Soon enough, he would hear what lay ahead…
* * *
The barest hint of plum was seeping over the sky as Lennox came awake. He reached for Nora, but she wasn’t there. Sitting up, he wondered if it had all been a dream.
They had fallen asleep, limbs entwined, on top of the rose-patterned coverlet on her bed. In the dim light of early dawn, he recognized the three tapestries spread out along the other half of the bed, just as they had been when he came in last night.
“Nora.” His voice was husky with sleep. “Where have ye gone?”
To his surprise, she emerged out of the shadows near the carved storage chest. Fully dressed in a simple gray gown, she was tying back her curls. As she drew closer, he saw that her beautiful eyes were sad.
“We must talk,” she said.
He felt a chill. “We already talked last night. Everything is settled.” The expression on her face made him reach out to catch her wrists. “We love each other. I will gladly be a father to the babe ye carry. No one need ever know—” He broke off at the sight of her shaking her head.
“But you will know.” Her eyes shone as she tried to free herself from his grasp. “Lennox, loose me.”
Immediately, he complied. “I must be having a nightmare. Did I harm you in some way when we lay together?”
“No, of course not.” Her eyes roved over his naked body and she blushed, as if she had not kissed every inch of him mere hours before. “You should put something on.” She handed him his linen shirt.
He pushed his arms into the loose sleeves and rose from the bed. “By God, if ye do not speak plainly to me, I shall go mad.”
Nora started to pace then returned to face him. “Even if I were not with child, we could not be together. I could never go with you and the duke to Surrey or live with you as your wife in a grand manor house.”
He had to stop himself from shouting. “Why the devil not?”
“I’m not that sort of woman.”
Even though he sensed the truth in this, he couldn’t resist arguing. “Micheline doesn’t seem to find it a hardship to be a duchess!”
“We are not the same.” She came closer then and took his hands. “I have given up everything, even my own mother, to be a weaver of tapestries. I have a deep passion for my art, my craft, and I have ambitions to fulfill. You know that very well! Did you imagine all of that would simply disappear because of our romantic notions?”
Lennox wanted to shake her. “Romantic notions?”
“Yes, of course it is more than that. But it cannot be. You have a destiny of your own that you must fulfill, and so do I.” She reached up to softly touch his cheek. “I am asking you to release me.”
A desperate sob rose in his throat. “But what do ye mean to do, all alone and with child in a city like London? It’s impossible, Nora!”
Her face was pale but composed. “I have it all planned. I already have made arrangements to meet with the keeper of the Great Wardrobe, at Whitehall Palace, and I know I can find a position within the royal court.”
Each word was like a blow. “But—the babe,” he interrupted.
“I will present myself as a new widow. As a widow, I can make my way as an independent woman.”
“That’s why ye didn’t want anyone in London to know we were wed.” He found it hard to breathe.
“Yes. But until yesterday, I wasn’t certain what the best course would be. When the duke arrived, and I saw you together, it all became clear.”
“How will ye live?” Lennox demanded.
She led him to the other side of the bed, where the tapestries were spread out, and pointed to one he had never seen before. It was small but exquisitely made, depicting a maiden with a harp, sitting amid white and pink roses, with a castle in the distance. The colors were rich, the details were precise, and the weaving was impeccable. It was a work of art.
“Where did this come from?” Lennox asked, guessing the answer.
“It was hidden at the bottom of my satchel,” she replied. “I wove the tapestry on a small loom about a year ago. It was meant to be a perfect sample of my work, to show the King of Scots when we would go to Stirling. Father always said I could sell it one day if need be. Many aristocrats purchase small tapestries like this one, called an arras, to hang in more intimate settings.” She paused. “It is possible even King Henry or his queen might want it.”
“And then you would have money to begin this independent life you desire.” His voice sounded as hollow as he felt in that moment. “That’s why ye brought it from Stirling.”
“Yes. It would bring enough to have a fine loom and a house large enough for two. Soon enough, I will be weaving at the royal court.” She smiled, as if anticipating that life. “I will find satisfaction, raising my child and pursuing my artistic ambitions.”
“I see.” He looked away, his heart twisted in a knot of despair and disbelief.
“Surely you must realize it is the right thing for you, too.”
“Do not presume to tell me what is best for me.” Lennox turned his head and met her gaze, determined to try one more time. “Ye know very well that I have the highest regard for your gifts. I would never ask ye to choose.”
“Then you understand why I cannot go with you,” she said. “It would be impossible for me to be a master weaver in the world of the Duke of Hastings. And if I am your wife, I would have no power of my own.”
Desperately he wondered why they could not find a way forward together, but clearly she had made up her mind. When he spoke again, there was a harder edge to his voice. “I would chart a different course for us, but it seems we are at cross purposes.”
With that, he grabbed his plaid from the rush-strewn floor and hurriedly donned it. It seemed impossible to believe that they were truly parting. Fearing he might break down, Lennox started toward the door, but Nora followed and caught his arm.
“We should keep last night as a memory of how well we loved,” she said, her composure crumbling. Her blue eyes swam with tears. “Our time was brief yet perfect, like a shooting star.”
He wanted to turn and catch her up in his arms, to kiss her into submission, but he knew her too well. It would only prolong his suffering. “If it brings ye comfort to think that, do so, but remembering would only be a painful reminder of what I’ve lost.” Opening the door, Lennox looked back one last time. “I love ye, Nora. Be happy.”
Chapter 24
Nora stayed in her room until mid-morning, hesitant to emerge for fear she would encounter Lennox again before he left Weston House. She wasn’t certain whether it would be more painful to see him one more time…or never again.
Numbly, she stood at the mullioned windows and watched the distant activity on the River Thames. When a knock came at her door, she felt a thrill. Certain it must be Lennox, she crossed the room and lifted the latch.
“Oh, my dear, look at you. You are so very pale,” Cicely exclaimed, entering without an invitation. “Why have you not come downstairs this morning? Are you ill?”
Nora turned away from the doorway, unable to speak about what had happened. Her friend followed her.
“Sit down.” Cicely put her in a chair then looked around the room, taking in the tapestries spread across one side of the bed, the rumpled coverlet on the other. And then her eyes fell on the two cups, still half full of wine. “This is about Lennox, isn’t it? He was here!”
Nora felt an urge to be ill, but there was no food in her stomach. “He wanted me to come with him, as his wife.” Weeping, she added, “He said he would raise this baby as his own.”
“But that is wonderful!” Cicely rejoiced. “Why are you crying?” As she spoke, she poured some wine into another cup and lifted it to Nora’s lips. “You are distraught. Drink a little of this.”
Nora tried and felt somewhat revived. Sitting up, she sought to compose herself. “Once I saw him with the duke, who is clearly the father he’s been seeking, I knew he must go with him. Alone.”
“That sounds very noble.” Cicely looked doubtful. “Did you truly mean it?”
“I love him. The duke is clearly a very fine man. Lennox has gone through his life feeling as if some important part of himself was missing. He must be free to discover it.”
“And why couldn’t you be by his side?”
She shook her head again. “It is Lennox’s nature to want to help people in need; his own sister has told me so.” Nora paused, remembering the day Fiona had teased Lennox about rescuing maidens in distress. “As you know, he only exchanged vows with me to placate my father during our escape from Stirling. His feelings for me now may be real, but I think he should have the chance to find out what’s in store for him without me and my baby muddling the situation.”
Cicely tilted her head as if in doubt. “Is that all?”
“Lennox despises the father of this baby. I don’t see how he could truly raise it as his own, even if he was not involved now with the Duke of Hastings.”
“I am tormented by curiosity.” Cicely leaned forward. “Won’t you please tell me who the father is?”
She swallowed, thinking that perhaps it didn’t matter now that Slater was dead. “I think you know him. Sir Raymond Slater.”
“Oh!” Cicely clapped her hands. “By my troth, you look as if you’ve bitten a lemon when you say his name. Sir Raymond was one of the most attractive, compelling men I ever knew, and surely you must have thought so too, in order to lie with him.” Cicely wagged a finger, her ruby ring sparkling in the light that streamed through the windows. “I nearly married him, you know.”
“Did he propose to you?” Nora asked in surprise.
“No. But if I had been a tiny bit more encouraging, I think he would have.”
Although Nora didn’t want to insult her friend’s taste, she couldn’t resist saying, “I think it is best that it never went that far.”
Cicely sniffed. “There is a great deal you don’t understand about men, you know, having spent your life locked up with a big, dull loom.”
Nora’s spirit stirred in protest. “I loved my life. I found it exceptionally fulfilling, and I didn’t have to deal with heartbreak or scandal.” It was thrilling to imagine being shut in a room with a fine loom, a glorious pattern, and plenty of vividly-dyed silk and wool thread. It would feel immensely comforting, like sleeping under thick, warm covers on a frigid night. But someone like Cicely could never understand that. “Besides, it doesn’t matter now. Sir Raymond is lost at sea, Lennox has gone off to discover a new life as the son of a duke, and I am going to the court of King Henry VIII to pursue my dreams as a weaver.”
“Who is going to look after the baby once he is born?”
“I will hire a nursemaid.”
Cicely blinked. “You have thought of everything, it seems.”
Pointing toward the bed, Nora told her about the exquisite tapestry that was spread out there, and how she meant to sell it to pay for a house and other essentials. “Of course, I will have to find a position with the Great Wardrobe, but you have said you can help with that.”
Just then, a soft knock came at the door, and Nora immediately started to rise, as if she had glimpsed Lennox on the threshold.
“Bonjour, Nora.” The door swung open, and Micheline appeared, carrying a tray as if she were a serving maid. “When you did not come downstairs today, I thought I might bring a bit of nourishment to you. Are you feeling unwell?”
Nora thought the duchess looked like an angel as she crossed the room. When she reached the chair, she glanced at Cicely. “Oh, I see you are here as well, Cicely. Help me with this, won’t you?”
Moments later, the dishes from the tray had been set up on a small table. Micheline had brought enough for all three of them to share. There was warm, dense manchet bread with a golden-brown crust, served with a small pot of butter. Other small plates contained smoked fish, coddled eggs, and sliced plums.
“Goodness,” said Nora, “I can never eat all of this.”
“I noticed that you have been looking a bit under the weather,” her hostess replied, “so I hoped at least one of these offerings might tempt you.”
Cicely poured watered wine into enameled cups and passed one to Nora. “You should tell Micheline what is really happening,” she said. “You can trust her, and she will be able to help, perhaps more than I can.”
Nora’s heart jumped. The old feeling of shame rose up in her, as it had for so long with Lennox. “Oh, I don’t know…” She broke off, her face hot.
Cicely didn’t hesitate. Turning to her sister-in-law, she said, “Nora is with child. It happened at Stirling Castle, when Sir Raymond Slater was visiting there. I know what you are thinking: Did he take advantage of her? Perhaps. She wasn’t feeling well. But now we must help her. I have been thinking—”
Micheline interrupted her with a stern look. “Stop talking.” As she turned to Nora, her expression softened. “Chérie, how do you know that you carry a baby?”
Before she had a chance to think, Nora was telling the kind Frenchwoman about the night when Sir Raymond Slater helped her to her room, and how she had lost her innocence to him. “I knew I was with child because he put his seed in me.” The familiar feeling of disgrace came over her like a fever. “My monthly flow did not come. I felt too ill to eat. I grew very moody. Those are all signs, are they not?”
Micheline reached for Nora’s cold hand. “You know, of course, that just because the seed is planted, it does not always grow?”
Nora considered this. “I suppose I did think, later that night, that I must conceive. I didn’t realize it could be otherwise. I moved from Flanders with my father when I was ten years old and I haven’t seen Mama since then.” Saying this aloud, she felt a familiar pang. “No one ever explained these things to me.”
“You were completely innocent,” Micheline said. “In my own case, I was married before I ever knew Andrew, in France. My husband was killed in a joust. I soon discovered that Bernard had been repeatedly unfaithful during our marriage, and I questioned everything I ever believed about our love.” She paused, a faint shadow of sadness crossing her face. “It was a terrible time, and I discovered that a shock can cause your monthly flow to cease. After my husband was killed, mine did not come for many weeks. Perhaps…?”
“I wish it could be true, but I am certain now of my condition.” For a moment, Nora questioned whether she could speak of such personal matters but realized she could trust Micheline. And Cicely, for all her shortcomings, was determined to be her friend. “My breasts are very tender. The nipples are sensitive.” She flushed, remembering last night with Lennox. “And my belly begins to feel changed. There is a firmness there.”
“Oh. Well, then, it seems it must be true.” Micheline sighed.
“Tell her about Lennox,” urged Cicely.
Realizing that if she did not explain to Micheline about Lennox and the handfasting, Cicely would do it for her, Nora told her the rest of the story. However, she did not mention the nights of passion they had shared. Some things must remain private between her and Lennox. “He has helped me every step of the way, from leaving Stirling to coming to London. How fortunate I have been to have the help of such a good man. But now Lennox has found his true father, and it is time for me to make my own way forward.”
“You two have tender feelings for one another though?” Micheline asked gently.
Nora felt her cheeks growing warm. “I am human,” she replied, trying to keep her tone light. “What woman could resist him?”
“Indeed!” Cicely agreed. “That’s very true.” She leaned back in her chair and popped a slice of plum into her mouth, smiling dreamily.
“However, my condition prevents me from indulging in such romantic flights of fancy,” Nora said. “I have more serious considerations. I mean to find a home here in London so that my child will grow up to be happy and secure.”
Cicely spoke up again. “Nora has worked it all out quite brilliantly. She will present he
rself as a widow, thereby legitimizing her child and also making it possible for her to live independently, with some power.”
“Widows have more rights than other women,” Nora agreed. “I will simply have to make up a story about the death of my husband, in our country village. Who would question it?” Walking to the bed, she picked up the third tapestry and explained again, this time to Micheline, how she meant to sell it and start a new life with the proceeds. “It is my very best work,” she added, putting it in the Frenchwoman’s outstretched hands.
Micheline examined the piece, running her fingertips over the meticulously stitched figure of the maiden among richly colored roses. “But, my dear, it is exquisite!”
“I call it Maiden with a Harp. I concentrated every bit of my skill and love into this small tapestry. It was meant to convince someone important of my abilities.”
“Do you mean to show it to Jan Mostinck, the Great Wardrobe’s tapestry keeper?”
“Perhaps, although it has occurred to me that Queen Catherine herself, or one of her ladies, might desire to own it.” Nora had thought of this after leaving Scotland. She could easily imagine the Scots Queen Mary, who cared deeply for beautiful things, purchasing such a tapestry.
Micheline lifted her brows. “Queen Catherine is too young and frivolous to appreciate this work of art. Also, I suspect that she may be out of favor with King Henry.”
“But is she not his fifth queen?” Nora wondered how the monarch could simply change his mind about his wives.
“Indeed,” Cicely exclaimed. “He finds ways to dispose of the poor ladies if they begin to bore him or do not provide a male heir to the throne. But who would want to lie with him now, king or not? They say his fat legs are covered with oozing ulcers. He is grotesque!”
“Watch your tongue, or you’ll be arrested for treason,” Micheline’s tone was light yet laced with caution. “Or perhaps His Majesty will find a way to dispose of Robin and claim you as the next queen!”
Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts Book 5) Page 21