you are required.”
A year? she thought wildly. Will’s mother will surely tell him the truth. “Please, my lady, can you not find someone else?”
“Justine, stop this.” She took her by the shoulders and said sternly, “Our family owes everything to Elizabeth. You understand? Everything. All our fortune, all we have, is due to her. So your good fortune, in being one of us, is due to her as well. And now, when she needs you to make this small effort on her behalf, I will not have you let her down over a trifling matter of—”
“Trifling? Will is my life!”
Anger flashed in her ladyship’s eyes. She murmured crossly, “Love. How blindly it governs us.” She turned away as though too upset with Justine to stay face-to-face with her. Voices sounded in the garden below. She went to the window and laid her palm on the glass as thought in an effort to compose herself. Justine watched her, waiting in agony. She loved Lady Thornleigh and it made her sick to cross her, but what she was asking was too much. Justine sank onto the edge of the bed, waiting for she knew not what.
“Fair weather for traveling,” her ladyship said, looking out at the garden. “Yet the long journey north will be hard on Lord Thornleigh. There is a problem with his leg. Have you noticed?”
The shift in topic was jarring. “He hasn’t said anything lately.”
Her ladyship turned abruptly. “He spoke about it to you?”
Justine saw her blunder. “Only once.” This sounded worse—like a conspiracy. She hastened to add, “He didn’t want to worry you.”
Anxiety, like a shadow, fell over Lady Thornleigh’s face. “I would be the worst kind of fool to live with a man for over thirty years and not notice he was ailing.” Justine felt she was looking at a woman she thought she knew, but didn’t—not all of her. Not this deep worry.
Lady Thornleigh seemed to recover herself. She found a smile. Her voice, when she spoke, was strong and warm. “I know what you are feeling, my dear. Believe me, I wish with all my heart to see you wed the man you love. Marry, and be happy, as I have been.”
Justine gasped in joy. “God bless you, my lady!” Buoyed with relief, she jumped up and ran to her and embraced her. “You won’t be sorry. I’m sure you’ll find several young lady candidates eager to go to Carlisle. Her Majesty can have her pick.”
“No. It is you we have chosen. You are the ideal candidate. I told you, Will can wait.”
She pulled back in dismay. “But—”
“You are one of us, Justine, a Thornleigh. Thornleighs serve Elizabeth. It is our privilege and our duty. You shall not fail at yours.” She started for the door. “Be ready to ride north in the morning.”
Justine ran down the stairs to the library. Lord Thornleigh would listen to her. He would not let them banish her to Carlisle, cut her off from Will!
She found him standing at the big oak desk with his clerk, both of them sorting papers and packing them into a wooden chest.
“My lord,” she blurted, “I must speak to you.”
He looked up. “And I to you.” He turned to his clerk. “I’ll finish this, Curnutt. See about getting the letters sent, would you?”
“Certainly, my lord.” The clerk poked through the papers, gathering letters—an interminable business, it seemed to Justine. Waiting for him to finish and leave, she noticed Lord Thornleigh rubbing his left hand with his right, slowly, methodically. Was his hand numb? It gave her a prickle of alarm. Had his malady spread? He saw her looking and let his hand drop to his side as though unwilling to let her see.
The moment his clerk was gone he said, “So, has her ladyship told you of your mission?”
“Yes, but—”
“Good. We need to discuss the journey. Can your maid have you ready early tomorrow? I’d like to set out right after breakfast.”
“Oh, sir, I am loath to go! May I not decline?”
He looked taken aback. “Decline? A request from the Queen? Certainly,
A year? she thought wildly. Will’s mother will surely tell him the truth. “Please, my lady, can you not find someone else?”
“Justine, stop this.” She took her by the shoulders and said sternly, “Our family owes everything to Elizabeth. You understand? Everything. All our fortune, all we have, is due to her. So your good fortune, in being one of us, is due to her as well. And now, when she needs you to make this small effort on her behalf, I will not have you let her down over a trifling matter of—”
“Trifling? Will is my life!”
Anger flashed in her ladyship’s eyes. She murmured crossly, “Love. How blindly it governs us.” She turned away as though too upset with Justine to stay face-to-face with her. Voices sounded in the garden below. She went to the window and laid her palm on the glass as thought in an effort to compose herself. Justine watched her, waiting in agony. She loved Lady Thornleigh and it made her sick to cross her, but what she was asking was too much. Justine sank onto the edge of the bed, waiting for she knew not what.
“Fair weather for traveling,” her ladyship said, looking out at the garden. “Yet the long journey north will be hard on Lord Thornleigh. There is a problem with his leg. Have you noticed?”
The shift in topic was jarring. “He hasn’t said anything lately.”
Her ladyship turned abruptly. “He spoke about it to you?”
Justine saw her blunder. “Only once.” This sounded worse—like a conspiracy. She hastened to add, “He didn’t want to worry you.”
Anxiety, like a shadow, fell over Lady Thornleigh’s face. “I would be the worst kind of fool to live with a man for over thirty years and not notice he was ailing.” Justine felt she was looking at a woman she thought she knew, but didn’t—not all of her. Not this deep worry.
Lady Thornleigh seemed to recover herself. She found a smile. Her voice, when she spoke, was strong and warm. “I know what you are feeling, my dear. Believe me, I wish with all my heart to see you wed the man you love. Marry, and be happy, as I have been.”
Justine gasped in joy. “God bless you, my lady!” Buoyed with relief, she jumped up and ran to her and embraced her. “You won’t be sorry. I’m sure you’ll find several young lady candidates eager to go to Carlisle. Her Majesty can have her pick.”
“No. It is you we have chosen. You are the ideal candidate. I told you, Will can wait.”
She pulled back in dismay. “But—”
“You are one of us, Justine, a Thornleigh. Thornleighs serve Elizabeth. It is our privilege and our duty. You shall not fail at yours.” She started for the door. “Be ready to ride north in the morning.”
Justine ran down the stairs to the library. Lord Thornleigh would listen to her. He would not let them banish her to Carlisle, cut her off from Will!
She found him standing at the big oak desk with his clerk, both of them sorting papers and packing them into a wooden chest.
“My lord,” she blurted, “I must speak to you.”
He looked up. “And I to you.” He turned to his clerk. “I’ll finish this, Curnutt. See about getting the letters sent, would you?”
“Certainly, my lord.” The clerk poked through the papers, gathering letters—an interminable business, it seemed to Justine. Waiting for him to finish and leave, she noticed Lord Thornleigh rubbing his left hand with his right, slowly, methodically. Was his hand numb? It gave her a prickle of alarm. Had his malady spread? He saw her looking and let his hand drop to his side as though unwilling to let her see.
The moment his clerk was gone he said, “So, has her ladyship told you of your mission?”
“Yes, but—”
“Good. We need to discuss the journey. Can your maid have you ready early tomorrow? I’d like to set out right after breakfast.”
“Oh, sir, I am loath to go! May I not decline?”
He looked taken aback. “Decline? A request from the Queen? Certainly,
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