Chapter 6: Seven Of Cups

The day of the king's summer ball arrived. The entire household was in an uproar as the servants tried to get Marriette and Torrance looking good enough not to embarrass themselves. Marriette's hair was teased and arranged, then rearranged, as the heat made it go flat. She was made up, perfumed, and fit into the golden ball gown. Finally, just as the sun touched the horizon, she was helped into the carriage while Torrance climbed after her. The driver's muffled voice ordered the horses to walk and Marriette and Torrance were driven off to the palace.

The attendees of the ball arrived in reverse order of importance, so Torrance and Marriette, while not the first ones there, had plenty of time to check out the decorations and the food. Flowers and greenery dotted the walls. Birds in cages sang sweet melodies over top of the hum of the people talking. The banquet table groaned under berries and ices and cold meats. Yet, as colourful as the room was, the people outshone it. Women in fine gowns of every colour blended or clashed with their men whose own outfits rivaled a peacock's.

Torrance and Marriette chatted with the people who were already there. Marriette remembered some from occasions when her father had dragged her along. She was amazed how much she enjoyed their conversation now that they didn't see her as a path to her father.

The moon had started to rise when Duke deLanguiers arrived. Smoke from the candles made the air hazy, but the looks of desire and fear sent toward the duke were clear enough. He strutted past the crowd, which parted before his red and gold splendour. His demeanour announced there was no one present worthy of speaking to him. He stopped in front of Marriette and stared coldly at his daughter.

Torrance had gone to fetch drinks for Marriette and himself and the people she had just been speaking with turned away as if she and her father were in a bubble, alone in the room.

"I would have thought my daughter would have come to visit her father before now," he said.

"You must know that a wife's first duty is to her husband." Marriette astonished herself with the courage to defy her father.

"You will visit," he said, leaning over to speak quietly, "I have questions you must answer."

Torrance maneuvered across the floor, glasses with ice and punch in each hand. His presence gave her courage. She could never betray him. He nodded at her and disappeared back into the crowd.

"I will never again set foot in your house while you are alive," Marriette's stomach ached and she tasted bile at the back of her throat. "And I will not answer any of your questions now, or ever."

"Foolish girl, you don't know what I can do to you," her father said as he gripped her forearm. She would have bruises in the morning.

"I doubt that it would be much worse than you have already done." Marriette took a deep breath and tried to pull her arm away.

"It is pleasant to see father and daughter reunited," the archbishop said. "Henri, you are wrinkling her lovely dress. Whatever plot you are hatching will just have to wait."

The duke dropped Marriette's arm like it was suddenly red hot and stalked off.

"One advantage of my age is that I no longer fear political repercussions," the archbishop said. "My dear, you look even more radiant than you did on your wedding day. If you ever need to talk - about anything - just stop by the cathedral."

Marriette looked into the kindly face of the archbishop and smiled.

"Thank you, Your Eminence."

He wandered off again. Marriette went and found her husband. He was arguing politics with a man dressed in a simple black suit that made him look like a crow among the exotic colours of the rest of the crowd.

"Marriette," Torrance said, "this is the king's Justicar. Tamas, my wife Marriette."

Tamas bowed over Marriette's hand.

"If all our nobles were as wise as Torrance and as beautiful as you, our land would truly be blessed."

"Oh, please," Marriette said, "I can see a dozen ladies from here who outshine me tonight."

"Perhaps, perhaps, but I must look deeper than appearances." The Justicar winked and slipped away into the press of nobles.

"He is a good man, if a little odd," Torrance said. "His views on responsibility and the law are even more radical than mine." He led Marriette over to the buffet and filled a plate for her.

White moonlight shone through the windows when the majordomo thumped his staff on the floor.

"Lords and Ladies, his Majesty King Harald and the Queen Sarandia." Everyone bowed in their direction then slowly returned to their conversations. The king and queen walked opposite directions around the ballroom talking to a few lucky people.

They were followed by guards whose eyes flitted across everyone in the room. In addition, the king was shadowed by a large man who looked lighter on his feet than most of the dancers, and a much shorter man who peered about as if he couldn't quite see anyone clearly.

"The big man is the king's marshal," Torrance whispered. "He is part bodyguard, and part champion, and all dangerous. The other man is the king's cousin, vonFromme, he's a bit fussy, but harmless."

Marriette nodded. Torrance saw people as having a place and value in society, a contrast to her father who only saw tools to be used. Servants walked through the crowd carrying trays with bite sized food and tiny glasses of wines and liqueurs. She breathed in the warring perfumes of dozens of fine ladies and smiled. It was like being in the garden with her mother, before both the garden and her mother died.

The king walked past and nodded at Marriette, but didn't stop to talk. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed. As important as her father was, he'd never brought her anywhere this near royalty. The music began soon after the royal couple arrived and Marriette watched the dancers wistfully. She enjoyed dancing; just not the political maneuvering that usually went with it.

After the first couple of sets, a younger man, who Torrance introduced as a business associate, asked her to dance. With Torrance's permission, she joined him on the dance floor. She kept checking on Torrance, but he encouraged her to enjoy herself. She relaxed and let her husband's friends escort her. She saw her father frowning at her and turned away.

The moon had set when the king's cousin asked her to dance. Marriette was tired by now, but one more dance wouldn't hurt.

"I am so glad you are enjoying yourself," Lord vonFromme said as he twirled her expertly about the floor. "Torrance is a good fellow, but a little intense. It is really too bad about his leg." Nothing he said was insulting, but his voice set her teeth on edge. It was as if there was some constant underlying message that she couldn't quite hear. She would just enjoy the dance. They finished their set and he returned her to Torrance. She caught a look of disappointment on vonFromme's face. She couldn't imagine why.

She headed back to where Torrance awaited her. The duke talked to the king and looked tremendously pleased with himself. Marriette turned away to find her husband.

Torrance's face was grey with pain. Marriette was shocked that he looked so bad so quickly. She put her arm around him to try and support him. He patted her arm absently but watched her father.

"I wonder what he is up to?" he said.

"I don't want to know," Marriette said.

"That is the problem with politics," Torrance said with a sigh, "most often what you must learn is what you wish to know the least. Ah, the king is leaving; if you don't mind, my dear, I think I must get home and off my feet."

Marriette took his arm and began heading toward the door. She was afraid that Torrance would collapse before they had made all their goodbyes. Their carriage waited at the front. Torrance pulled himself in with a grunt and settled into the seat.

"This cursed leg has turned me into half a man," he complained.

"You are a whole man to me," Marriette said.

"Am I?" Torrance asked then shook his head. "I apologize, Marriette. I am tired and out of sorts."

Marriette nodded and rode the rest of the way in silence.

The staff met them at the door and helped Torrance into the house.

"You would have enjoyed it tonight, LisAnne," he said to the picture.

"You still miss her?" asked Marriette.

"We never got along. We fought like cat and dog all the time, but we both loved our son, Niklas." He took Marriette's hand, "I am very glad you are here. I just wish you could have met Niklas." Torrance limped away to the bedroom while Marriette stood looking at the picture.

"Anna, please clean that black cloth and put it back, and put some flowers under the picture. Daisies, I think."

"Yes, my Lady," the housekeeper looked pleased.

In their quarters, a maid helped her out of the ball gown.

"I will take this to have it cleaned," the maid said.

Torrance sat on a chair trying to rub the cramps of his leg.

"Let me," Marriette made him move to the bed, then sat beside him and rubbed his calf. The muscles relaxed under her touch. After some time, she moved her ministrations to his thigh. She loosened his belt and pulled the pants off. Working her fingers into the knots of his muscles she concentrated on easing the pain her husband was feeling. He rolled onto his back and she continued working on his leg. His skin was warm and soft. She enjoyed the knowledge that she was helping him. Marriette allowed her eyes to close.

It was a shock when he sat up and embraced her; a worse shock when he kissed her with desperate urgency and reached under her dress. She gasped and tried to pull away, but Torrance didn't stop. His caresses became more intimate. Marriette's heart pounded painfully. She could hardly breathe. The vision of her father dropping the belt and fumbling at his pants came to her and she pushed away violently. The thin material of her underdress tore and Torrance fell heavily to the floor, but Marriette didn't notice.

"Father, don't, please, stop, stop, STOP!" She huddled on the bed crying and rocking. Torrance came around and tried to put an arm around her but she pushed him away again. "Don't touch me!" she screamed. "You are just like him."

"Your father?" Torrance said, choking. "Your father?" He stumbled from the room and shut the door behind him. Marriette threw herself onto the bed and wept until she fell asleep.

In the morning, she was still alone in the bed. She missed the warmth of Torrance at her back. She pulled the sheets around her and huddled in the bed rocking. Torrance hated her. Why else would he run away and not come back? The truth disgusted him. Marriette began crying again. The maids came in, took one look at her, and ran out.

Anna came in with a tray.

"Poor dear." She put a cup in Marriette's hands and made her drink the hot sweet tea, then tucked her back into bed. "Rest. The day will go on without you."

Marriette hid in the room for the next few days being cosseted by Anna and the rest of the staff. She didn't see Torrance the entire time. Part of her was relieved, and part was disappointed. Finally, she made herself get out of bed and dress.

Wandering through the house, Marriette tried to recover the contentment she had felt just a short week before. It had vanished, and in its place lay the certainty Torrance was avoiding her. Her misery deepened. In desperation, she decided to go to the cathedral. Maybe the archbishop would have some advice.

Marriette had only been in the cathedral a few times, and not since her wedding. Empty of people, the sanctuary was filled with light and the dance of dust motes in the air. Marriette watched entranced until the archbishop interrupted her.

"My staff said you were here. I decided to come and see for myself." He sat himself in a pew next to her. "I'm thinking it isn't just the beauty of the architecture that brought you here?"

"My husband hates me," Marriette said bluntly.

"I would have said that he dotes on you."

"I...I can't be with him as a wife with her husband."

The old man sat in silence. Marriette tried to recapture her enchantment with the light, but a knot in her stomach twisted ever tighter.

"I want to, but I can't." She hung her head and whispered in the softest of voices. "Not after what my father did to me. He said I seduced him, that I am a witch." She lifted her head heedless of the torrent of tears pouring from her eyes. "Why? Why did it happen to me?"

The archbishop sighed deeply.

"I don't think the Duke deLanguiers sees anything but his own need." He pulled out a handkerchief and dried Marriette's tears. "There is no law on heaven or earth that we have not broken. Listen to me, child, this is not your fault. This is your father's sin and he will pay the price for it when he stands before God."

"But he told me?"

"I am sure he did, but his words can't lay responsibility for his crime on your shoulders."

"So, what do I do?"

There was a long silence before the old man sighed again.

"You go home and make up with your husband, because what your father did is not his fault either."

Marriette left feeling both better and worse than she did before. When she got home, she went looking for Torrance. She found him in his office surrounded by mounds of paper. He looked up.

"Hello."

She tried to tell him about the tangle of feelings in her heart, but couldn't find them.

"I was young when I married LisAnne," Torrance said, as he stared out the window. "Young and impatient. She wasn't ready for our wedding night. I don't know what she had been told about what happens between a man and a woman, but she just lay there without moving or talking. I took her anyway, even though she began crying before I was done. We never slept together again. Niklas was conceived that night, in lust and pain, yet we both loved him. I loved him so much I wanted to have another child. She wanted to leave, instead of submitting to me again. Niklas cried as we shouted at each other through the window of the carriage."

"The horses spooked. I tried to catch them but was too slow. The carriage ran over my leg and shattered it. Without a driver, the horses ran out of control through the city. It finally crashed and both LisAnne and Niklas were killed." He looked at Marriette. "I almost didn't survive myself, but my mother still lived then and was determined I would live. I swore when I agreed to marry you that I wouldn't make the same mistakes with you. How can you trust me, if I can't trust myself?" He crumpled paper under his hands, but made no move to look at Marriette.

"I don't know," Marriette fought to stay on her feet when her legs wanted to let her drop to the floor. Every breath was forced past a lump like a knife in her breast. She wanted to hear him say he wanted to be with her, even now, but when Torrance didn't say anymore, she left him with his accounts. She went to their room and heaved the contents of her stomach into the washbasin.

A servant girl must have heard, because she took away the basin and brought a clean one.

Torrance didn't come to their room that night, or any night after. Marriette missed his warmth in her bed, and the conversation in the mornings. Speaking with Torrance was awkward, as if a barrier had gone up between them. She didn't know how to reach him and he didn't touch her or say more than he needed to her.

They were invited to more balls, and made their appearances, pretending everything was fine. Torrance went to talk to the Justicar and others while Marriette danced with some of the young men who continued to cluster around her. Her father never talked to her, but the king's cousin made a point of escorting her on the dance floor at least once each evening. His conversation continued to be innocuous, but at the same time laden with meaning. Marriette was sure he was playing some game that was beyond her, but she didn't care - just one more chore to get through.

She whiled away the time between balls, wondering what her life would have been like if she'd run off with Arthur. She would have had to work, like Joan. There would be no balls, no gowns, no servants. She wondered how long Arthur would have lasted before he too demanded his due from her.

After arriving home from the latest ball, Marriette undressed, then dismissed the maids and threw herself on the bed. She was as unhappy now as she had been happy before that horrible night. She had to talk to Torrance. He was staying in the guest room, so she put on a loose robe and went to find him. As she approached his room, a woman she had never seen before left his room. Marriette leaned against the wall and tried not to cry out loud.

She had lost him. Somehow, she found her way back to her room and fell into bed and screamed into her pillow until she was hoarse. She was no true wife and he'd turned to someone else for comfort. She hadn't imagined how much it hurt to be betrayed.

She had a dream that night of the old Wagoner woman and the cards. Marriette had forgotten them, with everything that had followed. She tried to hear the woman's words, but she heard shouting instead. Suddenly, the man and woman in chains on the Devil card were Art and Marriette. Arthur shouted at someone who was attacking him. He fought desperately, but the Devil's chain kept holding him back.

Marriette woke with a start. She tried to forget the dream, but she couldn't shake it. It haunted her through the day. She didn't dare talk to Joan about it for fear Torrance would hear. She had the dream again the next night and the night after. Art's wounds grew worse. No one could survive them, yet he still fought against the chains.

Art was alive and needed her. The dreams showed they were connected. She would find out what had happened to him and what that connection meant.

Marriette found some clothes to travel in, then left a note for Torrance.

I am not the wife you need. I hope you are happy with your new woman. I have gone to find Arthur.

She folded it in half and wrote Torrance's name on it and left it for the servants to find in the morning.

It was a shock when he sat up and embraced her; a worse shock when he kissed her with desperate urgency and reached under her dress. She gasped and tried to pull away, but Torrance didn't stop. His caresses became more intimate. Marriette's heart pounded painfully. She could hardly breathe. The vision of her father dropping the belt and fumbling at his pants came to her and she pushed away violently. The thin material of her underdress tore and Torrance fell heavily to the floor, but Marriette didn't notice.

"Father, don't, please, stop, stop, STOP!" She huddled on the bed crying and rocking. Torrance came around and tried to put an arm around her but she pushed him away again. "Don't touch me!" she screamed. "You are just like him."

"Your father?" Torrance said, choking. "Your father?" He stumbled from the room and shut the door behind him. Marriette threw herself onto the bed and wept until she fell asleep.

In the morning, she was still alone in the bed. She missed the warmth of Torrance at her back. She pulled the sheets around her and huddled in the bed rocking. Torrance hated her. Why else would he run away and not come back? The truth disgusted him. Marriette began crying again. The maids came in, took one look at her, and ran out.

Anna came in with a tray.

"Poor dear." She put a cup in Marriette's hands and made her drink the hot sweet tea, then tucked her back into bed. "Rest. The day will go on without you."

Marriette hid in the room for the next few days being cosseted by Anna and the rest of the staff. She didn't see Torrance the entire time. Part of her was relieved, and part was disappointed. Finally, she made herself get out of bed and dress.

Wandering through the house, Marriette tried to recover the contentment she had felt just a short week before. It had vanished, and in its place lay the certainty Torrance was avoiding her. Her misery deepened. In desperation, she decided to go to the cathedral. Maybe the archbishop would have some advice.

Marriette had only been in the cathedral a few times, and not since her wedding. Empty of people, the sanctuary was filled with light and the dance of dust motes in the air. Marriette watched entranced until the archbishop interrupted her.

"My staff said you were here. I decided to come and see for myself." He sat himself in a pew next to her. "I'm thinking it isn't just the beauty of the architecture that brought you here?"

"My husband hates me," Marriette said bluntly.

"I would have said that he dotes on you."

"I...I can't be with him as a wife with her husband."

The old man sat in silence. Marriette tried to recapture her enchantment with the light, but a knot in her stomach twisted ever tighter.

"I want to, but I can't." She hung her head and whispered in the softest of voices. "Not after what my father did to me. He said I seduced him, that I am a witch." She lifted her head heedless of the torrent of tears pouring from her eyes. "Why? Why did it happen to me?"

The archbishop sighed deeply.

"I don't think the Duke deLanguiers sees anything but his own need." He pulled out a handkerchief and dried Marriette's tears. "There is no law on heaven or earth that we have not broken. Listen to me, child, this is not your fault. This is your father's sin and he will pay the price for it when he stands before God."

"But he told me?"

"I am sure he did, but his words can't lay responsibility for his crime on your shoulders."

"So, what do I do?"

There was a long silence before the old man sighed again.

"You go home and make up with your husband, because what your father did is not his fault either."

Marriette left feeling both better and worse than she did before. When she got home, she went looking for Torrance. She found him in his office surrounded by mounds of paper. He looked up.

"Hello."

She tried to tell him about the tangle of feelings in her heart, but couldn't find them.

"I was young when I married LisAnne," Torrance said, as he stared out the window. "Young and impatient. She wasn't ready for our wedding night. I don't know what she had been told about what happens between a man and a woman, but she just lay there without moving or talking. I took her anyway, even though she began crying before I was done. We never slept together again. Niklas was conceived that night, in lust and pain, yet we both loved him. I loved him so much I wanted to have another child. She wanted to leave, instead of submitting to me again. Niklas cried as we shouted at each other through the window of the carriage."

"The horses spooked. I tried to catch them but was too slow. The carriage ran over my leg and shattered it. Without a driver, the horses ran out of control through the city. It finally crashed and both LisAnne and Niklas were killed." He looked at Marriette. "I almost didn't survive myself, but my mother still lived then and was determined I would live. I swore when I agreed to marry you that I wouldn't make the same mistakes with you. How can you trust me, if I can't trust myself?" He crumpled paper under his hands, but made no move to look at Marriette.

"I don't know," Marriette fought to stay on her feet when her legs wanted to let her drop to the floor. Every breath was forced past a lump like a knife in her breast. She wanted to hear him say he wanted to be with her, even now, but when Torrance didn't say anymore, she left him with his accounts. She went to their room and heaved the contents of her stomach into the washbasin.

A servant girl must have heard, because she took away the basin and brought a clean one.

Torrance didn't come to their room that night, or any night after. Marriette missed his warmth in her bed, and the conversation in the mornings. Speaking with Torrance was awkward, as if a barrier had gone up between them. She didn't know how to reach him and he didn't touch her or say more than he needed to her.

They were invited to more balls, and made their appearances, pretending everything was fine. Torrance went to talk to the Justicar and others while Marriette danced with some of the young men who continued to cluster around her. Her father never talked to her, but the king's cousin made a point of escorting her on the dance floor at least once each evening. His conversation continued to be innocuous, but at the same time laden with meaning. Marriette was sure he was playing some game that was beyond her, but she didn't care - just one more chore to get through.

She whiled away the time between balls, wondering what her life would have been like if she'd run off with Arthur. She would have had to work, like Joan. There would be no balls, no gowns, no servants. She wondered how long Arthur would have lasted before he too demanded his due from her.

After arriving home from the latest ball, Marriette undressed, then dismissed the maids and threw herself on the bed. She was as unhappy now as she had been happy before that horrible night. She had to talk to Torrance. He was staying in the guest room, so she put on a loose robe and went to find him. As she approached his room, a woman she had never seen before left his room. Marriette leaned against the wall and tried not to cry out loud.

She had lost him. Somehow, she found her way back to her room and fell into bed and screamed into her pillow until she was hoarse. She was no true wife and he'd turned to someone else for comfort. She hadn't imagined how much it hurt to be betrayed.

She had a dream that night of the old Wagoner woman and the cards. Marriette had forgotten them, with everything that had followed. She tried to hear the woman's words, but she heard shouting instead. Suddenly, the man and woman in chains on the Devil card were Art and Marriette. Arthur shouted at someone who was attacking him. He fought desperately, but the Devil's chain kept holding him back.

Marriette woke with a start. She tried to forget the dream, but she couldn't shake it. It haunted her through the day. She didn't dare talk to Joan about it for fear Torrance would hear. She had the dream again the next night and the night after. Art's wounds grew worse. No one could survive them, yet he still fought against the chains.

Art was alive and needed her. The dreams showed they were connected. She would find out what had happened to him and what that connection meant.

Marriette found some clothes to travel in, then left a note for Torrance.

I am not the wife you need. I hope you are happy with your new woman. I have gone to find Arthur.

She folded it in half and wrote Torrance's name on it and left it for the servants to find in the morning.

"The horses spooked. I tried to catch them but was too slow. The carriage ran over my leg and shattered it. Without a driver, the horses ran out of control through the city. It finally crashed and both LisAnne and Niklas were killed." He looked at Marriette. "I almost didn't survive myself, but my mother still lived then and was determined I would live. I swore when I agreed to marry you that I wouldn't make the same mistakes with you. How can you trust me, if I can't trust myself?" He crumpled paper under his hands, but made no move to look at Marriette.

"I don't know," Marriette fought to stay on her feet when her legs wanted to let her drop to the floor. Every breath was forced past a lump like a knife in her breast. She wanted to hear him say he wanted to be with her, even now, but when Torrance didn't say anymore, she left him with his accounts. She went to their room and heaved the contents of her stomach into the washbasin.

A servant girl must have heard, because she took away the basin and brought a clean one.

Torrance didn't come to their room that night, or any night after. Marriette missed his warmth in her bed, and the conversation in the mornings. Speaking with Torrance was awkward, as if a barrier had gone up between them. She didn't know how to reach him and he didn't touch her or say more than he needed to her.

They were invited to more balls, and made their appearances, pretending everything was fine. Torrance went to talk to the Justicar and others while Marriette danced with some of the young men who continued to cluster around her. Her father never talked to her, but the king's cousin made a point of escorting her on the dance floor at least once each evening. His conversation continued to be innocuous, but at the same time laden with meaning. Marriette was sure he was playing some game that was beyond her, but she didn't care - just one more chore to get through.

She whiled away the time between balls, wondering what her life would have been like if she'd run off with Arthur. She would have had to work, like Joan. There would be no balls, no gowns, no servants. She wondered how long Arthur would have lasted before he too demanded his due from her.

After arriving home from the latest ball, Marriette undressed, then dismissed the maids and threw herself on the bed. She was as unhappy now as she had been happy before that horrible night. She had to talk to Torrance. He was staying in the guest room, so she put on a loose robe and went to find him. As she approached his room, a woman she had never seen before left his room. Marriette leaned against the wall and tried not to cry out loud.

She had lost him. Somehow, she found her way back to her room and fell into bed and screamed into her pillow until she was hoarse. She was no true wife and he'd turned to someone else for comfort. She hadn't imagined how much it hurt to be betrayed.

She had a dream that night of the old Wagoner woman and the cards. Marriette had forgotten them, with everything that had followed. She tried to hear the woman's words, but she heard shouting instead. Suddenly, the man and woman in chains on the Devil card were Art and Marriette. Arthur shouted at someone who was attacking him. He fought desperately, but the Devil's chain kept holding him back.

Marriette woke with a start. She tried to forget the dream, but she couldn't shake it. It haunted her through the day. She didn't dare talk to Joan about it for fear Torrance would hear. She had the dream again the next night and the night after. Art's wounds grew worse. No one could survive them, yet he still fought against the chains.

Art was alive and needed her. The dreams showed they were connected. She would find out what had happened to him and what that connection meant.

Marriette found some clothes to travel in, then left a note for Torrance.

I am not the wife you need. I hope you are happy with your new woman. I have gone to find Arthur.

She folded it in half and wrote Torrance's name on it and left it for the servants to find in the morning.