The Ward Ch. 05

Thanks all for reading, feedback and voting. You guys are awesome. I will try and avoid the elaborate dress descriptions in future (*cough* Rumpole)

;) Hope you enjoy this one.

~I write for pleasure, I post for joy~

********

"Joel?" Sage peeked around the door at the old man muttering to a small, rather dishevelled plant.

"Yes, come in, Sage." Joel dusted the soil from his hands and stood. "Are you well, child?"

Once the initial differences between them were resolved, Sage forbade Joel from addressing her by title. The idea of an older man whom she befriended calling her 'my Lady' was too foreign for Sage to feel comfortable with. She understood in public matters he would have little choice, but in privacy, she refused it.

Sage cheerfully entered the room. "Yes, I was looking for Edmund."

Joel's eye twitched. "My Lord had to ride out. But it is better he is out of the way."

"Oh?" Sage asked, and Joel smiled.

"I believe a renowned tailor will arrive shortly."

"What for?"

"Your wedding gown, child. More dresses and, well, whatever else may take your fancy," Joel raised an encouraging eyebrow.

"But I already have clothes," Sage said with some confusion, looking down at her well-made, white servant's frock. "I don't want more."

"Sage!" Joel exclaimed. "The clothes you wear now are hardly suitable for a girl of your stature. It was just a matter of...well..." he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Whether you were to remain with us."

"Oh."

"And since you are here permanently, the matter must be dealt with."

"Why shouldn't Edmund be here? I think he would advise me-" Sage paused as Joel threw his arms up in protest.

"The last thing you need is the distraction of a love-addled young man!" Joel insisted, shaking his head. "Believe me, I learned the wisdom of this from his parents. The boy would circle you like a hound, and you'll be lucky to have more than half a dress by the end of it."

Sage giggled, before her attention came to the plant. "What is that?"

Joel sighed. "A failed cause."

Sage tilted her head. "I recognise that species. It needs water."

"Yes. I thought so, too," Joel dryly replied, looking sceptical as Sage went for the water jug. "There's no point-" he broke off, staring.

As Sage approached the plant, Joel was almost certain it arched toward her.

"Sage..." he said uncertainly. "I..."

"There!" she beamed. And indeed, the plant already bloomed several shades a healthier green. Placing the jug to Joel's bedside, she tilted her head at his shock. "What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing," Joel hastily replied. "Thank you."

Someone knocked, and Joel bade the two handmaids enter and pursed his lips at their tittering manner.

"My Lady; Joel," one bobbed her head, smiling widely. "The dressmaker has arrived."

Bowing low to Sage, the tailor was thrilled. The Lord's instructions were to spare no expense and from reputation Lord Bard rewarded good work handsomely. As one of the town's more prestigious tailors, he hoped to make fashion history with this unknown beauty.

Hours passed, and the man warmed to his task, directing his assistants with measurements, colours and materials. Cloths of gleaming blue satin, matte red silk, various furs and glimmering gold and silver circled Sage. All colours and textures of ribbons were skilfully threaded through her beautiful dark hair for approval. Delighted by his subject and assignment, the tailor could not recall the last time he had touched such lovely, shining dark locks, and it was a genuine pleasure.

A number of shoes were fitted to her feet, with Joel advising practical alterations and adjustments. Where most young ladies were eager to be stylish at any cost to their comfort, Sage was the opposite, and became quite rude when pressed to try a pair of black lace ankle-boots with particularly high heels studded with emeralds.

"My dear, at least try them! Any Lord would worship his lady in shoes such as these!" the dressmaker almost tearfully begged; his eyes wistfully set upon Sage's finely-shaped calves. It hardly mattered if she declined the shoes, he hoped to at least retain the delightful sight to memory. But he recoiled when Sage turned on him.

"Joel, might Edmund think less of me for not wearing pinching shoes?" she coldly queried, in a tone that suggested she wouldn't care if he did.

"Of course not, Sage," Joel dutifully replied. The rapt audience of handmaids collectively giggled.

"Then remove them from my sight," Sage bitingly ordered, with a fiery glare at the man crouched by her heels. "Before I throw them at you."

Joel suppressed a smile at Sage's behaviour. It was the closest she'd come to resembling a tempestuous noble so far. Though he had provided helpful guidance for quicker decisions, Sage had wearied of standing still for long periods of time and being directed to pose this way and that whilst balanced on a small stool. Her irritable boredom was quickly noticed by the tailor's assistants, who discreetly exchanged many glances throughout the process and wondered whether the antagonised lady had been forced into this match.

Sage was exhausted, and the initial glamour of the appointment quickly dissolved after the first three outfits, and now there were fifteen, not including the ones on order. In a side thought, Sage appreciated that Aleksis spared her many trials endured by noble women. Raised out of public scrutiny, she cared little for possessions or impressing others. She was thoroughly educated about gentlefolk, but only for the purpose of aptly blending in after Aleksis initiated her.

The dressmaker removed the offending shoes as directed, and after a moment's reflection wisely refrained from suggesting Sage try a different pair lined with rubies. Now there was piled an array of beautiful items for all occasions, and several additional parchments detailing styles, measurements and materials for shoes and other accessories to be made.

"And now," the man smiled, believing they reached a moment Sage was impatient for. "An unusual occasion for a lady to have full reign over the design of her wedding gown-"

"Well, I do, even if it offends your sense of propriety!" Sage snapped, finally reaching her limit after mistaking the poor man's playfulness for an insinuation.

"Sage," Joel wearily intervened. "Child, I can see you are very tired, but unless you want an old man to choose your bridal-"

"Oh! Yes!" Sage exclaimed with a beaming smile, much to Joel's horror. "Joel, you shall choose!" At this, she happily stepped down from the stool and flounced from the room, leaving everyone staring after her with their mouths hanging open.

"Well." Mopping his brow, the dressmaker finally broke the stunned silence and not entirely unrelieved Sage was gone. It had certainly been a rare day's work for him in more ways than one. "Fortunately, we have her measurements. So, let us hope you are attuned to the Lord and erm...Lady's tastes."

********

Edmund patiently a waited full twenty minutes before being admitted to Lucille's drawing room. Waiting was not his habit, and he knew she was testing him. By the first ten minutes she would know he did not intend to storm her bedchamber as was their normal routine. The added ten minutes, Edmund supposed, was pure vindictiveness.

When he finally entered Lucille's quarters, she fluttered toward him with a big smile and held out her hands. "My Lord! Again, you have waited too long to see me."

Edmund dutifully kissed both slender hands and took a respectful step back. "Lucille, I hope you are well?"

"How else would I be?" she answered; her voice touched with coldness.

"You know why I am here," Edmund observed, his eyes hard. "But how? Nicholas always had a wagging tongue..."

"Or perhaps more integrity."

Edmund lip curled at the insult. "Lucille, I came to tell you myself."

Lucille laughed, but Edmund could tell she was hurting.

"I admit," she smiled. "It was quite a sting to have Stiles bear the news. No doubt a grand concoction among childhood cronies."

Edmund's fists clenched. "Lucille, you know I have little time for Nicholas. What you claim is impossible. I passed him on the way-"

"Oh, I received the charming news by a dispatched servant not five minutes before your arrival." Lucille spoke flippantly, but her black eyes burned as she recalled the humiliatingly offensive gesture. "By appearances alone I'm sure the man rode like the wind to overtake you. So, a lackey was all I was worth?"

"Stop!" Edmund snarled. "I never intended for you to find out by any means other than my lips alone."

Tears silently dripped down Lucille's cheeks, but she shrugged carelessly. "I suppose you never considered me worthy of your name's honour?"

"Matrimony?" Edmund said blankly. His expression was answer enough, and Lucille waved a hand.

"Fret not, Edmund. I won't cause trouble. I will show my face at your ball, and ceremony. I will give others no reason to gossip over my absence."

There was no hatred in her voice, but her graceful features were drawn and pale. The experience of receiving such a rejection from a servant was as crushing as it was unforgivable. Edmund felt horrible but had nothing to say that might alleviate her pain. Lucille continued.

"I will be there to ensure none have cause to sully either of our good names. I am not a soft woman after all." Lucille's smile turned sour. "You could never love a soft woman, you once told me."

Aghast, Edmund remembered those very words uttered in blind passion. The term 'love' was spoken as a physical act of desire, no more. But now he saw with perfect clarity how it was misconstrued.

"Lucille, I'm so sorry," he murmured, with real remorse. "I never meant to cause you pain."

"I knew the last time we saw each other, that there was another. As I said, I hold no grudges." Again, she shrugged, and reached for a handkerchief to wipe her tears. "Forgive my accusation. I know better than to liken you to Nicholas."

"Thank you." Deciding it was time to leave, Edmund gently pressed her hand, silently vowing to get back at Nicholas. As he reached the door, she called to him.

"Do you love her?"

"Yes," he replied, then hesitated. "It does not mean I never cared for you, Lucille."

With a wan smile, she nodded, waiting until the door closed behind him before covering her face with her hands.

********

As the ball approached, Sage and Edmund got along very well whilst managing to curb their respective desires. Edmund was extremely pleased with the tailor's work. Naturally beautiful as Sage was in plain dresses, the luxurious new clothes enhanced her features tenfold and some evenings Edmund felt compelled to deliberately avoid her.

On the night of the ball, Joel overlooked Sage's toilette as she prepared for her first appearance. For the evening she selected, on Joel's recommendation, a delicate gown of pale gold, decorated with violet lace and a black satin bodice. Patterned violet-yellow ribbons were artfully threaded through her glossy dark hair. The colouring of her clothes made Sage's light blue eyes appear a rather prominent navy.

Allowing her natural complexion, there was only a small touch of blush to her already flushed cheeks, and a very thin coat of pale rose applied to the classic pout of her lips. Gleaming gold satin slippers with black diamonds peeped from the hem of her dress.

Shooing the handmaids aside, Joel expertly fastened a glittering black and pale lavender jewel pendant within Sage's carefully styled hair. Sage was surprised when he slipped a ring on her finger.

"What is this, Joel?" she frowned, lifting her hand to inspect it.

"A gift from me, child," Joel smiled. "I had it made after Edmund announced your engagement."

"It is beautiful, thank you," she said graciously, still staring at the glowing white pearl encased in a dainty gold band.

After a light knock, Edmund entered, his breath catching at the sight of his fiancé. Joel discreetly left the room with the handmaids in tow.

"Good evening, my Lord," Sage said, feeling suddenly shy to be alone with him, dressed as she was.

At first sight Edmund's tall figure was intimidating, but quite appealing in a fine black coat with gold thread lining, and a small black diamond insignia subtly pinned to one collar. The coat made his eyes seem intensely brown, but the soft blue shirt beneath eased all severity. There was a gleaming silver sword by his waist, and though men frequently wore them, Sage was under the distinct impression Edmund was ready to use it.

"So formal, Sage," he playfully chided, drawing a chair to sit beside her. "Are you ready to be the talk of the town?"

Sage laughed nervously. "Not by scandal, I hope!"

"You will garner no little attention in that dress," Edmund grinned before his attention shifted to her bare throat. "I see something here is amiss," he teased, reaching to stroke the soft skin of her collarbone.

"Oh, Joel recommended I not wear a necklace-" Sage began self-consciously, but stopped when Edmund pulled something from his coat pocket.

"I asked Joel to say as much. I see he presented his gift," he observed the pretty ring on her finger. "And this is from me."

Sage's eyes widened considerably as Edmund gently arranged her hair to one side and linked the jewellery about her neck.

"Oh," Sage breathed, starting at the mirror.

"Diamonds," Edmund murmured. "Of a size to reflect whatever colour you wear, thank goodness. I predicted the silver-blue gown, but the gold surpasses all expectation. I am almost afraid to reveal you, Sage."

Still staring at her reflection, Sage was speechless.

"Come." Edmund stood, drawing Sage to her feet. "If we stay any longer, I will succumb to temptation."

Blushing furiously, Sage meekly accepted his hand as he led her from the room. Her appearance did not disappoint, and many reflected the girl was worthy of the elusive young Bard, with a uniqueness of character that was entertaining, but not vulgar. The flurry of new faces Sage encountered over the next hour was very overwhelming, and Sage hoped she wasn't expected to remember them all.

Garrick arrived as Celia's escort, and Sage immediately took a shine to them. Though Garrick was slightly ridiculous with his banter and mannerisms, Sage recognised he was good-natured, with a high regard for Edmund.

Edmund and Garrick left the ladies to socialise. After a pleasant half-hour, Celia excused herself to chase an old acquaintance. Enjoying a lone moment, Sage saw a chance to sneak up on Joel, who was busy balancing empty platters destined for the kitchen and had notably spent the entire evening avoiding her.

"Hello, Joel," she said wickedly, grinning as the older man jumped with fright.

"Sa-! Was there something you needed, my lady?" he asked pointedly with a warning look in his eye.

"No," Sage said innocently. "Joel, do you know any of these people?"

"Yes, my Lady. Most have called upon my Lord in the past," Joel briskly answered, looking even busier.

"Perhaps you could sit with me, and help me recall their names?" Sage suggested, supressing a giggle as Joel's eyes widened with both exasperation and alarm.

"I am certain my Lord will assist you with that task," he said briskly, and turned his back on her.

But an evil smile curved Sage's cherry lips, perfectly aware Joel was desperate to avoid being seen on familiar terms with a noble. Before she could enjoy herself further, an elegant lady paused by Joel.

"Still haunting the Bard's employ?" she remarked, her lip curled with disdain. "A sentimental family, judging by your age alone."

Joel shouldered the insult with supreme indifference. But Sage was right behind him, and her blue eyes flashed with a rage quite unbecoming of a pretty face.

"I'll thank you not to disrespect your host's people!" she snapped, stepping into view.

Unabashed, Mary calmly smiled. "Oh, my dear, I do apologise," she fluttered. "You must be Edmund's fiancé. Indeed, you are beauteous as the rumours decree. I have longed to meet you."

"And I don't care to make your acquaintance," Sage said rudely, too incensed to bother lowering her voice.

Joel winced. Determined not to fuel a public scene, he discreetly vanished.

Mary's polite smile widened to a fascinated grin. Sage's fury was unexpectedly stunted as she suffered a moment's perplexity, wondering how that look could be familiar to her. They had certainly never met before.

The older woman was haughtily beautiful, with an air of cold aloofness about her. The red velvet dress she wore was inappropriate for a lady her age, yet it flattered her features to outshine many of the younger ladies present. Visually appealing as she was, Sage felt there was something poisonous about her.

Dumbfounded, Sage continued to stare, and pondered what it was about the lady that summoned an immediate hatred. Then Nicholas sauntered into view.

"Managed to get by the throng of incompetence, mother?" he drawled, before registering Sage.

Immediately, the arrogant contempt on Nicholas' face sharpened to a keen interest. But Sage was prepared to face him, despite still reeling from his startling resemblance to a woman who could only be his mother.

Appearing distinctly unimpressed, Sage casually looked over Nicholas' tall build and extravagant attire. He was conspicuously attractive, in a pale-blue coat shining with white diamonds in regal contrast his dark hair and blue eyes. Like Edmund, the sword by his waist was not mere decoration.

"My dear girl, you are ravishing!" Nicholas grinned, bowing with flourish. "Have we met before?"

For a moment he eagerly held his breath, wondering if the girl was brazened enough to publicly accuse him.

Sage forced a winsome smile to her face but did not curtsy. "It is probable, my Lord, I could not be sure," she answered, feigning puzzlement. "I would certainly not remember you."

The insult was well-crafted, and Nicholas remembered his words from their first meeting, when his flirtation failed. But the reference, designed to offend, only made his eyes gleam as though she'd thrown a welcome challenge his way.

With one glance up at her son's enthralled expression, Mary wandered off with a pleased smile and left Nicholas to play the game.

"Eddy has been eyed as something of a catch for a while," Nicholas said glibly, making no effort to conceal his desire as he perused Sage's pretty face and elegant gown.

"He is everything a lady could desire," Sage confirmed, seemingly unaware of Nicholas' eyes mentally unravelling the black lace of her bodice. "Fear not, my Lord. Perhaps one day, if you truly exert yourself, you might be considered a catch?"

This time, Nicholas showed his teeth when he smiled. He was almost bewildered by the sudden hardness of his cock, and how tempted he was to drag the girl someplace quieter to teach her some manners.

"I do not want for female company," he murmured, shifting his stance a little restlessly as he towered over her. "But I do intend my wife to have spirit."

Sage cocked her head, looking thoughtful. "A spirited lady for such a fine, strapping, upstanding young man! I cannot fathom why women detest you, for the pleasure of being in your company is almost too much to bear."

Sage's enthusiasm was insultingly exaggerated to hint the direct opposite. Her sweet words tremored with humorous sarcasm, but she managed not to laugh. Smirking atrociously, she lifted her glass in a silent toast, and daintily sipped the beverage.

Though Nicholas grinned, Sage's insolence tested his self-control more than any other, and he felt his composure unravelling with a growing desire to fuck her senseless whilst she retracted every word. Before he could reply, Edmund had taken Sage's glass to set aside, and raised her hand to his lips.