Sumerford's Autumn

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  “Reluctant to stay safe wrapped after all, little one?” Ludovic wandered over to the window. It was close to dinnertime and the sun was high, sparkling on the tips of the distant waves. The gulls Ludovic could hear from his own chambers, were also calling here. He turned back and spoke first to Jennine, who was sitting forwards, watching him wide eyed and avid, her smile carefully enticing. “But I believe you are also officially confined to your bed, madam,” Ludovic said. “Presumably my guest is honoured to discover you so far from your apartments on her account. However,” he bowed slightly, “no doubt your own state of delicate health must remind you of the necessity to remain – let us say – within the comfort of your own bedchamber.”

  The lady blushed. It was positively the first time Alysson had ever seen her colour, and she was sorry for her. Jennine stood with elegance and gathered up her train. “Indeed, my lord, how thoughtful of you to remind me. I shall return there now.” She turned back to Alysson. “Goodbye, my dear. I shall certainly – be capable I believe – of visiting again, before your full recovery brings you back into my service.” She curtsied stiff backed to Ludovic. “My lord.” And swept regally from the room.

  Alysson frowned at Ludovic. “I’ve never known you to be intentionally rude to anyone before,” she said. “Of course, you’re rude most of the time anyway, but you don’t mean it. At least, I don’t think you do. It just seems to come naturally to you. So why don’t you like Jenny? You know quite well she’s only had a baby, not the pestilence. And she’s been such a good friend to me.”

  “I have my reasons.” He came and sat on the edge of the bed beside her. “I dislike her being your friend and am aware the fault is mine. I placed you in her service, but I’ve no intention of returning you to it.”

  “There you go, telling me what I have to do again.” Alysson sighed. “And I know I should be grateful, and truly I am. Indeed, I can’t believe how kind you’re being. But I hate – being ordered around.” She blinked her one eye, gazing up at the man smiling relentlessly down upon her. “And anyway,” she said, “what’s a Cyclops?”

  Ludovic grinned. “Unimportant, my dear. I’ve spoken to the doctor again this morning, and I’ve already sent Ilara down to collect the midday meal he’s prescribed – a horrendously dull diet of milk, gruel and some sort of pap not fit for an infant, but no doubt he knows what he’s doing. Personally I suspect all mediks of knowing less than they claim, but since I don’t trust in purges, leeches, tonics mixed according to astrology, magical charms, the miraculous effects of pilgrimage or the dubious tortures of barber-surgeons, I suppose I might be accused of being somewhat difficult to please. “

  “But isn’t that one of the reasons you brought me here,” remembered Alysson. “Because you said your castle doctor was so efficient?”

  “Merely that the others are worse.”

  Alysson shook her head and looked down at her fur covered lap. “But I shall get strong again sooner or later,” she said quietly. “And then I’ll have to – leave here. You say you don’t want me going back to work for Jenny.” She looked up, suddenly challenging. “But what else would I do?”

  “My dear child, the possibilities are endless.” Ludovic took her one hand, smiling gently at her. “Indeed, I have some very specific ideas myself, but since you dislike me ordering your life, for the moment I’ll keep them to myself. And although my powers within this household are not quite as omnipotent as you seem to imagine, I can certainly guarantee the safety and comfort of one small female housed sufficiently close to my own quarters. However, should you decide to return to my sister-in-law’s chambers as her maidservant, my authority ceases. You’d prefer that, perhaps. But,” his smile deepened, “it seems the lady herself is eager to put you back into my arms. And as it happens, you know, you can achieve that quite simply by staying here, without the additional delay of returning to her first.”

  “I’m not your dear child,” Alysson scowled and tugged back her hand. “I’m not a child at all. And you’ve been listening.”

  He laughed. “No. I don’t need to. You’ve said as much before, and I’ve guessed the rest. In fact, I had a brief talk with your friend in private a few days ago. She admitted very little, but it left me more than ever determined not to put you back into her employ.” Ludovic reached once more for Alysson’s hand, clasping it reassuringly. “Though I should dearly love to know exactly what measures she’s recommended to snare me,” he said. “Something more devious and subtle, or the vulgarly obvious to start with? The torn neckline? The dampened chemise? Biting the lips for colour would be impossible at the moment, and belladonna eye drops most inadvisable. But in her previous life I imagine your dubious confidant made full use of those tricks, as well as honey, rouge and coal.” He leaned over suddenly, lightly kissing the tip of Alysson’s nose where the small scratches were already closed. “But you need no subterfuge of that sort, little one. I promise, you are quite beautiful enough without it.”

  Extremely indignant and highly embarrassed by the accuracy of his guesses, Alysson then discovered her temper abruptly fragmented, leaving her suddenly without words. She gazed up, and whispered, “Beautiful?”

  “Undoubtedly. Don’t you know it?”

  She shook her head. “I know I have nice eyes, but there isn’t anything else remarkable about me. My eyes are actually very like your eyes, but in other ways Jenny says I’m plain. Gamel used to say I was too skinny and dark and looked like a gypsy. You said I was dirty. You said I smelled.”

  “How unforgivably insulting. Forgive me. But the situation is now a little different, and you smell delightful.”

  Alysson sniffed. “I probably smell of ointments and medicines. And maybe I’ll never even be – passable again – after this. I’ll be hideous and no one will ever want to look at me at all.” Her fingers tightened involuntarily on Ludovic’s and her one eye began to sting, feeling suddenly blurred and watery. “That morning, immediately after – when Ilara was washing away the blood – I saw my reflection in the bowl of water. It was – dreadful. And I looked in the mirror this morning. It’s no better.”

  “I have warned you in the past,” said Ludovic very softly, “that if you cry, I am irrevocably impelled to kiss you. I fear that might hurt you, since your mouth is swollen. So I suggest you listen to me instead, and decide for once to believe me.” He smiled into the puckered ruin of her small face, the dragging open sores, the darkened swellings and the puffed closure of her right eye, its lashes stuck to her bruised and wounded cheek. “I find you constantly delightful, now and always,” he continued. “And certainly these injuries will all heal, most of them quickly. In time, even the deepest scars will fade. You will then feel strong enough to antagonise me again, but in the meantime I suggest you permit me to order the comfort and safety of your life within these walls, as I intend to do in any case. Once you are quite better and wish to leave my protection, we can discuss your future and quarrel together about its course. For now you are my guest, and you are very welcome.”

  It was Gerald who discovered her first. Since his prince’s recapture and Roland’s death, Gerald had stayed in Somerset, speaking little and remaining often in his quarters. His four large rooms in the main building close to the north tower, which was the earl’s domain, did not connect with Ludovic’s. But Gerald had become restless. “Our esteemed papa is becoming more of a nightmare than ever. The damned man watches me,” Gerald complained. “How do you manage to elude his notice, when everything I do is spied on?”

  “I doubt he needs to spy. Our beloved father has twelve pairs of eyes, the nose of a hungry weasel, and the instincts of a fox. While you, my dear, are wilfully self-exposed. Your sins are so flagrantly conspicuous, I imagine even the rats in the roof cavities discuss your latest misdemeanours every evening over supper.”

  “Very amusing.” Gerald did not seem particularly amused. “But you get away with openly housing your mistresses in the castle, which may not bother Brice or myself, but w
ould be expected to send our dearly beloved parents into apoplexy.”

  Ludovic smiled. “Sweet papa may already be writhing in apoplectic revulsion for all I know, but he hasn’t spoken to me about it. On the other hand, somewhat unexpectedly, our dearest mamma has sanctioned my – perfectly innocent by the way – injured guest’s temporary presence. I don’t believe you’ve ever made the acquaintance of the highly respectable Mistress Alysson?”

  “Don’t be a fool, Lu. I’m not likely to give in to moral outrage, but I’m certainly not going to formally bow to the woman.”

  “My family is so appallingly dull,” sighed Ludovic. “And evidently has the combined imagination of a crippled flea. Can’t you presume anything but the vulgar worst? In fact, Mistress Alysson is a most charming if destitute young woman, daughter of a mayor though I forget which city, and most assuredly is –– so far anyway – not my mistress, trollop, whore, bawd or wanton – or any of the other inelegant and inaccurate terms which my dreary family seems determined to assume. I cannot see how you, of all people, can claim sufficient moral high ground from which to judge. I shall find myself forced to consort with Brice instead, if you insist on becoming boring.”

  Gerald smiled faintly. “But such abstinence is seriously disturbing, always supposing you’re telling the truth. It’s not like you Lu. I thought it was me our dear father liked to accuse of buggering his page.”

  “Patience, my dear. Clearly you haven’t seen my page.”

  “If you just insist on being flippant,” Gerald objected, “there’s no point discussing anything serious. Anyway, I only came to tell you I’m back off to London tomorrow. There’s – developments. Perhaps I’ll take your advice and keep my business quiet from now on – but I have to go and sort some things out first. I’ll be back before Christmas at least.”

  Ludovic raised an eyebrow. “Christmas? Good God, Gerry, it’s only August. Do you plan on informing the rest of the family, or are you hoping I’ll do it for you after you’ve gone?”

  “You can tell them. They all know what I’m up to anyway.”

  “Then be careful, Gerry.” Ludovic frowned, his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “They say it takes six strokes of the axe to lop off a head these days. The country’s executioners are exhausted and the axes too worn from over-use.”

  “Cheerful bastard. I’ll be careful. You look after your little – guest.”

  “Oh, I shall do that.” Ludovic smiled again. “And with the greatest of pleasure.”

  The earl was in company with his heir and discussing the hunt when Ludovic next saw him. Autumn was falling fast, the forest already tinged with saffron. The stags guarded their harems, proud kings and hopeful courtiers, brown eyes alert through the sun flecked drizzle, antlers high, wide and crowned. Humphrey had brought down a doe and was pleased with himself. “My arrow, Papa. You saw it.”

  “Your arrow indeed, my boy. And undoubtedly it was that arrow, rather than any of the others, which killed the beast. When the carcass is roasted and the meat sliced upon the platter, I shall remind you of it.”

  Humphrey nodded earnestly, patting his belly. “Thought I’d go and see it hung. Have a look, you know, while it’s upside down in the pantries. I like that.”

  The earl sighed. “I would rather you did not frequent the pantries or associate too freely with the kitchen staff, my son, but doubtless whatever amuses you is harmless enough. Visit your doe by all means. Perhaps next time we shall catch you a stag.”

  “That would be tremendous fun, Papa. Can we go tomorrow? Can we?”

  “Not tomorrow, my boy. I am past the age of daily hunting forays. The following day perhaps. I shall see.”

  “Tomorrow would be better, but the day after is all right.” Humphrey’s smile, moustache bristling, narrowed into frown. “So tomorrow I’ll go and visit my doe in the pantries instead. They’re a bit chilly in there, but I like all that meat hanging up. It’s all cut open, with bits showing inside.” He sighed in cheerful contemplation before continuing. “But I don’t see why you keep talking about getting old, Papa. You can’t be growing up much because you don’t get any taller. I’ve watched, and you’re always the same. Ludovic is as tall as you, and he’s the youngest. Brice is next oldest after me, but he’s not even as tall as Gerald. And Gerald is younger than Brice. And older than Ludovic, though Ludovic is taller than Gerald. Come to think of it, Ludovic is taller than me, but I’m the oldest and he’s the youngest. And I’m taller than everyone else except him. And you of course, Papa. But Brice is the shortest, except for mamma. Mamma’s little, though she’s old too. And Ludovic is taller than me, but I’m fatter so that makes up for it because I’m still bigger. But you’re not fat. So you can’t be getting older.”

  His lordship’s eyes glazed. “I fear I get smaller every day, my son, and talking to you diminishes me further. I am tired. Go and inspect the pantries, Humphrey, if you must, and inquire as to any surplus custards while in the vicinity. Thus you will continue to grow, in one sense if not the other.”

  Humphrey had noticed Ludovic. The great hall was empty except for the passage of servants preparing the great table for midday dinner, but Ludovic, descending the main staircase, was now in his path. “Look Papa,” said Humphrey with pleasure, extending one plump finger. “It’s Ludovic. Hello Ludovic. I was talking about you to papa. Wasn’t I Papa?”

  “Indeed, my son,” sighed his lordship. “I remember distinctly.”

  “How unfortunate,” said Ludovic. “I far prefer to be forgotten.”

  “That’s silly,” Humphrey objected. “You’re my little brother. I can’t forget you. And papa is your papa, so he can’t forget you either. Can you Papa? I’ve got a son too and I don’t forget him either. At least, not very often. He’s only little but he’ll get bigger when he gets older. Which is what I was talking about to papa, wasn’t it, Papa? You’re my little brother, Lu, but you’re taller than me. I’m not sure how that works.”

  “I may be taller, my dear,” Ludovic pointed out, “but you are considerably larger in girth.”

  Humphrey beamed. “Just what I said. There you are, Papa. I said just that, didn’t I?”

  “And your hair is considerably – redder,” said Ludovic, patiently sidestepping towards the doorway. “And you have a great deal more of it.”

  This new insight appealed to Humphrey. “Never thought of that. But you’re quite right. It is. I’ve got a beard and I’ve got a moustache and my hair’s really bushy. I like that, except when people make me comb it. And it’s redder than anyone’s. Except papa, which is all right because papa’s older. Your hair is just yellow, Lu. Not red at all. And Gerald’s hair is sort of gingery like the biscuits. And Brice has lots of red bits but some bits are almost brown -”

  The earl interrupted. “Sadly, my boy, the unfortunate clarity of my memory still includes those relevant details of my sons’ abysmal appearance, and without recourse to your inestimable descriptions. Please feel free to leave. I should like to speak with Ludovic now he is here, it being a rare enough occurrence.” As Humphrey obediently trotted away, the earl turned to his youngest son. “Stop hovering hopefully in the vicinity of the doorway, Ludovic, and come here.”

  Ludovic bowed slightly, and approached without noticeable enthusiasm. “I feel sure there’s somewhere else I’m supposed to be,” he said.

  “No doubt, my boy,” said the earl, “but her chambers are in entirely the opposite direction.”

  Ludovic smiled. “I make sure not to visit the lady every day, sir. That would make my appearances seem sadly commonplace.”

  His lordship did not seem amused. “You are evidently without contrition, my son,” he observed coldly. “I, however, have the strongest objections to such flagrant contempt regarding both Sumerford dignity and my property. To discover that a son of mine openly houses his lowborn mistress in a chamber reserved for guests of quality, exhibiting neither sufficient filial respect to beg permission for his behaviour, nor even to inform
me of it and apologise for the situation once contrived, leads me to suppose that my advanced age has either led me to a greater inadequacy than I had supposed, or has so ravaged my memory that I have since forgotten your confession.”

  Ludovic sat rather abruptly on the nearest chair. It was clearly to be a longer interview than he had hoped. “The young woman is not my whore,” he said. “This is a statement I have repeated already many times, though it would clearly seem pointless to labour the point in face of obvious disbelief. However, it happens to be the truth. Her ladyship my mother, as mistress of this house and its accommodations, recently gave permission for those rooms to be used for that exact purpose, and I saw no need to disturb you with information of obvious irrelevance. You’ll have no occasion to meet Mistress Alysson since she’ll not be joining the family at mealtimes or any other time, and in fact is confined to her chambers under doctor’s orders.”

  The earl had taken the chair opposite, drawn to the empty hearth and its jug of wilting boughs. “Your opinion of what is, or is not relevant to me, Ludovic, seems to be strangely at odds with my own,” he said. “And even though this female does not aspire to eat amongst her betters, I presume she requires sustenance of some type on a reasonably regular basis? And I further presume that it is the head of this family who supplies such sustenance, with recourse to his larders, his kitchens and his staff?”

  “Forgive me, sir,” said Ludovic with a blank stare. “I shall bring the requisite purse to your chamber before supper.”

  “I am naturally much obliged.” The earl’s gaze was equally unemotional. “I must further inform you, Ludovic, that your esteemed mamma, albeit ostensibly mistress of this castle, holds no authority superior to my own in any regard, not even with respect to the smallest detail, let alone the use of the guest bedchambers. In future you will therefore come directly to me. I require information on all aspects of life within these walls and relating to the Sumerfords, including confessions regarding your behaviour regretted or otherwise, and certainly when requesting permission to indulge in such appalling lack of taste and obvious impropriety. Do I make myself quite clear, Ludovic?”