marriage, but it was not a marriage he had sought; and he was far too honest, she hoped, to court her unless he actually cared for her. She wondered what would happen if he ever learned that it was she who had suggested their marriage. He must never know! The clock on the mantel chimed four o’clock of this February afternoon, and a log dissolved into a shower of red-gold sparks in the fireplace grate.
Aidan stood up, and turning to look into the small mirror that Mag had hung near the fireplace she stared into it. Did she look any different now that she had been well and truly kissed? She didn’t think so, and she smiled at her foolishness as she was sure Linnet Talbot would have smiled if she but knew; but then perhaps not. Was it not Linnet who had insisted that they follow the strict conditions for St. Agnes Eve just this last month? She smiled again at the memory, amused now that she had allowed the younger girl to bully her into so silly a superstition, and yet she had.
St. Agnes Eve fell on the night of January 20–21. It had been a snowy, cold night, Aidan recalled. It was the night that a maiden, if she followed a strict set of rules dreamt of her future husband. None of them had been on duty with the queen that night, and it was this coincidence of scheduling that had given Linnet the idea that they must all celebrate according to tradition. Each had gone separately to the chapel. First Cathy, who was the youngest, and then Dorothy, Jane Anne, Linnet, Mary, and finally Aidan. She wondered if the others had prayed as hard as she had. After all, they were so very young, and she was facing her twenty-fourth birthday. Leaving the chapel, looking neither to the left nor to the right, and most certainly not behind her, each girl had gone supperless to her bed, never speaking to a soul. That part had been the easiest for Aidan with her little chamber, and Mag, warned in advance, had humored her mistress. Once asleep the maiden was supposed to dream of the man she would marry. Aidan had dreamt of Conn O’Malley to her intense discomfort for she was, or so she thought, a practical girl, and Conn O’Malley was not a practical dream. He had never paid her the least attention, and other than his kiss on Twelfth Night he had had nothing to do with her.
“Who did ye dream of? Who?” each girl demanded of the others in the morning, but Aidan had lied, and said she had dreamt of no one, and must therefore be condemned to spinsterhood. The others had sympathized, but she had seen the knowing looks that passed between them. Poor Aidan, the looks had plainly said. If she were meant to marry it would have happened long since.
Aidan’s smile suddenly broadened. “I wonder,” she said softly to herself, “I wonder what ye will all think when ye learn that I have married the Handsomest Man at Court! Aidan St. Michael, Lady Bliss! Mistress of Pearroc Royal !” and then she laughed. It was such a wonderful joke, and she had no friend with whom to share the humor. It would be so wonderful if her husband became that friend.
The next day she was excused from her duties, and she and Mag worked very hard to pack all of their possessions. They would be making the journey in the young Earl of Lynmouth’s traveling coach, he had informed them when he had come with his liveried footmen to take away her trunks. The other girls had come to bid her farewell for they had already been told she would go early.
“This is sudden,” pried Linnet Talbot. “If ye were anyone else I would say ye were with child.”
“Linnet! Where is yer modesty,” shrieked Cathy, but the other girls laughed.
“It was not meant that I remain at court,” said Aidan quietly. “I really only came so the queen could get a good look at me. Being allowed to serve her majesty was a privilege and a treat for me, but I cannot remain off my lands for too much longer. I had actually hoped to be home by Twelfth Night.”
“Is there a man involved? I mean back
Aidan stood up, and turning to look into the small mirror that Mag had hung near the fireplace she stared into it. Did she look any different now that she had been well and truly kissed? She didn’t think so, and she smiled at her foolishness as she was sure Linnet Talbot would have smiled if she but knew; but then perhaps not. Was it not Linnet who had insisted that they follow the strict conditions for St. Agnes Eve just this last month? She smiled again at the memory, amused now that she had allowed the younger girl to bully her into so silly a superstition, and yet she had.
St. Agnes Eve fell on the night of January 20–21. It had been a snowy, cold night, Aidan recalled. It was the night that a maiden, if she followed a strict set of rules dreamt of her future husband. None of them had been on duty with the queen that night, and it was this coincidence of scheduling that had given Linnet the idea that they must all celebrate according to tradition. Each had gone separately to the chapel. First Cathy, who was the youngest, and then Dorothy, Jane Anne, Linnet, Mary, and finally Aidan. She wondered if the others had prayed as hard as she had. After all, they were so very young, and she was facing her twenty-fourth birthday. Leaving the chapel, looking neither to the left nor to the right, and most certainly not behind her, each girl had gone supperless to her bed, never speaking to a soul. That part had been the easiest for Aidan with her little chamber, and Mag, warned in advance, had humored her mistress. Once asleep the maiden was supposed to dream of the man she would marry. Aidan had dreamt of Conn O’Malley to her intense discomfort for she was, or so she thought, a practical girl, and Conn O’Malley was not a practical dream. He had never paid her the least attention, and other than his kiss on Twelfth Night he had had nothing to do with her.
“Who did ye dream of? Who?” each girl demanded of the others in the morning, but Aidan had lied, and said she had dreamt of no one, and must therefore be condemned to spinsterhood. The others had sympathized, but she had seen the knowing looks that passed between them. Poor Aidan, the looks had plainly said. If she were meant to marry it would have happened long since.
Aidan’s smile suddenly broadened. “I wonder,” she said softly to herself, “I wonder what ye will all think when ye learn that I have married the Handsomest Man at Court! Aidan St. Michael, Lady Bliss! Mistress of Pearroc Royal !” and then she laughed. It was such a wonderful joke, and she had no friend with whom to share the humor. It would be so wonderful if her husband became that friend.
The next day she was excused from her duties, and she and Mag worked very hard to pack all of their possessions. They would be making the journey in the young Earl of Lynmouth’s traveling coach, he had informed them when he had come with his liveried footmen to take away her trunks. The other girls had come to bid her farewell for they had already been told she would go early.
“This is sudden,” pried Linnet Talbot. “If ye were anyone else I would say ye were with child.”
“Linnet! Where is yer modesty,” shrieked Cathy, but the other girls laughed.
“It was not meant that I remain at court,” said Aidan quietly. “I really only came so the queen could get a good look at me. Being allowed to serve her majesty was a privilege and a treat for me, but I cannot remain off my lands for too much longer. I had actually hoped to be home by Twelfth Night.”
“Is there a man involved? I mean back
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