Read Online Daughter of Mystery by Heather Rose Jones - Free Book Online
Authors: Heather Rose Jones
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fear that Estefen will be trouble,” he’d said. Barbara expected the same—not knowing the details of what form his disappointment would take, but of course LeFevre wasn’t free to elaborate yet. “You would do me a favor if you would…stand prepared for any unpleasantness.”
Barbara had raised an eyebrow at that. “Are you asking me to come armed? I had license to bear a sword in the baron’s name. Legally, I suppose I’m still in his service, but—”
LeFevre had assured her that he would stand surety for her. “But in any case, it shouldn’t cause comment. And I hope I’m being over-cautious. He’s unlikely to make serious trouble at such a solemn event and with the magistrate in attendance.”
Barbara was less sure on that last point. And here it felt odd to stand ready, her senses keyed to action, without that axis around which her duty had always revolved. A step behind her made her turn sharply.
Margerit flinched back, saying, “I’m sorry I startled you.”
Barbara bowed silently in apology.
“I’ve been looking for you, to tell you how sorry I am for your loss.”
Barbara felt awkward in answering. “There was no need, Maisetra. My loss is no greater than yours.” She retreated into a verse from Tanfrit. “ All come at last to serve and solve the final mystery. ”
“But surely you—” Margerit hesitated, as if uncertain of her ground.
Barbara didn’t offer any guidance. There was genuine sorrow in the girl’s brown eyes, but her own wound was too raw and too deep and she had no intention of displaying it to the crowd of strangers here.
“What will you do now?”
The question was so sincerely concerned that she bent a little. “Whatever I choose, now that I’ll be free to do so. I’ll have some time to decide. I have reason to believe that the baron will have remembered me sufficiently to give me some choices. He always said he meant to do that.”
“I’m glad for you. What a thing it must be to see all manner of roads stretching before you and only need to choose!” Her voice turned from wistful to tired. “I’m not even sure why I’m here. Uncle Fulpi would have taken care of all the details, but Maistir LeFevre insisted that I come.”
“I believe,” Barbara said carefully, “that the baron meant to leave you a sum to increase your dowry. I wasn’t in his confidence, of course, but—” She looked past Margerit and stiffened. While she had been turned away from the window to speak to the girl she’d missed Estefen’s arrival. Now here he was, striding into the room as if he were the awaited guest of honor. He took a seat directly facing LeFevre’s desk.
“What is it?” Margerit whispered.
“I think things will be starting soon,” Barbara said. “You should find your seat.” She moved away to position herself in a place where she could watch carefully…and move if necessary. Estefen threw her one sharp glance and then studiously ignored her.
LeFevre, sensing his audience’s mood, moved to take his place behind the desk and unlocked a document case with a small brass key. The rest took that cue to finish their conversations and find places: chairs for the greater, a place to stand around the back of the room for the lesser. He spread the sheaf of papers before him and cleared his throat. Someone unacquainted with his mannerisms might have thought him nervous. “Please understand that this will is in Baron Saveze’s own voice and words. And as you know, he was a man of firm opinions.”
“Get to it, man,” Estefen interrupted impatiently.
LeFevre shrugged and bent his head to the papers. “I, Marziel Lumbeirt, Baron Saveze,” the legal formulas that LeFevre himself must have insisted on rolled on for several lines. “Being of sound mind and having consulted deeply on the law—” An odd phrase, Barbara thought, but she had only once before heard the reading of a will. “—set forth my will concerning the disposition of my worldly
Barbara had raised an eyebrow at that. “Are you asking me to come armed? I had license to bear a sword in the baron’s name. Legally, I suppose I’m still in his service, but—”
LeFevre had assured her that he would stand surety for her. “But in any case, it shouldn’t cause comment. And I hope I’m being over-cautious. He’s unlikely to make serious trouble at such a solemn event and with the magistrate in attendance.”
Barbara was less sure on that last point. And here it felt odd to stand ready, her senses keyed to action, without that axis around which her duty had always revolved. A step behind her made her turn sharply.
Margerit flinched back, saying, “I’m sorry I startled you.”
Barbara bowed silently in apology.
“I’ve been looking for you, to tell you how sorry I am for your loss.”
Barbara felt awkward in answering. “There was no need, Maisetra. My loss is no greater than yours.” She retreated into a verse from Tanfrit. “ All come at last to serve and solve the final mystery. ”
“But surely you—” Margerit hesitated, as if uncertain of her ground.
Barbara didn’t offer any guidance. There was genuine sorrow in the girl’s brown eyes, but her own wound was too raw and too deep and she had no intention of displaying it to the crowd of strangers here.
“What will you do now?”
The question was so sincerely concerned that she bent a little. “Whatever I choose, now that I’ll be free to do so. I’ll have some time to decide. I have reason to believe that the baron will have remembered me sufficiently to give me some choices. He always said he meant to do that.”
“I’m glad for you. What a thing it must be to see all manner of roads stretching before you and only need to choose!” Her voice turned from wistful to tired. “I’m not even sure why I’m here. Uncle Fulpi would have taken care of all the details, but Maistir LeFevre insisted that I come.”
“I believe,” Barbara said carefully, “that the baron meant to leave you a sum to increase your dowry. I wasn’t in his confidence, of course, but—” She looked past Margerit and stiffened. While she had been turned away from the window to speak to the girl she’d missed Estefen’s arrival. Now here he was, striding into the room as if he were the awaited guest of honor. He took a seat directly facing LeFevre’s desk.
“What is it?” Margerit whispered.
“I think things will be starting soon,” Barbara said. “You should find your seat.” She moved away to position herself in a place where she could watch carefully…and move if necessary. Estefen threw her one sharp glance and then studiously ignored her.
LeFevre, sensing his audience’s mood, moved to take his place behind the desk and unlocked a document case with a small brass key. The rest took that cue to finish their conversations and find places: chairs for the greater, a place to stand around the back of the room for the lesser. He spread the sheaf of papers before him and cleared his throat. Someone unacquainted with his mannerisms might have thought him nervous. “Please understand that this will is in Baron Saveze’s own voice and words. And as you know, he was a man of firm opinions.”
“Get to it, man,” Estefen interrupted impatiently.
LeFevre shrugged and bent his head to the papers. “I, Marziel Lumbeirt, Baron Saveze,” the legal formulas that LeFevre himself must have insisted on rolled on for several lines. “Being of sound mind and having consulted deeply on the law—” An odd phrase, Barbara thought, but she had only once before heard the reading of a will. “—set forth my will concerning the disposition of my worldly
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