Chapter 33

  Two days after Hektor’s visit, the Crofts returned the favor.

  The Croft family made it their mission not to be outdone. They had more carriages in their convoy, more people in their parade, more gifts, and even had fireworks go off on their visit. They decidedly went by the many public squares enroute to ensure the grandest spectacle they could accomplish.

  They eventually arrived at the castle with all the pomp and pageantry of foreign royalty.

  The Duchess humored their extravagance in kind with a greeting assembly upon their arrival at the castle gates. They were afforded a reception worthy of visiting dignitaries with all the vainglorious protocols observed in their honor.

  The Crofts were quite taken by the hospitality on show and preened with massaged egos.

  Upon reaching the throne room, even Duke Raegan had taken the time to greet them alongside Duchess Sabina.

  After a formal address of welcome and platitudes of flattery, the Duke had accompanied the Crofts with the Duchess and Hektor for luncheon. Farley had lingered for a respectable half hour, before surreptitiously making his exit, but only after promising Samuel Croft a private meeting in the near future.

  For all the formalities and decorum observed for the benefit of onlookers, there was very little of meaningful conversation up until that point. It was only when the Duke had taken his leave and Sabina had asked for privacy that they were left alone to have said conversations.

  It started with small talk as Sabina led proceedings. She mostly asked after the Crofts and their recent affairs with a kindly curiosity.

  Her attempts at engaging her guests were slightly hindered by the starstruck ladies.

  For Gwen, like so many women, Sabina Ashworth was amongst the most vaunted of role-models.

  For most, if not all, of womankind, Sabina was a living legend. She was amongst the most powerful people in Ithica and undoubtedly its strongest defender, with her honor and fairness unimpeachable and second to none. Not only that, she was the most beloved of leaders, amassing even more clout amongst the populace than the King and Queen themselves!

  Beyond that, Sabina had been the poster child of women’s rights and equal opportunities in Ithica for the modern age. It was with Sabina’s example that the common woman found a more level footing with men in everyday life. Even before the metropolis of Isca, Faymoren had been years ahead in its progressive thinking under the Duchess’ rule. Isca had ended up simply adopting the policies of the Duchy with regards to open mindedness towards the fairer sex.

  While Gwen took in the Duchess as an idol, Eleanor Croft faced an entirely different contest.

  Eleanor was suffering.

  Her corset was rearranging her ribs and her back was killing her. Her neck was being wrenched down by the abundant necklaces and her earlobes winced at the jiggling earrings. The glued eyelashes prickled her eyes while her dyed and adorned coiffure itched the scalp fiercely.

  Caked in makeup, the paint polished her skin like smooth marble. It also made her warm, the thick cosmetic restricted her sweating, adding to her discomfort. It made her feverish and bothered.

  The many layers of cloth didn’t help in that regard. Sunken by the sheer weight, Eleanor drowned in voluminous silks of gold threading and heavy lacework. Her muscles strained from the burden of holding up the ensemble. Rather than wearing it, Eleanor felt consumed by her fashion.

  Akin to a porcelain doll, Eleanor could barely twitch for her appearance to crack and disintegrate.

  Such was the cost of extravagance, a cost Eleanor was more than happy to pay. After all, it was not every day she got to sit as an equal across the famous Sabina Ashworth.

  Yet for all her effort, Eleanor had to bitterly concede to the competition. Despite being more than thrice her age, Sabina was pristine in her prime with not a wrinkle nor a single strand of grey. She was grace and beauty personified, and that so without the crutch of embellishments that Eleanor depended upon.

  Sabina was immaculate, donning a simple cut gown that was graced into shape by the contours of her frame. A slim silver chain with a twinkling locket adorned her long neck, paired with modest pearl earrings. Besides painting her lips and braiding her hair, there was little else done. It was more than enough.

  Sabina was a vision not lacking.

  If that weren’t it, she was also the venerated Duchess of Faymoren. Respected and adored.

  How it pricked Eleanor’s pride!

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  What Sabina possessed, Eleanor could never have. Much like her daughter Gwen, Sabina was emphatically superior just by the fortune of being born with power, being born a mage.

  That she herself never had a chance rankled Eleanor.

  A handsome woman herself, of means, wealth and influence, but sitting in front of Sabina Ashworth, Eleanor found herself coming second.

  Her host, to her credit, had been magnanimous. Eleanor had seen it often enough to know when others thought less of her, but Sabina showed her no pretense. There was no judgment or prejudice in her gaze, and Eleanor felt compelled to be at her best behavior.

  She also found it difficult to gain an impression of Sabina, who had been graciously hospitable. Eleanor felt that it wouldn’t have mattered if a pauper or king stood before Sabina, because she would have extended them the same courtesy.

  Eleanor didn’t know what to make of it. Should she be pleased at being received with such open sincerity? Or was she annoyed at being denied the favoritism that she had gotten so used to in her life?

  All of which made for a conflicted Eleanor who was usually decisive with where people stood with her.

  Sabina was a contradiction. Eleanor was jealous of her, yet couldn’t help but admire her all the same. She wanted to dislike her, but couldn’t find reason to. She wanted to find faults, but felt petty for being petty.

  “Thank you for looking to the people of Faymoren for your needs,” Sabina spoke gracefully. “I was surprised that you didn’t bring an entourage from Isca. I hope we do not disappoint.”

  Eleanor had to momentarily recall the topic of conversation. Yes, they were discussing their new Croft manor in the city and her hiring locally. “Please, Duchess,” she said, trying to mimic Sabina’s manner. “It was a small matter.”

  Sabina nodded politely, humoring her guest, and Eleanor felt lesser for her grandstanding just then. Here she was gloating and making herself small in her own opinion. She tried again, “Really, Duchess, there is no need for thanks. Samuel and I have found it best to employ people of the land to their lands.”

  Sabina showed an interest. “That must come with its challenges. Ever the newcomers.”

  Eleanor nodded, eager to show her expertise. “Yes. Money can pave enough roads, but we can’t pay people to tread them. There must be other persuasions and incentives.”

  Sabina smiled wistful. “I envy you your enterprise Missus Croft. Your life sounds most engaging.”

  Eleanor preened at the compliment. “You honor me, Your Grace.”

  Sabina looked to her with a motherly smile. “Persons such as yourself ride the waves of change, Missus Croft. I look on, set in my ways. Strengths and weaknesses amongst us both.”

  Suddenly Eleanor didn’t feel so old in front Sabina, but like a child sitting before a wizened elder. Momentarily, her arrogance evaporated and she saw Sabina more clearly; a staunch old soul, a strong woman shouldering formidable burdens. Endowed by her peerage, yet shackled by honor and duty.

  Why compare herself to such a person? Surely such a woman should be admired and upheld as an example. Though not by Eleanor herself! Afterall, she was no lesser woman herself and retained her dignity. She would rather not think upon another woman’s virtues and accomplishments.

  She was Eleanor Croft and she had her pride.

  Sabina smiled at her knowingly, almost as if she could read her thoughts. “You have strong instincts Missus Croft.”

  Eleanor returned a rueful smile, feeling more at ease. “Not as good as yours, Your Grace.”

  “We do not know that which we do not know, Missus Croft. Yet oftentimes it is children that show us that which we have forgotten and overlooked. If you have the heart to listen.”

  Eleanor looked to Hektor and Gwen, each of them obediently quiet and observing the elders.

  Sabina took the chance to engage Samuel in polite conversation, going on to discuss recent economics. Samuel adopted a more formal tone than his wife, but proved to be a charismatic conversationalist.

  Eleanor could spot that her husband was enamored by the Duchess, but she would be a kettle calling the pot black, having fallen victim herself.

  Well… she did blame him for being smitten with another woman. How could she not? She was his wife and had every right to.

  “The new licensing agreements in Triton are a step back, Your Grace” Samuel complained about foreign policies. “Ambassador Treveck had a poor showing in furthering our interests.”

  “On the contrary,” Sabina contradicted. “The real victory was for the international licensing agreements to remain valid and feasible anywise. Ambassador Treveck accomplished the most crucial priority.”

  Samuel grew most serious. “I was not aware that things were so perilous.”

  “It has always been Ithican policy to corroborate rather than dominate,” Sabina placated. “We always have to tread carefully. If we overplay our hand ever so slightly, it will be to inevitable conflict and the detriment of our assets on foreign soil.

  “While I applaud your endeavor Mister Croft, the world is not ready for an international union of commerce and holdings. It is the future, but not anytime soon.”

  Samuel conceded the point. Their daughter’s betrothal was every bit the gambit to maintain their autonomy in Glengard and Triton.

  Only Ithica, and at a stretch Glengard, would give Samuel the backing to hold businesses internationally and protect their holdings. Besides the merchant states to the Far West, Ithica was about the most progressive and amiable nation for its international trade policies.

  “The children have been awfully quiet,” Sabina observed. “Hektor, why don’t you take Miss Croft and show her around,” she suggested.

  Even as Hektor stood up from his chair, Sabina didn’t miss the reluctance on Gwen’s face.

  “We will get our time together, Miss Croft,” Sabina assured Gwen with a patient smile.

  Been caught, Gwen obeyed and demurely followed Hektor out the room.

  The parents observed their children leave, noticing the awkward divide and aloofness between them.

  “What are your impressions of my Hektor?” Sabina asked out of the blue.

  Samuel was unprepared for the question, but Eleanor picked up the slack for her husband.

  “We like Hektor,” Eleanor admitted readily. “He is a little young, but we believe that he would be good for our Gwen. I can imagine they will make for a fetching match in the future.”

  “That is pleasing to hear.”

  “We were all taken in by Hektor’s maturity and kindness,” Eleanor heaped the praise. “He was a complete gentleman and the picture of chivalry. A very sweet boy bearing thoughtful gifts.”

  Like any mother, Sabina very much enjoyed listening to someone compliment her son.

  “We were surprised,” Samuel interjected. Eleanor gave him a warning glance, but he missed it and plowed on, “The rumors didn’t do the boy justice. He wasn’t at all how we imagined him to be.”

  Eleanor all but slapped her forehead in embarrassment and offered a pained smile to Sabina in apology of her husband.

  Sabina chuckled, almost as if she was amused by their antics. “If you give Hektor a chance, he always surprises.”

  Sabina refrained from adding that she too wished that Gwen wasn’t anything like her reputation suggested. Only she knew better.