to the top of her head.
Her eyes caught mine. “Well? What do you think?” she said with an almost girlish smile on her face.
I was frozen in place. The dress could be only one thing, a wedding dress. Knowing her family it had probably been worn by her mother or great grandmother and she was having it fitted. She was pleased by my shocked face. “I’ll take that look as a compliment,” she said at last.
My mouth worked as my mind tried to come up with some way to rescue what was already one of the most tragic moments I could imagine. “But he hasn’t even asked you yet…,” came the words from my mouth. Apparently that was the best I could manage.
Rose’s eyes darted to her maid and then to the woman pinning her dress, “Mistress Kenwick, now should be a good time for a break. Angela, would you mind taking Mistress Kenwick to the parlor for some refreshments? I’d like some privacy.”
Angela, the woman who had escorted me in, dipped her head and ushered the seamstress out. “I’ll just leave the door open milady,” she replied.
“Shut it please.”
Angela pursed her lips unhappily but did as she was told and then I was alone with Rose. I glanced at her again and started to say something but she was quicker and spoke first, “Father said he would be looking forward to meeting Dorian again, which is as close to giving his outright approval as I could expect. I don’t think it will be very long after that.”
“Still, this seems a bit sudden,” I said, floundering for better words.
Rose left the window and came over to greet me more warmly, putting her arms around my shoulders. “Relax Mordecai, I know it could be a year or longer even. I’ve been waiting years already; this is just a bit of fun. No sense in being caught unprepared after all.”
“Years?”
She stepped back and gave me a serious look. “Since his parents sent him to foster under my father’s tutelage.”
That had been years ago, when Dorian was a growing boy of just thirteen years I recalled. “He told me that he rarely spoke to you then.”
Rose laughed, “ He rarely spoke. I followed him about and teased him frequently. I had never met such a serious young man, nor one so easily embarrassed.” The memory put a sparkle in her eyes as she spoke.
I could tell by her mood she was ready to continue the story but I stopped her, “Rose.”
She grew still and her eyes searched my face carefully. Her euphoria had blinded her usual perceptiveness, but now her attention had focused fully upon me. In the span of a few seconds she read the sad tale written on my visage and I saw her own features darken. It was like watching rainclouds cover a previously sunny sky. “What happened?”
I had kept myself under control pretty well for the past two days but her simple question undid me. My eyes were watering as I looked away, “I don’t know how to say this Rose.”
Her voice hardened, “How bad is it?”
“They’re both dead Rose… Penny and Dorian both,” somehow I got the words out, though my heart felt like lead as I said them.
I had taken my gaze away from her but my magesight showed her clearly as she registered the dire news. An almost imperceptible shiver went through her frame, and then she became utterly still as if she were made of stone. For a long moment she didn’t move at all, not even to breathe, the only motion in her was that of her rapidly beating heart. When at last she did move it was a smooth graceful motion, as if she were focusing utterly on her walk.
She sat down on a small couch some fifteen feet away, facing the window. Her face was hidden from me, but I could sense that her eyes were closed when she spoke, “I’d like you to tell me what happened please, while I still have my composure.”
I couldn’t help but admire her reserve and I wished I had done half as well when I first found out. Slowly, carefully, I began the tale, leaving nothing out. If she was impatient for the important details I couldn’t tell, for she never interrupted me or uttered a single word.
Not until I was done and my story ground into an awkward silence did she finally speak again, “Thank you, Mordecai. That was well done.” She stood slowly and nodded in my direction. “This is still fresh news for me, if you don’t mind I think I’d like to be alone for a while.” She had hidden her hands in the folds of her dress but my magesight could still see them trembling.
I took a step in her direction, “Rose…”
“No Mordecai, please,” she interrupted. “You may call upon me tomorrow. I need some time to collect myself.” The trembling in her hands had moved on to become a more generalized tremor throughout her body.
Her conviction gave me pause and I considered leaving. It seemed a lot easier than facing the storm she held tightly shuttered behind her eyes. Then I remembered my own night, alone in my room, after I had nearly committed murder to quench my thirst for revenge, rather than face my own sorrow. I took several more steps toward her. You won’t face this alone.
“Please go, Mordecai. You don’t understand, that’s not how my family deals with things like this,” she spoke in a tone of command, but it was undermined by a sudden gut wrenching sob as her voice broke in mid-sentence. Her balance wavered and I caught her before she could fall.
“No Mordecai!” she screamed into my shirt. “That’s not how we do things!” She was crying as she yelled at me. “I’m a Hightower, we don’t mourn in front of others…,” she was sobbing and beating my chest at the same time.
I held onto her firmly, until her violence had lapsed into a more subdued weeping. “Then your family needs to find a better way,” I told her softly. She cried for an unknown span of time, and the afternoon shadows grew long and vanished into dusk before she had finished. Eventually she lapsed into silence and I simply held her and stroked her hair. Outside the sun had dropped below the roofline and the city seemed to be holding its breath in expectation of the night.
“I’d better return home,” I told her.
She nodded and I noticed her eyes were swollen and puffy. With her hair askew and her red face I couldn’t help but think it was the first time I had ever seen her so disheveled. Another day I might have laughed. She walked me to the door herself, while Angela watched disapprovingly. I couldn’t imagine what her maid-servant might be thinking.
As I stepped out she grabbed my hand, “Don’t go too far. I’ll be looking for you tomorrow. Make sure I can find you.”
“I need to find Marc still. He hasn’t heard the news.”
She released my hand. “I can help with that.”
I smiled weakly, “Tomorrow then.” I turned away and began walking back toward my own city home. The door closed behind me briefly before opening again.
“Mordecai,” she called.
I looked over my shoulder at the unkempt Lady Rose, peering from her door, “Yes?”
“Thank you,” she said and then she shut the door again.
I walked on, into the deepening dusk.
Chapter 31
The next morning found me still abed when Rose showed up at my door. Actually that statement isn’t quite true. The more accurate statement would be that Rose found me still abed when morning showed up at my door. At least morning had the decency to knock first, for she had not.
I stared blearily at the red-clad woman who stood at the foot of my bed, “Damnitt will you stop shaking the bed!”
“Fine I’ll be back in a moment,” she replied unconcernedly.
That woke me up further as my suspicious instincts kicked in, “Where are you going?”
