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“My Lord, a word?” Egremon called as Lucius and Hermione finally rose to take their leave several hours later, hand in hand. When the hands did not
disconnect as Lucius turned to look at the man, he gave Hermione a pointed stare for a few moments which did not garner the hoped for result. “It is
a private matter, sire.”
“There is no matter you could have to say to me which would exclude my wife, sir,” Lucius said in as affable a tone as he could muster, his brow raised
only slightly, which was no small fete considering the degree of his annoyance.
“Very well, then,” said the man as he folded his hands neatly behind his back and began to pace. “The Lady Bethelida of Clardyll has made known to me
her displeasure that you did not honor your childhood promise to take her to wife, and she insists upon you putting aside this—this Muggle and doing right
by her, or she intends to wage war upon this castle at her earliest possible convenience.”
“Excuse me?” Lucius said, blinking up at the man as he shook his head to clear it. “I made no such promise to anyone, least of all to any Lady in this court.”
“I believe it was over tea, my Lord,” he said, pressing his lips together in feigned amusement. “She says that her dolls were there to bear witness. I fear
the young lady is question is quite mad, sire. There is nothing for it but to speak to the young lady, my Lord, and see if you can set her straight.”
“And would this young Lady even remember my name had I not become Lord of this Earldom, do you think, Egremon?” Lucius inquired with an even bigger lift to
his brow.
“I believe, sire, that all it took was one look at that handsome face and those stunning locks of gold to convince her that you were the young lad she
remembered,” he said with a dour grin. “If I am not mistaken, you have always been a bit of a charmer. It is not a far stretch of the imagination to suppose
that you might have been flirting with the young lady, if my memory of you serves me well.”
“Yes, I suppose I was a bit of a scoundrel in my younger days,” Lucius agreed, and had the good grace to blush as he glanced back at his wife.
Hermione’s brow had gone up even higher than his own. Her arms were folded across her chest, and her foot was tapping most impatiently.
“My darling, I don’t suppose you would mind if I took care of this bit of business without your particular brand of—well, um, let us say, blunt and to the
point style help?” asked Lucius hopefully. “I daresay the girl might be better handled in a more delicate manner.”
“You mean you want to go and sweet talk her, husband?” Hermione asked, looking more cross by the minute. “What did you have in mind? Did you intend to sweep in
and kiss her hand, perhaps? Maybe even her cheek? Or was it her lips you were aiming for? Or was it perhaps something more than that?”
“Now, Hermione, don’t be like that,” Lucius said, taking ahold of her hands. “I wasn’t planning to seduce the girl, just let her down gently. You know
you’re the only one for me. But do we really want the vixen to lay siege to the castle the very minute we got her over some silly misunderstanding from
something I said or did twenty years in the past? It’s absolutely preposterous. Surely she must be made to see reason.”
Hermione took her hands out of his and started to walk away from him. “If that’s all you intend to do, then I suppose you ought to go see to it, so you can
return to me all the sooner.”
Lucius caught her about the waist and kissed the back of her neck. “You know that’s exactly where I want to be, don’t you? With you?”
“Of course I do, you dunderhead,” she said. “Why else would I be telling you to go get the task accomplished?”
“You are the most wonderful wife a man could ever have, my dear,” he told her. “I shall return to you as soon as ever I may.”
“I love you,” she told him.
“Love you, too, my dear,” he answered, and then he was gone.
Hermione smiled wanly as she walked down the hallway she thought was the one that led to her chambers. It was difficult to be certain, of course, since
she’d only been there once, and the castle had a nasty habit of changing that put even dear old Hogwarts to shame. She spotted the statue of a knight she
thought she recognized, but that was no guarantee that the thing had not moved from its former position, and yet again she became exasperated as she finally
came to the conclusion that she was well and truly lost.
“Hello?” she said to the stone statue in question. “Haven’t I come across you somewhere before?”
“Why yes,” said the knight in a gravelly voice. “Are you lost, dear lady?”
“I’m looking for the quarters of the earl and countess, if you please,” she said sweetly. “I fear I did not have time to memorize the way when I went there
the first time.”
“And are you not the Countess herself?” he asked, confused. “You should have a servant with you, you silly wench. That way you would not have to ask the
statuary to help you. A most unseemly practice, that.”
“Do you think so?” Hermione asked. “I hardly know. I’m rather new to this sort of thing, you see.”
“I’m not surprised, since I have heard your birth was rather lower than your station,” he sniffed disdainfully. “You’re lucky it’s me you’re talking to, and
not one of the paintings. I doubt any of the lords or ladies would even give you the time of day.”
“Well, how very rude,” Hermione huffed. “I should hex them all.”
“Oh, so you know how to hex, do you?” he inquired. “That is a nice surprise. Those high and mighty types were betting you didn’t know the difference between
your wand and your broom, let alone how to use either of them. And you’re quite right, my dear. They are very rude, the lot of them. I hope you give them
all what’s coming to them. Now, you just follow old Pedebert, and I’ll lead you right on back to where you belong.”
“Thank you very much,” she answered, beaming up at him with her best smile. “You’re very kind. You’re probably the only kind person I’ve met since coming
here, except perhaps for Erik.”
“Erik Johansson is no friend of mine, let me tell you,” the statue grumbled. “When he was a child, he used to throw rocks at me to hone his skills.”
“Boys will be boys,” Hermione excused him with a shrug. “Even my husband was no angel, of that you can be sure. Take for example what he’s doing right
now. Apparently he once was playing tea party with a young lady and promised to take her to wife, and now the lady thinks to force him to make good on
his oath.”
“That is no laughing matter, my dear,” the knight told her in grave tones. “You may need to have a care for your back, if the Lady in question is in
earnest. These Scottish girls are not above removing the obstacles that stand in their way, if you take my meaning.”
“Surely not?” Hermione said, her jaw dropping slightly at the thought. “I mean, she did give me a few dirty looks over dinner, but why would she stoop
to—to—that? You must be having me on.”
“Ah, now then, here we are, dear Lady, here is your corridor,” said the knight as he gave her a salute. “I shall leave you to your own devices. And remember
what I’ve told you. Make sure to watch your back at all times. Scotland is no place for the faint of heart.”
“I can assure you I will, good sir knight,” she answered with a curtsey. “Thank you for all your help.”
Hermione skipped quickly down the hall and into her rooms, ready for a little exploring while she waited for Lucius to return. Unfortunately, she forgot
to look behind her on the way in, and something solid connected with the back of her head. With a loud thud, she fell to the floor, and everything went black.
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