"You look very lovely today," he prattled, wiping a sleeve across his nose. "Very lovely indeed."
"Thank you, Ljubo."
"It's so nice for Donskoy to have a wife."
"Yes," she muttered, adjusting herself in the saddle as it swayed. "Very nice." Then it occurred to Marguerite that an opportunity lay before her-one she shouldn't pass up. She glanced over her shoulder. Donskoy was still speaking to Ekhart from the saddle, waving a dark hand to punctuate his story.
"Ljubo," she said quietly. "May I take the reins now?"
"Okay," he said simply, handing her the leathers.
"But I want you walk here close beside me, in case I should fall."
Ljubo happily complied. "Like this, milady?"
"That's right. Like that."
They turned, walking away from Lord Donskoy.
"Ljubo," said Marguerite, with calculated smoothness. "Would you like to be my friend?"
Her admirer bared his broken teeth. "Oh, yes, Lady Marguerite. I'd like that very much."
"Good. I haven't many friends to talk to, you know. Yelena is mute."
Ljubo nodded. "No tongue."
"I was wondering if you could tell me about the castle," ventured Marguerite,
Ljubo eyed her over his shoulder, then muttered, "Ekhart doesn't like me to talk."
"But Ekhart isn't with us now," Marguerite replied evenly. "So it's alt right."
Ljubo stared at the ground, then shot her a sly glance. "So it's all right," he repeated, lifting one corner of his fleshy mouth.
"Did you know Vateska, Donskoy's first wife?" she asked.
Ljubo stopped suddenly, and the horse halted beside him, not needing any prompting. He looked away, rubbing his hands nervously.
"Vales-" He stopped short of saying the whole name. "Lord Donskoy's first wife, she's dead."
"Yes, I know. I want you to tell me how."
"Can't say," said Ljubo quietly.
Marguerite found this odd. "Why not?"
Ljubo would not meet her gaze, "Ekhart wouldn't like it," he whispered, "It's forbidden-even to say her name is forbidden."
"Forbidden?" Marguerite asked. "Why?"
Ljubo's only response was to shake his head. He cast a nervous look toward the corner where Ekhart was working and said nothing.
"What's wrong? Why are you so afraid?" Marguerite started to reach for his shoulder, then drew back, a terrible prospect taking shape inside her mind. "What happened? Did Lord Donskoy kill her?"
Ljubo's round head snapped around to look at her. "Oh, no. Lord Donskoy loued her. But-"
"But what?" Marguerite persisted.
"She didn't like it here. She didn't want to stay, and she got sick."
"Sick? How?"
"Strange sick. Crazy sick. She got weak, and then she got strange."
"And then she died," Marguerite concluded.
Ljubo was quiet. He looked nervously toward Donskoy and Ekhart, who continued their conversation across the yard.
Marguerite said gently, "You can tell me, Ljubo." She touched his cheek with her hand. "After all, we are friends."
Ljubo's eyes darted. He ticked his lips.
"Tell me," whispered Marguerite. "How did Valeska die?"
"She did it herself," said Ljubo suddenly. His eyes were wide and frightened. "She jumped into the pit. Zosia said it was the only way she could escape."
"Zosia told her to jump?" Marguerite gasped.
Ljubo frowned. "No-she said it after. When we went down to …" He bit his iip, allowing the sentence to trail off.
Marguerite was quiet. An immense relief settled over her. She had not allowed herself to confront it, but the fear had lingered all along-the fear that Lord Donskoy had murdered his first wife. But it wasn't true. What was it Ramus had said? That gypsies fear confinement. Perhaps that was why Valeska had committed suicide. Donskoy had kept her under lock and key, just as he imprisoned Marguerite. For Valeska, perhaps, it had been too much to bear.
"I shouldn't have told you, Lady Marguerite."
"Yes you should have, Ljubo. You did the right thing."
"No," he hissed. "I shouldn't have spoken of her. It's forbidden."
The sound of clattering hooves brought them both to attention. Lord Donskoy was coming across the courtyard.
Marguerite leaned down and placed a hand on Ljubo's shoulder, as if steadying herself. "It will be our secret."
Her husband arrived before Ljubo couid respond.
"Ready now?" he asked, frowning at the sight of Marguerite touching the stablehand.