“Ah,” said Ludovic. “I see. I assume three days has been too long an absence.”
“Four days,” said Alysson, “and I’ve no interest at all in how long you stay away. In fact, four days isn’t nearly long enough.”
Ludovic promptly sat facing her, one knee bent up on the crumpled bed covers. “I’m delighted to find you more yourself,” he said, grinning at her scowl. “All this recent polite gratitude has been most unaccustomed. But I am strangely flattered. Since you’ve been counting the days, I presume you’ve missed me.”
“Not in the slightest,” scowled Alysson. “If you’d been listening, you’d realise I’ve been saying the exact opposite. I’ve no desire to see you at all.”
“Bored?” guessed Ludovic.
“How could I possibly be bored?” demanded Alysson. “My dear Ilara is here most of the time, at least until yesterday when she went back to stay with Dulce for a few days. Then there’s the doctor, who is fascinating company. And Jenny came once, and since you weren’t here to be rude and frighten her away, she stayed for quite some time, which was very pleasant.”
“So during a total of – what is it – four days – you’ve been entertained for approximately four hours.” Ludovic nodded, still grinning. “I understand perfectly. Being confined to bed is damnable, as I remember perfectly well myself. I was once forced to stay in my own bed for an interminable length of time, after someone had unaccountably stuck me full of arrows while I was placidly minding my own business. Apart from the inevitable pain and suffering, I found it excessively dreary and utterly boring. So I sympathise. I apologise for abandoning you to boredom, but I’ve been more than usually busy. Very largely on your behalf, as it happens, but that’s of no matter. I shall now make amends.”
Alysson sniffed. “I don’t need playing with, as if I’m a puppy,” she declared. “Or do you intend sending in the minstrels? Perhaps a priest might be more appropriate.”
“Well, the puppy analogy sounds quite attractive,” Ludovic said, “since rolling around on the ground together suggests all sorts of possibilities. But not too helpful for broken bones and bruises. My father only hires minstrels for festivals, and most of them are deaf anyway, and as for our chapel priest, he’d be no fun at all I’m afraid. He’s far too timid to entertain a young woman in bed. I, on the other hand, know exactly what to do, should you welcome the benefit of my long experience.”
Chapter Thirty
“My dear girl,” Jennine said, drawing up a chair. “You are quite amazingly lucky, and since your own looks are nothing to rave about, you hardly merit it. Oh yes, don’t sniff. I know I once told you how pretty you are, but naturally I exaggerated. Yet do you appreciate this remarkable luck? No. You are not even grateful. I despair of you, and cannot imagine why I bother visiting this drab bedside. You’ve become horribly dull.”
“You know I like him, Jenny.” Alysson sighed, staring up at the painted ceiling beams. Few of her injuries remained and even the red welts around her neck had now faded, but her broken arm still kept her under doctor’s orders, and those orders included staying strictly within her bedchamber.
The Lady Jennine giggled, reaching out to pat her knee. “Like him? Silly child. You adore him and pine for him. I’ve been in this business too long to misjudge the signs. And from what you say, he has quite an infatuation for you too. Ride the crest, my dear. Enjoy your youth before it fades.”
“But that’s exactly what frightens me.” Alysson closed her eyes, envisaging the future. “You’ve taught me what to expect. Three years at the most you say, maybe less. And afterwards discarded, and exchanged for a younger woman. Then what? I creep back to Dulce’s cottage and grow old all alone? Twenty years of misery, just for three years of glory.”
“Not at all,” Jennine said promptly. “Three years or more – or less – pleasure is pleasure after all. Even one year is better than none at all. While he’s still eager, you make him buy you a nice little house in the village. That way your reputation will quickly be forgotten, or at least diplomatically overlooked, especially by the men. Having your own freehold property will soon entice a husband from amongst the locals. You’ll be able to pick and choose – and still be young enough for children, if that sort of squalid business appeals. And I shall always be here, and will remain your friend, my dear, I promise. So don’t be a drab, and tell him yes.”
“He hasn’t actually asked me, not in so many words. He’s just talking about taking me away to this other house of his in Bedfordshire, so I suppose that must be what he means.”
“Exactly, silly goose. He wants you to himself, of course. No man suggests bundling a young woman off to some strange and distant place with no intention of climbing between her legs. What else would he want? A housekeeper? But forget about going to live anywhere else. Far too lonely. A man wants his mistress for an hour or so most days, and a few hours most nights. Then you’d be left utterly alone for the rest of the time, and all day while he’s off on his own business. Maybe even for months when he comes back here on his father’s orders. What would you do, all alone? And how horrid to be dragged off a hundred miles to some mansion he doesn’t even strictly own yet. You want to be hidden away, as if he’s ashamed of you? If you take my advice, you’ll stay here.” Jennine spoke with some urgency. “I could never visit you in Bedfordshire, you know. It wouldn’t be – permitted. You must refuse to leave here. Entice him, just as I’ve patiently explained for nearly a year now. Goodness knows, I’ve tried to help. So keep him here, where I can carry on helping.”
“He said going away with him was for my own protection.”
“How absurd. Just some ridiculous excuse. What could be safer than this great castle with all its guards and servants? Come back into my service, my love, and I will protect you myself.”
Alysson’s frown was lost in shadows, for the late autumn twilight came early and the candles had not yet been lit. The fire shot dancing reflections around the chamber, but the bed curtains shielded the glare. “How nice – how kind – how unusual, to feel doubly wanted.” Alysson curled back against the cushions with a sigh. “It’s wonderfully reassuring, and so kind of you to want me as a friend, Jenny, even though I’m just a servant. I never really had a proper friend before. And he wants me too, at least I think he does, even if it’s just for that one little thing.”
“That one little thing is a woman’s greatest power,” Jennine nodded. “And that’s the real thrill, not their silly pricks and all their false promises, but that feeling of power, of authority and command, that’s what keeps a woman breathless. Listen to me, my dear, for I’ve managed a number of young girls as you know. I’ve trusted you, Alysson, since female friendship has a far greater value than any man’s lust... Now you must trust me.”
“I do. Honestly I do. But I admit – not frightened exactly but please tell me, Jenny – what is it – you know – actually like?”
Jennine giggled, leaning over the bed to clasp Alysson’s hand. “Not too bad, though usually uncomfortable. Most of the time it’s just shockingly dull. It helps if you add a little imagination and a little variety, and that was my fame, for I know all the tricks. Any rutting male becomes absurd of course, for they’re laughable in bed. Sometimes they’re quite grotesque but naturally you have to make sure you don’t laugh at them. So all most women do is lie still and shut their eyes. That’s acceptable for a wife, but it won’t do for a mistress. At present you’re much too shy for anything but the first lessons, but don’t worry, for once the affair starts I shall teach you everything. Another reason you must stay here close to me. With my help you’ll keep the man ensnared for a couple of years at least.”
Alysson shuddered. The chamber’s gloom seemed to swell and Alysson snuggled down further into the bed. She ached from long inactivity but her returning strength seemed more punishment than prize. She had always understood what her recovery would mean. “I don’t know what I want Jenny. I don’t know what to do.”
�
��Then listen to me and do as I say. Or are you holding out for marriage, silly goose? He’ll not do it, he can’t my dear, and it will never even enter his head. He has a duty to his family and will accept an arranged marriage as his kind always does. You’re simply a little nobody, without family, looks or property. You think because I did? But my case is unique, and could never apply to you and Ludovic, my dear. You have nothing to offer. How could you snare such a man into anything except your bed?”
Alysson turned away, blushing. “I never said I wanted marriage. Of course I don’t expect it, and I know it’s impossible. I just don’t think I want to be any man’s mistress for a few short years. Even his. But now it’s hard seeing him so often, and yet -”
Jennine interrupted. “The man’s remarkably handsome. The tallest in the family, by far the best looking, still young and very well built. I understand, my sweet, especially since you’re so hopelessly innocent. He carries a grace and charm that appeals even to me, with a better turned thigh and calf than I’ve seen on any man for many a long year. Take him, silly child. But stay here where I can keep an eye on you, and help you whenever you need a friend. And you will need a friend, you know. Any woman trapped in a man’s clutches needs her friends.”
Alysson’s eyes stung, suddenly watery. She closed them with a sniff. “I know I have to leave these chambers very soon. There’ll be no more excuse to stay once the doctor says I’m better and takes the splint off my arm.” In spite of the discomfort and the pain, she had begun to dread her own recovery. “So it means going back to Dulce’s cottage. Or going far away with all the risks you’ve told me about. Or -”
“Or coming back to work for me. I won’t work you too hard, I promise. I might even give you two days off a month if you like. But that’s not important. It’s that young man you want, and I shall help you get him.”
“What if I decide I don’t want him?”
Jennine pouted and slapped Alysson’s hand, still clasped within her own. “How tiresome you can be, child. I know exactly what you want, and exactly what’s good for you. I wish you had seen me when I was at the height of my power. I was magnificent, the most beautiful woman in the business. With just a click of my fingers every man came running.” She sighed. “Of course, I was younger then. This is a woman’s true misery, for although men are slaves to their pricks and far weaker than us, they stay virile for many years while a woman is withered by the time she turns thirty.” She examined the back of her own hand, pinching the soft, plump skin. “Naturally I lie about my age, but time threatens, like the winter’s cold winds. Already I must sit a little further from the candlelight, and not face the full glare of the fire. And producing that wretched child has ruined me even quicker. I’m a great deal more beautiful than you, my dear, but you are a great deal younger.”
It was Brice who brought the message. He had been away some time, returning as November rushed in with a tempest. From All Soul’s until St. Martin’s the storms pelted and raged, hurtling in from the seas and painting salt crusts across the window mullions. Every door rattled, the casement frames shuddered, the wind whistled down the chimneys and across the battlements, whipped up the moat into wild grey crests, slapping its waters high and furious up against the castle walls, and oozed through gaps into pantries and cellars. Draughts rushed through every crevice and beneath every door, flapping beneath the rugs and blowing out the candles.
Brice spoke first to the earl, then finally sought out Ludovic. His information, he admitted, did not yet seem urgent, but demanded attention or Gerald would soon find himself back in the Tower.
Ludovic was aware Brice had come home, but, not expecting to be discovered so promptly, had settled in the library annex at the back of the great hall beneath the minstrel’s gallery. The fire had been built high some hours back, but was now beginning to spit, more smoke than flame. A hundred years of Sumerford records, wax sealed, neatly tied and long ignored, were folded and stacked along the higher shelves, while folios, scrolls, two huge bibles and several ancient books of illuminated prayers stood on the lower. One bright polished row held a selection of the new publications from the Westminster printing press, a recent nod to civilised modernity with a collection by Chaucer and Mallory. Ludovic, slumped in the window seat with one foot up and the open book resting against his knee, appeared to be reading. He was not.
Brice strode over and stood before the fire, kicking at the dying ashes and raising dust. “Gerald,” Brice said abruptly, “should be kept permanently at home, preferably locked up in the cellars.”
“You have made the smoke a good deal worse,” complained Ludovic. “And what has Gerald done now?”
“The same. Pamphlets. Plotting. Treason. Not yet under arrest, but certainly under watch.”
Ludovic put down the book and gazed at his elder brother. “I was not aware,” he said, “that you were in London.”
“You are more interested in my humble self and the reasons for my whereabouts, or in our dearest brother’s imminent execution?”
Ludovic sighed. “Clearly, this time he must be got out of the country,” he said, standing and stretching. “Flanders, and at once. You should have arranged it while you were there instead of riding all the way back west. And since evidently you move in sufficiently powerful circles to anticipate royal intentions, you could have stayed to help counter the danger.”
Brice took the seat Ludovic had left, first smoothing down his fine turquoise silk hose and stretching his legs, not to risk straining the knitted weave over a careless knee. He began idly flicking the pages of the discarded book. “What a suspicious mind you have, my beloved,” he said, smiling over the leather binding. “But I hardly need our magisterial monarch to inform me of the next on his list for the axe. And I assure you, I am not, in spite of your doubts, close enough to our vengeful Tudor’s cherubic ear to gain his confidence. I can influence neither royal inclinations, nor Morton’s careful politics of fear and bias. But strolling the capital’s streets tells its own tales. Rumours are rife. The court is abuzz. As for transporting our dearest Gerald abroad, if you know a way of carrying him bodily from one realm to another, kindly instruct me, for I do not. Our honourable brother is more stubborn than Mamma. I have seen and spoken to him. Indeed, I personally warned him of the danger he faces. He remained unmoved. I despaired, and returned to enlist family support.”
Ludovic frowned, first staring down at Brice, then over his head through the window above to the courtyard cobbles and the violent swirling winds kicking up the gravel and old dead leaves, the servant girls’ skirts flattened against their thighs as they ran heads down, clutching their bonnets, across to the kitchen doors. A horse neighed, the grooms were shouting. The clouds tumbled high and dark and distant tree branches flung bare arms, twisting like windmills. A sudden backdraught hurtled down the chimney and the dying fire went out with a cough and a spit. A sooty haze filled the room.
“Damnation,” said Ludovic. “Does no one ever bring good news anymore? I’ve other plans afoot and no desire to leave here just yet. Gerald can look after himself.”
“Indeed,” Brice smiled. “Why not? His death would raise you one step nearer to the inheritance, my beloved.”
Ludovic’s eyes narrowed. “If I thought you meant that, my dear, I’d run you through now, and come nearer to the title still.”
“With this new mewling infant between us all and the mighty glittering prize? No, little brother, I am teasing of course. And this wretched damp and rambling castle, one lowly countrified title and an ill favoured family reputation, hardly tempt me to dream of the heritage either. Humphrey and his dubious offspring may keep whatever miserable crumbs are due them. I have my other – far more profitable business.”
“What does Father say?” asked Ludovic.
“What does dearest Papa ever say?”
Ludovic sighed. “Then it’s London again, to salvage the family honour.”
Turquoise and black, damask, bliaut silk and velvet, Brice
nodded, rich russet hair neat clipped across turquoise shoulders. The window behind him began to thrum as the rain slanted, sleeting in steel. “And what a sweet ride it will be, my beloved, travelling east through these wild November storms. I almost envy your good fortune. How sad that I cannot accompany you.”
“What precisely do you mean?” Ludovic raised one eyebrow. “Is your own – more profitable business – of so much greater importance?”
“Indeed it is, but what ignoble suspicions you have, my dear. I am distraught to discover myself so eternally distrusted.” Brice stood, strolling to the far door and speaking over his shoulder. “But I am also busy on papa’s business, and sadly not my own. I am instructed to brave the savage winter seas and sail to Flanders, there to build a secure nest and await dear Gerald’s arrival. You, my dearest, must play the Hector with Gerald.”
Ludovic glared after his elder brother. “And if I can’t persuade Gerald?”
“Then we shall no doubt present a cheerful and united gathering on Tower green to witness his execution by Christmas,” Brice called from half way across the hall. “In the meantime, my beloved, you had better tell your little sparrow to prepare for the season’s celebrations alone. Though no doubt dearest Mamma, so famous for her tolerance to whores and trollops, will extend the family generosity and invite your lonely mistress to the Yuletide feast in your absence.”
Ludovic discovered his empty wine cup, snatched it up and followed Brice, kicking the door shut on the smoky annex behind him. “Your perverse insistence on being disliked,” he said softly, coming to Brice’s side, “has sometimes inspired me to feel the opposite. But don’t tempt me too far, my dear. I also have a temper.”
Brice sniggered. “Looking for a quicker way to rid the country of sad Sumerford pride? But beware, my love. I’m not famed for my swordsmanship and you consider yourself the family champion.” He bowed with elaborate elegance. “But in fact you’ve little idea of who I truly am and what I do away from this dreary place.” His smile, eternally complacent, narrowed a little. “Perhaps – just perhaps, my sweet – I have skills you have not yet guessed.”
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