“He – not his fault – mine,” gasped Eden, mopping at her eyes with a napkin.
“Hah – likely story! And you been missing him so, these last few days too!” she tutted. Eden took a jagged breath. No, that wasn’t right. Had she? “Menfolk!” exclaimed Brigid with great loathing. “If you knew what I had to contend with that oaf, Fulco! Huffing and puffing at me, and never taking his beady little eyes off me.“
“Oh dear,” quavered Eden, glad of any distraction from her own woes. “You’re not leaving us, are you?”
“Leaving?” snorted Brigid. “I should say not! It’d be a fine thing if I let such a great lummox drive me out, now I’ve found somewhere I belong.”
“Oh, good,” said Eden shakily. She wiped her cheeks, and rallied herself. “Someone will have to speak to Fulco. Is he waiting for you to put a foot wrong, then?”
Brigid gave her a wry look. “Something like that,” she murmured. And strangely enough, she blushed.
“Roland says that his mother is likely poisoning his mind against any marriageable women.”
“Is that so?” asked Brigid with interest. “Well good luck to her with that!” She nudged Eden conspiratorially. “He is a fine figure of a man, when all’s said and done, and not so many of them about. There’d be plenty of lasses in the village glad to have him.”
At Brigid’s wistful tone, Eden looked up. “But not you?” she asked curiously, then felt contrite. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I didn’t mean to pry.“
Brigid laughed. “I did cast my eye his way at one time, as it happens,” she admitted. “But I came on too strong for the likes of Fulco. He’d have preferred if I’d played the bashful maiden, rather than the brazen widow.” She clicked her tongue. “A shame, but there ‘tis.”
“I daresay a bashful maiden would never hold her own against his mother,” said Eden.
“You may have something there, milady,” agreed Brigid and they both smiled at each other. Eden’s smile was rather watery. “There now, that’s better. Shall I fetch you a posset, milady?”
Eden opened her mouth to reply when they both heard the dogs start up barking below.
“Whatever’s gotten into them now?” said Brigid vexedly. “It surely can’t be a visitor at this hour?” She hurried to the door, and when she flung it open Eden thought she could hear unknown male tones below. Brigid looked back at her with wide eyes, evidently having heard the same strains of muted conversation. “I’ll be back directly I’ve found out what it’s all about, milady,” she said and disappeared.
Eden stood uneasily in the center of the room. Who would call at this hour in such an out of the way place? She had just gone to retrieve her book from the shelf in the box bed when she heard a hurried step on the stair. She turned to face the door as it burst open and Roland stood framed there. “What is it?” she asked, catching sight of his expression.
“You’d better come down,” he said grimly.
**
Roland had not spoken to her on the staircase, but when she followed him into the sitting room, she found it seemed full of strangers, and checked on the threshold. She looked about her in bewilderment and realized it was only two men dressed in the manner of knights.
“Eden,” said Roland. “This is Sir Palmerston du Vrey and Sir Symond Chevenix of the King’s guard.” The two knights stood by the fireplace stepped forward and bowed to her. “They have come to accompany you back to Caer-Lyoness, at the request of the Queen.”
“The Queen?” Eden blurted and then, “Me? Why?” She looked searchingly at the two knights. Sir Symond was the younger of the two and he stared glassily past her shoulder while Sir Palmerston cleared his throat before averting his eyes. She turned back to Roland.
“It seems,” he said heavily. “That the Montmaynes have lodged a complaint with the Queen about certain irregularities with our marriage.”
“My family have?” Eden heard herself ask, in a high pitched voice she hardly recognized.
Sir Palmerston coughed. “That is correct Lady Eden,” he said.
“Which I find extraordinary,” continued Roland coldly. “When you consider that your uncle and guardian acted witness at our wedding.”
Sir Palmerston cleared his throat. “It is the Lady Dorothea Montmayne who has petitioned the Queen.” Roland looked blank.
“My Grandmother,” explained Eden with a sinking heart. She’d petitioned the Queen? “She surely has not left Hallam Hall!” she faltered, groping about for a chair to sink in. Roland caught her firmly under her armpit and lowered her into a seat, for all the world as if she were an old woman. In truth, she had come over a-tremble.
“Lady Dorothea is at court now,” Sir Symond informed her with a nod.
“I can scarce believe it! She has not been to court in twenty years!” Eden muttered, more to herself than anyone else.
“She is accompanied by her granddaughter, the Lady Lenora,” added Sir Symond, earning a glare from Sir Palmerston.
Eden looked up in dismay. “Is – is Lenora a petitioner too?” she asked with a catch in her voice.
“We are not at liberty to tell you any more at present,” cut in Sir Palmerston firmly. “But you must leave with us at first light, my lady.” He glanced at Roland. “By royal decree.”
Eden felt herself go at once hot and then cold all over. She felt Roland’s hand press down on her shoulder, and realized he was still stood by her chair. She took a deep breath. “I see,” she said and forced herself to look up at Roland. He was still looking rather foreboding in the flickering firelight, and had not spoken for several moments. He will be glad to see the back of me, she thought blankly as she tried to gather her wits about her. For some reason, it was proving difficult. She was finding it hard to catch her breath.
“If we are to leave at daybreak,” Roland said with deliberate emphasis on the ‘we’. “Then you must be our guests tonight at Vawdrey Keep.” Eden turned her head sharply to look at him. “We will have beds made up for you. I’m afraid they will be in the servant’s quarters as we are still in the process of refurbishing the place.”
Sir Symond turned rather red, “You don’t seem to appreciate the nature of our mission, Sir Roland-” he started stiffly.
“That would be very good of you, Sir Roland,” said Sir Palmerston, cutting across his companion loudly. “And perhaps a bite to eat, sir. If it’s not too much trouble?”
“Of course,” said Roland. “I will have supper sent up for you directly.” He held his hand out to Eden, and she took it hastily, and found herself dragged to her feet. “And now to bed with you, I fancy, with such an early start in the morn.”
Sir Symond opened his mouth to speak, but Eden saw Sir Palmerston deliberately step on his foot. He muttered something out of the corner of his mouth, which sounded like ‘don’t be such a bloody fool, lad!’ but she could have been mistaken.
Roland whisked her out of there without another word and saw her up the steps to their room. “I’ll be back presently,” he said shortly. “Lock the door, and be sure to open it only for me.”
Eden nodded and hurried to comply. She had washed and undressed by the time he had returned. He brought Parnell and Castor with him, and after letting them in, she got straight into bed. She had no words and no earthly idea what to say about her predicament. She listened to the sounds of Roland washing and shedding his clothes and then his footsteps approaching the bed. He blew out the candle then climbed stealthily through the doors, and Eden felt him settle beside her. She waited a few moments with her eyes open, but he did not speak. After a while she closed her own and waited for sleep for sleep that did not come. Instead she lay awake, thinking about her grandmother and Lenora and what awaited her at court. Eventually, she must have drifted off to sleep, for the next thing she knew she was being shaken awake by Roland who was already up and dressed.
“If you rise now, I’ll send Brigid in to help you dress and pack up your things.”
“Things
?” repeated Eden blankly, but he was already crossing the room. “Wait!” She sat up. “You’re still coming too? To court?” she asked and rubbed her eyes.
He nodded curtly, “Of course,” and left. Eden got out of bed and presently Brigid bustled in carrying hot water for her to wash. As Eden set about her ablutions, her maid flung back the lid of the chest, and started lifting out the gowns which Eden had stuffed back in there.
“Which will you wear today, my lady?” she asked once she’d laid the four gowns out. She ran a hand over the gold dress with the pink roses. “I’ve never seen such dresses,” she cast an admiring glance Eden’s way.
“They’re not mine,” Eden told her. “They were made for my cousin’s bridal trousseau.”
Brigid looked doubtfully from the fine gowns to Eden and then back again. “You and your cousin must surely be of a muchness when it comes to size,” she said. “They look as if they were made for you.”
“I don’t wear colors,” Eden said flatly.
“But your blue gown is so pretty!”
“That was not made for me either,” said Eden. “But for Lady Payne. I prefer myself in somber shades. They suit my personality better.”
Brigid shot her a surprised look. “I find that hard to believe, my lady. You look so well in nice things. ‘Tis plain, my master thinks as much,” she said, glancing at the blue and gold robe Roland had brought her back from Areley Kings.
Eden had no reply to make to that. “As to which I’ll wear,” she said. “I have no preference. The blue is being cleaned I think.”
“If you’ve no preference, then I think this rose pink would look very well,” said Brigid.
Eden donned a clean shift, as Brigid exclaimed over the brightly colored stockings. She passed Eden a pair which were sky blue with gold ribbon garters. “Just pick out the plainest veil,” Eden recommended, as she saw her hovering over one covered in fancy ruffles and pleats. Brigid pouted and selected one with a delicate floral border.
Once dressed it seemed to Eden that she looked like she was dressed for a banquet, rather than a day’s travelling. She really did look the image of a frivolous courtier, she thought despairingly. Still, there was nothing for it, she owned nothing sensible. Instead she sat down and arranged her braids as best she could, securing them in a roll at the nape of her neck, before Brigid helped her pin the veil over the arrangement.
“I’ll pack your things while you break your fast below,” Brigid assured her.
Eden looked back from the doorway. “Thank you, Brigid.” She stood a moment, watching as the young woman busied herself folding the fine chemises and stockings that had been intended for Lenora. Was this the last time she would see Brigid? Her heart heavy, Eden made her way down, realizing she did not even have to look now or count the stairs as she went. She had in fact, mastered the trip steps. The table had been laid with toasted bread and butter and a platter of salted fish, but no-one else was seated yet there. Eden made a quick meal, and it was only as she was finishing up that Sir Palmerston and Sir Symond made an appearance. She thought she heard one of them exclaim before the door opened.
“My lady,” mumbled Sir Palmerston with a bow before he was seated.
Sir Symond appeared to be limping slightly. Eden wondered if he was a victim of the staircase or a dog bite. She had noticed that none of the dogs were attendance and wondered at it. Where were they all? Were they with Roland? And where was her husband? Her stomach lurched. And how much longer would he continue in that role.
They embarked on their journey as soon as their escorts had finished their morning repast. Their party was dour and uncommunicative, and that included Eden who retreated into her thoughts. The only one who seemed relatively merry was Cuthbert who brought up the rear. Nothing could put a damper on his spirits for long, and Eden suspected he was happy to return to the city. The only thing that brought her any comfort was that Roland brought two of the dogs along with them, Castor and Parnell. When they took infrequent breaks, Parnell leaned heavily against her legs. Even Castor periodically checked on her before returning to his master’s side. The first night Eden found she was expected to sleep in a separate bedchamber to the others, who it seemed would bunk down in a communal room. Sir Palmerston was apologetic about locking her in, but firm, and she was led to understand he would be remiss in his duty if he did not take this step. Roland was stony silent on the subject, simply directing her to take both dogs with her when she retired. On hearing the key turn in the lock, strangely, her first thought was that at least this way she would not be able to sleep-walk any further abroad than this room.
She readied herself for bed, pondering how Sir Symond had reacted the previous night and realizing that he had meant to separate them sooner. Was their marriage to be declared invalid? How would she fare at court if she was to figure as a prominent player in such a scandal? Could she bear all the gossip and conjecture if it was about her? Court had always been her happy place. She had always felt secure in the circles she moved in there. Was that to be ripped away from her? And if so, what would she do? Her hands and feet felt clammy as she considered being returned to her uncle. Would he even accept her back in such disgrace? She remembered his irate face the last time she had seen him and felt anxious. His only option would be to bury her at Hallam Hall, perhaps as her aunt’s companion. Eden shuddered, thinking of Lenora’s discontented mother. Perhaps he would be merciful and bury her in a convent instead.
It was perhaps not surprising that she couldn’t settle in the strange surroundings. In the end Parnell jumped up onto the bed, a heavy weight across her legs. This seemed to do the trick, and she managed to get some rest in the early hours of the morning.
The second day’s travelling was not much different to the first, except it grew warmer the further south they travelled. The sun was high in the sky, and Eden shed her mittens and drew back the hood of her cloak. They covered a good many miles and on the second night, Eden managed to sleep a little better that night from sheer exhaustion.
On the third day they reached Caer-Lyoness. To Eden’s alarm, they were forced to wait at the South gate for an armed escort. Was she under arrest, then? Her eyes flew to Roland’s, but his own were shuttered and gave nothing away. As she watched, Sir Palmerston drew him aside and they had some quiet conversation that Eden could not hear. Sir Symond moved alongside her, an expression of officiousness on his face that immediately irritated her. If he could get away with it, she realized, he would march her into the castle and throw her at the Queen’s feet like a prisoner! She directed her coldest, haughtiest look upon him and was pleased to see his face flush as he turned away. At long last a group of soldiers with lances marched out of the gate, and Sir Palmerston stepped forward, offering to help her dismount. Eden refused his help, though she thanked him politely after climbing down from Christobel.
“My horse-” she started, but he pre-empted her.
“-will be taken to the royal stables immediately, my lady.”
She took a deep breath and looked back at Roland. He was looking right at her, although he and Cuthbert were still on horseback. Were they going to leave her here then? It seemed, only she would be delivered up like some sort of captive! Her bosom swelled with indignation.
“Take the dogs,” said Roland curtly.
Eden opened her mouth to argue, but then changed her mind. After all, she needed all the friends she could get. Instead she inclined her head stiffly, and at his order, both dogs bounded to her side. Sir Palmerston eyed them a moment doubtfully, but then offered her his arm. She placed her hand on it, the guard fell into place on either side of them, and Eden found herself marched into the royal palace. She had never thought herself a fanciful person, but almost, she could imagine herself clad in chains.
To Eden’s surprise, she was not taken to the Montmayne quarters as she’d expected, but instead directly to the Queen’s apartments. Sir Palmerston’s smart rap on the door was answered by Jane Cecil, the Queen’s latest favorit
e. Eden felt herself bridle, though in truth, Jane kept her eyes tactfully diverted. The courtiers they had passed in the corridors had not scrupled to stare.
“Do come in, the Queen awaits,” murmured Jane, opening the door to let them in. “My orders are only to admit Sir Palmerston,” Eden heard Jane tell the others behind them, and was gratified to imagine Sir Symond’s displeasure at being left out. She turned back, only to make sure the dogs were let in, but Castor and Parnell were already barging past the surprised looking lady-in-waiting in their hurry to catch up with her.
Queen Armenal was sat in a low, ornate chair before the fire. She was dressed in a muted bronze-green dress which suited her olive complexion and dark hair well. She held her hands out at once to Eden. “Dear child,” she said loudly. “We are most relieved to see you returned to us.” Unsure if the Queen referred to court or the ‘royal we’, Eden curtseyed low and then clasped both of the Queen’s be-ringed hands in her own. “Do sit, you are doubtless fatigued from your journey.”
Jane wordlessly took her cloak, as Eden seated herself and listened to the Queen warmly thank Sir Palmerston for his services, politely hoping it was not too arduous a task she had set him. Sir Palmerston assured her it was his pleasure to serve his Queen and then bowed low to both of them in turn and backed out of the room.
“It is funny, is it not, to think his family used to be one of my most furious critics,” mused the Queen watching the door shut after him.
“Indeed?” asked Eden politely. She was distracted by Castor and Parnell who had taken the opportunity to freely roam about the elegantly furnished rooms, pawing and sniffing at whatever took their fancy. “Here!” she called sharply. “Excuse me your majesty,” said Eden. “Castor! Parnell!” Her voice rang out authoritatively, making the unfortunate Jane jump. “Come to me!” The dogs looked up, their ears pricked up, their eyes alert as they returned to her. “Sit!” They settled at this, though Parnell circled twice before collapsing with a sigh.
An Ill-Made Match (Vawdrey Brothers Book 3) Page 25