“Show her in please, Nan, and fetch us some refreshment if you would.”
A woman with a mass of grey hair strode into the room in a black woolen dress and a practical pair of clogs. She carried a walking staff, though she had no limp. Cuthbert swiveled in his seat to give her a grin. Linnet jumped up and made her way over to the older woman, grasping her hands in greeting.
“You are welcome, Mother Ames,” she said warmly, drawing her over to the window seat.
“Finally come into your own, I see,” said the woman with a cackle, as she cast a swift appraising look over her. “I saw the prowling black panther riding out this morn, though he passed me by.”
Linnet thought fleetingly of the Vawdrey heraldic beast, though Mason, born on the wrong side of the blanket, did not have the right to use it in the strictest sense.
“My husband,” she said, nodding her head. “He has ridden out this day to see the lay of our lands.”
Mother Ames sent her a shrewd look from her beady eyes as she seated herself on the dark-red cushions. “He will hear nothing good from your tenants.”
Linnet felt herself bridle a little. “You have never seen fit to mention this to me before.”
The older woman shrugged. “You weren’t in any position to hear it before.”
Linnet mulled this over as she waved in Nan, who was bearing a tray of spiced biscuits and a jug of dark ale. She jumped up to pour a cup for her visitor, checked on Cuthbert’s spelling and then returned to sit at the window seat with Mother Ames.
“And how do ye like your new husband, young miss?” asked Mother Ames, smacking her lips together after draining her cup.
Linnet pondered this a moment. “He is very fine,” she responded.
“Is he? Is he, indeed?” The old woman sounded skeptical.
Cuthbert twisted in his chair. “He’s a soldier, Grandmother. With a sword as tall as me.”
Mother Ames snorted at her grandson’s wide eyes. “Give me your hand, child” she said, turning to Linnet.
Linnet complied, though in truth she had only seen her read palms for her giggling aunt’s ladies-in-waiting before, never for herself.
Mother Ames grunted. “A husband of your own choosing, is it?” she said, casting a surprised look at Linnet’s face. “Bold piece,” she laughed. “I have hopes for you after all.” She passed a thumb over her palm and frowned. “But what’s this . . . ? A lion intercepts your panther, my little leopardess. I see interesting times ahead.” She muttered distractedly to herself. “Not been presented at court have ye, little one?”
“Court? No, never. My health was too precarious . . . ” Her words trailed off at the gleam in the other woman’s eyes. “At least,” she added drily, “that was what I was led to believe.”
Mother Ames grunted and then turned Linnet’s hand over to look at the cracked Vawdrey signet ring. Her eyebrows rose but she made no comment.
“The sweat of an amethyst,” she said suddenly and helped herself to a biscuit.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Suspend an amethyst over boiling water and then rub the sweat from the gemstone over your afflicted skin.”
“A new remedy?” asked Linnet excitedly.
“The jewel has healing properties. Do ye have an amethyst?”
“I hardly know. Cuthbert knows the Cadwallader jewels better than I,” she turned to her page.
Cuthbert wrinkled his nose. “What color be amethysts?” he asked, dropping his pen.
“A purplish color.”
“Maybe,” he said, nodding excitedly. “One of those old pendants of the late Lady Cadwallader has a purple stone.”
“Her betrothal necklace! Well remembered!” said Linnet, clapping her hands together.
The old woman nodded sagely as she crunched through a second biscuit.
Linnet wondered distractedly how long it would take to rub the amethyst over her multitude of freckles. An age, no doubt! And how would she reach the ones on her back?
“I was wondering,” she said distractedly, “at how to build up my stamina.” She plunged on boldly. “Due to my confinement, I am easily tired and it seems my heart is not as weak as my uncle led me to believe.” At Mother Ames’s continued silence, she elaborated. “I can go up my tower and back down again and my heart still beats just as strongly without causing a faint.”
The older woman pondered this a moment as she helped herself to another cup of ale.
“Mayhap you should repeat this journey up and down your tower, several times a day.”
“How many times?”
“Today, twice. Tomorrow, four times. You catch my meaning?”
“Increasingly,” nodded Linnet. “That I can do.”
“You must carry on walking and riding and exert yourself over the coming weeks, for the trial ahead.”
“Trial?” asked Linnet with alarm.
“You will be tested,” nodded the old woman. “And you must pass that test.”
Linnet did not like the sound of that. “Sounds rather ominous,” she said nervously.
Mother Ames nodded. “Oh yes,” she muttered. “Ye have thrown your lot in with a pack of rowdy, quarrelsome beasts.”
“The Vawdreys?” asked Linnet with alarm. “Oh, but my brother-in-law seems very steady . . . He does not strike me as quarrelsome.”
“The smooth-faced one?” asked Mother Ames with interest. “Rides out beside your husband?”
“Yes.”
“I did not mean he,” she conceded. “But your true intended.”
“Sir Roland?” Linnet felt slight alarm. “Oh surely not!”
“He will stir up trouble, that one. And fall prey to the twin vipers that whisper in his ear . . . ”
“Vipers?”
“Jealousy and greed. And their sire, he is another will be angered by your match.”
Linnet sat back in her seat feeling concerned. “Baron Vawdrey?” She twisted her hands in her lap. “Oh dear. I do not think Mason has yet written to his father.” And it had been over a month they had been married now.
Mother Ames grunted. “An undutiful son.”
“Well, he has had much to do,” pointed out Linnet in defense of her husband. “After all, his father did send him to jilt me on Roland’s behalf!”
“Jilting is one thing, taking the bride for his own is another!” she drummed her walking stick against the flagstones to emphasize her words.
Linnet chewed on her bottom lip. “But that was my idea!” she protested.
“He will hardly admit as much to his sire. And none would believe it of you.”
“Then I shall tell them so!” said Linnet staunchly.
“Hah! He would not thank you for spreading such a story,” warned Mother Ames. “You have much to learn about men, little one.”
“That may be so,” conceded Linnet. “But learn I shall!”
The older woman chuckled. “As I said, I start to have hopes for you,” she said, polishing off the last biscuit.
As it turned out, Linnet did not have long to brood over Mother Ames’s cryptic warning, for she had visitors just three days later. She had no sooner performed her tower climb—eight times—and returned to the solar than her servant announced Lady Sybilla Jauncey and her daughter-in-law, Enid Jauncey.
“Good gracious,” remarked Linnet to Cuthbert. “They did not take long to respond to my missive!” She turned back to the footman. “Please show both ladies in.”
Linnet could tell from the moment that the two ladies were ushered into the room that things were not going as they had expected. She rose and crossed the room to greet them only to find the older lady dismiss her impatiently.
“Yes, yes, let us dispense with the pleasantries,” she said, cutting off Linnet’s words of welcome with a flick of her wrist. “You may take me to your mistress’s room now, poor dear. I have no doubt she is in need of my comfort after all the dreadful goings-on.”
The face of the younger woman beside her grew tight th
ough she remained silent.
Linnet looked from one to the other in bewilderment. “I think there has been some mistake,” she said aloud. “For I am your host, Lady Linnet Vawdrey. Cadwallader as was.”
The older woman’s eyes bugged out. “You?” she hissed, looking her up and down.
Linnet nodded once, glancing over to where Cuthbert stood all agog. “Cuthbert, kindly fetch my guests some refreshment. Please,” she said, turning back to the two ladies, “come in and take a seat.”
Linnet could not help but notice how they stared at her as she arranged her houppelande gown and seated herself opposite them.
“I can scarcely believe it!” exclaimed the elder Lady Jauncey, dropping into a seat. “Why, I can’t see much wrong with you! You don’t even limp!”
Linnet blinked. “No indeed,” she agreed when the older woman continued to glare at her accusingly. “I’ve never limped,” she elaborated to fill the awkward silence.
“You—your health must have recently greatly improved, Lady Linnet,” said the younger one, eyeing her mother-in-law with misgiving.
“Not really,” answered Linnet with a shrug. “My aunt and uncle insisted I was too ill to leave my rooms, but it turns out they greatly exaggerated.”
Both their mouths dropped open at her frankness.
“I should say so,” spluttered Lady Sybilla. “I have been grossly deceived!” her bosom heaved. “And Lady Jevons always professed us such good friends!” Her tone was bitter. “And all this time, you would have done very well for Lambert or Chilton!”
“Mother,” cautioned the younger one heavily.
“Who are Lambert and Chilton?” asked Linnet, determined to try and hold up her end of the conversation.
“My sons,” announced Lady Sybilla.
“Lambert was my husband,” pointed out Enid drily. Then as Lady Sybilla continued muttering to herself distractedly, she leant forward and imparted: “He died last spring of a fever. Chilton is now Lord Jauncey.”
“Ah, I’m sorry for your loss,” said Linnet in a similarly quiet tone.
“Thank you,” said Enid with a brief smile.
“A helpless, malformed invalid Millicent said,” continued Lady Sybilla aggrieved and completely oblivious to Linnet’s wince. “And to think! All this time . . . Not a jot wrong with you!”
She glared at Linnet almost as if it was her fault! She was relieved to hear Cuthbert’s footfall at the doorway as he bought in a tray of drinks. He brought the tray to Linnet first and she helped herself to a cup of apple wine. Then he took the tray to Lady Sybilla, and then to Lady Enid both of whom also took a cup.
“To new friends,” said Linnet brightly.
Lady Enid lifted her cup at the toast, but Lady Sybilla’s face twitched and turned quite purple with chagrin. They all took a deep draught.
“I am very happy to welcome you here to Cadwallader Castle,” said Linnet. At Sybilla’s snort, it occurred to her belatedly that it might not be their first visit. “But perhaps you visited with the Jevons previously . . . ”
“Do not mention that pair of snakes to me,” implored Lady Sybilla, throwing up her hands. “The wretched deceit!”
“Really, Mother!” objected Enid, leaning forward. “You must get ahold of yourself. You’ll make Lady Linnet uncomfortable with this talk.”
At this, the older woman’s eyes narrowed and she seemed to rally herself a moment. After a moment’s pause, she drew a deep breath. “You are right,” she said rallying. “After all, what’s done is done. We must see what can be done to repair the situation at hand.”
For some reason, her words made Linnet feel rather uneasy. She could feel the other woman’s gaze sweeping her from head to foot in shrewd appraisal.
“What a little thing you are!” she announced. “Like a little bird. Not what we were led to expect at all.” She shot a look at her daughter-in-law. “If I had known, I would have brought Chilton along with us.”
Lady Enid rolled her eyes. “Lady Linnet is married, mother-in-law,” she pointed out, sotto voce.
The other woman brushed this aside. “Oh, tush! I daresay, there’s scarcely been time to make it legal,” she smiled, showing a lot of teeth. “And for all we know it may yet be annulled.”
Linnet sat up straighter in her chair. “I can assure you, Lady Jauncey, that my marriage is quite finalized. I have been married now for almost a month.”
“Indeed?” The older woman hesitated as if she wanted to say something further, but wasn’t sure how to frame the words.
“Pray do not be indelicate, Mother!” Lady Enid forestalled her sharply.
“Nonsense Enid! We are all friends here! I’m sure little Linnet would not take aught I say amiss . . . ”
“I am both wedded and bedded,” Linnet blurted out, wanting there to be no misunderstandings. “The deed was done within an hour of the vows.”
A shocked silence greeted her words. Sybilla’s jaw dropped and Enid burst out in surprised laughter.
“I never!” said Lady Sybilla, sitting back in her chair.
“Good for you,” said Enid, raising her goblet in another toast. “And here’s to plain speaking Lady Linnet!”
Linnet raised her own cup in toast and took a hasty sip.
“Well he certainly didn’t waste any time about it,” said Sybilla crossly. “And I suppose that—er—the showing . . . ?”
“Gods, Mother!” objected Enid, plunking her goblet down. “Could you be any more—?”
“The bedsheet was displayed from the north tower on the day of our marriage,” said Linnet promptly.
Sybilla gave a forced smile. “All as it should be,” she said tightly. “Quite right. Quite right.” She was practically gnashing her teeth at this point.
If it wasn’t for a possible budding friendship with Enid, Linnet would have written off the visit as an unmitigated disaster!
After the rocky start, Lady Sybilla managed to talk loudly about herself for the next hour, drink five cups of apple wine, and nod off to sleep in her chair. She let out a light snore as she slid sideways down into the cushions.
Linnet stared and then nearly burst into giggles when her gaze met Enid’s.
“Thank the gods for that,” whispered the younger woman, her hazel eyes gleaming with mirth. “I thought she’d never stop talking!”
Linnet covered her mouth and choked back a laugh. “Oh dear, she was so put out of sorts by my good health,” she said her voice wavering.
Enid stood up and gestured for Linnet to join her over by the window where they could talk without disturbing her mother-in-law. “Yes, she is bitterly disappointed that she did not snare you for Chilton,” she said in a low voice as soon as Linnet joined her. “Your estate is at least twice as big as ours.”
Linnet schooled her features to look serious. “I am sorry that my aunt lied to her, but indeed she lied to me too. They had me quite convinced I was at death’s door.”
The smile dropped from Enid’s face. “That is truly wicked,” she said with feeling. “I am glad you had the good sense to untangle yourself from their clutches.”
Linnet blinked. She reached out and touched Enid’s hand briefly. “Thank you,” she said, thinking of her proposal to Mason. “How did you know it was at my own instigation?” she marveled.
Enid squeezed her hand back and gave a low chuckle. “You are so . . . decided.” she said with a nod. “You know your own mind. And you give strong voice to your thoughts.” She smiled. “I admire that in a woman.”
Linnet gazed back. “Thank you, Enid,” she breathed. “That is the nicest compliment anyone has ever paid me.”
They stood looking at one another a moment.
“Let’s be friends,” said Enid.
“Oh yes, let’s!” agreed Linnet joyfully. “I would like that so much.”
“And I too,” said Enid. “My husband Lambert was my best friend. And since he has gone . . . ” she sighed. “I have missed friendship.”
�
�You are so young to be a widow,” said Linnet.
“I am five and twenty,” corrected Enid. “I was married for ten years. I doubt I will ever enter matrimony again. Lambert was . . . unique.”
“How so?” asked Linnet softly. She was trying to imagine Enid as a bride at fifteen. So young to marry! And yet, not unusual with nobility.
“He respected women, listened to me. He was kind, considerate, thoughtful. How many women can say that of their husbands?” asked Enid wryly.
Linnet thought of Mason. “I am very fortunate in my husband too,” she said decidedly.
Enid smiled. “I’m glad,” she said kindly. “After such an upbringing, you deserve every happiness, Linnet.”
“Thank you.”
Lady Sybilla gave a snore so loud it seemed to wake her for a moment and she shifted in her seat.
“I ride,” said Enid urgently. “And I am my own mistress now so I can go out and about. Would you . . . ?”
“I look forward to spending more time in your company,” said Linnet hurriedly. “I do not ride yet, but I intend to learn.” It was true, although she had only just thought of it at this very moment.
Her Baseborn Bridegroom Page 9