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“A younger sister?” hazarded Hester. “If so, you must bring the poor child to court. She looks as though her life is positively dreary! I must say,” she leaned forward in her seat and gazed about her. “It does look a good deal more colorful in here than the last time I visited you. Is it that rather extraordinary tapestry? Where did you get it?” when Hester looked as if she would get up to examine the tapestry, Fen nearly jumped out of her chair.

“But what is the current gossip about my marriage?” she demanded in exasperation.

Hester smiled triumphantly and settled back in her seat. “Ah – a sensible question! Never fear, I shall tell you.” She took a sip of fruit juice. “Why, that you have quite overset your poor husband’s orderly bachelor life onto its head! That he no longer knows whether he is coming or going. That his every waking moment is consumed with thoughts of you and wiping your previous marriage from the annals of history.”

Fen stared at her friend aghast. “But-”

“Do not deny it!” she said holding up her hand. “For even my prosaic spouse now believes it to be nothing more than the truth!”

Fen cast her mind back to the previous evening. “But Oswald did nothing last night to make Lord Schaeffer believe such a thing!” she objected.

“Did he not?” asked Hester archly. “Did he not indeed?”

Fen cast about in her memory, but nothing sprung to mind. Her husband had been his usual attentive self, but she could find no reason for Lord Schaeffer to believe him suddenly infatuated with her.

“Apparently Lord Vawdrey has been similarly distracted during his council duties. It has been much commented on. Andrew said, even the King remarked upon it last month. It has been highly diverting for them all. Before now they have all thought him quite the perfect politician. Almost single-minded in carrying out his duties, with no life outside of it whatsoever.”

Fen twisted her fingers in her lap, remembering her father’s beliefs that ambition had caused Oswald Vawdrey to break his vow to her. But in her experience, he had been nothing but thoughtful and solicitous of her feelings since acknowledging her as his wife. True, she had managed to displease him on a couple of occasions, but he had climbed down off his high horse swiftly and shown that he was sorry by his actions, rather than his words. She did not like the thought that she was bringing his reputation into any kind of disrepute. “He is always very conscientious in his duty to the King,” she said defensively. “And it seems to me that he takes his duties as head of the Vawdrey family very seriously.”

“Oh, everyone knows that,” said Hester with a sweep of her hand. “And he has very firm convictions. Otherwise why would he cross King Wymer about the fate of the Blechmarsh princess? Everyone agrees that he has quite a brilliant mind. It is only that he has always seemed,” her friend broke off with a wince and a shrug of her shoulders. “Something of a cold fish.”

Fen nearly choked on her marchpane. “That – that does not sound like the husband I know,” she answered truthfully. “He is not cold at all, but rather-” she broke off, not wanting to be indiscreet. For how could she explain that her husband’s public image concealed a very sensual and passionate man? She could not. Nor could she explain that when Oswald spoke in his most polite, cool voice, he was often masking some fury. “Sometimes,” she ventured, “his words tell one story, but…”

“His actions another?” suggested Hester.

“Yes. No. Not exactly,” sighed Fen. It was more complicated than that. “He is not the most straightforward man, but…” She broke off realizing she could not explain it adequately. “He is a very good husband,” she finished lamely.

“You must not look so serious,” Hester implored her. “I want to hear all about this annulment business.” She helped herself to another piece of marchpane and settled back into her seat. “Now make sure you tell me everything and leave out not a single detail.”

Hester stayed some two hours, and left promising to read the play as soon as she was able. Fen found she could not settle after she had left, but instead unpacked and re-ordered all of her trunks with her ever-growing amount of clothing. She even made a bundle of her Sitchmarsh dresses to give to Trudy. Her maid would be able to alter, or perhaps cut them down for her children, or do whatever she wished with them. She had no excuse for keeping hold of them now she had no firm date that she was going down to the country. After this, she wrapped up warm in her sky-blue cloak and scarlet gloves and she and Bors went for a walk in the castle grounds. It was a crisp and cold afternoon and Fen lost track of time as they enjoyed the fresh air. They had walked all the way to the rose gardens, before Fen realized that it was rapidly turning dark and they would have to think about turning back. They made haste to hurry back toward the castle, but did not beat the descending dusk. The exercise had blown the cobwebs from her mind, but she was still in turmoil over the play which loomed over her like a dark cloud on the horizon.

So absorbed was she in her thoughts, that she almost fell over the profusion of trunks and boxes piled up outside their rooms. Bors barked as she stumbled and caught hold of the door handle, which swung inwards with her still clinging onto it and scraped her knees on the floorboards. A hush fell over the room, and she looked up, to her embarrassment finding the reception room full of occupants, all of whom were staring at her. Fen stared back at them, a cold feeling creeping up her spine. Her gaze went from the two small little girls sat on the window seat, to a red-haired lady sat by the fire holding an equally red-haired baby, to a tall glowering male stood with his back to the fire. Her gaze fixed on him, and she swallowed. Now this, was definitely a Vawdrey. The dark hair, the powerful build, the height all gave it away. If she wasn’t mistaken, this was Mason Vawdrey. Which meant, she thought dazedly, that this was her other brother-in-law, with his family.

“Hello,” she croaked, still clinging to the door handle. The sound of footsteps behind her, had her turning to look back over her shoulder as Oswald came striding down the corridor toward her, a hard and angry look on his face.

He didn’t even blink an eye at finding her on her knees. His hands were under her arm-pits in an instant, dragging her to her feet. “Where the hells have you been?” he hissed, spinning her round to face him. “I’ve had Bryce running from room to room, checking on your friends’ whereabouts! Lady Schaeffer said she left you here some three hours ago!”

“Oswald, your family-” she began, darting her eyes toward the other people in the room, but he ignored her.

“You didn’t tell your maid or Meldon where you were going!” he continued to rage, slashing one hand through the air. “What the hell was I supposed to think when I got back here and found you missing?”

“Missing?” Fen’s mouth dropped open. “I just went for a walk with Bors,” she said helplessly, and started to glance around for her dog, but Oswald’s hand caught her chin and bought her attention forcibly back to him.

“Don’t. Do. That. Again,” he said ominously.

“Walk my dog?” asked Fen, in confusion. His expression turned livid and she hurriedly tried to explain: “Neither Meldon or Trudy was here, and I didn’t think it was as late as it was when I set out.” To her embarrassment, tears had sprung into her eyes and she tried to blink them back. “The portrait sitting took up such a chunk of my time this morning, that I fell behind. I’m sorry-”

As if becoming aware of their audience, Oswald released her so abruptly that she almost tottered back, except his hand shot out to catch her again above the elbow. “Let us discuss this later,” he said stiffly, and turned her about to face his family. “This is my brother Mason and his family. Linnet, his wife. My nieces Margaret and Lily, my nephew Archie.”

So, he had been aware of their presence! Fen managed an awkward curtsey as Linnet, hampered by a baby on her lap, nodded her head with a hesitant smile. Mason Vawdrey was frowning at her, his arms crossed, and a severe look on his face. He did not look pleased to meet her.

“Girls, come and greet your new aunt,” Linnet directed her daughters, who dropped down off the window seat and approached her, dragging their feet. They only got halfway across the room before they bobbed their curtseys and fled back to their window seat. “I’m afraid they’re rather shy until they get to know you,” she added.

“It’s very nice to meet you, girls,” Fenella called after them feebly. She felt in utter disgrace, her face hot and no doubt red as a ripe apple. Looking around the room, she was unsure where to put herself. She could hardly run to their bedroom like a frightened rabbit. Instead, she unfastened her cloak and draped it over a chair, wishing she could sink through the floorboards. Collapsing into a corner seat, she busied herself unfastening her gloves and trying not to feel conspicuous.

“You must not sit there in a dark corner,” Linnet protested. “Or you will make me feel like we have driven you away from the hearth. Do draw your chair near to the fire and sit with me. I have been so anxious to meet you.”

Fen looked up and saw her sister-in-law had a kindly and earnest look on her face; that, and a good many freckles.