by Aston, Alexa
Regret filled his eyes. “I am so sorry, Marielle. I have never felt so utterly useless. So devoid of hope.”
Her thumbs caressed his cheeks. “We shared this night, my love. It will be what I cling to always,” she told him.
“Know that I will always love you.” He pressed his lips to hers as his pledge. “Now—and forever.”
*
Marielle drifted through morning mass, her own fervent prayers crowding out the priest’s words. She would break her fast and then be ready to leave Stanbury, never to return. As the household left the service, Garrett stopped her.
“A word, Marielle?”
She nodded and followed him to his study. He closed the door and studied her a moment. Marielle saw in him a strength she hadn’t observed before, probably because she’d been blinded to everything except Ashby. She knew in that small space of time why Madeleine was so drawn to Garrett and why Ashby valued him as a friend. He had an intense energy vibrating about him that immediately made her willing to do whatever he would now ask of her. Garrett Stanbridge, the Earl of Montayne, was not a man who would take anything lightly. She knew what he next said would be very important to her.
“I won’t pretty this up and tell you that Madeleine longs to see her parents and that this is a good time for it. Frankly, it’s not. She told me about the babe. Traipsing off to France is the last thing we should do. Still,” he added, “we do not want you to face Marc de la Tresse alone. I have met him in the past, and he’s the embodiment of pure evil. We would ask that we be allowed to accompany you and Ash to Bordeaux. Mayhap I might intervene in some way, being his neighbor, so to speak.”
He sat behind the desk and rubbed his eyes wearily, as if he’d stayed up all night trying to solve her problems.
“I would do anything to see Ash happy,” Garrett explained. “I fear he never will be without you. If Madeleine or I can make a difference in this situation with your parents, then we would like to accompany you and Ash to France. With your permission, of course.”
His words moved Marielle, touching the bleakness surrounding her heart. “I thank you for your kind offer, Garrett. I doubt you could ever change Marc’s mind but I think it would do Ashby a world of good to have you present. I fear he will need all your strength and good judgment in what lies ahead.”
Garrett smiled wearily at her. “You don’t think he might do something rash, do you? Not our Ash.”
He stood and took her elbow. “Come. Let us break our fast and make haste to London. Madeleine has been packed since last night as it is. Not even the Second Coming of the Christ would stop her from joining you on this journey.”
He led her into the great hall. Marielle saw Madeleine spot them, a questioning look on her face. Marielle turned to Garrett and caught him nodding at his wife. Immediately, Madeleine busied herself, gathering Lyssa and Cynric around her.
As they joined her, Marielle heard Madeleine’s last words to her children. “So you shall see Chateau Branais sooner than we planned.”
Garrett frowned and stepped forward. “But I thought—”
“You know, Garrett, it will be Christmastime while we are there. I know the children would love to spend it with their grandmere et grandpere, as well as their parents.” She flashed him a brilliant smile.
Garrett turned to Marielle. “You see, Marielle, this is how marriage works. We discuss plans. I tell my wife my wishes. I assume things are in order, then she springs some lovely surprise on me. A surprise that attests to her iron will, which I am wise enough to bow to.”
Madeleine linked an arm through her husband’s. “You know we would both miss the children dearly, especially at such a festive time. And Maman will be thrilled to have the extra company. She will take wonderful care of them while we . . . resolve . . . this . . . other matter.”
Marielle wished things could be untangled so easily but she knew they would not. Still, it would be nice to have the Lord and Lady Montayne there, not only for herself but for Ashby’s sake.
At that moment, Ashby joined them. Lyssa dropped Cynric’s hands and stopped her dance of joy, only to take Ashby’s hands in hers and dance away with him. She must have informed him they were all going to France, for he shot a puzzled look in their direction. Garrett shrugged helplessly, while Madeleine winked at him. Marielle had dreaded the trip to Bordeaux. Thank goodness, now, it would be bearable.
Ashby ended his dance with Lyssa and came to her. “Is it your wish that the entire family come to France with us?”
Marielle made light of it. “I suppose Lyssa is our secret weapon. We simply turn her loose upon Marc and she will talk him into submission.”
Ashby chuckled. “I had not thought of that. It’s an excellent plan. I had thought to throw him upon the rack or merely draw and quarter him. He might beg for mercy after a few hours with Lyssa’s incessant babbling.”
Marielle laughed. For a brief moment, her spirits lifted.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“We are close to the waterfront,” Ashby remarked. “I can smell it in the wind.”
Garrett pulled his cloak about him tightly. “Then your nose is better than mine. I do know it’s London by the dank chill. I have never understood why this city’s cold oozes into my bones. Stanbury is never like this.”
“That’s because Stanbury is perfect,” Ashby quipped. He knew what Garrett meant, though. The country air always smelled fresh and invigorating, no matter what time of year. Even when the winter season invaded London, vile smells of all sorts seemed to permeate the buildings of every street.
“At least the trip has given us a taste of Maude’s cooking,” Garrett returned.
“Have you ever thought to bring her to Stanbury?”
Garrett grinned. “Never. Because sometimes it’s only the thought of Maude’s cooking that can get me to come to this hellhole.” He shrugged. “Besides, Maude spent many a year there when we were growing into strapping lads. She actually prefers London. Says she gets bored in the country.”
They rode in silence for a few minutes, winding their way through the hawkers in the fish market stalls. As they reached the edge of the waterfront, Garrett pulled Ebony up.
“We need to see Raleigh first.”
Ashby remembered him as the harbormaster. “I hope the man is not in a drunken stupor.”
Garrett chuckled. “You may be right in that but Raleigh’s a good man. No matter how down in his cups he goes, he always rises back up. Not much gets by Raleigh, least of all in this harbor.”
They tied their horses nearby and entered the office of the harbormaster. Raleigh sat behind a massive desk, books and papers scattered across it in disarray.
“Why, look who’s here. If it isn’t Lord Montayne,” boomed Raleigh.
Ashby noted how red the man’s eyes were. He had the look of a drunk, one of many years, at that. Still, Garrett had done business with him for some time now and Ryker before him.
Raleigh stood. “I sees you brought your friend.” He screwed up his face and studied Ashby with care.
“Fitz Waryn,” Ashby supplied.
“Ah, I remember you. A name may escape me, but a face never does. Not yours, nor anyone’s.” He turned and smiled at Garrett. “Especially not your pretty wife’s face. How is Lady Montayne doing?”
“Tolerably well. She’s with child. It’s early yet. We are off to visit her parents in Bordeaux.”
Raleigh’s eyes gleamed. “And the little ones?”
“The entire family is coming, Raleigh. That’s why I needed see you. We must secure passage to Bordeaux for four adults and the two children. None of my ships is available now, much less suitable for such a journey.”
Raleigh nodded. “I hear business is good for you. Well, let me see what I can do.” He began pushing papers around, tossing them one way and another. He scratched his head, lost in thought, then looked up.
“Give me half an hour, my lord, to find what you need. Mayhap you’d like to pass the time getting a drink. I can recomm
end a place or two.”
Garrett held up a hand. “That’s all right, Raleigh. I think mayhap we shall wait outside for you to work your magic.”
Ashby turned and followed Garrett out the door. He sensed his friend’s unease in this place and remembered that it was here Garrett found Madeleine, close at death’s door in a nearby tawdry inn. Her husband had not only beaten her beyond recognition but Henri de Picassaret attacked Garrett with a poisoned dirk. Garrett turned the knife on the man and saved not only himself but Madeleine from her hellish marriage. Ashby doubted Garrett had since returned to London without the lingering shadows of those memories.
His friend interrupted his thoughts. “We have not had much time alone, Ash. We need to discuss whatever possibilities we can muster in order to help save Marielle’s parents.”
“It’s an awkward place to be in, Garrett. England and France are at each other’s throats. I’ll not see you send knights to Bordeaux and create an incident that could escalate things between the two countries.”
Garrett gave him a sad look. “Not even for a beautiful lady in distress? I believe it was Helen of Troy whose face launched a thousand ships—and a lengthy war.”
Ashby shrugged. “I was never much for history. You know that. Besides, I would swear Marielle possesses more beauty in her smile than that troublesome Helen ever did in face and figure.” He hitched his leg up against a crate. “I refuse to drag you and your family into my problems, Garrett. I must solve this on my own.”
Garrett lay a hand upon his shoulder. “We are your family, Ash. Even if I had no desire to lift a finger, Madeleine would have us smack into the thick of things. She cares for Marielle a great deal.” He shrugged. “If the two people who mean the most to me need us to save this girl and her parents then, by the Christ, we will.”
Despondency flooded Ashby. “But how? We cannot take your knights with us. Even if we could, Marielle must not know or even suspect something is afoot. She could unwittingly tip our hand to Marc.”
Garrett turned pensive. “We could hire from the waterfront once we dock in Pauillac. The men we find there might be rough around the edges but certainly fierce enough to fight. I also have a ship due there in less than a week after we arrive. It’s my own crew, Ash. That kind of loyalty cannot be bought.”
He shook his head. “But they’re sailors, Garrett, not trained knights. You haven’t seen the situation. It would take weeks—nay, months—to have a sea crew in true fighting form.”
Garrett snapped his fingers, his excitement visible. “Then we hire mercenaries—French, German—whomever we can find—to help us make a stand.”
Ashby frowned and shook his head again.
Garrett exploded. “It’s the only plan I have at the moment, Ashby fitz Waryn!” He threw his hands into the air. “Why you chose to fall in love with a woman that brings a cartload of problems with her is beyond my realm. That is your way, I suppose. You have always been the most difficult, most conceited, most arrogant—”
“Enough!” Ashby cried, laughter bubbling over. “Now there’s the blackest man in England speaking. The one I know and love. The savage beast whom the sweet French maid tamed has once again burst his bonds. Why, my friend, I do think you could march up to the French king at this moment and demand that he lop off the head of Marc de la Tresse.”
Ashby grew solemn. “I am afraid that’s what it would take, a royal edict and no less—for this situation to be resolved.”
Garrett calmed immediately. Ashby could almost see his friend’s thoughts whirling, a maelstrom waiting to collide as a new plan formed.
“The French king . . . I wonder if we could involve him in some way,” Garrett mused.
Ashby seized upon a thought. “It is rumored that he does love your wines. But would he help an Englishman? Against one of his own countryman?”
“Hah!” Garrett declared. “I know someone close to the French king. I will send a missive to him and ask for an answer to be awaiting us at Chateau Branais.” He sobered and said, “All isn’t lost until their vows are sealed. There’s time yet. Have faith, my friend.”
Ashby returned the somber stare. “Faith is all I have left.”
*
“Let me take the children, Madeleine. I have much to show them.”
Marielle watched Lyssa and Cynric head off with Maude. She was glad for a moment of quiet. Her jumbled thoughts had left her uneasy. She hadn’t had time to try and settle them since they’d set out from Stanbury for London.
“Maude is perceptive,” Madeleine said. “She knew we needed a moment alone.” She took Marielle’s hand. “How are you? That letter was a horrible business. I know how it affected you. You have hardly eaten or slept.”
Marielle flushed guiltily. “A great deal of my anguish can be laid at Marc’s doorstep yet there are other things that have had me out of sorts, too.”
Madeleine’s eyebrows raised. “Anything you wish to share with me?”
She gripped her friend’s hand. “It should probably stay a secret but I must tell someone, else I’ll go mad.” She bit her lip. “The most beautiful thing that ever was has happened to me.”
Madeleine squeezed her hand. “You have coupled with Ashby?”
She nodded. “All my years with Jean-Paul. What a waste. I felt more alive in one night with Ashby than I have in my entire existence.”
“Then how can you go to Marc so willingly?”
Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “I owe my parents. How can I not do what is within my power to set them free? I am in debt to them more than most.”
She rubbed her eyes wearily. “I have not spoken of this in nigh on twenty years.” Marielle heard the tremor in her voice and swallowed, trying to push the pain aside.
“I cost them the life of their favorite child.”
Marielle sensed Madeleine’s sudden stillness, grateful her friend didn’t rush at her with a dozen questions. The only look she saw in her friend’s eyes was one of sympathy, not judgment.
“I was one of twin girls,” she explained. “Arielle and I were but five years of age. She was shy, a timid beauty whom my parents doted upon. Yet for some reason, Arielle wanted to be more like me—her loud, rambunctious sister. I was always getting us into trouble.”
She sighed and shook her head. “I dared her all the time. Taunted her if she would not take up the challenge I issued her. I threatened to leave her behind and have fun without her.”
“What did you encourage her to do?”
Marielle shrugged. “Mostly silly things. Hide things from our brothers and sisters. Switch a rug order at my father’s shop. Steal a Communion wafer when no one was looking. All sorts of mischief. Once, I dared her to play tadpole in a stream. Arielle almost drowned in the strong current. If not for my eldest brother, she would have been lost that day.”
She fell silent, remembering the last day. She could still hear the song of the lark in her ears. Feel the sun’s warmth upon her back. See the petrified look frozen on her sister’s face.
“I demanded she climb a tree. A very tall one. Arielle was terrified of heights but she ventured up anyway. She went so high that she was scared to come down again. I called her a baby. I threatened and cajoled her. Nothing worked.
“Finally, as it grew dark, I went for help. When I returned with my brother, Arielle lay at the foot of the trunk. I know not if she slipped or actually tried to follow me after I left. Whatever occurred, she broke her neck in that fall.”
Madeleine wrapped an arm about her shoulder. Her hand stroked Marielle’s hair. She found comfort in the simple gesture.
“I never forgot how she looked, nor the expression on my father’s face when we brought her home. Punishment was swift. My father beat me senseless and then I was sent to Sisters of Merciful Heart Convent. My parents never spoke a word to me.”
Marielle shuddered. “All the nuns knew why I was left with them. They warned the children there. All the girls shunned me. The only soul who ever show
ed me any kindness was a visiting priest, a brother to the abbess. Father Julien always gave me a thoughtful word. The others ignored me, pious sisters and children alike, but Father Julien spoke with compassion and warmth. He would find me wherever I was and we would have long talks about all sorts of things. I so looked forward to his visits. They stopped after five years.”
“Did you ever see him again?”
“No. I did learn after my marriage that he had risen through the ranks over the years and had been named a cardinal. They say it’s Cardinal Corot who now has the king’s ear.”
Madeleine stood abruptly. “He’s the one to ask for help!”
She shook her head. “No. He would not remember a small, troublesome girl from so many years ago.”
“I believe you’re wrong about that, Marielle. A merciful man such as this priest would not forget you.” Madeleine smiled broadly.
“Besides, Garrett knows him.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ashby swung the lantern from the cart and reached a hand up to Marielle. She took it and climbed down. Garrett followed, Lyssa asleep in his arms. Ashby handed the light to Marielle and reached his arms up. Madeleine responded by lowering a sleeping Cynric to him.
They arrived very late at Chateau Branais. Garrett had sent word ahead. They didn’t know if Marc had spies at Pauillac where they docked but they hoped they might have a day to themselves before he was made aware of their presence. Garrett insisted they go several miles out of their way so as to avoid Monteville entirely. They’d seen no one along this secondary road. The chateau mirrored the same quietness.
Ashby thanked the Blessed Christ again that the journey over had not been nearly as bad as his previous trips at sea. He lost the contents of his stomach once they’d left the protection of the Thames but he recovered very quickly. Garrett told him the size of the ship had quite a bit to do with his seasickness. Ashby adjusted to the rolling motion much more easily on such a large vessel.
He looked to the sky. Dawn would arrive in just over an hour. He joined the others as they made their way up the steps of the chateau.