Lord Vane

4. Loose Lips

Three years ago when Lord Vane took his departed uncle's place, the rumors attached to him were far more sparse. As expected from one not raised as a boy among our village and farmlands. They were also of a gentler merit. I find myself hoping they are not misguided.

I rise and quickly wash with the rag and bowl of warmed water they so kindly prepared. Then I dress, not wanting help for something I'd done myself every day for years. I imagine this sparks your curiosity. What is a simple village girl doing wed to a lord? If you will have patience with me, I will tell you in time. However, what little I know is as bewildering to me as I expect it to be to you.

Ulra peeks in to see if I am awake and proceeds to make me tea. It is like nothing I have ever tasted, a fusion of herbs, mint, and berries, rich and sweet. But like all teas, leaves my tongue rolling with a bitter taste.

"I'll take you around the manor this morning, Lady Vane, and acquaint you with the rooms."

I about choke on that unfamiliar title, but she continues:

"My lord has asked to show you the stables himself."

He must have heard about my love of horses, perhaps in negotiations with my father. Meetings of which I knew nothing about until the deal had been struck.

I can only imagine the many magnificent beasts from faraway places he must have. I have never seen a pure white horse, and secretly hope he has one.

We set out through the cold, drafty halls while Ulra interjects the names of rooms along the way. A morsel of family history added here and there. Names of ancestors dropped like ripe plums, but I choose to leave them where she dropped them and do not ask much. These names hold little meaning to me, other than the part they played in ghost stories around the village fire. I gawk inwardly at how well their painted portraits add to the horror of the tales I'd heard.

I almost trip on my own feet when I realize someday my own image may hang in these halls. My own horror tale may be spun like black silk and told to startled village children.

The manor is spacious, both tall and wide, with winding staircases. The stones were mostly gathered locally, in hues of earthen browns, golds, and grays. They do not do well in reflecting light but rather suffocate it. As such, the halls and rooms the servants are working in are lit by oil lamps, even at this late morning hour. 

For the tenth time, I marvel at how I prefer the hemmed in coziness of my old cottage to anything so grand. For the tenth time, I scold myself for it.

We reach an exit to the outside. I see rows of hedges and draping vines over arbors. Half of spring spent has ensured most of the bushes are laden with blooms.

"Would you mind walking the span of the garden by yourself, my lady?" Ulra asks, but I can tell she is already sure of my response, "I will inform Lord Vane you are out here. His business should be finished soon and he will join you shortly."

"Not at all! Thank you for showing me around, Ulra."

Mind? Hardly! I am antsy to reach those rare shafts of sunlight, hoping it will permanently chase away the varying chill and dread I've felt since yesterday.

For a short time, it works. I play a game of identifying the flowers and herbs growing about the garden. I know so few of them, so it turns instead into a game of ogling all the new and pretty things.