Free Music of the Distant Stars by Alys Clare Page A

although she was young still, already small lines radiated out from her upper lip, almost as if someone had once sewn it to the lower one.
    So this was the woman who was to marry Alain de Villequier. Fleetingly, I wondered if he would have agreed to the match if he had set eyes on her beforehand, no matter how much his family needed her wealth, but I did my best to suppress the unkind thought. I wished him joy of her. I wished them joy of each other.
    I heard my name spoken. Edild turned and held out her hand. ‘Lassair here found the body,’ she was saying, ‘as Lord Gilbert and Lady Emma already know, my lady.’
    She was addressing Lady Claude. My hand grasped firmly in Edild’s, I now found myself being presented to her.
    She looked me up and down with her pale eyes. I could see she was nervous, for her hands were twisting in her lap, the fingers busy at some object . . . It was a small velvet bag, also black, that hung from her belt. I wondered what treasured object was inside, for her to clutch at it so in this time of trial.
    I reminded myself that she had just lost her seamstress. I put aside the antipathy I felt for her and, bending my head in a bow, said, ‘My lady, I am so sorry for your loss.’
    She made a soft sound and closed her eyes. She too, it seemed, felt the death of Ida grievously. There was silence for a few moments as we waited for Claude to speak, then she cleared her throat and said, ‘Ida was a most gifted seamstress. I do not know how I shall manage without her.’
    Lord Gilbert was her second cousin, I had been told, and he was also her host. Even so, it seemed that he could not allow Claude’s comment to go unremarked. He got up, crossed over to her and, bending down with an exhalation of breath – he had put on even more weight recently – he whispered something in her ear. She stiffened, frowned deeply and drew herself away from him. Again he bent close to her, presumably repeating whatever he had said, and this time some of it was audible: ‘. . . mourn her for herself, even if you do not!’ he hissed.
    ‘This is such a tragedy, for us all!’ Lady Emma, looking embarrassed, spoke up suddenly and over-loudly in an attempt to cover her husband’s words, but it was too late. Edild and I had heard, and Edild had shot me a horrified look.
    Lord Gilbert stumped back to his seat and a very awkward silence fell. Lady Emma was the one to break it. ‘As we told you, Lassair, Lady Claude is to be married,’ she said brightly, ‘to Sir Alain de Villequier, whom you met here yesterday.’
    ‘Yes, my lady,’ I mumbled.
    Silence again. Then Lord Gilbert tried: ‘Ida was helping my cousin to sew her trousseau.’
    Yes , I thought, you told me that yesterday too . I felt very strongly that Edild and I ought not to be there, but nobody appeared to know quite how to dismiss us. I noticed that Lady Emma kept glancing at the main door, the one that lead out into the courtyard. After a short time I heard footsteps and understood why. Sir Alain de Villequier strode into the hall.
    He bowed to the lord and lady, nodded to Edild and me and hurried to his future bride, swooping down beside her and taking her hands in his. ‘Claude, my dear, I am sorry to have been so long,’ he murmured. ‘I was detained.’
    She had edged away from him slightly and was holding herself very stiffly. ‘It is of no matter, sir,’ she replied politely. ‘I have been adequately entertained by my cousin and his wife.’
    ‘I should have been here to look after you at this dreadful time,’ Sir Alain persisted, his voice pitched low, but nevertheless audible. ‘You have lost your seamstress and your friend, and all we here who knew Ida, albeit briefly, are aware how deep the grief must go for you who were so close to her.’
    He was sitting beside her on her bench now, his arm around her thin waist as he tried to comfort her. Again she seemed to slide away from him, and I wondered if she might be embarrassed