Deathmark, p.6
Deathmark, page 6
The remark brought reality crashing down. In a flash of anger, she tossed the pen on the table and glared at him, which only amused him more.
A heavy thump brought her attention back to the wizened magistrate. He had stamped the license with a very official seal. “Congratulations,” he told the pair dryly. “By the authority granted me from Chancellor Eusebius, I declare you husband and wife. May you have many happy years together.” He recorded their information in his ledger, returned the official document to Rowe, and waved them both away.
Husband and wife, Nell thought as Rowe guided her from the room. How very foreign that sounded.
They reemerged in the sunlight. Rowe sighed. “We should’ve paid for lunch back at the inn. I didn’t know how long this business would take, and we still have almost an hour before we have to leave. But I don’t think you want to go back in there, do you?”
Nell shook her head. “Where are we going?”
He spared her a wry glance. “To the ocean. The stage leaves at noon, from Baker’s inn yard. But actually, I only had enough funds to get us so far, so we’ll have to take a slight detour.”
“Not enough funds?” she echoed. But he’d sold his horse. Did he have other debts to discharge, or—? Her insides twisted like a wrung dishrag. “How much did they make you pay for me?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said.
“But—”
“A fully trained cook doesn’t come cheap. They’ll spend more to replace you than I had to pay to get you out.”
She bit back a protest, sick at heart that the Bakers had swindled him. If only she had refused his offer to buy out the indenture… But then, he’d refused to leave her alone on the highway, so the debts he incurred as a result were as much his fault as hers.
Distractedly she surveyed their surroundings, looking anywhere but at his face. “What’s this detour, then?”
“I’ve booked us passage to a place called Fairfield. It’s near the capital.”
Her gaze snapped up, a spasmodic rhythm to her heartbeat. Kinstol, the sprawling, ancient city, held Alderyth’s dreaded sanitarium at its heart, and most of the nation’s pale-robed clerics lived in that vicinity. “But not too near?”
“Half a day’s journey. You’ll be safe, I swear.”
She nodded and glanced around again. Everything was topsy-turvy. She stood out on the street in the middle of the day when she should have been in the inn’s kitchen kneading bread dough and planning supper for a crowd. She had married a man she barely knew, and whose reputation was none too pristine. She was going to travel by stage to a place called Fairfield, which was in close proximity to the capital but far enough away for her to avoid the clerics she despised.
“You look like you’re having fun,” Rowe said abruptly.
A breathy laugh broke through her reserve. “Maybe I am,” said Nell. “It’s all very interesting.”
Travel by stage was not the adventure she had always imagined. When he paid their fares, Rowe had to provide proof that they were both clear of the mark. Nell, lingering beside him like a reluctant shadow, avoided eye contact with the porter. If, as Rowe claimed, the deathmark couldn’t transfer by touch or proximity, she had no cause for guilt.
If he was wrong, however…
Once within the closed carriage, she was lucky to be wedged into one corner. If not for the thread of a breeze from the window next to her, she might have suffocated. Passengers had been crammed inside, with another set perched above on the roof. The carriage jostled and jounced, and every time it stopped, her stomach lurched into her throat.
“It’s a good thing you’re so skinny,” Rowe said with a sardonic smile. “They were able to sell an extra ticket.”
“Is it always like this?” she asked.
He nodded. “One of many reasons to avoid travel by stage, if you possibly can.”
Her heart sank into a puddle of guilt. “I’m sorry you had to sell your horse.”
“It was only a horse.”
“But—”
“I take care not to become attached to anything I may have to part with later. My horse was useful, but the money I could sell her for was even more useful. So, I sold her.”
He didn’t look at Nell as he spoke, but she understood that his words didn’t pertain only to the horse. He would not become attached to her either. Under other circumstances such a declaration might have hurt. As it was, she was strangely glad.
“You’re very wise,” she murmured.
A short, cynical laugh escaped him, and they lapsed into silence.
The stage traveled through the day and into the night, letting passengers on and off each time it stopped. At one of their waypoints, when Nell glimpsed pale robes through the window, she tensed. Rowe touched her wrist in reassurance and ducked his head to peer through the pane of glass. The clerics, upon seeing how densely packed the interior of the carriage was, opted for rooftop seats.
“There’s a blessing,” Rowe said under his breath.
Nell’s heart pounded against her ribcage as though attempting escape. As the coach lurched back into motion, she huddled deeper into her corner, trying to be as small as possible.
People slept. One man snored like a bear. Such rest eluded her, so Nell simply stared at the stars overhead as the miles lumbered by. Sometimes buildings clustered together in the darkness, their windows ablaze with lantern light. As the night waxed on, these became farther interspersed, the world beyond the stagecoach fast asleep.
An hour after dawn, the stage pulled into a small inn yard, and a hostler called the name of Fairfield to the passengers. Nell quietly nudged Rowe, who had somehow fallen asleep while sitting ramrod straight. His eyes shot open.
“We’re there?”
“Yes.”
Laboriously they descended from the crush of people, into the dirty yard. Nell glanced upward, glimpsed the pair of clerics still in their rooftop seats, and averted her gaze. She had no luggage, and Rowe only one small bag easily procured from the boot of the coach. When the vehicle continued on its way, rousing a thick cloud of dust along the road, it carried her sense of dread away with it.
This inn yard was smaller than Baker’s, as was the inn itself. Far from a bustling town, Fairfield was a remote little hamlet. Nell turned quizzical eyes upon Rowe.
“This appallingly rural locale is the primary seat of Lord Thomas Fairfield,” he said. “We’re going to pay a visit to the game warden on his estate. He’s an old friend of mine.”
He shouldered his bag and started down the road. Nell followed, idly wondering if Rowe knew the game warden because he had been caught poaching on the lord’s territory. He had forbidden her from asking about his past, but he’d never said she couldn’t invent one for him.
Almost as though he read her mind, he halted in the middle of the road. “You do remember the conditions I set, don’t you?”
“No questions about your past, and I have to do all the cooking,” said Nell. “Can you not cook, or do you just not like it?”
He frowned at her. “Can’t. I burn eggs when I try to boil them. The only decent meals I ever eat are ones someone else cooks. You won’t have to worry about that yet, though. The game warden’s wife doesn’t like people interfering in her kitchen.”
Nell nodded and started walking again.
“No questions about my past,” Rowe reiterated as he strode beside her.
“Stop being so paranoid. You could be a murderer, for all I care.”
He looked askance at her. “And that doesn’t bother you?”
She shrugged. “I’m already dying.”
“There are worse things than death.”
He intended that as a warning, but Nell’s instinctive reaction was a short, delighted laugh. “Of course there are. I can think of a thousand of them! But death’s permanent, so it puts everything else into perspective.”
He said nothing to this, although the bitterness in his expression faded. Nell left off creating stories about his tragic past in favor of breathing the fresh morning air. She got a nice lung full of cow manure instead.
“Hooah!” she cried in disgust. Across the road, safe behind a sturdy fence, a black bull lifted his head and snorted at her. Nell made a face back at him.
Rowe merely arched an eyebrow and kept walking.
She trotted to catch up. “How far is it to the game warden?” The road was deserted of anything but farmland and cattle.
“A couple miles more. Do you need to stop and rest? Are you getting tired?”
She was exhausted, truth be told. After spending hours in a carriage with only fleeting bouts of sleep, she wanted nothing more than to curl up on the side of the road and take a long nap in the growing warmth of the summer sun. The concern that suddenly appeared in Rowe’s eyes had nothing to do with their carriage ride, though, and everything to do with the stabbing pulse at her shoulder.
“I’m not an invalid yet,” Nell said with a narrow glare.
His brows shot up. “I never said you were.”
She looked away, trying desperately to quell the annoyance that had surged within her. She had no right to be annoyed. Rowe had been nothing but accommodating. “I am tired,” she said at last, “but it’s because I didn’t sleep last night. It has nothing to do with… with that.”
“Let’s rest for a spell, then.” He strolled from the dusty road into the green grass beyond.
She followed, suspicion thick upon her. He had promised to ensure she could do everything she wanted, but she’d never intended him to take that promise so literally.
“If I’m behaving horribly, you should tell me. Just because you feel sorry for me is no reason to treat me with excess courtesy.”
Rowe settled on the opposite side of the embankment, in the shade of some broadleaf trees where he could easily watch the lane. “Do you always lecture people who are nice to you?”
Nell flopped down next to him and plucked at the grass. “I don’t know what to do with niceness. Sorry. I’ll try to be better.”
“Strange girl.” He rolled onto his back and covered his eyes with one arm.
They had stopped on her behalf. She didn’t know how long he intended to rest, but it would be ungrateful of her to waste time observing her surroundings. Accordingly, she curled up on one side and let her eyes slide shut. Her exhaustion and her worries dwindled.
What luxury, to sleep on the side of the road in the middle of the day. Her thoughts floated upward and disintegrated into nothingness.
A rumble of carriage wheels pulled her from her rest.
Nell blinked and sat halfway up. She peered at the sky and around herself. It was close to noon, and she was alone. In that first moment of consciousness, she gathered her wits and reminded herself that she was no longer at the inn, that she had struck out on an adventure of sorts. Rowe had disappeared, but his bag sat next to her, a token that he would return.
Unless he had cast off his possessions just like he had cast off his horse. If that were the case, Nell was determined not to care.
“I say, are you all right?” a voice called behind her.
She rolled over to face the road and the unexpected speaker. Her eyes nearly fell out of her head. An immaculate carriage with perfectly matched chestnut horses had stopped. A beautiful brunette leaned out the window, an expression of concern on her delicate face. Upon Nell’s startled reaction, she repeated her question.
“Are you all right?”
“I—I’m fine,” Nell stammered. Awkwardly she pushed a strand of short hair behind one ear. The sound of a carriage had woken her up, so it made sense for a carriage to be on the road.
“Are you sure?” the woman asked, her pretty brows wrinkling.
“I was only resting,” said Nell, a little helplessly. She scanned her surroundings for any sign of Rowe.
“What are you doing all the way out here?” the woman asked. “Are you working on Smith’s farm? One of the dairymaids, perhaps?”
Compulsion made Nell utter the truth. “No. I’m… we’re just passing through. I’m waiting for someone. I’m sorry to have troubled you.”
“It’s no trouble.” The woman called to the front of the carriage. “Archer, do come let down the steps. I can’t have a proper talk while hanging out the window.”
Nell gaped as a smartly dressed servant climbed from the driver’s box to obey his mistress’s command. He made no attempt to lower his voice as he said, “Her ladyship would be wise to bear in mind that his lordship will worry if she delays her return.” Then, he slid a distrustful glance in Nell’s direction.
The brunette waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes. I shan’t be long. I only want to talk for a few moments. We don’t often see new faces in Fairfield.”
Nell sat up straighter. By the seal on the carriage door, she had surmised that the brunette was a noblewoman, either the daughter or wife to the resident lord. Archer’s warning confirmed that she had drawn the attention of none other than Lady Fairfield, whose game warden Nell and Rowe were traveling to meet. A niggling feeling warned her to tread carefully.
The brunette commanded a blanket to be laid on the embankment opposite Nell so that the grassy ditch ran between the two of them. She settled herself daintily on this spot and smiled, snapping open a lacy parasol to shield her from the sun. “Now, what is your name?”
Nell’s gaze darted from the woman to her suspicious servant and back. “It’s Nell.”
“I’m Sarah,” said the woman.
“Lady Sarah Fairfield,” her servant audibly coughed. His mistress shot him a perturbed look, which he ignored.
“Where are you traveling from, Nell?” Lady Sarah asked.
She hesitated before settling on a vague answer. “From the north.”
Lady Sarah leaned forward, mouth rounding. “Not alone?”
“No,” said Nell, certain she had already mentioned as much. “I’m with… with my… husband.” She frowned at this last word. It was the convenient explanation Rowe had intended, but it still seemed strange to speak aloud. In the short time since they’d exchanged vows, they hadn’t once referred to themselves as husband and wife. Nell felt like she was taking awful liberties by invoking that term now.
Lady Sarah’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you’re married, are you? How long? I’ve been married for three years, and I still think it’s a great deal of fun.”
Nell finally perceived, beneath the exquisite clothes and graceful airs, a girl not much older than herself, though Lady Sarah seemed infinitely more sophisticated. “It hasn’t been very long,” she said quietly. The wind rustled through the grass in the ditch between them. She hoped that the conversation would come to a fast close, that Lady Sarah would go on her way.
But no such luck.
“You’re still getting used to one another, I suppose. The first year was the hardest for me, even though Tom is a darling. I missed my family, and my lady’s maid up and quit so that she could go home and marry her sweetheart, and it was just me and a pile of servants I didn’t know stacked in that drafty old manor house. I’ve gotten more used to it since then, but for a while there I didn’t think I’d make it. If you push through your first year, you’ll be fine.”
Nell forced a smile as the gulf between their lives widened. Lady Sarah seemed to have not a care in the world, to the extent that she could happily converse with a stranger she had seen out her carriage window. Nell had resolved not to feel sorry for herself, but it was difficult when faced with someone whose situation was the exact opposite of her own.
In desperation, she looked around again for Rowe. To her utmost relief, she caught sight of him coming up the lane. He carried a bound packet cradled in one arm and a worried look on his face. Nell readily gathered up his bag as she stood.
“It was nice meeting you, Lady Sarah,” she said with a humble duck of her head.
Lady Sarah’s eyes followed her gaze. “Oh, is that your husband?” She didn’t seem very impressed. Nell inwardly laughed at what the pristine, exquisitely manicured woman must be thinking of the scruffy, dusty man who was approaching. Rowe wasn’t much to look at in terms of refinement, but he was nothing to be ashamed of either.
A strangled noise cut into this train of thought. Nell’s attention snapped to the noblewoman, who quickly rose to her feet, her gaze fixed upon Rowe.
“Jackie!” Lady Sarah cried.
Rowe stopped dead in his tracks, not ten paces away and in the act of descending into the ditch to cross to Nell’s side. Complete horror flooded his face.
Lady Sarah’s composure disintegrated. “Jackie!” she shrieked again, and she flew across the space between them to throw her arms around his neck. “Is it—? It must be—! Oh, Jackie!”
Rowe’s helpless gaze traveled from the woman hanging upon him to Nell on the other side of the embankment. In an instant, his shock turned to a thin-lipped warning. Don’t you dare ask, that look commanded.
It was so ludicrous that Nell snorted the laugh she tried to hold back. Rowe glowered, but the sound drew Lady Sarah’s attention. She pulled away from the embrace and cast a suspicious glance at the pair.
“This is a grand joke,” she said. “Did Tom put you up to it? You look awful! Disappearing for five years, and then showing up in this state! It must be a joke!”
“Begging your ladyship’s pardon, but you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” Rowe said, and he deftly skirted out of her reach.
Lady Sarah’s expression turned black. “Begging your pardon,” she retorted with scathing sarcasm, “but I hardly think I would mistake my own brother. John Meriwether Rowe, if you keep walking away, I’m going to command Archer to pounce on you and beat you to a pulp.”
He whirled, momentarily enraged. “You’re pushing your luck, Sal. And you,” he added to Nell, “wipe that infernal grin off your face.”
Nell tried to comply but failed.
“Wait a minute,” Lady Sarah interjected, stricken. “Jackie’s your husband?”
“What did you tell her?” Rowe asked in dismay.
Nell bristled. “She asked who I was waiting for. What was I supposed to tell her? I’d no idea she was your sister.”
