mother said in a fussy little coo, "I really had thought that having her enter the convent at Alderbury would be sufficient."
"Not at all," said Weasel-Rabbit. "I've spent all morning going over things with Phillip's steward. In the marriage agreement between Phillip and Elladine, she tied up her dowry for her children. If that girl goes into a convent, the convent will claim Elladine's estate as dowry. They certainly won't let the girl into the convent without one!"
"I thought their marriage could be set aside!"
"If the marriage is set aside, the Duke will have no right to the estates in Ylles. If there had been no marriage, there could have been no dowry. If the one did not exist, certainly neither did the other!" Sibylla stamped her foot in vexation. "No, the only way is if she dies. With her dead, Phillip will inherit everything she owns."
"Why is it so important? Surely there is enough here ... "
Sibylla laughed, a long, mirthless laugh. "Oh, Mother, we have miscalculated most stupidly. There is little or nothing left here. Affairs are in a shocking state. The estates in Ylles and Castle Westfaire itself are virtually the only property the man has not pledged to the moneylenders. The only reason he hasn't pledged the estates in Ylles is that he has not been free to do so. Beauty seems to own them, though I believe she is not aware of that fact. The Duke never talks to her about anything, thank God. He scarcely knows she is alive except when she annoys him. He will not grieve greatly when she is gone."
I found myself crouching along the wall, my face wet. I knew what she said was the truth, but it was very hard to hear.
"It is unheard-of to pledge land," Sibylla's mama whined. "No nobleman of honor would pledge land. Why has he not sold his villeins their freedom instead? Or pledged the crops?"
Even I knew the answer to that question, but I remained silent, wiping at my eyes, as Weasel-Rabbit answered.
"He has done all that. I think he would have sold his soul if it had brought him a few guineas. Evidently there was an indebtedness left from the rebuilding of Westfaire in a previous generation. Phillip's father speculated in order to clear this indebtedness and succeeded only in increasing it. Phillip himself goes to shrines and prays for a fortune. He feels only divine intervention will save him."
"Perhaps we had best try again, with someone better off."
"We haven't the time or money to try again," snarled Sibylla. "The estates at Ylles have good revenues, and though we have not seen them, undoubtedly they will do well enough!"
"Ah," said Weasel-Rabbit's mother in a discontented voice. "I suppose it must be done before Phillip finds out your own dowry is as much fakery as the wealth he promised us. He won't be impressed by hired carriages for long."
Well, well, I thought as I wandered out into the corridor again. Here was a pretty mess. Papa wanted to marry a fortune. Sibylla wanted to marry a fortune. Both pretended to have one, and both were as poor as lackeys. Who had the fortune? I did. Or rather, Mama did, since she was alive and well, assuming she was alive and well, which I did assume. Though there had been no recent word of her (despite the letter I had misdated), I simply knew that she had suffered no harm. Something inside me declared this to be incontrovertibly so. She was waiting for me, and I had to go to her.
As I was lost in contemplation, Sibylla came out into the hallway and let out a screech to wake the dead. Grumpkin was there, playing with an invisible something, and Sibylla shrieked for someone to come kill the animal at once. I swept him up, hiding him in a fold of the cloak, and went back out to the stables while she had hysterics behind me, screaming about a cat that had disappeared. My only thought was that my life wasn't worth a fig in that place.
"Where is Ylles?" I asked Martin.
"Eels?" he queried. "In the river, Beauty, some seasons. And in the sea others, so I hear."
"Not the
"Not at all," said Weasel-Rabbit. "I've spent all morning going over things with Phillip's steward. In the marriage agreement between Phillip and Elladine, she tied up her dowry for her children. If that girl goes into a convent, the convent will claim Elladine's estate as dowry. They certainly won't let the girl into the convent without one!"
"I thought their marriage could be set aside!"
"If the marriage is set aside, the Duke will have no right to the estates in Ylles. If there had been no marriage, there could have been no dowry. If the one did not exist, certainly neither did the other!" Sibylla stamped her foot in vexation. "No, the only way is if she dies. With her dead, Phillip will inherit everything she owns."
"Why is it so important? Surely there is enough here ... "
Sibylla laughed, a long, mirthless laugh. "Oh, Mother, we have miscalculated most stupidly. There is little or nothing left here. Affairs are in a shocking state. The estates in Ylles and Castle Westfaire itself are virtually the only property the man has not pledged to the moneylenders. The only reason he hasn't pledged the estates in Ylles is that he has not been free to do so. Beauty seems to own them, though I believe she is not aware of that fact. The Duke never talks to her about anything, thank God. He scarcely knows she is alive except when she annoys him. He will not grieve greatly when she is gone."
I found myself crouching along the wall, my face wet. I knew what she said was the truth, but it was very hard to hear.
"It is unheard-of to pledge land," Sibylla's mama whined. "No nobleman of honor would pledge land. Why has he not sold his villeins their freedom instead? Or pledged the crops?"
Even I knew the answer to that question, but I remained silent, wiping at my eyes, as Weasel-Rabbit answered.
"He has done all that. I think he would have sold his soul if it had brought him a few guineas. Evidently there was an indebtedness left from the rebuilding of Westfaire in a previous generation. Phillip's father speculated in order to clear this indebtedness and succeeded only in increasing it. Phillip himself goes to shrines and prays for a fortune. He feels only divine intervention will save him."
"Perhaps we had best try again, with someone better off."
"We haven't the time or money to try again," snarled Sibylla. "The estates at Ylles have good revenues, and though we have not seen them, undoubtedly they will do well enough!"
"Ah," said Weasel-Rabbit's mother in a discontented voice. "I suppose it must be done before Phillip finds out your own dowry is as much fakery as the wealth he promised us. He won't be impressed by hired carriages for long."
Well, well, I thought as I wandered out into the corridor again. Here was a pretty mess. Papa wanted to marry a fortune. Sibylla wanted to marry a fortune. Both pretended to have one, and both were as poor as lackeys. Who had the fortune? I did. Or rather, Mama did, since she was alive and well, assuming she was alive and well, which I did assume. Though there had been no recent word of her (despite the letter I had misdated), I simply knew that she had suffered no harm. Something inside me declared this to be incontrovertibly so. She was waiting for me, and I had to go to her.
As I was lost in contemplation, Sibylla came out into the hallway and let out a screech to wake the dead. Grumpkin was there, playing with an invisible something, and Sibylla shrieked for someone to come kill the animal at once. I swept him up, hiding him in a fold of the cloak, and went back out to the stables while she had hysterics behind me, screaming about a cat that had disappeared. My only thought was that my life wasn't worth a fig in that place.
"Where is Ylles?" I asked Martin.
"Eels?" he queried. "In the river, Beauty, some seasons. And in the sea others, so I hear."
"Not the
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