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In mid February, Nessa was just lately returned from Dol Amroth with Lady Erendi and her mother. About a fortnight after, upon a certain afternoon, Rien had come, as had become her custom, to call upon her. It was one of those lazy, quiet days when any attempt at employment was futile, and in consequence of this, the two ladies resorted to the garden, where also Melian and Eldarion were at play.

Seated upon a spread, the ladies shared a bowl of strawberries and made an interesting discussion of a poetry book that Erchirion had gifted to Nessa in Dol Amroth. “So, how do you and Lord Alcarin get on?” asked Nessa; she knew that Rien had often retreated thither to find solace in her company.

“Well enough, I suppose,” said Rien. “In his own way, he is kind to me.” She paused thoughtfully before biting into her strawberry. “I think that through his own imperfect reasoning, he seeks to isolate himself from everyone. Yet, one cannot help but feel compassion for him. His is a lonely existence; no one calls for him and he is too often shut up alone with his books.” She deliberated a while before turning again to Nessa. “When you were younger, did you ever think that your life would turn out this way?” She reclined indolently upon the blanket and supported her head with her bent arm.

“I cannot remember what I thought back then,” said Nessa, reminiscently, while lightly brushing her loose hair behind her ear. “My life was so different. I had not the discipline to think seriously of my future and my vision of the world was wholly confined to my surroundings. I never cherished dreams that were beyond my way of life; it was all that I knew.” She blushed when she thought of the obstinate, unrestrained, almost untamed person that she had been then. “I am quite changed now, though I never thought to be elevated to such society as this.” She hugged her knees to her chest. “We hail from such different worlds; I know that your dreams must have differed greatly to mine.”

“Yes, they were,” admitted Rien. “But I believe that the ill turn in my consequence has served a greater purpose in my own life; it has shown me just how vain and selfish my dreams were, once upon a time.”

“Arien used to say the same; she believed that misfortune enters our lives to keep us sober minded.”

“Yes; a remarkable truth,” said Rien. “My parents never indulged me to a fault; but I cannot help thinking that in my former status, I could very easily bear with the offences of my peers; I might have reasoned them away.” Her visage was darkened by the memories of past and present transgressions that she herself had witnessed against vassals, bond servants, and even free men who were treated ignobly solely on the basis of their rank. Just that afternoon, before coming to Nessa, she had witnessed such an event, which while she was with Nessa, still lurked in the shadows of her mind.

“I think that unlikely; you have said before that you are unchanged in the essence of who you are and I believe that to be true.” Contrarily, Nessa began to doubt Rien’s earlier avowal that things were well at home. “Is this about Lord Alcarin?”

“No, not at all! When I spoke just now, Lord Alcarin was furthest from my thoughts. Indeed he lacks nothing in hauteur, but he is a fair master; I have heard the servants say this on more than one occasion. I am quite used to him and I do not fear him.” She eased up and sat on her heels. “I think that he misses Lady Arien more than he is willing to admit. I miss her too; the life of the house seems to have departed with her; it is very lonely there.”

“Well, you are always welcomed here.”

Rien grew silently thoughtful. “Recently my mind has been turned repeatedly to our land in Anorien,” said she. “I have promised myself that I should never think of it fondly again, so long as it lies without my power to possess.”

To Nessa, it seemed as if something more particular was concealed in this exchange of words. There was something about the way in which she acted that aroused that suspicion. “What are you saying, Rien? Are there not still debts against the property?”

“Yes,” said Rien; in a lowered voice, she blushingly added, “but there are other ways to regain property under such obligations.”

“You cannot mean…” Here, the echo of voices, driven to them upon the gentle breeze, interrupted this private intimation. All discussion was relinquished as both ladies arranged themselves to receive their guests. Some way off, Melian was still playing with Eldarion, who was laughing and running as he tried to catch her.

It was not long before their visitors came into view; it was Aragorn, and with him, Lord Aratan and Lord Súrion, the young lord from Anorien whom Alcarin had seen addressing Rien on the night of his sister’s wedding. Since that night, their faces had become a familiarity around the Telcontar household; as long as Rien was there, they were sure to follow.

When Eldarion saw his father, he exclaimed delightfully and straightway abandoned his pursuit of Melian to leap into the powerful sweep of his fatherÂ’s arms. He was a little over a year old and was already speaking beyond his age. He said something to his father in the elvish tongue, who responded by correcting him in the Westron tongue.

As to Rien, upon the menÂ’s appearance, her countenance had grown sullen. Nessa had not failed to notice this as she accepted the letter that Aragorn extended to her and gently tucked it away into the hidden folds of her dress. It used to be that when the young lords appeared, it was a pleasant time; but something, to which she was not privy, had occurred to change all that. Before, Rien had been used to greet them with a quiet deference as one who shared in and sympathized with their judgments; now, however, she met them with a slight irritation and uneasiness.

For herself, Nessa approved of Lord Aratan; any friend of Lord Anárion was by his virtue, a friend of hers. But she could not approve his friend. If nothing else, his imperious, almost possessive manner with Rien had settled it for her.

“Nessa, do not leave me,” said Rien, in a half desperate, barely audible voice. Whether by design or not, it was usual for Lord Aratan to engage Nessa, and any other who was present, to allow his friend to discourse privately with Rien.

Lord Súrion, whose consistent attentions to Rien left no doubt as to his particular choice, was a mystery to Nessa; she knew and heard so very little of him. Consequently, she had written to Arien, charging her most anxiously, to inquire of Lord Anárion all that he knew about Lord Súrion.

Aragorn and Melian quitted their company shortly thereafter, taking Eldarion back to the house with them and commending him to the care of his mother, who was just returned from the Citadel. Nessa thought it expedient that they too should follow, lest perchance their visitors should gain the advantage of separating her from her friend.

At the house, the party elected to remain in the small courtyard and declined any refreshment, preferring to endure the wait until the dinner hour. While they spoke of the upcoming celebrations for the New Year, Lord Súrion seized upon the opportunity to inquire more specifically into Rien’s plans for that evening and was met with a cold, civil rebuff, which did little, if anything at all, to diminish his alacrity, which was evidenced by his subsequent offer, at the end of the hour spent, to escort Rien home.

“Thank you,” said Rien, “but…”

“I shall accompany her, Lord Súrion,” Nessa ungraciously interjected. “I am to dine with Lord Alcarin this evening.”

“Yes… yes, and we should not be late,” said Rien, who was momentarily confused by Nessa’s reply. Lord Súrion’s sharp gaze penetrated her guise and he knew that she lied. Nevertheless, all talk of escorting her home was dropped, and within a mere few minutes, he and his friend left.

“I really mean to accompany you,” said Nessa as she hooked her arm with Rien’s. “I do not suppose I can amend my error by inviting myself to Lord Alcarin’s table?”

“Oh would you?” half pleaded Rien. “It would be such a change for us.”

“If it pleases Lord Alcarin, I shall stay for dinner.”

After Nessa had washed up, she and Rien set off for Lord Alcarin’s. It did not take long for her mind to revert back to their unfinished conversation. She was a little disturbed by Rien’s earlier inference and longed to urge her to expound. “Rien, about your property back in Anorien, you implied that there was another way opened to you to overcome your present difficulty.”

Rien blushed. “I merely meant that through marriage, my land could be restored to me.” She glanced at Nessa anxiously. “Do not think too harshly of me, Nessa; it is done all the time among the nobility.”

“Marriage! Rien, surely you do not intend to pursue this seriously,” said Nessa, a little too passionately. Rien looked away, mortified. “I am sorry; I spoke hastily. But is it not infinitely better to abide this moment’s discomfiture than to condemn yourself to such a loathsome union? I cannot help but feel that it would be a miserable existence.” Truly she was enlightened by this knowledge as it exposed the mystery of Lord Súrion’ attentions and she spoke with him foremost in her mind.

Rien thought that she understood Nessa’s reaction. “I have never loved, Nessa; at least, never romantically. There was a time once when I believed that I loved another. He was several years older than I was, but very handsome and exceptionally charming. He courted me sedulously over the course of an entire year and I was so flattered by his attentions that I began to think that I was in love with him. It did not take me long, however, to discover that my feelings were without depth and fashioned after a shallow sort. My present circumstances place me at a disadvantage. Not many lords would condescend to my hand and I cannot bring myself to accept the possibility of marrying anyone of lesser rank. I think of my poor dead father, and my mother, now living, and for their sakes also, I cannot reconcile my fate to that latter choice.”

Nessa felt the opposite. While her father had been chief of their people, their familyÂ’s title was of little significance in light of the sphere in which she now lived. With Erchirion, though he was of a highly noble lineage, from the very beginning, he had always accepted her. And now that she was assured of his admiration, there was no longer that element of uncertainty to contend with in respect to her worthiness in his eyes.

With Amandil, on the other hand, since learning of the nearness in his lineage to that of the kingÂ’s, the perceived distance between them had widened. The restoration of his title was not as intimidating as was this piece of news, which made the height of aspiration to his hand that much more pertinent. Moreover, these men from the North, so different even to their brothers in Gondor, were of an unusual sort; in them the blood of Numenor ran true and their life span was still reckoned well beyond that of other men. To preserve that line, she knew that it made more sense for him to take a wife, if any, from among his own people.

Truthfully, in times of weakness, these increasing feelings of unsuitability preyed upon her mind. They had chiefly begun with Lady Mardil, whose artifice and cunning had not failed entirely in causing her to doubt her presence among the nobility. Sure, there were many who accepted her solely upon the basis of her character; but there were others for which a good character held little value against the ownership of a noble lineage and worldly possessions.

“You must think me capricious,” said Rien, after Nessa’s long silence. “I say that I am reconciled to my humble estate and yet I am unwilling to unite with a husband of lesser rank.”

“No, not at all,” said Nessa, snapping from her reverie. “I cannot speak to the feelings of your loss, Rien; I have never owned a large estate; but I believe that it can never be a good thing to marry without love.”

Arriving at the house, Rien went at once to prepare for dinner, knowing all too well that Lord Alcarin disliked it when she was late. To avoid any surprises, she hurriedly sent a note to him to inform him that Nessa had come to call and left it within his power to invite Nessa to stay for dinner.

After Alcarin’s man had brought him down to the dining room, he called for Nessa. “You see how lost I am without my sister,” said he, greeting Nessa.

Nessa smiled. “I know it is but a poor substitute, but I am come to cheer you in any way that I can.”

“Yes, and you do cheer me,” returned Alcarin, as he waved her into the chair on his right.

“So, how have you been otherwise?”

“Vastly occupied with the dreary affairs of this estate,” replied Alcarin, dryly. “It was good when Arien was here; I did not appreciate her as much as I do now.”

Nessa hesitated a little before saying, “Might I make a suggestion, Lord Alcarin?” Under her watchful eye, he seemed a great deal fatigued and she began to worry.

“Say on,” said he, sipping a little wine; he lazily leaned his head against the back of his chair.

“The household affairs… decisions that a woman would be the better judge of, can you not engage Rien to make them on your behalf? Arien trusted her; she is a sensible girl and could prove very useful in these matters.”

She fully expected his resistance and was not a little surprised when he said, “I shall consider it.”

What she did not know was that Alcarin had been contemplating this very thing for some time. For a servant girl, he found Rien to be clever, thoughtful, and honest. Furthermore, there were things that she had said on occasion that revealed some form of learning. He knew that sometimes the nobility had taken it into their heads to educate the companions of their daughters and he wondered if she had been one of those who had benefited from that singularity.

A few moments more, and Rien joined them for dinner. Throughout the whole, Alcarin appeared distracted by his own musings and answered only when prompted repeatedly. Rien, for the most part, sat quietly and hardly touched her dinner. Nessa began to wonder if this change in her mood had anything to do with the letter that Calion had given to her upon their admission into the house. With two such companions, Nessa found it a challenge to uphold a decent conversation. If Alcarin and Rien spoke above two words to each other, it was by chance and Nessa had something of a glimpse into their daily interaction.

Later that evening, when Nessa retired to her bedchamber, she was finally able to acquaint herself with the contents of her letter.

My Dear Nessa,

I confess that I was very surprised by your application. To think that I have only just left my dear friends and there is already cause to worry.

Now, dear Nessa, as to this fellow, Lord Súrion, according to Anárion, he is, by reputation, a nobleman of considerable wealth. Other than that, he knows as little of him as do you and I. I fear that when in Anorien, my husband is little disposed to socialize and constrains himself to the business of his estate. I can only hope that this Lord Súrion intends no injury by his attentions to dear Rien, as I have grown terribly fond of her. I have just lately received a letter from her that gives me no reason for disquiet; her spirits are what they were when I last saw her, though I suppose that there is no way of my truly knowing until I am again within her presence. Pray, do take care to watch out for her and warn me of any mischief. I do not think that I shall see you again until the New Year when Anárion and I intend to return for the celebrations.

We are both well and trust that you all fare the same. Give my love to the others. I miss you all and hope to see you soon.

Love,
Arien

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A week after, in early March, Nessa and Aredhel had this conversation:

“I think that she really intends to accomplish it.”

Aredhel smiled faintly. “And why should that bother you? She speaks the truth; it is not uncommon to marry without affection especially among the nobility.”

Nessa sighed. “And I concede that; nonetheless, it is still disappointing.”

In the lobby, at the bottom of the stairs, Aredhel halted. “Well, my dear, here you and I must part; but I implore you to consider Rien’s situation impartially. Not everyone is guided by their romantic sensibilities, dearest; surely, you must know that.”

Meanwhile, outdoors, on the front lawn beyond the hedgerow, Melian was smiling to herself as she listened to Eldarion fuss. On a sheet of canvas, she had drawn a bird for him. All he needed to do thenceforth was to color the bird with his little paintbrushes. He knew well enough that he should paint within the outline that his aunt Melian – for that was the way he addressed her – had made, but his tiny hands were not sufficiently steady to keep within the lines.

“What took you so long?” asked Melian, as she paused from dipping the tip of her brush into the paint palette. “Did you find the brushes?” Nessa gave her the small leather satchel that she had brought with her and Melian proceeded to undo its binds. ”Yes, these should do nicely.” She glanced at Eldarion, who was sitting in his little chair and bending over the canvas, which rested on his little table, and thought to ask Nessa to guide him.

Turning to her own canvas, Melian began to study the partial illustration that she had already outlined with the strokes of her brush. She debated the choice of color intensities that she intended to use to create her shadows. Her keen eyes surveyed the landscape, identifying the shadows and preserving them in her memory; within a few hours, she expected that the sunÂ’s descent would begin to lengthen them.

An hour later, Melian and Nessa were standing before her painting. “This is unlike you, Melian,” observed Nessa. “What is the matter?”

Melian bent down and lifted Eldarion to her hip, for he had been complaining that he could not see the painting. “I thought that I had the colors right,” said she, disappointedly. “But the proportions are all wrong too.”

“It may be because you have not painted in a while,” consoled Nessa.

“No; I have gone long periods before without painting and I have never painted this badly.”

“Whose voice is that?” said Nessa, suddenly and in a hushed tone. “Is that Gimli?”

Melian recognized it immediately; there was no mistaking that voice that drifted to them oÂ’er the hedgerow. She sat Eldarion back down upon his feet and hurriedly removed her unfinished painting and hid it away, privily. Admittedly, she was a little nervous. At first she thought that the company would pass into the house, and several did indeed, but Arwen and Gimli came directly into view as if they had intended to come that way from the beginning. A combination of relief and regret engulfed her heart as she realized that he was not with them.

“Melian, Nessa,” called Arwen, “I have brought our old friend to see you.” As soon as Eldarion saw his mother, he ran to grab her hand to lead her to his painting; however, she stopped and stooped down to rub his face, where a speck of paint had stained his cheek.

“Little lad,” said Gimli, in his gruff voice. Up until then, he had gone unnoticed by Eldarion, for his mother stood forward, partly blocking his view; but the child now earnestly stared at the dwarf, taking in all of his appearance, his small stature and lengthy beard.

“Ah, Lady Melian,” said Gimli, bowing deeply as she approached. “It has been long since we parted.” He likewise saluted Nessa as she also drew near.

“Come, Gimli,” said Nessa, good-naturedly, “you must tell us all about your travels.”

“Aye, I will,” Gimli promised, “but you must give me leave to tell you all when next I am here again. As the prince has some business with the king, I came personally to convey our respects.”

“Then you are off again directly?” asked Nessa.

Melian listened attentively to all that was passing, and hoped that Nessa would press Gimli a little more for answers.

“Aye; the prince and I are for Ithilien.”

“But it is almost dark already,” said Nessa. “And surely you must be tired from your journey.”

“It is no use trying to dissuade them, Nessa,” said Arwen, as she joined them around the table. She lifted Eldarion to her lap and opened the canvas of the bird that he had painted. “I tried to persuade the prince but he is determined, and rightly so, to return at once to his realm to see all that has been done in his absence.”

For a brief moment, Gimli had lapsed into a sorrowful state. “It is good to see you again, Gimli,” said Melian, tenderly and sincerely, in an attempt to assuage his melancholy.

Gimli nodded gratefully. He did not stay long with them nor did he say much, but his behavior taught them that which had remained unspoken; that is, their peregrinations to the north had proven fruitless.

Melian found herself doing exactly what she had decided against; she was worried for him. She worried that he would fall into despair, not only for his part in the matter, but also for the sake of her family. What words could he utter to appease their suffering? It was a wretched situation. Her benevolent heart was surfeit with tenderness towards what she imagined to be his present affliction. The bitterness that had slowly begun to reign in her heart some months previously was now overwhelmed by feelings of charity. There was a certain ignominy that she felt in remembrance of her less than generous sentiments with regard to the prince, and in compassion, she was resolved upon performing her part as a faithful friend. In light of the gravity of his situation, her sincere attachment to him, for a time, would have to be forsaken. In her estimation, what he needed the most, in his prevailing circumstance, was a friend.

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Around this same time, of an early afternoon, Rien returned home from errands to find a young lady standing in the lobby before the stairs. “Hello,” said she, as she set down her basket and followed the young lady’s gaze up the stairs. “Are you here to see Calion?” Besides Alcarin and her, the only other who resided above the floor, was Calion. And since no one but Nessa ever called for her and Lord Alcarin, she naturally assumed that the visitor was Calion’s, though something told her that she was mistaken, for the young lady was very finely dressed.

“Calion! Indeed no,” answered she. “I am Lady Annawen and I am come to call upon Lord Alcarin.” She coldly observed Rien. “Who are you?”

Rien introduced herself as AlcarinÂ’s caregiver, which, when said, elicited a favorable change in Lady AnnawenÂ’s disposition.

“But you cannot be any older than I am.”

Rien smiled. “Is Calion then gone to call upon Lord Alcarin?”

Lady Annawen’s countenance fell. “Yes; this is my third time calling this week,” she softly said.

“Oh!” said Rien, a little surprised. She had not heard anything of this before now. And no wonder too, since she clearly deduced that each time Lady Annawen had come to call, she had been sent away disappointed; he would not see her. “Shall we?” said she, gesturing toward the formal sitting room.

Not willing to pry, Rien chose the higher ground by engaging Lady Annawen in general conversation while they awaited CalionÂ’s return; the streets of Minas Tirith were filled with enough talk of the upcoming New YearÂ’s Eve diversions to sustain any good discussion.

A half of an hour was spent conversing and still there was no sign of Calion. Seeing the increasing look of anxiety and embarrassment upon Lady Annawen’s face, Rien began to grow uncomfortable. “Lord Alcarin was feeling a little unwell earlier,” said she. “It should not surprise me that he is resting.”

“Really?” said Lady Annawen, breathlessly, almost happily, and with a sigh of relief. Rien nodded. “Yes, I believe it is as you say. I have suffered such grievous thoughts this past hour; I am so grateful to you for your kindness in relieving me of my ignorance. It never entered my mind to think that he was unwell.”

From her behavior, Rien clearly saw that here was a lady who was genuinely, if not affectionately, interested in the well being of Lord Alcarin. Still, who was she and what was her history with the inhabitants of that house? From parts of her disclosure, she knew that Lady Annawen had been a past intimate of that house, but it was unclear to her on what footing.

Lady Annawen rose from her seat. A pained expression marred her visage. “Many years ago, I was friend to Lady Arien and her brother. However, after his accident, we three became estranged and shortly thereafter, I forsook Minas Tirith for Dol Amroth. It was a difficult time for all of us, but, I imagine, no one more so than him.”

‘What was she saying?’ thought Rien. She had always thought that Lord Alcarin’s heart was dead though she meant it in the romantic sense. Yet, the underlying thread of Lady Annawen’s story wove together a vague, romantic picture of a relationship that existed between them. “Dol Amroth? Lady Arien and her husband were just there.”

“Yes; I chanced to meet them while they were there.” Lady Annawen splayed her fingers on the back of the chair. “I was very happy to learn of their marriage; our earlier associations were happy ones before the breach in friendship between Lord Alcarin and Lord Anárion.”

A timid knock drew their attention as a young servant girl announced to Rien that she was needed at once. Before she could go, however, Lady Annawen begged that she could call upon her again to inquire after Lord AlcarinÂ’s well being. Knowing Lord Alcarin, Rien was not keen upon the idea, but the plea was fervently made and she could not resist it in earnest.

Meanwhile, she had her own difficulties to ponder, which, while Lady Annawen had engaged her attention, were nearly forgotten; they now returned to govern her thoughts as she made her way to the servantsÂ’ quarters. She had been told that a stranger had come to call upon her and she almost feared that this visit was rooted in her festering problem.

As soon as she entered the door, her fears gave way to an incredulous and felicitous greeting as she fell upon her callerÂ’s neck with innumerable hugs and kisses. It was her old nurse, who was perhaps some one score years her senior and a woman of learning.

“Let me look at you,” said she, affectionately, as she touched Rien’s face, tenderly. “I always knew that one day you would blossom into a beauty, milady.”

Rien smiled and begged her to sit; they were in a modest sitting room that was generally used by the servants. “It is good to see you, Andreth. How have you been?”

“As well as could be expected, milady,” said Andreth, as she launched into the details, which had to be told, of the joys and the sorrows endured since their parting.

“How did you come to find me?”

“I wrote to your mother,” her old nurse replied. “Are they kind to you, milady?”

Rien nodded. “Yes, Andreth; I have no complaints.”

“Ah, how it plagues my heart to think of those fine hands working. If Master could see you now; he would not be pleased.”

Rien smiled sadly. “Yes; but it cannot be helped.”

“You have changed, milady,” said Andreth, observing her closely.

Solemnly Rien said, “Andreth, there is something that has been heavily pressing upon my heart; something that I have longed to share with someone else.”

“What is it, darling?” asked Andreth, immediately resurrecting that old bond that had once existed between them as nurse and child.

Rien reached into the pocket of her dress and withdrew a letter, which she handed to Andreth. For an entire week, her feelings had been in an uproar, owing to that letter. “Read it.” Andreth held the letter in her hand, hesitantly. “Please, Andreth, read it.”

Slowing, Andreth unfolded the letter and began to peruse its contents. As she read, her expression grew cold. When she was done, she folded the letter and returned it to Rien.

“I am so ashamed, Andreth,” said Rien, softly.

“Do not be cast down,” said Andreth, comfortingly. “I am especially glad that I came to you now.”

“Will you come with me?” begged Rien.

Andreth nodded, although it was abundantly clear that she did not approve of the scheme. Rien, herself, did not wish to discuss it and therefore began to engage her former nurse in talk of their old, common acquaintances.

Later that day, at even, Rien and Andreth set off into the lower city. Both women wore cloaks to shield their identities as they walked through the torch lit streets to the fifth level of the city, passing few persons on their descent. Arriving at the house that they sought, Andreth preceded Rien to the servantÂ’s entrance and knocked on the door. They were told by one of the servants that a lady was expected at the main entrance, but Andreth insisted that they be ushered in that way or else they would quickly depart.

Shown into a small private room, done up no doubt for a lady, Rien and Andreth waited, not a little anxiously, for the one who had summoned them to that place.

The sound of firm, heavy footsteps on the floors outside soon announced his arrival and it was not long before he entered the room. He bowed graciously to Rien and closed the door behind him. He made to approach her and unconsciously, she stepped backward.

“Come now, Lady Rien,” said he, charmingly, “we are old friends; let us greet one another as such.” Here, Andreth stood forward. “Ah, you have brought your old nurse – your protector,” added he, nonchalantly with a grin. “How do you do there?”

“I am well, sir,” replied Andreth, abruptly and in an unfriendly tone. “We have come to hear your tidings, sir and expect to be gone soon.”

“You still hate me,” said Lord Súrion, laughing uncaringly. “No matter; I can endure any offence for the sake of that precious heart, which I claim as my own.” He gazed at Rien. “I know that she has not forgotten her promise.”

Rien colored. She remembered her conversation with Nessa and despised herself for her poor judgment. Her own feelings, which she had wrestled to ignore, were a veritable insurrection against this alliance; they were that way a week earlier, at the Telcontar mansion, and they were that way still, at that moment. She was forced to acknowledge that any action in direct opposition to her feelings was nothing short of mercenary. “I was just a child then, sir,” she defended.

“Sir? You are my equal, Lady Rien,” declared Lord Súrion. “The same blood that flowed in your veins back then still flows through them now. I am irrevocably determined to make you my wife.”

“I do not love you! You must know that.”

“A small detail,” said Lord Súrion, dismissively. “You will learn to love me again.”

“But I never did!” cried Rien in an impassioned voice. “Please believe me. I may have felt some kind of fascination towards you in the past, but it was never love; I am sure of it now.” Her manner became gentle. “My words were foolish and declared in perfect innocence; if I have raised your hope, as you have so disclosed in your letter, I humbly beseech your forgiveness.”

Lord Súrion was not at all moved or disturbed by Rien’s admission. “I called upon your mother the other day,” said he, evenly. “I remember, like you, old woman,” he said to Andreth, “she never liked me.” He sat down and folded his legs. “But I have noticed that poverty has a way of softening old dislikes. I was welcomed most amiably and when parting, was engaged to return again.” He looked at Rien. “You are every bit as proud as your mother; but see, even your mother has realized the common sense of forming this alliance. It was hinted to me that she would not oppose it.”

“I shall never marry you, Lord Súrion,” said Rien. “I am quite determined.”

“I give you a year, Lady Rien,” said Lord Súrion. “It took me a long time to find you; I am a very patient man, though I say it myself.” He walked over to a wooden desk, inserted a key into one of its locked drawers and removed a document from within. “It might also interest you to know that I have purchased all of your debts; your estate now has only one creditor. I should expect you to be grateful; the usury alone charged by some of your past creditors would not have allowed you to reclaim the land in few years. More to the point, as Lady Súrion, these debts would be dismissed, your land would return to you, and your mother would be elevated once more to her rightful place in society.”

Rien was appalled. She felt Andreth’s reassuring hand upon hers, urging her to be calm in the face of Lord Súrion’s complicity.

“We have heard all that you have to say, sir,” said Andreth. “We bid you a good evening.”

Without another word spoken, Lord Súrion opened the door for them. “One year hence, Lady Rien, I will have your answer.”

When Rien and Andreth were safely home, only then did they speak of what had transpired.

“Why was I not told of this, milady? Did you make that promise?”

Earnestly mortified, Rien relayed the account of her past indiscretion.

“I am sorry for it,” said Andreth, remorsefully. “Your mother and I have never approved of him and my own opinion has not altered. If anything, his behavior tonight has strengthened it.” She gently touched Rien’s hand. “But, what will you do about your land?”

Rien looked and felt brokenhearted. “What of it?” she replied, despondently. “It was as good as lost to me formerly. This new turn is but a sure thing. It shall teach me not to hope unreasonably and I shall endeavor to harden my heart against such regrets.” She took her old nurse’s hand into hers. “Thank you for your kindness. I know that there is much that you have learned today that is a reproach against me. Yet, there has not been one word of reproof from your lips.”

“I understand that you were young and most likely led away by his assiduities. Your mother and I bear the blame; we should have been more vigilant. This would not have happened had we forbidden his coming to the manor.”

A knock on the door interrupted them. It was Lord AlcarinÂ’s manservant. He had come to summon Rien.

“What is it, Calion?”

“It is my lord, Rien; I went earlier to the healers to fetch some medicinal herbs for master’s complaint but he refuses to take the potion.”

Rien bade Andreth to stay; she would have the housekeeper make up one of the little spare rooms for her. Lord Alcarin had indeed granted her the right to make those decisions on his behalf. With that settled, she went directly to Lord AlcarinÂ’s chamber and found him partly over the side of the bed and the potion splattered on the carpet. She rang the bell at once to have the servants remove the carpet and proceeded to attend to Alcarin.

Truly she could not find that anything ailed him except that he was in an exceedingly foul mood. After she had done what she could to restore him comfortably in his bed, she quickly withdrew to her own chamber to think, undisturbed, of all that had occurred that day. It pierced her heart so to think of Lord Súrion’s perfidious offer of marriage and still more for the inevitable loss of her birthright. What a fool she had been to cherish a single thought of the ease and comfort that would have been restored to her through their union. She was glad for the brevity of that consideration and that clarity did not come too late.