“I didn’t.” Robin grinned down at her, safe inside the Grange.
Wide-eyed, Rodney and Richard clambered in, holding tight to the nanny-bot. Rory followed.
“Madame!” Robin bowed with a flourish. “Your domain!”
Rose turned, looking about her at the entry hall—and saw the huge Christmas tree, towering twelve feet up against the sweep of a curving staircase, decked with glowing lights, balls of fragile tracery, and glittering tinsel. Her eyes widened. “Oh, Robin! Our tree! How perfect, for Christmas Eve! How wonderful!”
He lowered her feet to the floor and turned to look about him, smiling fondly. “Considerably brighter than when last I saw it.” He looked up at Rory with a grin. “What do you say, Pater? ‘A man’s home is his castle,’ eh?”
“Nay—‘tis his wife’s!” Rory stepped forward to Rose and bowed, proffering a ring of magi-keys. “Dame d’Armand, it is you who are chatelaine!”
“Oh, but—Beau-Papa, no! It is your house!”
“No longer,” Rory said severely. “As of midnight last night, I am the former Count.”
“But the deed…”
“Has not been executed. There is a contract between my heir and myself, stating that he shall be Count, but that I shall have lifetime tenancy of the Grange in your company and that, after my death, you and Robin shall have tenancy as long as either of you shall live.”
“But… you won’t die!” Rose melted against his chest, embracing the old man. “You’ll be with us forever and ever, Beau-Papa!”
“In some sense… surely…” Rory stroked her hair and exchanged a glance with his son.
Suddenly, he smiled and winked.
He stepped back, holding Rose by the shoulders. “Come, Madame! Survey your domain!” And he moved away from them, toward the great dining room.
But Rose stepped up closely against Robin, wiping away a tear and demanding, in a fierce whisper, “Have I the keys to the airlocks, here, too?”
“I assure you that you have, mem-sahib,” Fess murmured as he brushed past her on his way to his master.
“Praise Heaven for that!” she sighed. “Come, Robin—he’s getting ahead of us!”
“Hasn’t he always?” Robin muttered, but he followed.
Rose stopped in the archway, looking about her with a gasp of delight. She saw a room forty feet by thirty, paneled in dark wood all the way up to the frescoed ceiling. A long, polished table, inlaid with ivory, filled the center of the room, stately chairs ranked about it. A marble sideboard stood against the far wall.
“Oh, Beau-Papa!” Rose breathed, “it is magnificent!” Then she caught sight of the huge rank of clerestory windows and gasped again.
“Spectacular, yes,” Rory said, “and quite extravagant, so many airtight portholes of such vast size—but Mother saw no reason to stint herself.”
“An excellent view of Chateau d’Armand,” Rory said with a smile, “almost as though it were a painting.”
“Beau-Papa! Oh, it’s beautiful!” Tears filled Rose’s eyes. “However did you manage it?”
“What?” Robin came up behind his wife, then stared in disbelief. “My word! Snow!”
“A full fall of snow, all about the chateau!” Rose cried. “Oh, Beau-Papa, it’s lovely! But so extravagant! Oh, you shouldn’t have!”
“Ah, but I didn’t!” Rory chuckled. “Fess did.”
Rose couldn’t take her eyes from the sight, but murmured in disbelief, “How could you achieve it, Fess?”
“Why, according to His Lordship’s commands,” Fess answered smoothly.
Rose turned and flung herself at the Count, hugging him tightly, head on his chest.
“My dear, my dear,” he murmured, touching her hair, “spare me breath…”
She lifted eyes filled with tears. “But you shouldn’t have, Beau-Papa!” And she kissed him soundly on the cheek.
“Nothing is too good for the lady of the manor,” he assured her, and turned her gently but firmly to face the room. “This will be your domain, my dear.”
“And it is magnificent! It is all magnificent!”
“Aye.” Rory smiled. “Its vaulting arches, its pillars of marble! The brave and valiant banners that adorn its walls! Yet naught, naught, can ever be of such perfect beauty as this Rainbow Crystal!” In rapt fascination, he reached out toward the great prism that hung from the center of the chandelier.
Little Rodney tugged at Rose’s skirt. “I don’t see any marble pillars, Mama! Where are they?”
“Hush, dear,” Rose whispered. “Your grandfather…”
With a cry of despair, Rory snatched at the air below the chandelier. ” ‘Tis vanished, ‘tis gone!” Then he turned slowly, looking about him, hands lifted in awe. “It is not here, it is not anywhere! ‘Tis vanished quite—the Rainbow Crystal of Granclarte!”
“But it’s right there!” little Richard protested. “Why can’t he see it?”
“Hush,” Rose said again, and Rory ranted on, unheeding. “How cruel, to reveal to me such perfection, then snatch it away! Knights, lords, ladies—what injustice is this?”
“There’s just us,” Rodney whispered, beginning to be frightened. Rose pressed him against her, but Robin stepped forward and said, softly, “Perhaps it is no injustice, but a promise.”
Slowly, Rory turned to him, a look of beatific understanding spreading across his features. “Aye, it is! A promise, and a charge—is it not? For ‘tis surely the image of the perfection for which every knight of Granclarte must strive! Earls and barons! Noblemen of Granclarte! Hearken and heed me! Who will take up this quest, this glorious quest, for the perfect beauty of the Rainbow Crystal?”
Rodney started to say something, but Rose pressed a hand over his lips, and Rory stood, looking about him as though listening, his face expectant. Then, slowly, he smiled. “Nay, certes!”
“Has His Majesty appointed a champion, then?” Robin asked softly.
“Aye, that he has! And who is it? Which knight hath he chosen for this most fabulous of charges? Why, who but that most valiant of champions—Beaubras!”
Two small boys in bathrobes and slippers peeked around the doorway of the study.
“Go on, now,” the nanny-bot coaxed. “He won’t bite, you know.”
Rodney and Richard didn’t look at all certain of that, but they stepped through the doorway manfully, though with trepidation.
“Hm?” Grandpa (no longer Count) Rory turned toward them. “Richard! Rodney! Come in, come in!”
Somewhat reassured, they stepped into the Inner Sanctum. “Come, there’s a knee for each of you.” Rory patted his lap.
They broke into grins and hopped up.
“Now, then.” Rory drummed his heels underneath them, and they giggled. “What did you want of an old ci-devant like me?”
Rodney frowned. “What’s a seedy van?”
But Richard said, more loudly, “A story, Grandpa! Another story!”
“Another?” Rory shook his head sadly. “Ah, poor lads. I’m sorry, then, for I’ve only the one.”
“Oh, Grandpa! Stop being mean! I mean another story inside the big story!”
“Oh! Well, that’s another matter. Yes, another part of the big story… But, let me see, now… My memory isn’t what it used to be…”
“You left off in the middle of the forest,” Rodney said, recognizing a cue when he heard one, and Richard said, “Sir Beaubras had just rescued the damsel Demure.”
“Ah, yes! He had saved her from the enchantment of Ulcer, the Wizard of Orange.” Rory gazed off into space, his smile growing dreamy.