Part I
Copyright 2003 by Elizabeth Delayne
Lila of Billingdor was a woman of regal beauty, known for her strength and intellect among the people of her keep. Her raven hair shimmered moonlight, as she stood out on the terrace, relaxed. The night was her time. She wore a dress of sage and white. Lace edged the drapping cuffs and lifted in the breeze.
Her grandmother had been the last king's sister. She'd spent her early years in the shadow of royalty. A princess she was, hidden here now under the covering of darkness.
No one knew the workings of a castle as she did, and no one loved a staff more than she. Inside the castle, she was most beloved. Outside, in a world of superstitions . . . .
Her family carried with it a tragic and extraordinary linage bestowed upon it long ago by the King of England. Her father had been the Duke of Arlington, slain by a man of great evil. Lila’s only living relative, her uncle lord Blakely of Billingdor, took her into his home.
He was known as the Black Knight, protector of the king’s forest outside of London. Knights were terrified of a man known only through reputation, stories passed down over the generations as the master of Billingdor passed by birthright to the eldest son.
School children were raised by the threats of his rage and thirst for blood.
If you sneak outside after bed time, beware! You might be caught by the black night. He hides in darkness, prowls after the strong.
He grows weary of complainers quickly, and hears their cries.
His tastes are many, his thirst unquenched.
All tall tales. He was a fierce warrior, tall and strong. Yet, he laughed with more intensity then he fought and his big arms only strengthened his hugs.
Lila simply loved him.
She turned from the terrace and faced her uncle. He waited, but not with a smile on his face. Now, he was more warrior then uncle. Apparently their discussion from the sup was not finished.
“I’m not going,” she leaned against the coarse stone of the terrace wall, long black hair unbound. She had her father’s green eyes, eyes that mirrored those of her uncle.
“Not going! Of course you shall go!” her uncle slashed his hand across the air. He was taller than Lila by an arms length and his shoulder width spanned as large as many of the trees he guarded. His hair and beard were dark, pitch black, streaked with gray in a few shotty places. “All the important nobility of England have been summoned. You must attend in your father’s behalf.”
“I've never attended before. Besides, my father’s dead. The estate’s not mine, under the laws bestowed on us by the jolly King of England. Tis you who should attend,” she folded her arms and lifted her chin, challenging a response from him.
He knew why she stayed away from the society balls, even if she did not speak of the reasons. She was related to the Black Knight. He was neither evil, nor did he possess black magic, but the safety of the forest thrived upon that reputation--and had for lifetimes before him.
It was the reputation that kept him alive.
It was common knowledge that anyone who wed her would follow in his footsteps. She was his only living relative. It was the charge of their family.
Some might say a curse.
“Lila,” he stepped forward and touched her cheek in a gentle caress so like her father had done. “I had to make this decision for you. Your father would never forgive me for allowing you to stay locked in this castle. You’ve a beautiful soul that needs to sprout tis wings and fly. God has given you such a beauty. You need to respect Him for it and trust that He will guide you. Now go to the church and ask Father Bryan to lift a prayer for you and give you your blessing. You will leave in the morrow.”
He turned then and left her alone.
His decision was final.
And for the first time in her life, she was faced with the possibility of having to choose against her Uncle.
“Milady.”
Lila turned as her lady-in-waiting stepped forward. Their friendship spanned nearly a decade as they’d grown together, Ashton only a few years older. “He’s only wanting for your benefit. A rose should never be hidden.”
“Nor should it be pierced with it’s own thorns,” Lila replied smoothly, then she sighed and turned to stare out into the night, over the keeps, and to the land beyond into a world she’d never wanted take part.
Sometimes the past could sneak up on her. She would see a vision of blood as her father fought to protect his family. She pushed the image away. Remembering would not bring them back, nor would it conquor the evil that had killed them.
She looked over at her bedside table at the rose from her garden below. It open to it's fullest, ready to fade.
“I am no rose, Ashton, something of such elegant beauty to be placed in a vessel to be admired. I am sure that if I were a flower, it would be something more wild and free.”
“I don’t know why I agreed to this.”
“You agreed only because your pride wouldn’t let you believe you could lose,” Percy cackled. “You were so sure I'd easily be beaten.”
Alex glanced over at his friend as he fastened his cloak. He’d looked forward to seeing Percy dance off to the ball wearing the orange suit of clothes Percy’s father--the nutty and often-senseless noble and merchant--had given his son for his 23 birthday. A Middle Eastern tailor, a friend, had opened a shop in the lower quarter of London.
Alex had been distracted, of course, during the sword match. Discussions in the king’s security meetings had been surprising and unacceptable.
And of course, he known that Percy had been practicing, taking lessons from another knight in the king’s order. His gangly size was surprisingly swift. Alex chastised himself for not remembering when he placed the bet.
Alex was one of the king’s knights, one who took council with the king on many occasions. He was not royalty and had never presumed that of himself. He had been knighted after saving the king’s life. Percy was a noble and spent much of his youth at the castle as his father was an advisor to the king.
Percy loved the royal life--was nearly ostentatious about it. Alex scoffed at it as often as he could.
In looks they were opposites. Percy was taller, thinner, and more regal looking with blond hair that he kept sheared short. Alex was broad and strong from training. His brown hair grew longer, curling in a riot. He shaved when he remembered--detesting the social status a true beard would grant him.
He ran a hand over his now smooth cheek.
“Shall we go?” Percy asked.
“The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.”
“Just remember. You need to find a lady and have a dance or you’ll be coming back all over again. I have a book full of balls for the next season,” he said and followed Alex from his room. “I should have added that we would take the carriage.”
“We’re taking our horses.”
Percy just smiled. He preferred the horses as well, but to see Alex climb from his father’s frightfully tacky carriage at a royal event might have been worth it.
The castle in London spanned long and was lit by hundreds of torches. There were a line of carraiges stretching down the lane. So much stone, Lila thought. And so many people.
Lila looked out the window and tried to pray for peace. She was, she contrived, following the orders of a general, going into battle for a cause . . . .
Well, one he understood to be just. And that was something, she thought. At least her Uncle believed in her that much.
“It looks like a beautiful party.”
She turned and looked Ashton. Her lady-in waiting was leaning awkwardly to see out the small opening in the carraige. Lila regretted having to leave Ashton behind. They had shared nearly every experience between them over the last few years. Now they were reminded of their differences, of their stations. At least they had spent an uneventful night and day in London preparing for the ball. No one had visited, though neither had expected callers nor visitors.
But they had talked and laughed and explored the residence that had been Lila’s parent’s London home.
“We should have dressed you up, introduced you as a relative from France. It would have been frightfully funny.”
“I don’t speak French.”
At Lila’ telling look, Ashton only shrugged, “Well, not with the proper accent.”
“Then you could have been a mute. And we could have enjoyed the party together.”
“A commoner could never pose as nobility. It’s a sure measure to loose one’s head.”
“And how would they know? Who would dare question me? If everything goes as it should tonight, my reputation alone will keep people from me. They will point and whisper, 'tis the neice who lives in the Black Knight's keep.' It will be frightfully boring without you.”
“What would your Uncle say about my entering the ball?”
“Despite my Uncle’s ridiculous pretense that I should come to a ball, he would have found that quite amusing and good. You’re not just my companion, Ashton. You’re my friend.”
“And I expect you to tell me all about your evening. The decorations and music, the men and the wonderfully dressed people.”
Lila glanced out the carriage window as they pulled to the front steps. There were so many people, here on the outside of the castle. “That,” she said turning to her companion with a smile, “is going to be quite a feat.”
Lila accepted the hand that reached into the carriage and she stepped out. She wore a dress of the darkest blue. It made the green of her eyes brighten.
She was announced by the name of her father’s estate, but no one was fooled. The noisy chatter dimmed somewhat as people stopped to watch her come down the steps into the ballroom. It had been three years since she’d attended any ball. It had been the first ball after her father’s death. She expected this night would mirror that night of horror.
She stepped to the floor and moved into the crowd, hoping to hide herself from those who stared at her from across the room. She kept her chin up, but her eyes were a bit unfocused. No one met her straight glance or bravery anyway.
She remembered her manners. Her parents had raised her as a lady of the court. She was, after all, a relative of the king, the daughter of his father's youngest sister.
There had been a time when attention swirled around her like leaves on a blustery morn.
She rather preferred the life of solitude, she thought, within her flowers and her keep, among the people she could call friend.
Though the life of the ignored, of the disparaged dug in painfully. She was now, she thought as she slipped through a group of people and ignored their blistering comments, a wallflower instead of wild.
“Tis been a long time since you’ve come.”
The voice surprised her. Kind and pleading, drew Lila’s gaze and her voice faultered when her eyes met those of such a dear and familiar face, “Sara . . .”
“I almost couldn’t believe the fortune of the night. I just . . . I didn’t think I would see you again. And there you were across the room.”
Lila stared at her dearest childhood friend, absorbing the sight of a friend she’d so cherished, adjusting to the changes in her. She had grown into such a beautiful woman, with bright blue eyes that shimmered with tears and golden blond hair piled upon her head so curls rained down. Yet there was still life and sparkle inside. There had been a time when the two of them wore their hair in braids and chased each other around the castles under the chastisement of their nursemaids.
She shook herself from the image, from the feeling of youth and realized that she had been frowning. She smiled and reached out for Sara’s hand, “It’s so good to see you. I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I'm always here, now that my sisters have been married off. My mother believed that we must come if we received an invitation-a profitable marraige is what she was worried about,” she smiled at the thought, seeming relieved to be able to say the words. “You’ve been gone so long and I had no other way of getting to you. My father would not let me go to Billingdor castle, or send for you. He was always convinced tis would bring him ruin.”
She tugged on Lila’s hand, “Can you escape for a little while? We have so many things to talk about.”
“It is only the answer to prayer that God has sent a way for me to escape the shackles of this party.”
Sara laughed. “Come. I know of a place where we can be alone.”
Sara led her to a small parlor close enough to the ballroom that the music still seeped into the room. They sat in two dainty chairs and clasped hands.
Lila breathed in relief, “Sara, I have missed you so.”
“Are you well?”
“I am,” Lila said, and squeezed the hands her friend still held. “My uncle is really the most wonderful man. He takes care of me.”
“My father says he carries on the linage of the black night.”
“My father carried the linage as well, and apparently as do I, but the king chooses the knight from my family and my uncle’s size singled him out, as my father took after royalty and my uncle after the barberic side of the family. I have always been related to the black night, just . . . people chose to forget, I guess.”
“But the wizardry and witchcraft? My father says he keeps a dragon in the forest to protect the woods by night.”
“If dragons were real, and one lived in the forest, it would have burned down by now as the spouts of fire shot from his nose. How could my uncle protect it from that?”
Sara laughed and the merry sound of it lifted Lila’s heart. “That’s what I told father. You’ve grown to be very beautiful, Lila. The men will just fawn.”
Lila shook her head. “Fawn over the Black Knight’s niece? The only man who will look in my direction will be one who covets the role of power that belongs to the black night. Others will cower. For the king spoketh long ago that my family is to gaurd the forest.”
Sara only shook her head, her blond ringlets bouncing. “The bravest of men, the ones with the truest of hearts, believe not in witchcraft and hate, but in love. Your parents loved. I can still remember them. You’re mother had such grace and your father adored her. Such a linage, a gift of understanding love, they passed onto you.”
“You sound sad.”
“My mother and father are products of a social marriage, chosen by their parents. They are stewards of a noble society. They believe in appearances and have little to say of love,” the shrugged and released Lila’s hands. She leaned back and looked away. “I grow weary of it.”
“And yet you believe in love,” Lila ventured. “And you are a sparkling star as you always were. The men must be lined up out your estate waiting for an opportunity to speak with you.”
“I shall not have many days of attracting the eyes of men,” she blushed prettily and a smile covered her frown as the rose glow returned to her pale skin. “William of Greenbourogh has entered into negotiations with my father. I am to move to his estate at Gallidin on the morrow to prepare for a wedding.”
“Little William? The son of Sir Monty?”
“The same, but he isn’t so little anymore,” she laughed giddily. “And since his family name is so closely linked to royalty, my father is not hesitant towards the joining, and my mother gushes. It is truly exasperating. It will be quite a noble feat for both of them. I am so glad you will have an opportunity to see who William has become. He approached me last winter, at a Christmas ball, my first worthy circumstance since my debut. He called on me the very next day, and for several days after.”
“And he has your blessing.”
Something passed through Sara's eyes, something like a dark shadow, but it was fleeting. She brightened so much that Lila forgot that she had noticed. “He is truly a wonderful man.”
Alex stepped through the entryway. His cloak was swept away by stoic servants who stood near to the door.
“Ah,” Percy said, handing off his own cloak and raising the gold tipped point of his staff as if making a toast to the night. “See the men and women look toward you? They saw the mark of your clasp and wonder if the king is coming tonight.”
“Edward?” Alex snorted under his breath. He knew the king almost as well as he knew Percy--they had close to the same years on them in growth. He trained him in sword play and in sword fight. “He detests Lord Winston. He claims the man is a lush.”
“As he is, and I would attest to that,” they stepped to the ballroom doors and waited for their introduction. “Just remember your promise,” he whispered, then headed down the stairs as the name of his family was called.
Few paid attention to Alex now that the crest of his knighthood had vanished. He took the steps down to the floor and ventured into the crowd.
One dance, he thought, as the noise level rushed in circles around him.
He would have grabbed the first Lady who stood near the door, but couldn’t as his eye caught another across the room. She was dressed in a gown of the darkest blue. He eyes were sad. She stood alone, so very beautiful, and so . . . unnoticed.
Alex maneuvered around the room, avoiding direct eye contact with the ladies who sought his hand for a dance. It was more than the beauty that drew him to the one in particular. It was, that despite the sadness, there was strength … and something else, he could not name, not having the words of a poet.
He didn’t have to guess that her nobility had been tarnished. He knew what it was to stand on the outskirts of approval and yet be expected to stand. Her father, perhaps a gambler, had lost the money to their estate. Her parents had made ill choices, gossiped about across London for their secret liaisons, or an illegitimate birth. Such a reputation could have followed her into womanhood.
He knew there were many reasons to be disrespected. Even servants knew such gossip.
Yet she was here, taking her responsibility in the London crowd.
He lifted a hand, palm up, when he stepped before her. “Milady,” he said with a graceful bow. He knew the words and the requirements as he was expected to fulfill certain duties for the kind. Be anonymous, at times. Be able to slide in and out of view quickly and easily.
“Your beauty graces the halls of this castle. On the next turn, will you grace the floor with me?”
He was surprised to find her hand cold when she placed it in his. Her eyes were green, her chin tilted up with self-respect. “I don’t believe I’ve had your acquaintance.”
“Sir Alexander of Edinborough, Knight of the king’s chamber. And you?”
“Duchess of Arlington. Lila.”
“A name of beauty,” he murmured and kissed her hand. He hid his surprise, recognizing the name from his council with the king. The music faded from one tune and slid into another. “May I?”
At her slight nod, he drew her onto the floor and swept them into the dance.
He wasn’t a blunderer or clumsy, Lila though, turning and moving around the room with him, but he wasn’t well practiced. He was however well defined, his muscles on her hand strong, his touch sure of itself.
And his looks … dark and callused, handsome and virile. There was little of the pomp and ceremony in his dress. She’d seen him come in and had discreetly watched him round the room. She knew he spoke to no one, asked no one of her station.
So he wouldn’t know . . . .
And she would, for the time being, enjoy this dance . . . .
And another, and still another. They spun the floor, sifted through the crowd, followed the rhythm and order of each dance.
People were watching them. She told herself that she didn’t care and convinced herself that he didn’t either. When their eyes locked, she couldn’t draw her own away, despite how foreword it seemed.
“Ah, a smile,” he said as he drew her close in a simple turn. “Tis more beautiful then I had imagined.”
“You haven’t known me long enough to imagine things about me.”
“Tis not true. You inspire dreams, Duchess of Arlington.”
So she smiled, having found it delightful to be there and she laughed, for his own mischievous eyes drew it out of her. They drew slowly apart as they turned with the others to head to different sides of the room. She turned in the line and caught his eye as she curtsied.
The music ended and people moved away for a break or to line up for the next movement. She lost sight of him for a moment, then caught his eye as he spoke with another, the one he had entered with. His eyes were no longer kind and open, though his gaze was on her. His jaw was clenched. He no longer smiled.
“Lila!” Sara called and hurried over, “you disappeared and then I saw you dancing! The way he was looking at you! And you thought no one would. Who was he?”
“T’was Sir Alexander of Edinbourough. He didn’t know who I was,” she glanced across the crowd and could no longer see him. “And now he’s gone.”
“What do you mean gone?”
“He must have found out about my uncle,” she tried to shrug off the feelings of hurt, but they weighed heavily. For the first time since moving to live with her uncle, someone had looked at her and had seen her. “He just didn’t come back.”
“And the night isn’t over,” Sara assured her. “Come over and I'll reintroduce William. He couldn’t believe that you were here either.”
“He’s not afraid, is he?”
“Of course not!”
Lila shook her head at the sympathy in Sara’s eyes. “Never mind. I was just brooding. Take me to the person who has captured the heart of such a bright and shining star.”
