Bridging the Storm Page 6

  “Are you worried he’ll turn my head, Uncle?” she teased with a little more honesty than was probably wise to reveal.

  His concerned look returned. “Yes. In fact, that is exactly what worries me. You’re an innocent with no experience with men.” He paused but quickly followed with, “It’s none of your doing. I’m afraid your aunt has simply not been in a position to introduce you to society or even send you off to anyone who might.”

  The worry on his face increased. “How old are you now? Eighteen? Nineteen?”

  “Twenty last April,” she answered. She was nearly too old to be presented, but, then, she had little hope of ever having that opportunity anyway. It wasn’t only that her aunt didn’t have the time to take her to London. There was also her responsibilities in caring for baby Caroline, being in a delicate condition once again and all of her duties as high priestess. But, no, Kate was also pretty certain that her aunt hadn’t wanted to do so.

  Kate had made herself too useful teaching the children how to control their magic and caring for the little ones. No, Aunt Vallentyn would have no desire to help her find a husband. Kate had been well aware of this for some time. So, why shouldn’t she allow her head to be turned by Sir Arthur? What secrets could the man have?

  “Past time we did something for you,” her uncle said, half to himself, as the gentleman in question entered the hall.

  Kate knew that unless her uncle forced her aunt to do something, nothing would change.

  “Good evening, good evening,” Sir Arthur said happily, joining them at the large fireplace.

  Kate curtsied and turned her mind back to the much more pleasant contemplations of their guest. “Good evening, sir.”

  He responded with a slight bow and a big smile.

  Aunt Vallentyn also joined them at that moment with an expression of unhappy concern.

  “Have you been with the children?” Uncle Kit asked, sobering.

  “Yes,” she answered before turning her face away from them.

  “We will find something, madam. Some way of helping them,” Sir Arthur said, optimism flowing from him.

  Kate didn’t know if it was his magic, or something else, but he gave her hope. She prayed he did the same for her aunt.

  Aunt Vallentyn swiped her hand across her cheek, nodding. “Tomorrow morning, if you don’t mind, Sir Arthur. I’d like to try tomorrow morning.”

  “Not certain what we’ll try, but we’ll find something,” he agreed.

  “Anything at this point, sir. Anything would be better than this helplessness,” she answered. “And I’m convinced that you know more than perhaps even you realize.

  “It is my most sincere hope that you’re correct,” he said. “You can be certain that I will search my memory for anything…” his voice trailed off losing that spark of optimism for a moment.

  “The doctors have been of no use,” Uncle Kit said. “Wanting to bleed them…”

  “I refuse to allow my children to be subjected to such barbarism,” Aunt Vallentyn said, her voice filled with venom.

  Uncle Kit shook his head. “No, we would not allow it.”

  “There’s sure to be another way,” Sir Arthur offered. He didn’t look entirely convinced but tried to retain his optimism.

  Stalls, the Vallentyn’s butler, came in at that moment to announce dinner.

  Uncle Kit offered his arm to his wife. She took it, leaning perhaps more heavily than usual on him. Kate couldn’t blame her.

  On the other hand, when Sir Arthur offered his arm to her, Kate’s heart and mood lightened so much that she felt a twinge of guilt. Surely with her little cousins practically on their deathbed and her aunt nearly bent with grief, she shouldn’t feel so happy to simply walk on the arm of handsome gentleman.

  “SO, SIR ARTHUR, you have a home in Wales?” Lord Vallentyn asked after they’d all been served.

  “Do you also own a home in London?” Lady Vallentyn followed up.

  Dagonet smiled at his host and hostess. They asked very different questions and it made him laugh inside to see it.

  Turning first to the lady he answered, “No. No home in London. When I’m there it is usually for a short enough time that I stay at a hotel. Don’t really participate in society, don’t you know? And I’m not of the nobility so I have no obligations in government.”

  He then turned to his host. “Yes, I've got an estate in Wales. Tried my hand at farming for a while. Found I didn’t really have the knack… or the interest, I’m afraid. I’ve got a very good man there now overseeing things. Been with me for a number of years and does an excellent job. Get a pretty good income from it without having to visit very often.”

  “If you don't visit your home in Wales and you don’t stay long in London, then where do you live, sir?” Miss Cherington asked.

  He gave her a warm smile. She didn’t have any alternative meaning to her question, but actually asked about him. It made him ridiculously happy that she wanted to know. “For the last year I’ve been on a ship to, from and around New South Wales, Miss Cherington. Before that I was in America.”

  “America?” Lady Vallentyn repeated, horrified.

  “America?” Miss Cherington said, fascinated.

  “What were you doing there?” Lord Vallentyn asked.

  This time Dagonet did laugh out loud. Even Miss Cherington giggled.

  “Exploring,” Dagonet answered them all, while neatly avoiding the true reason for his travels. “In New South Wales we charted the sea, found islands and mapped out the shape of the land. In America, I had the good fortune to join an expedition to the west. Intriguing place. Delightful people.”

  “Surely you can’t mean that,” Lady Vallentyn said, even more appalled. “Aren’t those Red Indians there? The savages?”

  “Lucky you came back with your head!” Lord Vallentyn added.

  Dagonet could only chuckle at their ignorance. “Not at all. Very nice people, the native Americans. I believe the Europeans are far more dangerous.”

  “How interesting. How far west did you go? You say you met many friendly natives?” Miss Cherington asked.

  “Indeed. They were very happy to show us the way through the mountains, teach us how they hunt and what–not.” Of course, he had stayed behind the rest of the expedition to study under their shamans and see if they could remove his curse. He was taught quite a lot of their magic and how they believe the way the world works. Unfortunately, while he learned a lot, he had made no progress on his own problem.

  Dagonet turned back to Lady Vallentyn, trying to remember if he’d learned anything from the native Americans that might actually be helpful. “They have their own sort of magic, as well, don’t you know? Spent some time with one of their shaman learning about it. They smoke something called peyote. Gives you visions and allows you to become one with the earth and sky. Quite an experience, I can tell you.”

  “Really?” Now Lady Vallentyn showed more interest.

  “One shaman I met had the power to turn into a bird,” Dagonet nodded. Scai had been the only person he’d ever seen able to do that, but he didn’t want to mention that in front of Miss Cherington. He hadn’t told her his age and didn’t think he wanted to. She thought him a young man and he preferred it that way.

  He did notice, with a rush of pleasure, that she was listening with rapt attention to him. Since she enjoyed reading about travels, he wasn’t surprised. It was rather nice that they shared this interest. He could almost imagine winter nights spent cuddling together in front of a fire discussing various expeditions, or even more fancifully, having her join him in his travels.

  He shook his head to dispel such ridiculous dreams from his mind and tried to focus on what was more important here—finding a cure for the Vallentyn children. A moment’s guilt washed over him when he realized that he’d much rather spend time with Miss Cherington talking about explorations, than with Lady Vallentyn. Flirtation wasn’t the reason he was here.

  “I don’t suppose you lear
ned anything that might help our children?” Lady Vallentyn asked, pulling his mind back to where it should be.

  Dagonet shook his head sadly. “Wish I could say that I did. They rely quite a bit on nature, don’t you know, and animal spirits. But I don’t believe that anything they did could translate to anything we’re capable of here.”

  She nodded silently, her gaze slipping down to her still full plate of food. She hadn’t eaten more than a bite of it. That couldn’t be good for the child she carried. Lord Vallentyn, frowning in her direction, had clearly noticed as well.

  “How did you find Boston? I’ve heard it’s quite a pretty city,” Miss Cherington asked. She must have noticed her aunt’s lack of appetite as well and deliberately changed the conversation.

  “Oddly enough, I didn’t go there on this venture. Started off in Philadelphia, don’t you know?”

  “Ah, the capital, isn’t it?” Lord Vallentyn asked, also clearly hoping to turn things in a happier direction.

  “Currently, yes. Now that is a beautiful city. Fine houses, many of them attached to one another, like in London. The state house, Independence Hall they call it, is quite an impressive building as well. They’ll move the capital south, though, don’t you know. Building a new city along the Potomac River they’re calling the District of Columbia.”

  “Ah, yes, I’ve heard of this,” Lord Vallentyn said with a nod.

  “Foul place, I have to say,” Dagonet said, cutting into the meat on his plate. “Filled with mud and mosquitoes. They want to make the southerners happy by putting the capital in a neutral place, though. Shame, Philadelphia is quite nice. Even went to the theatre there.”

  “Really? They have theatre?” Lady Vallentyn asked, finally picking up a fork full of food.

  “Oh, yes! Quite fine! Saw an excellent play one night and a concert another. Heard some Mozart at a soiree I attended just before leaving on my expedition.”

  “Why it sounds positively civilized,” Miss Cherington laughed.

  “Naturally! Naturally,” Dagonet said, smiling at her.

  “And we imagine all sorts of horrors there,” Lord Vallentyn said.

  “Not at all. I quite like America. Wouldn’t want to settle there but can’t blame those who have, don’t you know? Good number of opportunities. Good land.”

  “There's definitely good farming to be had there,” Lord Vallentyn agreed.

  “I believe a number of Vallen have moved there as well,” Lady Vallentyn offered.

  “Would they come under your jurisdiction?” Dagonet asked. “You wouldn’t have to travel there to settle anything or help out if someone got into trouble now, would you?”

  Lady Vallentyn’s eyes widened at the thought. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve never been called upon to do so.”

  “It’s an excellent question, though,” Lord Vallentyn said, looking curiously at his wife.

  Dagonet shook his head in wonder. “Been travelling quite a long time. Been to many places, yet it never occurred to me how far the Vallen have spread. Can find them everywhere, don’t you know?”

  “Well, it would make sense. They are explorers and politicians. They’re the leaders in society and the sciences.” Lady Vallentyn sat back to allow the footman to serve her a second helping of the lamb. “I don’t believe it is up to me, or any one high priestess, to see to them all.”

  “It wouldn’t make sense,” Lord Vallentyn agreed.

  “Surely one person couldn’t be expected to do so,” Miss Cherington said.

  “So what do they do when they get into trouble, or one tries to take advantage of others with their power?” Miss Cherington asked.

  “I imagine they, or someone local, would take care of it,” her aunt answered. “As I say, I have never been called upon to travel outside of Britain.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing,” her husband said with a loving smile.

  “I don’t know,” she answered thoughtfully. “It might be interesting to travel to America or some other place.”

  “Not in your condition,” he laughed.

  “Well, hopefully I’m not going to be in this condition again, my love,” she said, flushing slightly. “This is our seventh and, I expect, last child.”

  “Most likely,” Lord Vallentyn said, finding his own plate quite interesting, but not able to hide the smile on his face.

  Chapter Eight

  DAGONET WAS DIRECTED to writing materials in the library the following day. It seemed to be a general room used by all, unlike in his own home where he used his library for all his work and business meetings. Lord Vallentyn apparently had a study separate from the library in which he conducted his own business, leaving the library available for use by Lady Vallentyn and others.

  Dagonet settled himself at a table with the paper, ink and pen provided by the footman. The pen needed some sharpening, but as a knife was thoughtfully provided as well, this wasn’t a problem. He pulled a sheet of the fine paper toward him, dipped his pen and then searched his mind to find just the right words to use in this missive.

  As he had done for centuries—since his time with the Children of Avalon—he pulled his magic to the fore and engaged it to convince someone to include him in their expedition.

  It had taken him centuries to realize that his power came in engaging and connecting with people. He’d done it all of his life, even in battle. Clearly, Merlin had been aware of his talent, which is why he’d asked Dagonet to look out for and take care of the Children. He’d known Dagonet would be able to convince them to follow the prophecy and engage actively in their destiny. And they had. The fact that Nimuë tried to kill them had helped. But even before that, it had only taken the most gentle of nudges to get them to search for Merlin’s Chalice.

  Dagonet laughed quietly to himself as he remembered those days, so long ago. And now, so many centuries later… “Ah well.” He sighed and turned back to his letter.

  My dear Monsieur,

  I am sorry to bother you again. If you have already responded to my first letter, please accept my apologies in advance. I am, as you can imagine, extremely eager to join you and your colleagues in this fantastic expedition to South America.

  It had taken quite some time before he’d realized his magic not only worked in person, but that he could imbue it into his written word as well. Once he’d learned to read and write, that is. He’d done so only after Scai had shown him it could be a useful skill. Before then, he’d had no interest in letters. He’d only wanted to be the best knight possible and had worked single–mindedly toward that end. His training as a child, unlike that of many other boys, had not included the finer points of education. He’d remedied that and learned not only his letters but also mathematics—a vital skill when it came to exploration.

  If you would allow me a moment of vanity, I would be an excellent addition to your crew as a navigator or pilot. I have held the position on similar expeditions, most recently with Mister George Bass as he explored New South Wales and its environs.

  Dagonet’s love of exploring and adventure had developed quickly with such skills and then he’d discovered the added benefit that there were magical people of all sorts throughout the world. Now he travelled not only for the love of exploring, but in the hopes that someday he might find someone to remove Merlin’s “gift.”

  True, he might very well be sitting in the home of the only person in the world who could remove his curse, but he couldn’t take the chance that either Lord or Lady Vallentyn would be able to help him. He had to grab every opportunity that presented itself. And if, by some miracle, they were able to remove the curse before he went on the expedition to South America, he would be able to go on the journey and simply enjoy the expedition for what it was—a chance to explore a new place and meet new people.

  This was the second time he had written to these gentlemen. Odd that they hadn’t responded to his first letter, but the mail couldn’t always be trusted he supposed. Hopefully this letter would find the organizers o
f the expedition, if his last did not, and get him a position on one of their ships. If it didn’t, he could always buy himself onto the ship. He had the money, he preferred to be a member of the crew, rather than simply being an unwanted passenger. He’d done both in his lifetime.

  He finished his letter and had just addressed it when Lady Vallentyn entered the room.

  “GOOD MORNING, SIR ARTHUR,” she greeted him. She looked tired and pale. Dagonet wondered if she’d spent the night with her sick children. She’d said she wanted to visit with them immediately after dinner the previous evening. He wouldn’t put it past her to have stayed the night.

  “Good morning, my lady.” He stood and bowed.

  She paused, her eyes roaming over the books that surrounded them. “There are a great many books on travel and explorations here,” she said, indicating the books. “Both my husband and his niece have a love of such things.”

  “But you do not?” Dagonet couldn’t help but ask.

  She shrugged. “I’m more concerned with my people, my duties, my family. I don’t have time to worry about foreign worlds. My own takes up enough of my time.” She ran a hand along the spines. “But you spend your time doing things such as this.”

  “Yes.” He stepped up to the shelf she indicated. Picking out the titles, he recognized many of the explorations. “Been on quite a number of these.”

  “Have you really? Are you mentioned in these books, then?” she asked with curiosity.

  “I don’t know, really. Quite possibly. But you may not recognize me. Gone by many names over the years, don’t you know. Safer that way.”

  “Yes! I’m certain it would be very odd if your true name popped up century after century.” She laughed.

  He smiled in return. It was good to see her thinking of something other than her worries.

  “You must have seen and experienced so much,” she said, sounding quite in awe.