Eleven

Matchmaking

Having followed Lizzy’s command and changed into a night-blue dress with a crushed velvet bodice and a flowing silk skirt, Gratia stepped into the dining hall. Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed at the large oak table laden with silverware and lit with a single candleholder containing eight thin red candles. The table was set for two. There was a folded napkin and a single red rose on each plate. Lizzy placed the last silver fork by one of the places and smiled her approval as she saw Gratia.

Gratia frowned as she glanced at the table. “Is Gale not dining with us tonight, Lizzy?” 

The witch’s eyes gleamed with mischief and she grinned as she spoke, trying to suppress the humour in her voice. “No, I have to go away for the evening. There is a lady in town who is expecting tonight.”

Gratia shot her a shocked and slightly cruel glare. “You cannot expect me to dine alone with Sir Ashfain, surely!”

“Why ever not?” The witch’s smile did not fade in the least. If anything, it grew wider.

“Well,” Gratia groped for an excuse. “I know nothing of your dinner customs, I would make a fool of myself!”

Lizzy laughed. “You silly thing! What is there to know? You start from the outside and work your way in. If you find yourself completely at a loss, follow his example.”

“But I am not suitable company for him. He is a gentleman and I, a gypsy. He shall decline your offer when he realises that you will not be joining us. Besides, I cannot play hostess in someone else’s house.”

“You need not worry about his opinions. He is a humble man. No lord, that’s for sure.” She giggled. “Besides, he knows that I may well be called away at any time. The sick have little sense of timing.”

Gratia was speechless. “Besides,” she continued, “it might be a rather enjoyable experience. It is not every night that you get to dine with such a handsome man.”

Gratia shot her another chilling glare but, to her horror and slight amusement, the witch just laughed. “Come on, I wager you shall love it. Everything shall flow like a dream once you have broken the ice. I’m not planning on going until you are having a thoroughly pleasurable time. I’m not that cruel.” She gave Gratia a reassuring smile, then frowned slightly. “Come with me.” She beckoned, and led the way back up the rickety staircase to the bedroom. “Now, sit over there on the bed.” 

Gratia obediently sat down as instructed. Lizzy left and returned a minute later with a small, woven bag.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, nothing that can’t be fixed.”

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

Lizzy turned Gratia to face the window and then seated herself on the bed behind her. She tipped the content of the bag onto the duvet. There was a large gold-plated matting brush, a matching finishing brush, a slim silver comb and also an iron curling plate.

“Now, I’ll just put this in the fire,” she said, picking up the curling plate. “Then I shall see to your hair.”

The witch left the room again and Gratia sat primly, perched on the end of the bed. When Lizzy returned, she was empty-handed. Re-seating herself behind the gypsy, she picked up the matting brush and set to work vigorously untangling her long black locks. Next, she took the comb and checked for any last little cots that might have escaped before stroking the finely bristled finishing brush softly across it to bring out a healthy shine. Retreating back downstairs, she finished the grooming by defining the wispy flicks with the metal curling plates.

“There!” she exclaimed, holding up a large hand-mirror. “All done.”

Gratia couldn’t hide her amazement. It was gorgeous! It looked thick and luxurious, and there were no fly-away licks, only long, trailing curls and ringlets. She beamed gratefully at her friend.

“You look wonderful.” There was a knock from below. “Ah, I believe our guest has arrived.”

The two women stood and headed towards the door. Lizzy turned to give one last admiring look. “Oh, wait a minute! You have no shoes. That won’t do. Here.” she walked to the cupboard and pulled out a pair of crushed velvet slippers that matched the dress perfectly.

“Wear these.” She handed them to Gratia.

“Thank you, they fit well.” Gratia smiled again.

“And now, we must keep our company waiting no longer.” The young witch giggled and took Gratia’s hand, dragging her down the stairs. “You go through to the table. Stand by the fire!” 

Gratia, somewhat puzzled, obediently went through to the dining room and stood gazing into the fire. She heard the latch of the door flick back and a bombardment of cheerful greetings filled the hall. They began to drift nearer to the closed room. As she heard the creak of the heavy wood being pulled open, Gratia turned to look at their guest. 

Her heart skipped a beat.

Gale stood at the door to his friend’s house. He was dressed in fine dining attire: a black jacket with tailored trousers. In one hand was a cane, and around his neck was a short dress cape. It was always an honour to be invited to dine with Lizzy. She was one of Lariaan’s few natural hostesses. She had an air about her that warmed and relaxed her guests.

Many years ago, when he had been but a mere rugged youth, he and Lizzy had been deeply in love. But they had both been inexperienced and unsure of what they wanted. Within time they moved on to others, but it had been a mutual parting of the ways. No bitterness was involved, and to this day they remained very close friends.

Now she was a healer, or a ‘witch’ as many of her customers liked to put it. She was good at what she did, and well respected throughout Lariaan. Also, she was beautiful. Maybe more so now than she was as a girl. She had fine, silken blonde hair that reached all the way to her ankles when down. Her lips were thin and delicate, her eyes wide and the colour of the summer sky. She had a gentleness and truth about her that made her one of the most likeable people he had ever met. 

Whilst it was true that, at present, she did not have a lover, he was positive beyond any shadow of a doubt that it was through her own choice. When the time came for one, she would pick wisely. Unlike him, who, self admittedly, tended to be a poor judge of character when it came to women. 

True, all the women he had known in that sense, he had truly loved. But after a time the feeling on their part seemed to die out, and they would hurt him in some of the cruellest ways. The last woman he had known had been a travelling lady with the Lariaan fair. She had been the daughter of a wine merchant who made his trade following circus people around the land. They had spent three nights of wild passion together before it came time for the fair to move on. He had persuaded her to stay with him and become his wife. She had agreed and run away from the travelling band of craftsmen to join him. 

A month later she had disappeared in the dead of night, leaving only a note to explain her absence. She had changed her mind and run off back to her lover in the circus. It had broken his heart. His only solace in that time had been Lizzy. He could not stand the gossip and scorn his family had lavished upon him, so had taken sanctuary in her home until his emotional well had refilled. 

He still winced inwardly at the memories. Lizzy was the only person he considered trustworthy with all of his innermost secrets. There was nothing he felt he could not tell her, and that security was largely born of the fact that he was not in love with her. They had an understanding. Like soul mates, they understood one another perfectly, and could spend many a night by the fire indulging in long conversations that rarely needed many words. 

He had heard it said that you could tell a true friend if you could sit in silence for an evening and feel comfort in their company alone. If that were true, he could spend an eternity in her silence, and vice versa.

He knocked on the door with the silver end of his cane. He heard a giggle drift down from the window above – Lizzy’s giggle. It was unmistakable anywhere, so warm. That must mean that Gratia had awakened. He smiled. That morning he had woken at mid-daybreak to find the beautiful gypsy girl snuggled up to him, her head resting under his chin. It was with great reluctance and heartache that he had left the room and gone to the fields. Quite happily he would have lain there all day. He grinned as he heard shuffling in the hallway. The door was hastily thrown open. Lizzy leaped at him, flinging her arms around his neck and giving him a warm hug and a peck on the cheek.

“You’re early, you naughty thing!” She giggled, looking him up and down with a critical eye. “And you’re scruffy!” She flashed him a mocking frown.

“Hah! Never satisfied, woman. I’ll have you know, this is my best evening attire. I made an effort for you.”

“You may as well have come in your field clothes, for this is little improvement!” They both fell into each other’s arms, laughing. “No, I lie, my sweet. You look quite the part.”

“Are you sure? If I am truly early, I may as well go home and change.” He laughed.

“Come in, you silly minstrel.” She yanked at his arm and pulled him into the hallway, closing the door behind them. A little white puppy with a pink sash around its neck came running up to greet him, jumping and wagging its tail in friendship. Gale’s face took on a slightly sterner mask as he scooped the small dog into his arms and tickled it under the chin.

“How is the girl?” He asked, in a concerned tone.

“Girl?” Lizzy chuckled. “I know of no girl here.”

“Pardon, Lizzy?” He frowned at her, used to her little tricks. “What of Gratia?”

The young witch laughed again. “Oh, you mean the beautiful young woman you have me keep prisoner in the loft? Oh, she is hardy as always. In fact, with my great healing powers I doubt it shall be more then a few days before we have her in full evening dress and ready to dine with the gentlefolk.” Again, she giggled. “Come now, or the food shall grow cold, and leave that puppy be or you shall have white flecks all over your suit!” She led him to the dining room door and opened it, ushering him in front of her.

Looking into the dimly lit room, he had been knocked for six as he saw the dazzling figure standing by the open fire. For a second his eyes adjusted to the dark and he could not make her out clearly, but as the realisation dawned on him, his breath squeezed and made his heart race. 

It was Gratia. Though he wouldn’t have known it from a distance. She was all done up like a gentlewoman, with an expensive, beautiful dress, and fine complexion. The tiredness had vanished from her eyes and they sparkled once more with the curios mischief he remembered from the first hours of their meeting. And there was something about her hair, too. It had been well groomed and looked glorious. For what seemed like hours compressed into minutes, he stood, staring at the magnificent lady before him.

In the shadows that were cast across her face, Gratia blushed deeply. He was staring at her. She could see that he was struggling to save his jaw from hanging open. She glanced at Lizzy, who stood behind him. She was grinning at her and gave a coy, devilish look, gesturing that she looked beautiful. Gratia smiled and blushed some more, unsure what to do. Gale seemed in some sort of trance.

“Good evening,” she began.

“Good evening.” He bowed slightly and shot her a winning smile.

“Come on you two, get seated. I’ll bring dinner through else it shall be cold soon,” Lizzy said, pushing Gale further into the room and then leaving through the door which lead to the kitchen.

Then they were left to themselves. Gale stepped politely forward, closer to her. “You are looking well,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Much better, thank you. Lizzy has been very kind to me. She is a good healer.”

“Indeed, she is. I am just glad you are feeling so much better.” He paused for a moment and then looked directly into her eyes. “You look beautiful.”

Gratia looked away, unable to stop the burning in her cheeks. She bit her bottom lip to try and suppress her smile, but failed.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

There came a scratching on the door as it was nuzzled open again. The little white pup dashed in and jumped up at her. She bent down and scooped him up.

“Wroguard,” she giggled.

“You like him?” Gale smiled.

“Very much so. Thank you.”

Gale laughed. “You seem full of gratitude tonight. Does this mean you have forgiven me for my earlier disgraces?” He looked hopefully at her.

Gratia caught his puppy-dog expression in the corner of her eye and could not help but say, “I suppose I might have been a little quick to judge.” Even though her whole mind screamed out to say more, she followed it up with a polite smile.

“No, you were perfectly right. My manner was atrocious. I just hope that we might be able to start again.”

Gratia nodded slightly. Lizzy strode back in with a couple of large dishes which she placed on the table, then returned to the kitchen.

“I suppose we should seat ourselves,” Gratia whispered.

Now it was Gale’s turn to nod his agreement. He walked to the table and pulled out a chair, allowing her to sit down before seating himself opposite, frowning. 

Lizzy walked back in with more dishes.

“Only two places, Lizzy?” 

She looked sheepish for a moment and then turned back to the kitchen, muttering her plans to deliver a baby later that evening. Gale looked back to Gratia with a coy smile.

“You must excuse her, she has no sense of duty.”

“I noticed,” Gratia replied. “I hope my company shall be satisfactory in her absence?”

Gale’s eyes seemed strangely serious for his humorous smile, oddly mismatched. “I am certain it shall be perfect. That is, if you can stand to be in the same room as me for such a length of time?”

Lizzy walked back through with yet more plates. She placed them on the table and looked at them both. “There,” she said. “That’s the last of them. Now, I am afraid I really must fly else the baby shall be born without me.” She giggled and headed towards the front door.

“Goodbye.” “Take care my dear,” they called after her.

And now the room was silent, save for the crackling wood on the fire. Gratia was aware that he was staring at her over the table, and she glanced up at him.

“You had a lucky escape. I hope that has not turned you against Lariaan?”

“No, I have a lot to thank you for.”

“You still have not explained to me what happened?”

“Oh. I did not know that I owed you an explanation, father.”

Gale frowned. “I was only curious. Though I can see it is a touchy subject, I apologise.”

“No, I’m sorry. That was rude of me, but I would rather forget the whole sickly affair if that does not offend you?”

“No, of course not.” He dished some of the meats and vegetables onto a plate and passed them to her before serving another for himself. “Have you heard, there was a priest murdered at Saint Odubon’s church on Lark Street the other night.”

Gratia looked at him with interest, trying to conceal her suspicion that he was digging at something. “Oh?”

“What can the world be coming to when even holy men and gentlewomen are not safe from murderous blades?” He began to eat. Gratia, however, had lost her appetite and twisted her fork on her plate. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just not so hungry.”

“I do hope it was not something I said?”

Gratia shot him another suspicious look. “Why, you believe I should feel guilty for that poor man’s death?” She instantly regretted it. Gale’s face turned pale, his expression was pained. “Do you believe I am a murderer, Gale? Do you truly believe that?”

“No! Of course not! And I said nothing of the sort. All I know is that you were there. I don’t think for one moment that you would kill a man, especially not a holy man!”

“How? How do you know I was there?” Gratia spat in an accusing tone.

“I was passing by the church when you ran out. I called to you, but you took no notice! When I saw you being chased by those thugs, I naturally followed to see if I could help.”

“I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to look out for me.”

“So I saw.”

Gratia’s glare was grim. “I wish I had never come to Lariaan. I wish I had never met you, or your spiteful mother. I wish they had killed me and then I wouldn’t have to put up with this insufferable town and its disgusting people! I hate everything about this place.”

The hurt on Gale’s face was unmistakable. He placed his knife and fork together on his plate and stood up from the table.

“If that is the case, then I am sorry to have bothered you. Please forgive me. I shall leave you in peace now and bid you a good return journey to your homeland.” He strode towards the door and pulled it open.

Tears began to singe her cheeks. “No, wait!” she called in a pitiful tone. She felt his presence standing in the doorway. He had not turned, though. “I’m sorry. Please, I did not mean that! Forgive me, please. Don’t leave.”

The figure in the doorway relaxed. He sighed wistfully before turning back into the room. He walked to the side of her large, oak chair and kneeled down beside it. Looking up at her tear-stained face, his expression was blank.

“Why do you do this, Gratia? Why do you always have to hurt people?”

She looked away. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive me. It was not my intention to hurt you,” she pleaded.

“But why do you do it?”

Her bottom lip quivered uncontrollably. “I do not know. But I did not mean to hurt you, I–,” she choked, but the sentence was left unspoken.

“You what? You’re sorry? You didn’t mean to? Is that it?” The tone of his voice changed subtly. He sounded more stern, almost angry. “Is that all the pathetic excuses you can find? Your colourful gypsy imagination can’t conjure up any great solution?”

“I love you!” she blurted through her tears. 

There was a deep silence. One that could swallow the whole world. Gale’s body tensed, his features softening slightly.

“You what?” he asked, astounded and unbelieving of his own ears.

“I love you.” She drew her knees up to her chest, under the huge folds of silken gown, hugging them. 

To her utter amazement, Gale’s lips curled into a bright smile, his grey eyes sparkled. She looked down at him with pleading eyes and a trembling lip.

He had to be sure. He had to be absolutely certain that she was not a murderer. He didn’t believe it, but for his own mind’s rest he had to be positive. She had been pursued by some of the most notorious thieves and cut-throats in Lariaan. It was far more likely that she had interrupted them when she went to pray.

But she flew off the handle! All he had asked, innocently, was what she had been doing there. Conversationally, many would call it. He had saved her life after all. Didn’t she at least owe him an explanation? 

He had known a few fiery women in his time, but she really topped the lot. Why on earth had he come? He was certain Lizzy was going to try and set him up. She knew he had a sweetness for the gypsy, so why had he bothered to come? He knew what she could be like. He’d been on the receiving end much of the time since she’d arrived. Now it was getting ridiculous. 

And then it came. The reason for her spite. In a stream of words, she told him of her hatred for the town – the town he had grown up in and loved more dearly than his own mother – and himself. She said it as if it were his own fault for being so hateable! Well, that did it. He had no reason being there any more, so he put down his cutlery and constructed a carefully worded goodbye. After all, it was clear she was unhappy. Why should he make her more so with harsh words of his own?

It was once he began to open the door that he heard her first sob, but unlike the pity and understanding he had felt for her at his house the day his mother rudely turned her away, he felt only anger. Anger at the fact that she had brought this upon herself and now expected others to fall at her feet to help, when all she gave them in return was spite, venom and coldness. 

For once in his life he felt ready to bring a very harsh reality to someone. When she sobbed for him to stay, he quite readily saw his opportunity. Striding back to where she sat, he knelt down and looked up at her. He saw that she had noted his hot expression. That made him feel good. Now maybe she would take him seriously and listen to what he had to say, rather than ignore him and continuing to destroying herself.

He was going to show her the facts. Drum it into her that she could not treat people as she did. Try and find out why she did it, and hurt her. Yes, that was it. He wanted to give her a dose of her own medicine for once. Show her how it felt to be talked to so impossibly.

With anger rising in his throat, he confronted her. Asked her why she felt the need to do it. He couldn’t bear to see her wallowing in such self-pity. She had only herself to blame. 

Then it happened. The words he would have laid down his life to hear. There they were, and for some strange reason he could not believe he had actually heard them! But when he asked, there they were again: “I love you.” 

Who would have thought that three short words like that could turn a man’s innards upside down. Suddenly, all of his anger had dissipated. All he could see was his precious gypsy lady, dressed up like a princess and radiating with beauty.

Then he realised, with a spiny pinprick of reality, that she was sobbing. Her heart was breaking in two and all because of his own cruel words. What had he done? How could she bring herself to love such a monster? He wanted to apologise, tell her he was sorry, make everything better, but for once words failed him. His jaw gaped helplessly at the situation.

He lifted one hand up to her face and wiped aside some of the tears that streamed down, as he had done on the dust path outside his house once before. To his amazement, her hand stopped his. She frantically began kissing it, as if her life were in danger and it were her only salvation. She continued kissing his fingers and wrist, her breath coming in short, painful gasps as she slid from the chair and knelt down level with him.

He held out his other hand and lifted her chin to look her directly in the eye. He lifted her hand and kissed it once, very gently.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, and brought his lips to meet hers.