Blood of Quartz

Chapter 22

Berrigan Keep - Main Courtyard

Abigail adjusted the strap on Mouse's carrier, and shielded her face from the morning sun with her hands. The courtyard in front of the main entrance to the keep was buzzing with activity. She was taking in some sunlight and quiet on her way to the gardens, when the men had arrived to begin preparations. They were to leave as soon as Orrick and his escort returned later in the day. She had stopped momentarily, the bench along the sun-warmed brick wall too enticing to ignore.

She bounced Mouse as she watched Kingsmen strapping luggage to a wagon, to be pulled down to the stables and the waiting carriage later. Her luggage was mixed in with the Duke's, all of Mouse's possessions folded in with her clothing.

Mouse burped softly and snuggled further against her breast. They had been giving her goat's milk, and so far, she had not taken sick. Cerla had been wistful in giving up her wetnurse duties. 'You always have a bond' she'd whispered, tears in her eyes the last night she'd nursed her.

She turned and stood as she heard the dowager countess' cane on the cobblestones, and smiled at her great-aunt. She would miss this woman, more than anyone at the Keep. Noora was kind, and smart, and they had spent so much time in front of the hearth with Cerla, quietly talking.

"I shall miss you," she said simply as the woman reached a wrinkled finger to touch Mouse's head. "You have been so kind to me."

The older woman smiled back and then looked around her. "This is quite a change of plans, I think."

Indeed. Not even a week before, she had been clear on her path, and now, here she was, being shipped off, unsure of what lay in store. A letter had arrived yesterday from her father, stating his joy at her appointment to the palaces, wishing her every fortune, profusely thanking the Duke for his kindness, ordering her to be on her best behaviour.

The Duke had quite easily manipulated everyone around him, mostly for his own gain. She was outwardly pleasant to him, knowing she needed to be for her own well-being. Resentment burrowed into her underneath it. She longed to be on the beach, the salt air whipping her face and hair, so she could scream her frustrations into the wind and let them be free from her body.

Part of the frustration above the Duke's plotting was her growing unrest over Erik. He had avoided her whenever possible as they prepared to leave. She completely understood, their lapse in judgement a confusing mess whenever she tried to figure out just what it meant. She had strong feelings for him that pulled her body in all different directions. If their eyes met, it would stop her dead, her legs unable to move. She had to resist touching him if they were in the same room. It was trying.

"I'm afraid," she said quietly, looking down at the sleeping bundle curled in on her chest. "I am afraid for her. I do not want to be parted yet—"

"I know, dear. He is proving to be quite vexing in this. I had always known Richmond to be a cunning man but this seems to lean towards petty and childish."

Abigail nodded and they watched the hive of activity a moment more, truths unsaid in the understanding between them.

"I have something for you, my dear. I meant to give it to you earlier, but it slipped my mind. I'm getting old," Noora said after a moment, and beckoned a small page boy forward, a cloth bag in his hands.

"This was mine, it was a parting gift from my mother when I set sail to marry my Matthew. I thought I might give it to Harriet when she had her child, but—"

The old woman smiled sadly, her eyes misting, and Abigail placed an arm around her, resting her forehead on the woman's temple. "Great-Aunt, please do not be sad."