The Pauper Prince - Part 37

The Pauper Prince
Chapter 37



"No."

"But Sire," said Mara, "I realize this seems to be on a whim, but it's not. Will you at least bless the idea of it and let us present the details over time?"

King Silas and Queen Lily looked to one another, and held their gaze. If Mara did not know better, she would swear they were communicating by thoughts alone. Finally they both nodded as one.

"No," said the King.

"You've spoken of this before," said the Queen. "I thought you were done with it."

"I beg your pardon, Mother Queen," said Mara, "But one moment of speaking of it did not mean I was done. I merely let the subject rest for the time."

"Mother - Father," said Kelvin, "If I may-"

"First of all," said the King, "Do you have any idea how selling your possessions will appear to others? We do not need people thinking the kingdom is bankrupt!"

"But we could assure people that it's not," said Mara. "That it's entirely for a project of my own. Which it is!"

The Queen scoffed. "Rumor is much fleeter of foot and travels far wider than the truth. And both of you are planning to turn our castle into a marketplace?"

"I'm only trying to help her," said Kelvin, putting an arm around Mara. "Trust me, it would be a discreet venture. Not setting up a stand and calling to passersby!" Mara giggled at his jest and leaned closer to him. She glanced toward the King and Queen; they were most assuredly not amused. The couple quashed their mirth as quickly as they could.

Kelvin persevered. "We know that it's a strange idea - perhaps even mad-"

"That brings me to the second point," said the King. "A 'school for women?' What women? Will parents send their daughters away? Will a husband allow his wife to leave their home and attend this 'school?' And what do you expect them to do after they've become such learned scholars?"

"Father, there's no call for mockery-"

"Oh, believe me," he said. "I am restrained."

"My Lord," said Mara, smiling as demurely as she could. She stepped forward and reached for his hand. He sighed and kept it at his side. After an awkward pause, he relented and allowed her to kiss it.

"I beseech you to reconsider," she said softly. "If I may be so bold, this is unlike you. You are renowned for your careful consideration of facts and opinions. Of taking the time you need to make your decisions. I stand before you, your loving daughter-in-law for this very reason: because you gave much thought to my worthiness to join your family. For this alone I am forever grateful."

"Resorting to flattery, are we?" he said.

"It's no flattery, my Lord," she said. "It is the truth. You are a wise and thoughtful King. You do not make rash decisions."

"But I can and do make wise decisions quickly, when it's called for," he said.

She asked, "And... do you believe that this decision should be as quick?" She paused for an answer. When he gave none, she was emboldened. "I seek only to benefit women. The ones without the benefits of the high-born and wealthy. Ones like me." The King sighed and looked away. "Father, if you regret giving me the opportunities to learn, please say it now. Because now that I've tasted knowledge, there is a hunger that will never be quenched. And I want others to taste it as I have. To hunger as I do, and to feast as I do. Those who would-- never have a chance, otherwise. If this offends you, please tell me. And... I would wish to know your reason, though I have no right to ask."

The King and Queen exchanged looks again. He looked to his son, who stood tall beside his wife and rested his hand lightly on her shoulder. After a long silence, the King cleared his throat quietly, then folded his arms.

"Very well," he said. "You have earned... careful consideration." The couple broke into broad smiles, which did not please the King. "I would not be so hasty to rejoice. Your marriage had a better chance than this."

"But it is a chance, my Lord," said Mara. "For even considering it, you have my-- our gratitude." He allowed her to kiss his hand again, but was caught by surprise at the sudden kiss on his cheek. Even a King could not prevent the reddening of his own face. She kissed the Queen's hand, as well, then stood aside for Kelvin. The Prince skipped their hands entirely and embraced them as their son before leaving them to their careful consideration.

Halfway down the corridor, Mara stopped him, then glanced back the way they'd come to make sure the King and Queen had not been following.

"Kelvin," she said apprehensively, "I probably should remove Flora's oak chest from my list, shouldn't I?"

He thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, I think that would be best."

***********
She and Kelvin had slept in her bed that night - a rare event - because she had been determined to care for Isabel until morning, and the spare crib was in Mara's bedroom. He had anticipated a night utterly devoid of sleep, and was uncharacteristically pessimistic before lying down for the night. The next morning Mara claimed good fortune that Isabel had allowed them two three-hour stretches of sleep. He was less than convinced, but she had borne the brunt of all-night feedings, not he. That night Isabel had needed only one sitting. Kelvin woke early, kissed his favorite girls good morning, and then left to begin his own day. Heather had not arrived yet.

Mara scarcely heard the timid knock on the parlor door. She was not even properly clothed, but she braved opening the door a crack. Then she opened it fully to allow Miss Daphne inside. The nanny's demeanor was as demure as always, but the sagging under her eyes was slightly diminished.

"Good morning, Miss Daphne," said Mara cheerfully. "How are you feeling this morning?" She smiled broadly. Isabel sat in the crook of her left arm and regarded the nanny with wide eyes, but otherwise no expression.

The nanny did not answer right away, but looked first to her charge, then the Princess, who waited with practiced patience. She took the Princess' hand and kissed it.

Mara chuckled and pulled away gently. "Oh, you know you don't need to do that," she said.

"I do," said Miss Daphne. "I must. I..." She took a sudden intake of breath and shuddered. "Oh, dear," she whispered, and covered her mouth, but in vain. Her moistening eyes were enough to concern the Princess.

"What is this?" said Mara. "What's happened? Was your day unpleasant?"

"Forgive me, your Highness," she said, her voice cracking. "I only need a moment. You should never see this sort of display. It's unseemly!"

"Oh, it is not," said Mara. She held out a hand. "Please; sit with me. We'll talk." The nanny tried to voice a protest, but ultimately followed her Lady and sat beside her. The Princess kept Isabel on her own lap this time. Miss Daphne shivered, then took in a deep breath. This helped to ease her tears. She breathed deeply several more times.

"Take your time," said Mara. "Just relax. Tell me when you're ready." She bounced Isabel gently to pass the time.

"Thank you, your Highness," the nanny said softly. "First, my day was... very pleasant. I did sleep, as you bade me. And rested. I knitted, which is relaxing to me. I sat in the garden and prayed. I-- I thanked the Lord for sending me-- for blessing me with such a mistress as you."

Mara scoffed. "Miss Daphne, you... you flatter me. There's no need for that. But thank you."

"You don't understand, your Highness," said Miss Daphne. Her tears were under control now, as was her voice, though it was a little hoarse. "Yesterday you told me to look after myself. Myself. And I had a wonderful day for it. You are the only mistress who has done this."

Mara furrowed her brow. "What do you mean, the 'only' one? Surely your other mistresses have been fair, yes? They gave you good marks. And Miss Daphne, I've said from the start, I want you to feel welcome here, and comfortable, and certainly not to work yourself to death! Do you... not feel welcome? Or comfortable? Do you feel overworked?"

"No, your Highness," she said. "It's not that at all. As for my other mistresses... Before you, I have served two families. Everyone believes themselves to be fair. To be just. To be clear in their wants and needs. To be... good mistresses."

"Miss Daphne," said Mara, "If I've been none of those things, would you tell me?"

"You have been all of those things," she said. "A hundredfold. And... forgive me that it's taken me so long to realize it. To believe it. But until now, all my life, it has had no worth but what care I gave to their children, and to them. In... In my youth, when I served my first mistress, there was a time that I became quite ill. I was weak; I could barely stand for even brief moments. I had trouble keeping down food and drink. I actually feared for my life, let alone their children's, should my strength fail me. And... I asked my mistress if I could rest and be healed. She said no." Mara said nothing, but placed a free hand on Miss Daphne's knee. "I learned to hide any and all illness and afflictions from her, for she would hear none of it. And my next mistress - before coming to serve you - she... did not tolerate mistakes. Ever."

Miss Daphne paused to look away and take in another breath. "If I make a mistake, I need only be told once, and it will not happen again. But anything I did wrong the first time, there was no telling. I was simply beaten or flogged. It-- Which one depended on her mood, I think."

"What could--" said Mara, "What could possibly merit being beaten? Being flogged? Were their children harmed? Was that it?"

"Oh, no, never, your Highness," said Miss Daphne. "I have never harmed a child. They were... mistakes. Things that displeased her. Dressing the children with the wrong clothing. Not preparing their food just as they liked. Mistakes. That's all I could fathom from it." Mara had her hand on her mouth and did not reply yet. "No mistress has ever cared... for me. And though I have been trained my whole life to ignore myself, it is another thing to live with that. That's why I wept, your Highness. You gave me a gift, and I cherish it."

"The pleasure was mine," said Mara. "But would you like to know something? A confession?" Miss Daphne nodded. "It wasn't only concern for you. You were impaired, after all. I was concerned for Isabel. The first woman you described - the one who made you work while ill? She was a fool. An idiot! Well, both of those women were, for treating you as they did. If you ever came to me that ill, I wouldn't want you anywhere near my children! You'd be spending your days with our physician until well again. And you might have heard that Gildern suffered a plague not all that long ago. They treat illness very seriously here. As do I, without needing memories of that. Miss Daphne, you must always tell me if you're impaired, for any reason. There is no shame in that. And no punishment. Do you understand?"

"Yes, your Highness," she said. "I do. Thank you."

"I have a question," said Mara. "It may sound odd, but... do you trust me? I ask because, given what you've told me, it wouldn't surprise me if it doesn't come easily for you."

The nanny spoke softly. "You're correct, your Highness. It does not come easily. But I do trust you."

"And Kelvin?" asked Mara. "Er... His Highness? The King and Queen?"

"...As much as I need to, to perform my work," she said.

Mara regarded this curiously. "Hm," she said finally. "I think I understand that."

Miss Daphne took another breath, straightened up, and looked the Princess in the eye. "Your Highness," she said, and waited. Mara nodded. "You offered me a day of rest each week. Until yesterday I refused it. I... I did much thinking yesterday. If your offer is still firm, would I have your leave to use Sunday - the Lord's day - for my day of rest? Just to try it?"

"Of course," said Mara. "First thing Sunday morning, I'll take Isabel, and until first thing Monday morning, you'll have the day to yourself."

"It-- Truly? Just like that?"

Mara smiled. "Just like that."

Miss Daphne was speechless at first, as if unable to absorb the reality of her new world. She held up a finger. "B-But if, for any reason, you truly need me that day, rest assured I will be ready to serve. In an instant!"

Mara smiled again. "I'm sure you will be, Miss Daphne," she said. "But only if I truly --there is no other way out, no respite in sight, cannot make it another moment--! need you."

For once, the nanny responded as hoped for one of her jests, and cracked a smile. Awkwardly, and with some attempts to restrain it, but she did show the promise of a sense of humor. Then in all seriousness, she took Mara's hand again and kissed it.

"Thank you so much, Mara," she said, then gasped and sat bolt upright. "I-I-I-I mean to say-!  I mean-! I mean..."

Her Lady said nothing, but handed Isabel to her for the day's changing of the guardian. Heather heralded her arrival via the particular knock on the bedroom door that she used. Mara excused herself to fetch it. Miss Daphne stayed behind with Isabel, and tried not to listen to the handmaiden explain her tardiness.

***********
Bells rang, people shouted "Huzzah!," well-wishers came or sent emissaries to do so, gifts were sent, feasts were held, and there was joy in Gildern. The Princess Mara was with child.

So was her assistant.

The Pauper Prince - part 36

The Pauper Prince
Chapter 36


Adding insult to injury was Count Richard's challenges in finding a clergyman to agree to preside over his wife's funeral. Lucinda's suicide was categorically declared a great sin, with her chances of salvation moot. One pastor dared to claim it folly to pretend that she was resting at peace, rather than being tormented for all eternity. It took all the Count's self-restraint, which was weak at best, to refrain from severely damaging the clergyman for that opinion. He knew what would change the church's mind, but did not have the means to do so.

He had no favors to call in, and so went in debt to his friends, King Silas and Prince Kelvin. The King was willing to aid the Count in his time of need, and though he could not order any clergyman to perform the Countess' memorial, he and Kelvin managed to "persuade" one after a dip into their coffers. Richard had little to give himself, but contributed from his meager funds to get the funeral back on track.

The Count made a mistake that almost cost the Prince's aid; he let slip that he blamed the Princess for Lucinda's death. The Count was overheard  that the Princess "filled (his wife's) head with nonsense that did naught but bring her to despair and lead her to her end!" When Kelvin learned of this, there was some groveling on Richard's part, lest all of their efforts be dismissed. In no uncertain terms Richard was ordered to give no indication that he resented her presence. This was his price in order to give his wife the burial he desired. That she deserved.

Kelvin did not inform Mara of any controversy behind her attendance; this was a fruitless effort, for castle gossip was an unstoppable force. Ladies in waiting let that juicy tidbit slip out in her presence - whether it was on purpose was unknown - but any hope to get a rise out of Mara was quashed. Her response to them had been stony silence; since learning of her friend's death, she was scarcely able to speak due to her grief and personal guilt. But she would be damned if Lucinda would not have her last respects.

The service was respectful and somber, and gave her at least some sense of peace. Still, if only she could have remained behind; she could have saved her friend. But she did not begrudge her family for ordering her to leave, for Anne's need for support was just as great, if not greater.

But.. she could have saved her!

Couldn't she?

*******

Mara's dark clothing was limited to two dresses, so she traded them off for a two weeks until they truly needed a washing. While those were away with the washing-women, she wore dark bands on the sleeves of her normal clothing and other accessories such as a dark bonnet. But it was not all darkness. News of new life had reached the castle: the Countess Yvette had borne a son - healthy, by all accounts. It was still ill-advised for Isabel to travel long distances, so Mara sent her a letter and a gift of a crib. Visiting in person would happen once she and Isabel could travel together.

Her first staff meeting upon returning from Halliard, which still consisted of only Heather and Miss Daphne, was pleasantly civil and calm. It gladdened Mara to find that they had not devolved back into bickering in her absence. That, or they were simply being somber for her grief's sake. Isabel sat upright on her mother's lap and sucked on her carved wooden horse rather than play with it. She preferred gripping and tugging on her mother's emerald betrothal ring, which for now, her mother allowed.

Heather was eager to update her Lady on the latest news. There were no new births on the grounds, but there had been some birthdays, two promotions from apprentice to journeyman, one wedding, and two wedding anniversaries. Mara took the list and set it aside for later action. Heather tried to move on to gossiping; Mara ended that quickly. Miss Daphne clearly had no taste for it, either, given all her yawning this morning.

A subject change was in order. "I was wondering how you and Leonard have fared in my absence?" said Mara. "If you're willing to discuss it."

"Oh..." said Heather. "Perhaps later. But I will say that things are much improved. Both of our parents have been of great help. I think... I have greater hope for us now."

Mara smiled and nodded. "I'd like to see sometime what you two have made of your little home. If it wouldn't be an imposition?" She had other questions, but they would wait.

"Mm... No, of course not, ma'am!" said Heather after a jot of hesitation. "That would be lovely. By all means. I'll let you know my-- our choice as soon as we know."

Mara had not had the chance to update her staff about her visit with Anne and her family. She began to describe highlights of the visit, including the somber, but already known, news about King Phillip's passing. From sadness, to joy for Rupert's coronation, and then grief for Lucinda. The room grew quiet at that. Mara did not milk the somberness, and spoke after a moment.

"Heather, I have a task for you-" she was stopped by a loud snort. Mara's and Heather's heads snapped over as one, to see that it had come from the nanny, who sat limply in her chair, fast asleep. Mara cleared her throat, which did nothing. She reached out and gingerly patted the nanny's knee. Miss Daphne snorted again and jerked herself awake. Realizing that she had an audience, she quickly straightened up and adjusted her clothing primly.

"Miss Daphne," said Mara, "Have you had enough sleep?"

"Er, yes, your Highness," she said. "I was merely resting my eyes. Please continue."

"I have finished my story," said Mara. "How well did you sleep?"

"Oh," she said, "As well as I ever do, your Highness. Would you mind if I have some tea?"

"Please," said Mara. "This is our meeting, after all. We have whatever we like. And what is 'as well as you ever do,' if I might ask?" The nanny seemed perplexed. "How well do you usually sleep?"

Miss Daphne had been pouring tea for herself, then paused and smiled nervously. "Please, your Highness. There's no cause for taking notice of my brief lapse. I am wide awake now, and ready to serve, as you can see."

"I can," she said. "Please answer my question."

Miss Daphne finished pouring her tea, set it and a saucer on her lap, then glanced at her Lady while taking a first sip. She set it down with precision and attempted another smile. "It is... it is an affliction I have lived with most of my life, your Highness," she said. "It is... very rare that I have a full night of sleep. But then, that is a trait that serves me well in my duties as Her Little Highness's caretaker. If I slept as a stone, then her stirrings would never wake me, would they?"

"I can see how that would be so," said Mara. "But now I must ask: it is very rare that you sleep? What is this affliction?"

"I beg your pardon, your Highness," said Miss Daphne. "My words were too strong. It is only that I-- it is rare that I'm able to sleep. And when I do, it is hours before I finally do, and if I wake-- again, hours more to sleep again."

"Is it Isabel?" said Mara. "Does she keep you awake?"

"Oh, no, your Highness," said Miss Daphne. "It's no fault of Her Little Highness. Not at all. As I said, this... challenge... has been with me most of my life. And... sometimes it catches up. But I give you my absolute assurance that my care and service are unwavering."

Mara reached for some tea herself, but given the awkwardness of managing it while balancing her daughter on her knee, Heather leapt into action to serve her Lady. Mara thanked her, took a sip, and left it to Heather to keep her cup and saucer nearby.

"Miss Daphne," she said, "Be plain with me. No roundabout stories or long explanations of this or that: Did you get any sleep last night?"

The nanny chuckled once, finished her tea, set it aside, and straightened her skirt. "Your Highness, because I have lived with this most of my life, I-"

"Did you. Get. Any. Sleep. Last. Night?"

The nanny froze in place, struggling to keep her breathing slow and even. Heather stood quietly and went to the next room, also as silently as she could. The nanny's struggle to slow her breathing made her voice a whisper.

"No, your Highness. I did not. But-"

"When was the last time that you did?" said Mara, and gave her a Look that dared her to answer in any other way than 'plainly.'

"...Ah," she said, rubbing her neck nervously, "I have... bits and pieces of it most nights, your Highness."

"I see," said Mara. Isabel suddenly looked up at her. Mara and her daughter locked gazes as if intending to begin their own conversation. Isabel broke the stare by smiling. Her mother chuckled and kissed her nose, then the top of her head.

"Miss Daphne," she said, "I want you to return to your room and rest. Sleep. Take as long as you need."

The nanny spoke with alarm. "Your Highness! I-I assure you that there is no cause for-"

"Miss Daphne." Mara was careful to temper her frustration so as not to unduly alarm Isabel, who had proven to be sensitive to her mother's moods, for good or ill. "Please do this. I have no doubt that you'll strive to do your duty to your utmost, as you always do. But if you have not slept, you only damage yourself by ignoring it."

"Your Highness, please..."

"When we first met," said Mara, "I offered you a day of rest each week, for you to have no duties. A free day of your own. You turned it down, and I respect that. But I also said that I want to learn to care for my child on my own. That there would be times I would care for her all day, on my own. This will be one of those days."

"Your Highness," Miss Daphne whispered. There was a waver to her voice, but her eyes remained dry. "Please don't think this diminishes my ability to fulfill my duties."

"Please don't make me--" said Mara, then sucked in a breath and bit her lip to hold it in. She let it out and relaxed. "Don't make me order you to rest. I try not to be a stern mistress. I try to be fair. I want those who assist me to, to be content in their work. Even though it is work, but still. Dear Miss Daphne, I am not trying to punish you. This is not a reflection on your work. I mean to help you. There is no shame in caring for yourself for once. Look after your health. Take today - all of today - to sleep. Rest. Whatever you need to be refreshed. I can ask someone to care for you today. A handmaiden. A valet. Solomon. Please do this. I don't want to order you to."

As if on cue, Miss Daphne was overwhelmed by the need to yawn. She covered it immediately, but it was too late. Isabel was pulled along, as will happen for a yawn. Mara managed to resist the spell, but only barely.

Miss Daphne all but forced her mouth to shut until the urge passed. "As you wish, Ma-- your Highness," she said. She blushed at her near-miss. A chink in the armor. It was a start. "You will not need to order me. I think you are... a fair mistress. You do show care and concern for your servants. All here do, I think. I will... I will rest today, as you say. I-I shouldn't need a handmaiden, though. They serve you and Her Majesty; they are not for the likes of me."

"They are for 'the likes' of anyone we wish," Mara said gently. She offered a gentle smile as well, which the nanny struggled to return. Finally she managed a crooked facsimile of relaxation. Mara took Isabel into her arms and stood up. Miss Daphne was on her feet immediately after. Mara held Isabel closer to the nanny. "Give her a farewell hug and kiss?" Miss Daphne gave her a wary look. "Farewell for today," said Mara. The nanny relaxed and primly kissed her charge on the cheek. No hug followed.

Miss Daphne curtsied deeply. "Your Highness, I will return as swiftly as possible."

"You will return," said Her Highness, "When you have properly rested. No sooner."

"Yes," she said. "That is what I meant."

After Miss Daphne's departure, Heather was clear to return to the room. Mara thanked her for her discretion, and then immediately followed with a description of Heather's new project. She did not give the reason for it, but Heather assured her that it would be handled quickly, given her penchant for organization.

*****

That same day Mara had made several attempts to read to her daughter from her favorite history book, but the afternoon proved not to be the time for a bedtime story. Isabel preferred crawling at a fast clip, grabbing and tossing things, and general babbling over listening to tales of the kings and queens of old. It wasn't long before Mara gave up, and tried to keep pace with her on her hands and knees.

There was a familiar knock on the door. She stood quickly and scooped a reluctant Isabel into her arms, then called for their visitor to enter. She knew it was Kelvin before he entered, but they had a polite agreement to knock first if their chamber doors were shut. They had both taken to knocking in particular ways.

"Ba!" said Isabel, smiling and reaching out.

Mara gasped playfully. "Look, Isabel! A strange man has entered our room!" Kelvin paused a moment, then showed a subtly wry smile before coming towards them at a leisurely pace. "Whatever shall we do?" Mara looked to her daughter, who gurgled happily at her advancing father. "Shall we flee and hope he doesn't pursue?"

"Zhhee!"

"Or shall we stand our ground," said Mara, "And face him in all our bravery? Hm?" Kelvin cocked his head and kept his hands behind his back as he approached. Isabel laughed for reasons known only to her. By now he was an arm's length from his wife and daughter.

Mara smiled and spoke dreamily. "I agree, little one," she said. "We shall stand our ground before this strange... handsome... man." She closed her eyes and met him in a kiss. They parted, then exchanged several more, with the final one lasting several breaths.

She whispered, "Forgive me, Isabel." {Kiss} "I am powerless-" {Kiss} "-before him." They both closed their eyes and stood forehead to forehead. Isabel grunted in frustration - or perhaps just envy - which worked; her father kissed her tiny hand and nuzzled her face. Mara was content to watch their happy interactions as long as they kept them up. Eventually Isabel allowed him to part, but insisted on keeping a firm grip on his hand.

"What news, dearest?" said Mara.

He shrugged his shoulders lightly. "No news to give," he said. "Take it as a blessing?"

"I do," she said. "And I'm glad that you're here. Not that I aren't always, but there's something I hope to discuss. If you have the time for it?"

"I am at your disposal," he said, placing his free hand over his heart.

"Excellent," she said, and sat on a settee, then beckoned him to join her. He did, and took Isabel from her to place on his own lap.

"What news, dearest?" he said.

"Oh," she said, then forced a chuckle at his jest. "Ah ha. Yes. Well. First, I have a question: do you think it would... reflect poorly on me, or on us - the kingdom? - if I tried to sell any of my possessions?"

She had rebuttals ready for him, but did not expect silence from him. His expression was subtle, but she could tell that he was curious.

"I want to raise money - on my own, as much as I'm able - to build a school," she said. He went from curious to perplexed. "For women. A school for women." Now he sighed and turned away. "I know, Darling," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "I know this seems like a mad scheme, or worse, an impossible task, but it's something I've been turning over and over in my mind for a long time. I want to do something to benefit women. I've thought about a sanctuary for ill-treated woman and their children. A hospital. A school, as well, and I asked Mother Queen and other Ladies about it. They thought I was joking, of course. But I'm not. And... and I know that Count Richard thinks that I harmed Lucinda by teaching her about different laws. Do you believe him? Do you think that I made things worse for her?"

He considered a reply, then shrugged lightly again. "I don't believe so. But only God can say for certain. We know she had been troubled long before. Who's to say her path wasn't inevitable? Do you blame yourself for her death?"

"No," she said quietly. "I have my guilt for it, but I don't claim the cause. She was... a difficult person to love. I hope I'm not speaking ill of the dead to say it." He shook his head and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "But my interest in aiding woman has been rekindled. I think a school would honor her memory, though her husband would disagree. We shared a love of history, you know. In fact, she gave me that book, which has become my favorite. So... what do you think, dearest? I know there are so many things to consider. Where to put it? How much will it cost? How big? How many students could be housed? Um... Who would teach there? And if anyone were willing to teach, would anyone else out there... accept it?"

"Hm," he said, finally turning in his seat to face her. "It's good that you have those questions, because I did, too. I think your last two are the most significant."

"People were willing to teach me," she said. "I don't agree that one must be high-born or wealthy to have such opportunities."

"I have another question," he said. "Let's say that a low-born, poor woman attended your school. What would she do with that knowledge?"

Mara looked aside and was quiet. Her brow was furrowed; it was difficult to tell if she was thinking or was frustrated.

Kelvin shrugged. "I'm only playing devil's advocate-"

She held up a hand. "I want to say 'anything she wants,' but I know that would be folly. I know that the notion of a learned woman is laughable to some, even though here I am, walking about with books in my hand all day, and no one titters. But if a farmer's wife or daughter tries it...!" She sighed. "I don't expect a miraculous new world for women. But what if a tiny part of it is new? Is that enough? Here and now, a woman may be a Queen, and command a kingdom and be served hand and foot her whole life, and yet no woman may be a doctor? A judge? A sheriff?? I suppose there might even be those who call it heresy, what I hope to do. But I still hope to do it."

She paused to give him more chances to "play devil's advocate," as he put it, but his silence was discomforting.

"Kelvin, please speak, and speak it plain," she said. "Will you support me? Will you support your mad wife and her mad schemes?"

In spite of himself, this brought about a chuckle. He tucked his free hand under her chin. "I'm glad that you see the madness of this," he said. "The danger, in fact. You know this is a dangerous idea, yes?" She nodded. "But yes. I support you." She laughed, her eyes moistened, and she kissed his hand reverently.

"Know this, my love," she said. "If you didn't, I would still try. But having your blessing means everything to me."

"Somehow that sentiment sounds familiar," he said with a wink. She recognized it, too, and laughed with him. "Mara... Dear... I don't suppose you have a list of the possessions that you intend to sell?"

She tried to hid her contrite expression. She picked up her book and leafed through it, then handed Kelvin a folded up paper. "Heather made a list for me." He nodded and read the list in silence. "It was her big project of the day." She smiled nervously. He nodded again and continued reading. Occasionally an eyebrow went up.

"You know that the oak chest by your bed was Flora's?" he said.

"Oh," she said, "So... it should be removed?"

"Mmmm... We'll ask Mother," he said, and scanned the list again. "Hm. Your armoire? Really? And by 'jewelry,' what sort do you mean?"

"Oh," she said, "Well... You know, some items that, that I don't care for or could not use. Uh, like earrings, because I will never willingly wound myself. Not in the ears or anywhere. And I don't care for, uh, bracelets and other dangly things. B-but I realize that everything I own was a gift, one way or another. I imagine that I would need to be careful not to approach the very person who gave me said gift."

"I would agree with that," he said. "In fact-" He folded up the list and handed it back to her. "-Why don't we do this? First, I'm proud of what you're trying to do. I am. But you know that I'm not the only one to convince of this 'mad scheme?'"

She smiled at his jest, until realization came. Then it faded. "Oh. Yes. B-but we can speak to them together. If they can agree to and bless our marriage, surely they'd allow this?"

"We shall see," he said. "But what I was going to suggest, our King willing, is that I would present these items, not to your Lady friends, but to their husbands and suitors." Off her confused look, "Your friends might have interest in them, but they're not the ones who'd buy them. Savvy?"

"...Oh," she said, nodding. "I suppose you're right. But dear, this is my project, not yours. Would that be too much trouble?"

He cocked his head and gave her his own Look. "You asked for my support, yes?" She nodded. "Then you have it. In fact, now you've got me thinking. Perhaps I'll have some valets pick through my own belongings. See what trash - or treasure - they can find." He kept his expression deadly serious, then cracked it with a wink and a wry smile. It was only the presence of their daughter that prevented Mara from immediately tackling and ravishing him. Instead they took the time to place her in her playpen, fill it with entertaining objects, and then tackle and ravish one another until suppertime.