to welcome my wife here. She is very important to me.”

The girl peered up at her. “I hope you will like it here. I have never met an English person before except Granny Morgan, and she is more Welsh than English now. But it cannot be true that every single person in England is evil, and Roderick would not have married you if you were.”

“That is quite correct, fy ngeneth,” Roderick said. “I must return to the line of defenses. Will you take care of Frederica while I am gone? Show her around and help her unpack, but keep her away from your mother until I return.”