In The Chamber, Part 2
Wednesday, February 11, 2004

A few days passed, and I forgot my fears again. The weather was bright and hot, so much so that in the back yards of all the noble houses gazebos of bright colored silk sprung up like flowers, their petal like sides blowing in the wind. None of the manors were very far apart, just a few trees, some knot gardens, some short expanses of perfectly trimmed and watered grass separating us and making us feel like we lived in our own far off land. The truth was that we were all close enough to walk, easily, from one lawn to another, and that was how the ramble parties began. In the late afternoon we’d all adjourn to the tents outside. Weli favored plums and lavender colors this year, and so the tent’s room was a pale, lovely lavender, the tied-back sides a combination of the lavender with a gauze like plum second curtain that could be pulled shut separately from the heavier silk curtains. The pillows were every shade of purple imaginable, from the lightest to the darkest, the rug a whit with a pattern of grapes and ivy. My favorite pillow to sit on had pink flowers embroidered on it. We would sit in this purple haven and wait, drinking tea and eating lightly from the large trays of treats set against one side. Eventually a party of nobles would come, and we’d lounge together on the pillows, all trying to act very proper despite the fact we were sitting on the ground...slippery ground at that. Weli’s husband cheated by having a small stool brought out for him, which he would usually end up giving up to an older lady who did not want to have to get all the way down on the pillows to sit. eventually the group would be ready to move on...sometimes leaving members, sometimes taking one or even all of us on to the next stop. All day and into the dusk this would continue, wandering back and forth among the houses, eating and drinking and talking about nothing.

On this particular day the party left, and I decided to be the one to stay...alone. Weli tried to pull me along, hoping that one of the men might attract me, but dull and lifeless they had been to me before I’d met Joaquin, and knowing him made it even harder to stand them. Besides, if I was alone, I could actually eat something, not nibble on the same cookie for three hours like all the other women did. If only there was something left in the carnage that had once been the dessert trays...

I saw him wander out of the woods long before he reached the tent. I kept my eyes down, excited and worried at the same time.

“There is not much left, is there?” he said from behind my shoulder.

“The servants will bring out more soon, I’m sure. May I get you something? Some tea? O wine, perhaps?”

He was looking at the Manor. It was all whitewashed stone and back iron shutters on either side of the tall windows. It was a pretty place.

“It’s a good home,” I said, “it has lovely bones.” He blinked, then looked at me. I blushed. “I mean, structure. Good structure, underneath it all.”

He nodded as if I’d said something of incredible depth, and sat down. He gestured to one of the pillows next to him, but I declined, sitting at an angle from him, stacking a couple of the pillows so I could sit fairly straight.

He remained silent. He looked calm, as if he were enjoying the surroundings. It made me feel uncomfortable, but I learned late, it was supposed to, to make me talk. It was something he did to everyone.

“I wanted to thank you again for the earrings, they’re lovely.”

“I heard that you favored emeralds. I hope I was not wrong?”

“You heard correct.” I realized I was pinching the fold of my skirt, running my fingernails down it, making a wrinkle. I stopped forcibly, Placing my hands on my knees.

“It is an unusual choice, I thought...most women seem to prefer rubies.”

“We don’t suit each other,” I said, making an implication.

“Everything suits you,” if he picked up on it, he was ignoring it.

He leaned back, stretching out his long legs. “You should be hearing from your guardian soon.”

“I highly doubt that, sir.” No one was allowed to write letters from prison.

“Someone has settled his debts.”

I met his eyes. They flickered oddly, all shadows. “Why would anyone do that.”

He leaned closer to me. “Perhaps they thought it might please you to have one less worry.”

“I was not worried.”

He straighter. “Pity.” He said, and made as if to stand.

I caught his arm. “Why do you care?” He tried to pull away, but I wouldn’t allow it.

“I could have forced you into marriage. I could have told his...and by proxy your...debtors that I would settle all things when you were my wife. I would not do it.”

I stood. “How generous. But if that was all you wanted you might have gotten farther asking first.”

I pushed the blowing cloth aside and left the pavilion.

“Marry me then.”

I turned. He was leaning against one of the columns holding the tent up, not relaxed as his usual wont, but clutching the cloth. His face was in the shade, but I thought he looked...uncertain. Longing. I don’t know if it were truth, or fancy that make it seem so, but for a moment I felt like I was the most wanted person in the world.

“Yes.” I said, and walked into the house, never looking back.


He wanted to get married quickly, no ceremony. I agreed, both because I had no one I really wanted to invite, and because I as afraid that if I had time too think about it, I might change my mind. Mo one wanted it, you see. Even my cousin’s usually disaffected husband who treated me like a stranger rather than family stopped me in the halls to tell me...on three separate occasions...that he was content to have me here, that I didn’t have to rush into marriage.

The servants wept on my wedding day. The children were somber, playing quietly as if afraid to disturb the fragile quiet that had gathered around us. Weli, too, wept.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. You did not ask him to pay your guardian’s debts.” She was brushing out my hair. She’d stop to rub her face with the back of her hand.

“I am doing this because I want to.”

“Why? He doesn’t...he could have killed her, you do know this.”

I was picking at my emerald earrings. He’d sent me a necklace to match. “It is possible.” Admitting it was a weight off of my chest, even as it opened the door to darker imaginings.

She dropped the length of hair she was about to pin up. “Then why?”

“He fascinates me.”

“Trust me, darling, there are a million fascinating men out there. Just last night Termind promised that we could all go on a tour...” She smiled tremulously. “You have all the time in the world that you want, we could sail the world, visit different places, find your someone extraordinary...”

I raised my hand slowly to touch her cheek. Our eyes met in the mirror. “I want him,” I said. She teared up again, and began pinning up my hair.

The traditional dress is either pale yellow or pink, with tons, and tons of scarlet embroidery...flowers in profusion, symbols indicating the bride’s hopes for her future. I dressed in pale green satin, a plain dress with a fitted bodice and a flaring skirt that brushed the top of my feet. I tacked some gold lace around the hem. It was sleeveless, and I wore white gloves. My only other decoration were the earrings and the necklace, and emerald tipped pins that Weli insisted she give me to pin up my hair.

“You should have at least wore a traditional dress...we could have altered mine, for goodness sake...”

“That dress is for your daughter, should she want it. Besides, I don’t like red.”

“Nonsense! Since when?” She was remembering my second best dress, red velvet with black cord decorations. It was now, unbeknownst to her, sitting in the back of her cupboard.

“I don’t know.” I folded my hands at my waist, and took my place by the door.



We left early, my husband and I. He made up an excuse about having to go meet the ship, saying that it had made port earlier than expected. We ended up sitting in an inn for two hours because of this, but I didn’t mind. The wedding had been nice, the small party afterward a grim thing of false cheer that seemed more like a wake than a wedding. I didn’t understand it...I was outside their circle, why would they care what happened to me? And why, if they were so certain I was going to my doom, did they let me go?

It was uncomfortable, and I couldn’t eat, and so I welcomed Joaquin’s change of plans. I did not feel as if I were walking down a dangerous path...I was married, and well, my husband solicitous, the food he bought for me filling and plentiful. I leaned against his arm, and after a moment he drew me closer, holding me while we waited for a ship that would take us beyond the horizon.

I will not bore you with details of our honeymoon. It was lovely...the place he took me was an old ruins, filled with explorers and scientists and wizards trying to discover the meanings of the things the people had left behind. He took me into caverns where the walls had been carefully chiseled flat and covered with mosaics made of tiny stones and tiles that lasted for miles. We traveled the edge of the desert, we visited a gorgeous oasis. After that we traveled north, and slept in a palace of ice. It was not a usual trip, but a trip that filled me with wonders and promised me more. He was kind to me, ever watchful, very little affection in public but in private he often touched me, not always with interest in the bed chamber but nice quick kisses, a hand rubbing my back for a second as he passed. I’d find small presents in my pockets, a silver comb, some pretty pebbles, a flower pressed in glass.

I was feeling quite smug with myself, if you must know. And happy. It is hard not to love someone, when you are at the center of their most lavish attention.

It faded, though, the closer we got to home. In the carriage, closing in on his estates, it was almost as if we were strangers.

His manor, unlike my cousin’s and his neighbors illusion of space, really was on a stretch of land. The land was covered in a dense forest of pine, the silence, when we stepped out of the carriage and walked up the pale marble steps to the imposing doors complete. The house was huge, gray marble veined with white, I could not take it all in. I was relived, when we got near the door, because I would not have to assimilate the absolute vastness of the place.

Over the door, a thick almost black wood with black iron hinges, it was carved, Be Bold.

I waited, at his shoulder, for him to do something. The only servant I had seen was the man who drove the carriage and who was, even now, somewhere behind the house putting things away. Perhaps they did not know we were here?

“Tessa.” I put my hand on his shoulder, and he placed his own on top of it. It was cold, and I stepped around him to see his face,. He looked paler than usual. He was silent for so long that I thought about prompting him, but he spoke again, looking into my eyes. “I give you everything I have. My wealth, my home, my body...any desire you have, it’s yours.” He dug into his pocket and produced a ring of keys. They were all ornate. Some were silver, some were brass. One was black, not as iron would be, but a sort of black whose dullness seemed to suck the life out of everything next to it. It was the smallest key of all. He presented me the ring. The keys clattered together, and I realized my unflappable husband was shaking. I took the keys quickly, hating to see his weakness. He did not let them go, but placed a hand under my chin. Our eyes met again. “There is only one thing that you may not do. There is a room by itself, down a dark narrow hall to the back. It’s frame is painted red, and it’s a small door and takes the smallest key. Under no circumstances are you to ever enter that room.” He half whispered, half growled the words, so fierce that his hand on my chin was beginning to hurt.

“I promise” I gasped, and looking surprised, he let go of me.

“Do not place the key to the lock. Do not open the door. Do not enter in. No matter what.” He paused, and no longer able to meet my eyes, he said, “It would not be good for our marriage.”

“I promise never to go anywhere near that room, much less open in.”

He nodded, and let go of the keys. He gestured toward the door. “The house is yours, then, my wife. Unlock her and enter in.”


I tried to smile, and, knees shaking I walked past him. I tried the largest key first, because it had a pattern that looked door like to me on it. My not so wild guess was right, and the double doors parted to my touch, sliding open on well oiled hinges. The entry way looked like a church foyer...all wide expanse, with a pair of carefully turned staircases spiraling down the wall on either side. Three smaller replicas of the huge doors we’d entered through interrupted the pale expanse of it all.

“Where are the...ah..” I began, not knowing how to ask.

“Servants?”

“Yes! I’ve never entered into a house before without being attacked by someone determined to fuss over me.”

He smiled, in control again, the shadow of the man I’d honeymooned with returning. “Everything is taken care of. This way. I’ll be going away on business tomorrow...”

“So soon?”

“And therefore I’ll leave the explorations up to you, it’ll give you something to do while I’m away.”

“Can’t I come with you?” The last thing I wanted to do was to be left in that...that...mausoleum by myself.

“Next time, perhaps. Don’t you want a chance to get yourself situated? I smell food. I am absolutely dying for something to eat, aren’t you?” And he kept me distracted like that all evening.


============================================

Why I did what I did, and thoughts on other things.

By the way, the last bit was 1,543 words. This one was 2,526. I stopped, even though I know what happens next (Goodbyes, exploration of the house.) because I was starting to trance out a bit. Besides, I have a couple of book reviews I need to write.

I received a couple of surprises...our Tessa’s not completely unwitting in her desire to marry Joaquin. I’m not sure that I’m sold on her reasons, though, and am going to have to go back and strengthen them. I have some roots to work with...maybe work more with the fact that Joaquin paid off her guardian’s debts. She could feel like she *has* to marry him, and indeed, he really isn’t giving her much of a choice, despite the fact it’s clothed in a desire to please. In this society, if word got out that he paid these debts off, her reputation would doubtlessly be tarnished. After all, everyone would wonder what he was getting out of it, eh? (Nudge nudge, wink wink.)

The other surprise is that he did the “Don’t open the door speech” where he did. I was planning on writing it right before he leaves on business. Is he afraid that something inside the house might over hear?

I may have to play up the no servants thing earlier. We’ll see. There can’t be servants...but since I’ve chosen a magical setting, I can finess that, make it something nifty. Or maybe even scary. Hum. We can’t have servants, one, because of the door...I mean, if something *bad* were to happen every time the door’s opened, Joaquin’d probably already been burned out by now. You know servants are just as curious as anyone else. But maybe they can’t get the key...ah. That would negate the worry? But the idea of dinners just appearing, the house being cleaned...that’s stuff that can add atmosphere. Ok. No servants still.

Be Bold is a shameless thievery from The Robber Bridegroom. I don’t know if I’ll use the rest of it or not...I don’t think I will, but Be Bold will show up again, I already have the scene in my mind.

The last part of the scene will have to be expanded slightly, I think, in the second draft. I was starting to get tired, and wanted to quit. The endless descriptions of the pavilions early in this scene will have to be toned down, since it’s not *that* important. We’re never going to visit again, so why make such a big deal out of it?

Didn’t have a chance to introduce Tessa’s whole name yet. By this point of the story, we never will, and that might be for the best, but still...something to tackle next draft.

All in all, I feel equal to the task of writing the next section, which will be a major one, as she’ll have broken the first promise of never going near the door...

Anyway, I have to go take a crowbar to the ice on the driveway.

Permalink Cindy scribed this at 3:47 PM 0 comments

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