Their eyes were locked. “Quite possibly.” But then he turned to her mother. “Anything already mined and formed by man. Gold is a mystical metal, valued everywhere. Some believe it also has mystic and healing powers. It serves us well and shouldn’t be lost. According to this story, faery has the task of ensuring that lost gold is found and returned to use. Have you ever heard the story of the gold at the end of a rainbow?”
Martha clung to silence, unable to understand why she felt such threat. Her mother seemed unaffected and asked to know more.
“That legend appears in many places. It says that if a person can find the place where a rainbow touches the ground, they will find gold. Thus it is a way for faery to put some of their trove back into human hands. Or, sometimes buried gold is brought to the surface to be exposed by the plough, or coins hidden in a wall are revealed when someone is inspired to break it down.”
“I have heard of such cases,” Anne Darby declared, wide-eyed.
“It’s only a legend, Mother.”
That caused Loxsleigh to look at her again. “You doubt, Miss Darby, and therein lies the problem. Once, the fey folk lived close to humans, dwelling in the dense woodlands that surrounded every village and manor, interacting with people according to their whim. But much of that woodland has been cut down and the land put to agriculture, and modern thought has made skeptics of us all. Nowadays faery lives among us only in their mystic havens. To continue the work, Titania made Sir Robert her deputy, enabling him to find lost gold and put it to use to benefit the poor.”
“Then why,” Martha asked, “are his descendants so rich?”
“Martha!” her mother protested.
But Loxsleigh smiled. As if she’d opened a door.
“Queen Titania wished Sir Robert to found a line that would continue this work, so she bound him with rules. He must keep a seventh of the value of any trove and use it for his own health and prosperity. He must marry and sire children, so that an eldest son would carry on the work, and so must his heirs for all time. Those with the talent must do the work. If he or his descendants broke these rules there was a penalty—they would die within the year. Not just the trouvedor, for thus the gold finders are called, but all Robert’s descendants to that day.”
“Over five hundred years?” Anne Darby exclaimed. “That could be a vast number!”
“Faery is not benign, ma’am. We are as moths to them, dead in a moment.”
And that rang deadly true. Martha desperately tried to make sense of this, but she remembered him saying that if she did not marry him, he would die. He could
“Those are easy enough conditions, Mr. Loxsleigh,” Martha said with deliberate flippancy. “To live a comfortable life and marry.”
“Martha,” her mother said again, becoming distressed.
Loxsleigh still smiled, but Martha was more and more aware of dark tension all around him. “As you say, Miss Darby. Except that Oberon does his best to thwart his queen.”
The coach lurched into an inn then for a change of horses, breaking the moment. Almost breaking a spell.
Was that it? Was she under a spell? Was that why she’d agreed to this mad journey?
But that would mean it was all true. Fairies. Gold finders.
He climbed down to inspect the new horses and pay the fees. She watched him, remembering the earring. His bright burning exultation. Him sweeping her up in that mad whirl. A predictor of this mad whirl. But she’d been alive then. Alive as never before.
No, she would have none of this. She was a rational Christian woman. The man was mad, and she could only pray he wasn’t dangerously so.
He climbed back in and the coach moved on.
Martha’s mother said, “You mentioned Oberon, sir. Do tell us more.”
Martha saw that he wanted to tell her, intended to tell her, and could do nothing to prevent it.
“You will remember that Oberon had reason to hate Robert Loxsleigh, but by faery law he could not deny his lady’s gifts. Titania had already imposed rules and a dreadful consequence, however, so he set out to make obedience difficult. He decreed that Robert Loxsleigh and his heirs would not achieve their talent until they married, and that they must marry a woman that he would choose, and before their twenty-fifth birthday.
“Titania insisted that the woman must be healthy, and of a suitable age and station, but she and her husband enjoy their battles, so she made no more attempt than that. Thus—if we are to believe my family lore— there will always be a destined bride for the Loxsleigh heir, but Oberon will make her hard to find.” He turned to Martha. “When found, however, there will be no doubt. On either side. We call the bride his marrying maid.”
Martha inhaled, clenching her fists.
She would not ask, she would not. She turned away, looking outside, and noticed gathering clouds. Rain often turned the roads to mud and she prayed for it. She didn’t want to reach his house, and with delay perhaps she could escape.
“What a charming story,” Anne Darby said.
Martha turned to her mother.
“Fairies, noble knights, and brides.”
“And threat of death for many, if there was any truth in it.”
“But there isn’t, is there, dear?”
Martha forced a smile. “No, of course not. I was swept away by it for a moment. The weather looks ominous, sir. We should stop at the next stage.”
“We can reach Five Oaks today, I promise,” Loxsleigh said.
Martha didn’t argue. If she was any judge, the clouds would do her work for her.
Her mother asked, “Does the name Five Oaks come from that legend? From the oak trees in the glade?”
“It does, ma’am. In fact, the legend says that the old part of the house was built in that very glade, as you will see for yourself within hours.” He looked out at the gathering clouds, however, and frowned.
“Do you have any other stories, Mr. Loxsleigh?” her mother asked.
Martha closed her eyes briefly, wondering what more there could be.
“I do have one more, ma’am, which is very whimsical. We left Sir Robert with his faery gift, and once he married his marrying maid, he used his talent but kept the seventh, thus obeying the rules. However, he began to find it harder to distribute the gold to the poor. His generous charities were beginning to cause comment. He tried leaving gold for people to find, as faery had done, but it offended him when it was found by rascals or the rich.
“He traveled farther to escape attention, and when returning from a benevolent journey he was set upon by outlaws. The leader took his purse and made a play of him having donated the purse to the poor. That gave Sir Robert an idea. He set up a trap and captured that leader and put a proposition to him. If he would give up his thievery, Sir Robert would protect him and his companions and provide money for them to live on. In return, Robin Ahood and his men would pass on the gold, claiming that they’d stolen it from the rich to give to the poor.”
“Robin Hood!” Martha exclaimed. “Now I see you play with us.”
“I did say it was whimsical, Miss Darby.”
“And many people think Robin Hood was real,” her mother said. “Especially around Yorkshire and Nottinghamshire.”
“They think fairies real, too,” Martha scoffed. “Or magic wells, or that eleven days were stolen from them when the calendar changed.”
“Oh, I remember that,” said her mother. “Such a furor. Even rioting. There are some still convinced that their lives will be shorter.” She turned to Loxsleigh. “One neighbor in York whose birthday was on the tenth of September that year insists to this day that she’s a year younger than she truly is.”
Loxsleigh didn’t respond. In fact, he looked dumbstruck. He looked outside at the gathering gloom, and then at Martha, eyes wide.
“Robin Hood,” Martha said sharply, hoping to bring him back to reason. “That device could only have lasted a while. Men die.”
He blinked as if her words made no sense, but then said, “No, of course. I mean yes.” He shivered. “A
