CHAPTER ONE
The two swordsmen faced each other, arms elegantly arched. Then, in the
starless mist of the April night, they separated, disengaging with an ominous
slither of steel. They circled, barely crossing swords, playing with the ends of
each other's blades. They countered and parried lightly until the smaller of the
two combatants finally uncoiled in a dizzying attack on the larger. The thrust
was parried and riposted. The attacker lunged with final and inevitable
swiftness.
"Touché," came the triumphant cry from behind the mask of the aggressive
little fighter. The crowd, watching the exhibition in the torch-lit courtyard,
raised a single exultant cheer. The victor, sword raised, strutted cockily
around the inner circle, receiving the exuberant praises of all.
The mask was whipped off, and a tumble of glistening golden waves fell to the
waist of the little champion and great lavender eyes twinkled mischievously.
Maurette Harper, unmindful of the cold drizzle that had settled over all of
London, swept her guests a flamboyant bow. Then she turned to her opponent. Her
salute to him was altogether too solemn and surely mocked true deference. Her
audience tittered.
The worthy, though vanquished, adversary jerked off his mask and held his
antagonist in a hooded gaze. His eyes glinted dangerously in the light of the
torches. Finally he offered a stiff bow.
"You will, I trust, give me satisfaction on the morrow's eve?" he said. As he
rose to his full height, Alex Harper saluted his few supporters in the crowd,
and finally his face split in a lopsided grin. He strode to the side of the
accomplished swordswoman who had bested him as no man ever had.
"I should have known better than to teach my daughter the art of fencing," he
muttered good-naturedly. Then, raising her sword arm above her head, he
bellowed, "The pupil surpasses the master!"
The crowd roared in appreciation but were immediately silenced by the sudden
appearance, in the center courtyard, of the elegant and still lovely Elaine
Harper. Dressed in a swirling, cloth-of-silver cloak, Maurette's mother appeared
to be an avenging specter as she eyed her husband and daughter with cold
indignation. Plucking the sword from her husband's hand, she held it aloft.
"Shall I put this sword in my heart, or shall one of you?" she asked stonily.
She tapped a silken toe on the glistened cobbles and waited. Her silent wrath
dissolved the triumph in her daughter's wide eyes. Alex Harper grinned
sheepishly but dared not speak in the face of his wife's wrath.
Finally Lady Harper turned, and the crowd, which had closed round her to
watch the debacle, parted as she marched stiff-backed up the steps and through
the yellow light of the ornately arched doorway into the great hall of Harper
House in London. She stopped before the bemused musicians in the minstrels'
gallery, and still clutching the offending sword, she swept the heavy cloak from
her shoulders. Waving a slender white arm, she bade that the music should begin.
"Perhaps," said Alex Harper into the breathless silence that followed his
wife's departure, "we should join our hostess." No one moved. "I am told," the
lord of the house said finally, "that much ado has been made over our little
Maurette's birthday." He looked fondly down on his favored child. She smiled
hesitantly as Alex continued. "How often does one's child reach the age of
eighteen?" He smiled into the crowd, flashing strong white teeth. "Is not that
cause to celebrate? Let us join my esteemed wife," he said, a larger smile
twitching the corners of his mouth. "She is gentleness itself, God knows, when
the father of her children behaves himself."
Soft, light-hearted titters arose from the assemblage. Everyone knew of Alex
Harper's yielding nature where it concerned his wife and his two daughters. Many
men, in 1587, would have beaten their wives bloody for such an outburst. But
Alex Harper simply gazed into the golden light of the arched entrance of his
house at the silhouetted figure of his beloved wife.
"If that sweet lady will allow," he said gently, "I shall be honored to
partner her in the first dance. Will you join us?" he said, sweeping the crowd
with the charming and ingratiating spirit of good will for which he was famous.
With renewed gaiety, the guests ambled into the great hall. Relieved and
delighted by their host's cheerful equanimity, their joy in the evening's
festivities was assured.
When Maurette held herself back from the happy progress, Alex turned a fond
regard upon her. He placed his hands on either side of her pale face. "Will you
not join the festivities?"
"0h, Papa," she murmured, "Mama is so angry with me."
Alex smiled and placed an arm round his daughter's slim shoulders. "Life has
not been easy for your mama," he said softly as they followed the crowd into the
house. "Each time I instruct you or your sister Imogene in a manly art, such as
riding or hunting, your mother feels it her duty to instruct you both in a
womanly art, such as needlework or music. Your sister has received your mother's
lessons well and merely tolerated mine. But you, my child, have placed a new
perspective on the term 'manly art.' Your accomplishments bring your mother's
dear mother to mind. 'Twas her thought, in truth, that you and Imogene learn
your letters from the parish clerk. Imagine poor Elaine's chagrin when he began
your instruction in Latin. That was, if I recall, about the time that we began
singing madrigals every night after dinner. Your grandmother rebelled openly,
you will remember, and began taking dinner in her apartment."
Maurette laughed openly at the reference to her grandmother. The stately and
serene Lady Violet, dowager countess of Audley was, at present, a most respected
and respectable noblewoman. At one time, however, she had been the bane of her
family's good name. The woman had scandalized all of British society when she
had made the decision to sail with her husband, Jason Gordon, Lord Audley, on
his pirate ship, the Pelican. Though Gordon was later sanctioned by the queen,
the scandal lived on. Maurette frowned, remembering her mother's embarrassment
whenever the subject of Lady Violet's past arose.
"Does Mama fear that I shall turn out to be like her mother?" she said, "For
I shall say this, Papa. I should be proud and grateful to resemble my grandmama
in all ways. That great lady is beyond reproach."
Alex Harper stopped and turned his daughter to face him. The full measure of
his devotion for her was in his eyes. "Do not think for a moment that your mama
is not privately and publicly proud of you and your grandmother. At gatherings,
her boasts upon the accomplishments of her family circle my own. She loves us
all deeply." He dropped his hands from his daughter's shoulders. Her sweet
searching face rendered him helpless as always, and he turned away in
frustration. "Your mother fears, as I do myself sometimes, that you are quite
simply too consummately accomplished for a ... woman." He could barely believe
his own words, but there they were-spoken and hanging on the air between father
and daughter.
Maurette stared at her father's broad back. "Papa," she breathed, "I can
barely countenance what you are saying. I have always encouraged both Imogene
and me to learn all that we could, to desire for ourselves all the
possibilities. With the help of our mother and our grandmother and you, we have
become people of whom you have said you are proud. Are you telling me this night
that we have been mistaught?"
Turning back to his daughter, he knew he must conjure a patience and a
conviction that he did not feel. "Misdirected," he said quietly, musing as he
gazed down at the little chin his daughter had now thrust out defiantly.
"Misdirected," he repeated without the conviction that he was striving to
convey. "No, child," he said with a sudden passion. "You have not been mistaught
or misdirected. You have been reared wisely; never forget that."
He took her face in both his hands. "Today is your eighteenth birthday. You
are of marriageable age, my darling, though I would have it that you remained
under my protection forever. Your mama wishes an exceptional marriage for you,
and I too wish such a circumstance. Our concern is that the young men who
surround you might find your vitality and your strength of character, your
Intelligence and independence overwhelming. They jest with you and treat you as
equal to themselves but, for that very reason, may hesitate to take you to
wife."
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'Tis 1587, Maurette, and we are barbarians. All of Europe is perpetuating the
myth of women's inferiority to men." He enfolded his daughter in his strong
arms. "I hold that which gives the lie to such a notion."
Maurette accepted her father's embrace; then backed away from him. She
slanted a doubtful look up into his sad face. she was not absolutely sure of
what he was telling her, but she felt that her life was about to change. Her
family had always encouraged her resourcefulness. Her wit was much the pride of
everyone at Harper House. The young men who, as her father had pointed out,
surrounded her had indeed enjoyed her adroit mind and her skill at riding and
fencing. In truth, Maurette cared not a fig for any of them. She had always
assumed she would marry one day, but she had never considered that her husband
might come from their ranks. Did her father expect Maurette to become the
wavering, hesitating female of male mythology for one of them? Did her mother
expect a complete turnabout in the personality of her elder daughter for the
gratification of an unworthy lot of gallants simply because the month of April
had turned her eighteen?
Maurette withdrew from her father's embrace and turned her slender back to
him. She would fight like a wounded pig before she would enter the life of the
fat, pasty, withered creature dominated by her husband and children And, if
those lily-minded bucks of her acquaintance were threatened by the force of her
personality, she would, quite simply, remain unmarried.
Maurette had long admired the strength of determination shown by England's
beloved sovereign, Queen Elizabeth. Though she had played the marriage gambol as
divinely as she played her virginals, the queen had eschewed marriage and
motherhood throughout her long life. She had made it clear to courtiers and
heads of state alike that she was very much her own woman, that she would play
the simper for no man.
In the end, the queen had forsaken even the great love of her life, Robert
Dudley, The Earl of Leicester. Maurette would happily follow that magnificent
example. Her life would, perforce, be empty of men, but she would retain her
exemplar independence and free will.
Seeing the defiance that stiffened his daughter's spine, Alex Harper moved to
her side. "I know what your thoughts must be," he said carefully. He knew that a
wrong word at this moment could end the matter forever, and he had more to say.
"Think," he said, "of your sister Imogene, my darling. She will be coming along
very soon. She has already passed her sixteenth birthday. 'Tis only fair to her
that you make a suitable marriage."
At the mention of her sweet sister with all her blond and bubbly feminine
dreams, Maurette's resolve disintegrated. She could not harden herself to that
circumstance. Imogene had lived her whole life to marry well. If Maurette's own
marriage was less than excellent, Imogene's prospects would be considerably
diminished. It was inequitable, to be sure, but inevitable that Imogene's hopes
and dreams hung in the balance of Maurette's decision.
With a soft sigh, Maurette faced her father. "I shall try, Papa," she said.
"I cannot promise my mother that I shall deliver a son-in-law tonight, but I
shall make a sincere effort to bring my womanly instincts to the fore. You
know," she added, her bright lavender eyes sparkling with devilment, "when I put
my mind to it, I am quite an excellent flirt."
Alex Harper laughed openly. "That you are, my darling." He placed his arm
round her shoulders, and they continued across the courtyard. "I have fallen
victim on more than one occasion to your feminine talents."
"And in comparison to my papa," Maurette said teasingly, "those gallants in
the ballroom should provide but a piddling challenge."
"Do you know how I adore you?" Alex spoke into the damp night, then brushed
Maurette's ear with fatherly affection.
"'Twould he a blessing," Laurette said forlornly, "if your wife and my mother
felt the same."
"Well, of course she is angry," Alex said, "But that does not mean that she,
too, does not adore you. I tell you only that our cherished Elaine longs for the
day when your needle point is as energetically wielded as your sword point."
Father and daughter moved behind the last of the guests into the ballroom.
Maurette squinted into the brightness of a thousand candles, and her breeched
and booted legs lagged as the crowd turned their collective eye in her
direction. Their friends were used to these displays by lord Harper and his
elder child. Behavior that would not have been acceptable in other girls was not
only accepted but expected of the exceptionally beautiful and spirited Maurette
Harper. However, all were not deferential to the pair.
"Every man desires an heir," clucked one dowager loudly and haughtily, "a
male heir. 'Twould seem that, with the aid of his mother-in-law, Alex Harper has
achieved that end though he has but two daughters to his credit."
Fans flicked and fluttered in the embarrassed hush that followed. Lady
Elspeth was well known for her vituperative attacks on the moral insufficiencies
that she seemed to find everywhere. She held herself an arbiter of virtue among
the young womanhood of London.
The young Lady Maurette was also well known for her contempt for such vocal
asperity. All readied themselves for the fray.
Maurette squared her slender shoulders and moved from the protection of her
father's arm. Stopping before the biddy, Maurette eyed her coldly. Then, in a
sudden and seemingly sincere change of attitude, she dimpled prettily. "You
will, I pray, forgive my unladylike behavior," Maurette said, dipping a dainty
curtsy "'Tis all in fun. And I know that a woman of your sophistication can
certainly appreciate such harmless pastimes. Gloriana, herself, rides and hunts,
I hear. When Papa and I performed our exhibition for her at Islington during the
summer progress last year, the queen was rapturous in her praise." Maurette
placed her hand on the older woman's forearm and leaned confidentially forward.
"There is rumor that Elizabeth has enjoyed a fencing lesson or two herself. Can
you imagine? One can hardly credit such rumors," Maurette laughed gaily, "but
one never knows, does one?"
The crowd relaxed, and good-natured laughter arose at not only the picture of
the dignified little queen in breeches but also at the amiable impudence of
their host's beautiful daughter.
"I know," replied the older woman with a disdainfull flare of her nostrils,
"that a proper young lady does not appear practically naked at her own birthday
ball. I know, too," she continued imperiously, "that the queen would not think
of doing so."
Maurette's eyes flashed amethyst sparks, but her voice retained a
conciliatory tone. "Since neither of us can know what Her Royal Highness would
or would not think of doing," she said pleasantly, "'tis perforce well that we
end this discussion."
Lady Elspeth was breathing hard. "This discussion will end when I end it,
young woman," she said stiffly and quickly amended her words. "When I end it, my
lady," she said, placing a special and not complimentary emphasis on the rank of
her hostess.
"0f course," Maurette said with a deferential nod. "You know," she added,
"'tiS so important for a young woman in today's confusing world to enjoy the
guidance of a mature and authoritative figure such as yourself. London's
youthful females are the better for your presence. My sister Imogene and I look
to such as you for the regulation of our conduct. Your standard is ever a source
of inspiration." Maurette smiled her prettiest smile at the woman and slanted a
look toward her sister.
Imogene had paled visibly but now smiled weakly. she well knew her sister's
facility with words and as did their mother, that Maurette, having made her
peace with the older woman, would retire as gracefully as she could. Alex
Harper, standing watchfully at his wife's side, knew that their hope was in
vain.
Maurette continued. "Though remonstrance is often Painful," she said with an
impish wink at Imogene, "we have been taught, my sister and I, to take it
according to its source."
The crowd tittered, in awe of Maurette's impudence. To the surprise and
delight of all, the older woman seined not to have perceived any insult. She
arched a self- righteous brow at her young hostess.
"You would do well to emulate your gentle sister," she said. "That young
woman is a credit to her mother's example. If that would be your aim, you would
find much less remonstrance in your path. I shall continue in the role with
which you have so accurately endowed me, and I hope that you sincerely
appreciate my effort."
Imogene winced, Elaine Harper stiffened, and Alex merely waited, his
amusement clear only in his eyes.
"Your effort," said Maurette, dripping sincerity, "'Tis most affected." The
guests drew their collective breath.
"If by that you mean that I have effected a change in your thinking," said
the woman haughtily, "I accept your gratitude." The smile on the face that did
not smile easily was ludicrous.
Maurette smiled too, but her smile, which came so naturally to her sweet
face, lit up the already emblazoned room. "'Tis your affectation that bids me
beg your leave, dear Lady Eispeth, to change into garments which I pray you will
find more entente cordiale to the occasion." Maurette curtsied deferentially.
"Will you wait upon that circumstance before making a final judgment on my
character ... or lack thereof?"
"We shall," said the lady employing the royal 'we,' "and we shall make our
judgment accordingly."
"We…" Maurette hesitated for a fraction of a moment - "all humbly await your
conclusion." The corners of her mouth twitched irreverently.
The crowd was now thoroughly enchanted by the younger woman, if it had not
already been so. Several of the guests applauded Maurette's humor, and some, not
wishing to incur the older' woman's wrath but desiring to approve the younger
woman's clever wit, simply nodded in her direction. She noted that her mother
and Imogene looked supremely relieved and congratulated herself as she turned
and strode through the hall, accepting the approbation of her guests.
As she moved toward the grand staircase, Maurette could not help but laugh
openly at the exuberance with which she was congratulated by one particularly
jovial pride of young gallants. Much of their enthusiasm, she knew, came from
the many goblets of sugared wine that they had consumed. Maurette quickly hid
her smile, however, as she noted her mother's icy interest in the proceedings.
"You must allow me to pass, gentlemen," she pleaded with gentle urgency.
"We shall certainly allow it, dear, dear Lady Maurette," said one young man
with a courtly, if somewhat unsteady, bow. "But first we beg you share with us
your secret of great swordsmanship." He eyed his fellow revelers askance. "Do we
take it that the wrist is where the magic lies, or is some other part of the
anatomy responsible for the expertise you display? If that is the case," he said
solemnly, "you must tell us if we may benefit from the knowledge. If not," he
continued, glancing at his comrades and receiving their encouragement. "we fear
we must ever be suppliant to the secrets of swords-woman-ship."
The young men howled raucously at their friend's cleverness, and they
gathered round Maurette to affirm her approval of his ribald wit. The young
woman they had known since childhood needed no intellectual coddling; Maurette
had an adroit mind, which her young suitors appreciated and often tested. They
tried but could never seem to dismay her dexterous mentality. At the moment,
though thoroughly amused by these young and eager gallants and perfectly ready
and able to cross verbal swords with them, she had the presence of mind to note
that her father was shouldering his way through the crowd toward her and her
coterie. There was determination in his manner, and his eyes were slits of
patriarchal righteousness.
Desperately she began moving backward toward the staircase, only to have the
young men follow her as one. Her pleas to them were in earnest as her father
neared. "Please, dear friends," she supplicated them, her fingers splayed in
front of her, "you must allow me to withdraw," Maurette knew from past
experience that her father, though well meaning and this night goaded by her
mother, would disperse the phalanx of young men as well as their youthful high
spirits without ceremony and without compunction. Maurette, feeling most
favorable toward the youths, did not wish to see their spirits dampened. "If you
will let me pass," she said rashly, "I shall pledge to each of you two dances
and a ride in the country."
"Dance now!" one young man said with joyous abandon. He wrapped his fingers
round Maurette's wrist and pulled her toward the dance floor. "'Tis a dance I
crave," he hollered, stretching his voice toward the high ceiling, "a dance with
the fabulously breeched Maurette."
Everyone laughed. Emboldened by that encouragement and by the wine, the young
man tugged harder at the resisting Maurette. Her desperation and his
befuddlement combined, and to her everlasting humiliation and surprise, Maurette
lurched from the lad's grip. With astonishing velocity, she skittered across the
floor and slammed into a tall, hard, unfamiliar figure. Stunned, she felt a pair
of strong hands steady her. She winced with embarrassment as she felt herself
lifted and set unceremoniously onto her feet.
"If ever a woman needed rescuing," said a low mocking voice from behind her.
She turned to see a broad chest at eye level. Even coated and draped as it
was, the chest was obviously well muscled. Her eyes shot up to a deeply tanned
face and cool pewter eyes that regarded her lazily.
"You will undoubtedly hate me for this come the morn," the stranger said with
annoying tranquillity, "but I should be honored to escort you to the staircase."
He bowed deeply, allowing Maurette a full view of his abundant raven hair. His
firm lips twitched in amusement as he raised himself to his considerable height.
He regarded the rowdy young men, and his eyes became silver slits. "If you
please, gentlemen," he said, and a smile crossed his lips though his eyes
remained hard, "and even if you don't please, this lady is attempting to make a
graceful exit." Here he lowered his gaze in mock despair. "Though at this moment
that seems a most inopportune hope." He glanced roguishly in Maurette's
direction and noted, with satisfaction, the fleeting arch of one elegant
eyebrow. Then he turned his attention back to the young men. "We shall all no
doubt be rewarded when she makes her reentrance wearing…" He paused and turned
to Maurette. "What was that dainty phrase you employed? Ah, yes, garments 'more
entente cordiale to the occasion.'"
With Maurette's upper arm firmly held in his large hand, he guided her to the
grand staircase. "We await your return, dear, dear Lady Maurette," he said,
presenting her a courtly bow.
Maurette bobbed a perfunctory curtsy and started up the steps. As the
stranger turned back to the crowd, she snatched a glance at him over her
shoulder. The young lads he had just reproved were slapping him on the shoulder
and laughing with him. Maurette's brows drew together as she attempted to assess
the situation. Was he, in truth, her protector, or was he simply a pretentious
swagger out to pilfer her interest in his company?
Haughtily flipping her shimmering curls, she turned her back on what she
perceived to be a great deal of fun at her expense. As she climbed the stone
staircase, she did not see the steady pewter gaze that was now focused upon her
shapely backside. The hard proprietary glint in that gaze might well have given
pause, had she known of it, to the gently bred Maurette Harper.