The Ouroboros Cycle, Book One. G.D. Falksen
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to the window and stood there, bathed in the warm afternoon sunlight. The sensation reminded her of him.
How very peculiar, she thought, that sunlight could remind a person of another person. It did not seem at all sensible or scientific. Had Korbinian been there, she was certain he would have had something interesting to say about it.
I’ve done it again!
Babette put her hands to her temples and shook her head. How could every little thing she saw, heard, felt, and smelled possibly remind her of him? It was too impossible to make sense of it!
As she stood at the window, she chanced a look out onto the grounds. To her astonishment, she saw a man not unlike Korbinian riding up the drive on a dappled gray stallion. Babette sighed and turned away, covering her face with her hands.
Now she was seeing things! It was dreadful!
She turned back to the window, determined to put her mind at ease, and saw that her eyes had not deceived her. Indeed, it was Korbinian walking up to the front steps as bold as brass.
Babette bolted for the door. She had to try the handle twice before she managed to open it.
What was Korbinian doing here, now of all times? Surely someone would see him!
She raced out into the passage and ran for the stairs. She heard Korbinian knocking on the front door. What was she to do?
She reached the upstairs landing in time to see a footman answer the door. She wanted to cry out, but that would only make things more difficult. She squared her shoulders and was about to descend and sort the matter out when her grandfather stepped into the foyer, walking stick in hand.
Babette clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out and crouched as low as she could to avoid notice.
Surely something dreadful was about to happen.
* * * *
William Varanus did not expect to encounter anyone as he departed for his afternoon walk, certainly not the young stranger of German extraction who had danced with his granddaughter the night before. But there the young man was, standing in the doorway in riding coat and breeches and a vest of an audaciously sharp green, acting for all the world as if there was nothing peculiar about his arrival.
“And what is this Vatel?” William asked the footman.
“Apologies, sir,” Vatel said. “This…person only just arrived. I was about to show him into the drawing room to await Monsieur James.”
“Thank you Vatel, I will handle this.”
“Very good, sir,” Vatel said and withdrew a few paces.
William turned to the young man in the doorway and sized him up. He was tall, as William recalled. He smelled decent enough. There was the scent of horse, naturally, and some traces of cologne but at least neither was overpowering. The boy’s own scent was healthy and robust.
“Who are you?” William asked, direct as always. “What is your business?”
The young man bowed and introduced himself:
“I am Korbinian Alexander Albrecht Freiherr von Fuchsburg. Am I right to think that I am addressing William Varanus?”
“You are,” William said. “And your business?”
“My business, sir,” Korbinian said, “is with you. It concerns your granddaughter, Mademoiselle Babette.”
Really…? William thought. Interesting. Most interesting.
“If the matter concerns my granddaughter,” he said, “then surely you wish to speak to my son James, her father.”
Korbinian appeared confused for a moment but quickly rallied. He exhaled in a soft laugh and met William’s stern gaze.
“Nein,” he said. “Forgive me sir, but I have made inquiries about the town—else I would have attended you sooner. I am given to understand that it is you sir who is the master of the house, not your son. And so I have come to speak to you.”
Clever boy.
“Regarding my granddaughter?” William asked.
“Yes,” Korbinian replied. “As I have said.”
“So you have.”
Korbinian took a breath and said, “Sir, I would prefer if we discussed this matter in private. It is of a delicate and most important nature.”
“Is it?” William asked.
“It is,” Korbinian said, his gaze never wavering.
William chuckled. Toying with the boy was amusing, but only as a passing distraction. His walk beckoned and he was in no mood for further delays. Then again, if he suspected the boy’s purpose correctly…
William tapped the foyer floor with the end of his stick and said, “I am just about to depart on my afternoon stroll in the gardens. It will take precisely thirty minutes.”
He checked his watch and frowned at the delay.
“Twenty-seven minutes,” he corrected. “You may accompany me, Baron von Fuchsburg, and you have the duration of my walk to present me with your business and convince me of its worth. Do you understand?”
“Most clearly, sir,” Korbinian said. “Thank you.”
William looked at his watch again.
“Twenty-six minutes. Come along, we will walk briskly.”
A quicker pace during the conversation would be a good test of the boy’s lungs.
* * * *
As soon as the front door closed, Babette broke from hiding and ran to the nearest window. She watched Grandfather and Korbinian walk briskly across the drive toward the gardens at the side of the house. Grandfather’s manner was relaxed, though purposeful, which Babette took to be a good sign. Korbinian kept pace easily, and his stride was marked by great confidence.
Babette watched them silently, wondering what words passed between them. As they walked out of the window’s line of sight, she moved to the next and the next, following them with her eyes until they had vanished into the gardens.
Babette placed her fingertips against the glass and stood at the window in silence, her mind awhirl.
* * * *
“Now then,” William said, as he savored the fresh air, “what is this business of yours, Baron von Fuchsburg?”
Korbinian cleared his throat with a cough and raised his chin.
“Sir, I wish your permission to marry your granddaughter.”
As William had suspected. And to think, they had only met the night before. Ah, the impetuousness of youth.
“My granddaughter?” William asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you met my granddaughter?”
“Ja,” Korbinian said. He gave William a purposeful look. “You know that I have, sir. You saw us dancing at your family’s ball last night.”
William hid a smile. Clever boy.
“So I did,” he said. “And after one dance you have decided to marry her?”
Korbinian fell silent for a moment before he answered:
“We also spoke, she and I, for no less than twenty minutes, on a great many topics of mutual interest. I was impressed by her intelligence, forthrightness, and wit.”
“And those are qualities you regard as ideal in a wife?” William asked.
“I do, sir. She is a rare woman, your granddaughter. Any man would be honored to wed her.”
William smiled. “And why do you believe that you are worthy of that