The House On Durrow Street Part 10

Everything must be grander and more impressive than previously envisioned. Rooms that were to be left closed must now be opened, or joined together and expanded. Windows were to be increased in number, low doorways replaced with arches, and ceilings vaulted to increase the influx of light and air. Simple moldings must now be carved with detail, new furnishings imported from the Princ.i.p.alities, and plain carpets and drapery replaced with Murghese textiles.

In the brief time it took to explain these things to the builder, the allowance for the restoration of the house increased tenfold. Ivy could not imagine, as she listened, that her eyes were any less wide than those of Mr. Barbridge. To think, she had kept the household at Whitward Street for little more than five hundred regals a year. Now, such an amount would hardly furnish a single room at Durrow Street! The tallying of the expense left Ivy stupefied. However, there was no stopping things. Mr. Barbridge was dispatched at once to make new arrangements.

It was not until the day was done that she at last had a moment alone with her husband. The lumenal had given way to night in the most sudden and startling fashion, as if a dark cloth had been cast over the world; or rather, as if a thin blue veil had been s.n.a.t.c.hed from the sky, revealing the endless void that lay beyond, p.r.i.c.ked by cold stars.

The new almanac (if it could be trusted) said the umbral was to be brief, and it was true that short nights usually fell quickly. All the same, Ivy could hardly recall an umbral that had descended quite so abruptly as this. For a moment, there in the gallery on the second floor, she could not help a shiver. Then Mr. Quent took her hand and she grew warm again.

Mrs. Seenly was gone for the day, and Lily and Rose had retired to their rooms, weary from the excitement of the past two lumenals. Ivy had no doubt Mr. Quent was weary as well after his rapid journey to Invarel from the North Country. But the lumenal had not been long, and she felt wide awake herself. Ivy had no doubt Mr. Quent was weary as well after his rapid journey to Invarel from the North Country. But the lumenal had not been long, and she felt wide awake herself.

Besides, she wanted to show him the door.

There were no lamps lit in the gallery, but she pushed back the sheets over the windows to let in a flood of silver light. It was not long since Brightday, and the moon was still large. There was no need to light a candle, which was well, for the price of candles had become even more exorbitant of late. Ivy had been forced to frequently admonish Lily not to light more than were necessary when she was reading.

Yet what did it matter? If they were to spend so vast a sum on the restoration of the house, how could the expense of a few boxes of candles be noticed? It would make all the difference a pea might if added to a cartload of stones. An absurd laughter rose within her, and she clamped a hand to her mouth too late to stifle it.

"It seems something is giving you great amus.e.m.e.nt, Mrs. Quent," her husband said, a curious look on his broad face. "Whatever it is, perhaps you would be willing to share it?"

"Amus.e.m.e.nt?" she gasped, then shook her head. "No, you have spent too much time away from me lately, Mr. Quent, and you have forgotten what my expressions look like. I a.s.sure you, it is not any sort of amus.e.m.e.nt I feel. Rather, it is terror!"

His voice became low and gruff. "Now I am puzzled by your words, or dismayed, really. I would have thought any terror you might experience would be lessened upon my return, not increased."

"So I would have thought as well. However, I find you returned in a far altered condition. I was expecting the arrival of my dear Mr. Quent today, but he is no more. It is Sir Quent I have received instead."

"And this should cause you terror? I would think your reaction to this change should be one of immense pleasure, even joy."

"No, you are mistaken. You see, joy is what I knew before, in every moment I spent with Mr. Quent. To be with him was everything I wanted or wished for. When I was with him, I had not a single want or care. But this Sir Quent-I cannot say how it will be. I do not know him yet." single want or care. But this Sir Quent-I cannot say how it will be. I do not know him yet."

He let out a rare laugh, though it was more an expression of astonishment than humor. "I would think that you do know him! Indeed, I am certain that you do, for he is the very same man you bid farewell to not half a month ago."

"Is he?" Ivy affected a serious tone. "I am not so certain as you. The Mr. Quent that I knew proceeded on the refurbishment of the house with great frugality. Yet I have heard Sir Quent blithely command orders for bra.s.s chandeliers and gilt trim and Murghese rugs."

"Are you saying that I acted injudiciously today?"

Furrows creased his brow, and something of that old glower, which she had witnessed so many times in her first months at Heathcrest Hall, came over his face. For all that he had grown lighter since then, he could not help the expression sometimes-and she loved him for it.

"Tell me, Mrs. Quent-or Lady Quent, for that is who you are now-and spare me no measure of scorn. Do you think I have become frivolous?"

Now it was Ivy's turn to laugh. "No, I do not think I will ever be able to accuse you of that that! I am sure there has never been a man who ordered damask curtains so grimly as you. I know you did it with specific purpose."

He turned to look around the moonlit gallery. "Yes, it was all done for a purpose. Even if I disagreed with him, still I would follow Lord Rafferdy's advice. Yet I think he is right. A man must not appear to willingly stray from his place. Others would ask themselves why he chose to set himself apart from his peers, and so would wonder at his motives. Such scrutiny would only make it more difficult to do my work in a discreet fashion. Thus I must live within the confines of my new position."

This time it was she who was astonished. "You sound as if, rather than being granted a t.i.tle, you have been sentenced to prison!"

"It is a kind of prison, perhaps. One with its own keepers and its own locks-that is, other members of society, and society's own restrictions, which as you know are as rigid as any bars of iron." its own locks-that is, other members of society, and society's own restrictions, which as you know are as rigid as any bars of iron."

These words unsettled Ivy for a reason she could not quite identify. Before she could consider it further, his beard parted in that wolfish grin she all too rarely witnessed, and which she held all the more precious for its scarcity.

"Do not worry, Lady Quent. It will be a very fine prison that confines us, will it not? One with damask curtains and bra.s.s chandeliers. I'm sure you will find it utterly pleasant to dwell within."

Her smile returned. "I am sure you are right. That is, as long as the expense of the construction does not result in us being sent to yet another prison-by which I mean to the pauper's house."

"On that account you need have no worry. Most of Earl Rylend's estate returned to the Crown upon his death, for he had no heir. Still, it was no small fortune that he left me, and Heathcrest Hall was only part of it."

He moved to one of the windows. "It was something I scarcely deserved for what little I had done. How much better I would have served him if I had been capable, and for how much less in return! Now once again, for services I hardly feel warrant such merit, I have received a vast reward. Along with this new t.i.tle, I have been granted some of the same lands that once belonged to Earl Rylend." He turned to regard her, his brown eyes solemn. "Therefore you must believe me when I say you can have no worry about the expense of the work on this house."

Ivy was overwhelmed. You do warrant such merit! You do warrant such merit! she wanted to shout. However, feeling had constricted her throat, so that she was mute. she wanted to shout. However, feeling had constricted her throat, so that she was mute.

Now he took a step toward her. He wore the same boots and breeches he had ridden in that day. He had taken off his coat, and in his white shirt-open at the throat and turned up at the cuffs-he shone in the moonlight that streamed through the window.

"You mistake me, you know," he said in a low voice. "It was not any sort of frugality that caused me so rarely to spend money in the past. Rather, it was that I had no cause to spend it. It has been many years since I had any reason to be frivolous. But now I have you." been many years since I had any reason to be frivolous. But now I have you."

"Then I can a.s.sure you, you have no more reason to be frivolous than you did before!" Though she laughed as she spoke these words, she felt again some of that trepidation that had gripped her all day. "There is no need to make expenses on my my account. As I said, I was perfectly happy before." account. As I said, I was perfectly happy before."

He closed the distance between them. "If that is the case, then you will be perfectly happy still. This will not change us."

"No, you are wrong. This will change everything, as it must."

Ivy looked up at him, and for the first time since reading his letter yesterday, her dread receded. She laid her right hand against his bearded cheek.

"Yet despite all the changes that must come, one thing will never be altered. I will love you no less and no more than I did before. That is, I will love you with all of my ability to do so."

He took her hand and brought it to his lips. It was the left hand he used for this action, and it was no less strong or deft for the fact that the last two fingers were missing. At Heathcrest Hall, he had told her how he had come to be injured so: that as a boy an act of foolishness had caused him to spend a night in a grove of Wyrdwood, and the loss of his fingers was the mark that incident had left upon him.

Since that time, it had always been his habit to keep his left hand in his coat pocket when others were present. However, he no longer made any attempt to conceal his old wound from her, and there was no gesture of affection he could have made, no words of devotion he could have uttered, that would have meant more to her.

"Was there not something you brought me here to see?" he said at last. "Come, take me to it."

Still holding his hand, she led him to the north end of the gallery and showed him the door.

Mr. Barbridge's men had done excellent work. The door had been scrupulously cleaned, and its coat of varnish burnished to a gloss. The wall around it had been painted a deep red, against which the door's ornate molding stood out like the frame around a piece of art. gloss. The wall around it had been painted a deep red, against which the door's ornate molding stood out like the frame around a piece of art.

And it was was a work of art. The leaves and twining tendrils were so finely wrought, so natural in appearance, it seemed they had not been carved into the wood, but rather had sprouted from it. As they made an examination of the door, the leaves seemed almost to stir and quiver. This time it was not the result of any kind of magick or spell. Rather, it was only an effect of the shimmering moonlight. a work of art. The leaves and twining tendrils were so finely wrought, so natural in appearance, it seemed they had not been carved into the wood, but rather had sprouted from it. As they made an examination of the door, the leaves seemed almost to stir and quiver. This time it was not the result of any kind of magick or spell. Rather, it was only an effect of the shimmering moonlight.

After her dealings with the Vigilant Order of the Silver Eye, Ivy had told Mr. Quent about her various encounters with the man in the black mask. He had agreed that the stranger's help had been crucial in preventing the magicians from using the artifact upstairs. But Mr. Quent was wary of any man who chose not to reveal himself, and he had asked Ivy to inform him if she ever saw the peculiar stranger again.

Ivy had not yet had a chance to tell Mr. Quent how the masked man had appeared to her yesterday. She did not want to concern him unduly-not when there was so much on his mind. Besides, it was not as if there was anything more Ivy could do. If there were indeed other magicians and other doors, then it was for other people to concern themselves with.

I will tell Mr. Quent about it tomorrow, she decided.

They continued their examination of the door. Mr. Quent said that she had been right to instruct Mr. Barbridge to leave it exposed; a thing of such beauty should not be hidden.

"If you have any concerns about the expense of the work on the house, then this should remove them," he said. "A house that has such marvels to be discovered deserves everything lavished upon it. So would you agree, then, that the new Quent is in no way more frivolous than the old?"

She could only concede the point.

"Now," he said, his tone grave, "what else can I do to introduce you to Sir Quent? I do not want to alarm you further."

Ivy looked up, considering him as he stood before her. She had no doubt that, after much expense, the house on Durrow Street would be considered handsome by even the vainest residents of the New Quarter. She also had no doubt that those same people would never say the same of Mr. Quent. Even if he owned fashionable clothes, he would not be able to wear them; he was not tall enough, and his figure was not elegant, but rather deep-chested and heavy-shouldered. Nor would fashionable attire hide his unruly brown hair or coa.r.s.e beard or the lines around his eyes. However, there was nothing that gave her more delight than the sight of him. had no doubt that, after much expense, the house on Durrow Street would be considered handsome by even the vainest residents of the New Quarter. She also had no doubt that those same people would never say the same of Mr. Quent. Even if he owned fashionable clothes, he would not be able to wear them; he was not tall enough, and his figure was not elegant, but rather deep-chested and heavy-shouldered. Nor would fashionable attire hide his unruly brown hair or coa.r.s.e beard or the lines around his eyes. However, there was nothing that gave her more delight than the sight of him.

"Come closer to me," she said.

He did as commanded. She leaned against him then, and he enfolded her in his arms. He smelled of the open air. The scent reminded her of Heathcrest, and she breathed deeply.

"Does this mean that I no longer induce a terror in you?"

"No, not anymore. Indeed, Sir Quent, I believe I prefer you to Mr. Quent in every way. For your embraces are just as pleasant, yet you are significantly richer."

"So you admit it-you are pleased that I am now a baronet?"

"Yes, I am pleased." Feeling washed over her, a kind of fierce pride. "I am pleased because you deserve it. You say this house warrants everything that is being lavished upon it. Well, you warrant what is being lavished upon you you. Because of you, disaster in Torland-indeed, in all of Altania-was prevented. You were overly modest when you recounted the events in Torland to me, but Lord Rafferdy told me more when he was here: that it was due to your actions alone that the witch who provoked the Wyrdwood was found. It was you who put an end to the Risings-a fact that Lord Rafferdy has no doubt imparted to the king. Now, like any hero, you must have your accolades, whether you wish for them or not."

He gazed at her, and for a moment his expression startled her. There was a peculiar light in his brown eyes, almost like a glint of sadness-or rather, like a kind of regret.

Yet this expression should not surprise her. She could only suppose it caused him some measure of sorrow that he had been forced to deliver a witch into the custody of the king's soldiers in Torland. Ivy's own feelings were at odds on the subject. She felt a great relief that the Risings had been stopped. At the same time, she could not help thinking of Halley Samonds, who had been drawn to the old stand of Wyrdwood not far from Heathcrest Hall. Just as the first Mrs. Quent had been. forced to deliver a witch into the custody of the king's soldiers in Torland. Ivy's own feelings were at odds on the subject. She felt a great relief that the Risings had been stopped. At the same time, she could not help thinking of Halley Samonds, who had been drawn to the old stand of Wyrdwood not far from Heathcrest Hall. Just as the first Mrs. Quent had been.

It had not been at their choosing that the ancient wood had called to them. And perhaps it had not been the choice of the witch in Torland. If so, it would have been difficult for Mr. Quent not to think of his Gennivel-or of Ivy herself. For did she not share the same propensities as Halley Samonds and Gennivel Quent?

All the same-no matter whether she went willingly to the wood, or whether it had called to her-it was wrong for the witch in Torland to have done what she did. Just as it had been wrong for Halley Samonds to have used the stand of Wyrdwood near Heathcrest to harbor Westen Darendal and his band of rebels. For the sake of Altania, Mr. Quent had had no choice but to find the witch and deliver her to the Crown.

These were all grave thoughts, but then he tightened his arms around her, and she had no more cause or ability to consider them.

"Well, you have made the acquaintance of Sir Quent," he said, his voice gruff once more. "Now it is my turn to be introduced to Lady Quent."

She agreed it was past time for such a meeting. They went upstairs to their bedchamber, and there the introduction proceeded very well, so that they were soon acquainted with each other in the most intimate manner.

THE VERY NEXT lumenal, the house was swarming with twice the men as it had on the previous day, and there was not a room in any wing on any floor where the furor of the reconstruction could be escaped. Soon Lily was beside herself, being unable to read or play the pianoforte. Then Miss Mew, upset by all the clamor, scratched Rose's arm when she was trying to hold the little cat, upon which Rose burst into tears. clamor, scratched Rose's arm when she was trying to hold the little cat, upon which Rose burst into tears.

Before that lumenal was half-done, Ivy knew they could not remain in the house while work proceeded at this new pace. Mr. Quent concurred, and that afternoon they removed themselves to The Seventh Swan, the inn near the Halls of a.s.sembly where they had stayed when the house was first being opened and made habitable.

This at once improved their situation. Rose had a quiet place to sit and sew with Miss Mew curled up beside her, while Lily found great entertainment in looking out the window at the pa.s.sers-by on the street below-though Ivy had to remind her it was not tactful to lean out the window and wave to any of them, no matter how good-looking or well-dressed they might be.

"What if I see Mr. Rafferdy go by?" Lily complained. "Should I not wave to him? We are acquainted, so I am sure it would be very rude if I did not. He would be upset if we did not call him in to take tea with us."

"If you see Mr. Rafferdy, it means he is on his way to a.s.sembly, in which case he would have little time for tea."

"Not if he's walking from from a.s.sembly rather than toward it." a.s.sembly rather than toward it."

Lily may not have inherited their father's scientific demeanor, but that didn't mean she wasn't clever, and Ivy had to concede the point. She agreed that Lily could wave to Mr. Rafferdy-in a discreet fashion, so as not to make a scene-if she ever saw him walking away away from a.s.sembly. from a.s.sembly.

Indeed, if Ivy saw him walking so, she was sure she would wave herself. She wanted very much to hear what he thought of being in the Hall of Magnates, and she knew Mr. Quent would be pleased to see him as well. The two had met just once, not long after Mr. Rafferdy had warned his father of the plot to harm Lord Rafferdy and Mr. Quent.

For that Mr. Quent had thanked him, though Mr. Rafferdy had claimed that he had done nothing more than to pa.s.s on news that had come to him from an anonymous source. This apparent wish to take no credit for himself had made an impression upon Mr. Quent, who later remarked that he thought Mr. Rafferdy to be a very sensible and modest young man. Quent, who later remarked that he thought Mr. Rafferdy to be a very sensible and modest young man.

Ivy found great amus.e.m.e.nt in that statement, and replied that while she was exceedingly fond of Mr. Rafferdy, she thought perhaps Mr. Quent would need to meet him again to form a more accurate a.s.sessment.

WHILE THE AGITATION of her sisters was reduced by their removal to The Seventh Swan, Ivy's was soon increased, for the very next lumenal came their meeting with the king.

"How I wish there had been more time to prepare myself!" she exclaimed as she descended the stairs of the inn. "I should have bought a gown in the current mode and devised some new way to arrange my hair. Instead, I look just as I always have."

Mr. Quent took her hand as she reached the foot of the steps. "If your intent was to alter yourself, then I am glad you did not have more time. It is best if we do not appear too suddenly changed. If our look is somewhat plain, then it is only as it should be."

"That is easy for you to say, for you you look very smart." look very smart."

He wore the blue coat she had bought him not long after their arrival in Invarel, and he had polished his boots to a gloss. His hair was oiled and his beard trimmed. In fact, he looked exceedingly good.

"Besides," she went on, "is that not precisely why our house is being redone-to better effect the air of a baronet? Well, you should have refurbished your lady as well as your house."

He regarded her seriously. "I am sure it is possible that your gown might be judged in a disparaging manner by the ladies of the court. Yet I am equally sure no man will take notice of any deficit of fashionability it might display. Indeed, I had best keep a tight hold on you, Mrs. Quent, for it is said no king can see a beautiful jewel without coveting it for his own."

Despite his solemn expression, she was sure he was making a jest at her expense. Nor could she claim she did not deserve it. To worry about her appearance when her husband was to receive a weighty honor was a vanity she might have expected of Lily rather than herself. As if, with a hero of the realm present, any eyes would be upon weighty honor was a vanity she might have expected of Lily rather than herself. As if, with a hero of the realm present, any eyes would be upon her her!

All the same, rather than admit her error, she affected a haughty tone. "Pardon me, but that's Lady Lady Quent." Quent."

Then she was laughing at the absurdity of it all, and even he grinned as they walked out the door into the brilliant morning.

By the time the carriage halted before the Citadel, however, their mirth had subsided. Neither of them was very suited for such an affair. In her life she had only ever had the occasion to meet three magnates-Lord Rafferdy and his cousins, Lady Marsdel and Lord Baydon-and now she was to meet a king king. That her experiences had left her unprepared for such a duty was an understatement of the severest degree!

As for Mr. Quent, he looked more steady than she felt. Yet he seemed to approach the event with the same sort of grim resolve he might display if he were setting off to investigate a Rising.

A redcrest helped them out of the carriage and they were ushered into the keep, where they found they were far from the only ones waiting to see the king that day. For some reason, Ivy had envisioned that His Majesty would be sitting on his throne, and that they would be forced to proceed down the long length of the echoing and empty hall to kneel before him.

Instead, there was neither monarch nor throne in view, and the main hall of the Citadel was anything but empty, being filled with dozens of other pet.i.tioners of every possible station and appearance. If anyone thought ill of Ivy's gown, they did not show it. Indeed, there were many who were clad far more poorly than she.

Mr. Quent took her arm, and to pa.s.s the time while they waited for their audience they toured around the hall. Ivy had been in here once as a girl, when the Citadel was open for a public day. Then she had imagined the rows of thick columns to be a forest of trees, and she had run merrily among them, hiding from Mr. Lockwell behind one, then dashing to another once her father caught sight of her.

Now as she gazed at the columns she saw not trees but cold stones; and their ma.s.siveness, rather than rea.s.suring her of their strength, only served to remind her of the vast weight of the structure pressing down.

"I must say, you watch the ceiling with a rather wary eye. I trust that you'll let the rest of us know if you see something up there we should be alarmed about."

Startled, Ivy lowered her gaze, to see a woman before her. Mr. Quent stood a short way off, his expression somber as he looked out a window. Ivy must have been wandering as she stared at the vaults above; and she had been so preoccupied that, had the other not spoken, Ivy would have walked right into her.

The woman smiled. "I admit, the arches do have something of a precarious look about them. To stand beneath so many tons of stone is disconcerting when one pauses to consider it. Yet I'm sure you needn't worry. Kings always a.s.sume that they'll rule forever, and so they tend to build their fortresses to last just as long."

She was a little older than Ivy, a great deal taller, and was strikingly beautiful. Her chestnut hair was styled into coils and ringlets that spilled over her shoulders. Her brows formed elegant arches above violet eyes, her nose was small and refined, and her teeth were very good.

Ivy realized she was staring again, only this time not at the ceiling.

"It is absurd to worry about it falling," she said with some chagrin. "I have read that the Citadel was built upon the remains of an old Tharosian keep, which itself was constructed upon the site of a fort erected by the first people to inhabit Altania. That a thing that has stood for so many eons should choose to collapse just at the moment I enter is a conceit I cannot allow."

The woman laughed-a sound that was not trilling or sharp like the laughter of some women, but rather low and warm. "But you are very wise! I have been in the Citadel a hundred times and never thought a thing about how it came to be here. Only I wonder why I haven't. I will consider these old stones with far more interest now."

The woman's mirth was catching, and Ivy could not help smiling in return. She noted that the other's dress was exceedingly rich, crafted of pale apricot silk, its bodice sewn with tiny pearls.

Ivy looked about. "Do you think there is anyone who might be able to acquaint us? My husband comes to the Citadel at times to...on his business. Do you think there is someone here who is known to both of us?"