“Thou dost presume.” Qualin seemed to draw inward, compacting, like a tiger readying itself to spring. “Thou dost not chaffer with the Old Ones.”
“If the lady’s freedom is at stake ...”
“Nay!” Lolorin cried. “Wilt thou two, in the pride of thy manhood, give the lass greater cause to weep than she already hath?”
“I do not wish it.” Anthea’s voice caught in a sob.
“Which?” rapped Qualin. “That the man be hurt? Or the babe starve?”
“I do not wish it! Neither! I cannot stand for Mr. Crafter to be hurt, or the babe! But if only I can save the infant, I will!”
Roman turned to her, appalled. “But you are too young to cast away seven years of your life, Miss Gosling, no matter how much good you may do with them!”
“Speak honestly, mortal!” Qualin snapped. “It is not her youth that thou dost care for, but herself! Thou dost wish to have her for thine own! Do not dissemble!”
Roman turned to stare at him, nonplused, and Anthea felt the blood drain from her face. Was there truth in what the Lord Qualin said? But surely there must be—the Faerie Folk could see to the heart of any mortal.
But Roman had recovered his poise, and turned to her with a bow. “I surmise you find the choice unbearable, Miss Gosling.”
“You ... surmise correctly, Mr. Crafter.”
“‘Miss Gosling’! ‘Mr. Crafter’! Can they not be done with such pretenses?” Qualin burst out. “ ’Tis plain to all who see him that he is in love with thee, and plain to anyone who can hear the heart, that thou art in love with him! Canst thou not at least call one another by personal names?”
Anthea blushed and lowered. her eyes, her heart pounding.
She heard Roman’s voice, slow and wondering. “Miss Gosling ... Anthea ... No, I’ve no right to ask!”
“Yet I will answer, though not at this moment,” she replied.
“I shall call you ‘Roman,’ though, if I may.”
“I would be honored. And may I call you ‘Miss Anthea’?”
“You may not, sir,” she retorted. “ ‘Anthea’ will do.” She was gratified to hear him let out an awed breath.
“Well, there is some vestige of honesty, at least,” Qualin said, and Lolorin added, her voice low, “We cannot ask thee to stay with us now, Anthea, if thou art in love.”
“Unless ... “ Qualin looked up, eyes burning. “Thy lover would stay with thee?”
“Instantly,” Roman said quickly.
Sir Roderick coughed into an iron fist.
“That is, if the proprieties could be observed,” Roman amended.
“Indeed.” Qualin’s lip curled. “And where are we to find thee a minister, or a chaperone?”
Sir Roderick looked up, as though at a sound, then said, “That may not be so vast a chore as you think. If you will excuse me a moment?” He disappeared. \
“What ... what could he have heard?” Anthea stammered.
“There is another matter I have neglected to mention,” Roman began, but footsteps—of more than one person—echoed in the passageway.
Qualin whirled, backing up to shield Lolorin with his body, and she tensed behind him. She didn’t move, but her eyes seemed to grow even larger. Shaking his head, Qualin lifted a hand slowly, wrist turning in a complicated pattern as the fingers seemed to stroke the air. He began to chant in words that Anthea and Roman did not know, and the cave walls disappeared, replaced by the rich wooden panels and the tapestries. The floor was carpeted again, and Lolorin lay once more, richly garbed, in the four-poster bed.
Then Sir Roderick stepped out of the tunnel—and beside him were Aunt Trudy and Hester.
“Aunt Trudy!” Anthea cried, and lowered her gaze. “Oh, forgive me!”
“In an instant, child.” Aunt Trudy bustled over to her and caught her hand, chafing it, then touching a palm to her forehead. “Lord Delbert is another matter—but you I’ll forgive in an instant, the more so because I feel certain you’ve learned the reasons underlying some of the strictures surrounding a young lady. There, child, are you well? Such a deal of damp! And really, who are these people who live in so unseemly a location?”
“I might ask the same of thyself,” Qualin snapped. “Have a care how thou dost address a lord and lady of Faerie!”
“A lord of Faerie?” Aunt Trudy turned, staring. “My heavens, it’s true! Well, I am the Lady Gertrude Brock, wife to the late baronet—and I trust it will not be necessary to call upon his aid! Yourself, sir?”
“I am the Lord Qualin, and my wife is the lady Lolorin. Our son is only a fortnight aged, and hath a need of mortal aid. Wilt thou grant him such?”
“Sir!” Aunt Trudy cried, drawing herself up.
“I feared not,” Qualin said, thin-lipped. “But if not thee or thy niece, then who?”
“I ... I am not wellborn, Lord Qualin,” Hester said hesitantly, “but I am human.”
“Hester!” Aunt Trudy cried. “You speak out of turn!”
“Yet such speech is perhaps welcome.” Qualin’ s eyes glowed, and Lolorin pushed herself a little further upright, hope in her eyes. “Wouldst thou nurse my babe then, mortal lass?”
“Oh, the poor wee thing!” Hester cried, and ran to the Faerie’s bedside. She caught up the baby and rocked it, crooning. “Oh, how could I turn away, with one who would need me so! Yet I fear there’s little good I could do it for some months yet, for my milk has not yet come.”
“You are with child?” Lolorin’s eyes swelled.
“Yes, milady, though the father will not acknowledge my babe.” Hester bowed her head ruefully.
“That doth matter naught,” Lolorin said, “and a small spell will suffice to bring thy milk before its time. Yet know, mortal woman, that if thou dost stay to nurse my babe a year, seven will pass in thy realm outside this hill.”
Hester stilled, and Aunt Trudy said, “I really cannot allow a servant in my employ to be so badly used.”
“We will not use her ill, but well,” Qualin said with surprising force. “She shall be honored, and shall live in luxury—and when her service is done, she shall have Faerie gold aplenty.” He turned to Hester. “Name thy fee!”
“Oh ... why ... “ Hester looked up, startled, but Aunt Trudy nodded slightly, and she said, “Why ... a hundred pounds, I should think.”
“A thousand,” Aunt Trudy said. “Ten.”
Qualin glared at her, then shrugged. “One thousand or ten, what the matter? She shall have it, and Faerie magic shall grant her a safe and easy birthing.”
“But what of my child, after?” Hester wondered.
“What of yourself?” said Aunt Trudy. “Your son we can foster easily enough—but how shall you live when your service here is over?”
“Why ... I had not thought ...”
“I shall take you back into my household gladly, if I am still alive,” Aunt Trudy assured her, “and I intend to be—but one never knows ...”
“I shall surely be able to provide for her, Aunt,” Anthea offered, “and I shall be pleased to have her services.”
“Oh, will you, miss?” Hester cried. “Oh, thank you!”
“Though there will be small need for it, if you’ve ten thousand in your own right,” Aunt Trudy finished. “Such a dowry should attract a worthy husband—but we should speak of love, Hester. How will you feel to lose seven years with young men?”
Hester shrugged. “I’ve little enough interest in them of the moment, milady—and it may be they will be better when I return.”
Roman turned a grunt into a cough, and Sir Roderick said, “I doubt that exceedingly, young woman.”
“Well, then, mayhap my Robin will have position enough to want a wife and babes,” Hester said, then shrugged. “Though I’m not so certain I would want him anymore. ’Twould be hard to find any other husband, though, when I’ve already a babe.”