“Two messengers?” Adam repeated. “They never came to Tarring.” He turned to look questioningly at Gilliane.
“No, my lord,” Gilliane said quietly, too numb with shock to do anything but answer a direct question directly. “I am sure Alberic would have told me if someone had brought a letter for you.”
Adam flushed slightly. He had had a brief flash of suspicion that Gilliane had destroyed or concealed the letters, but he realized with shame that anyone who passed through the gates of Tarring while he was away would have been checked on by Alberic before he came into Gilliane’s presence.
“I suppose either they never caught up with us—we have been moving from place to place—or else…” Adam frowned. “I hope there was nothing of importance in the letters, Jo.”
Joanna had looked toward Gilliane, but now her attention came back to Adam. “No, only family news and Mama’s request that you let us know whether you were dead or alive,” she replied dryly. “Why?”
Adam grinned. “I am afraid I stirred up a hornets’ nest around Lewes and around Knepp and Arundel…” He glanced back over his shoulder and saw Gilliane’s men advancing toward them. “I will tell you later,” he said softly. Then he looked at her with mock disapproval. “You are becoming a hoyden, Jo. Go set yourself to rights. You cannot greet guests half dressed with your hair all undone.”
“You caught us dressing for dinner,” Joanna gasped, blushed, gathered her hair into her hands and fled, crossing the path of another woman who was advancing with more dignity but also quickly. Adam left Gilliane’s side to go forward, embrace, and be embraced, but Gilliane felt no shock of jealousy this time, only surprise. She knew this must be Lady Alinor because the facial resemblance between mother and son was striking. There, however, the resemblance ended. Lady Alinor was by no means twelve feet high; in fact, she was rather small, although sturdily made. Certainly she was no rock-hard giantess, and her eyes, far from flaming, were filled with tenderness. Nonetheless her voice was sharp.
“So help me, Adam, you are a disgrace to me and to your father. He was not an illiterate boor. Where you came by…Simon!”
The final word was an admonitory shriek, addressed to a child who had come running around Gilliane’s men and now launched himself at Adam from some six feet away. Adam turned just in time to catch the boy in his arms. The child promptly swarmed up Adam’s body, twisted around it, and seated himself astride his half brother’s shoulders.
“Will you fight me, Adam? Will you? I have a new sword and I am very good. Sir Guy says so. Will you?” the boy cried, bouncing up and down.
“Sit still, you little monster.” Adam laughed. “How can I fight you if you break both my collar bones?”
“Simon! Is this how I have taught you to greet guests?” A man’s deeper tones, touched with a comic hopelessness, “Simon, come down.”
Adam put out his hands and grasped those of the newcomer. “Guy! I am glad to see you in good health. I thought by now this devil would have worn you to a thread or that you would have abandoned us in despair.”
The stocky, sandy-haired man laughed again. “Well, I do sleep soundly of nights, but it is a great pleasure to teach so quick a pupil.”
Gilliane stood quietly where Adam had left her, fighting tears. She had been transported back more than ten years to her own home. It had been exactly like this, she remembered with startling clarity, whenever her father had returned from a journey—the cheerful, contented servants voicing greetings, the happy women offering embraces, the child (herself) wild with excitement. But more than anything, the flood of warmth and affection and joy was what she remembered and had lost. This was a home. This was heaven, but she had lost it forever. For a time, the voices and laughter became a distant buzz in Gilliane’s ears. Then she was startled into awareness by having her hand taken.
“So this is Lady Gilliane,” Alinor was saying, and the sharpness was gone from her voice. “I bid you welcome to Roselynde, my dear.”
Lady Alinor already knew a great deal about Gilliane. Adam had not written, but both Ian and Geoffrey were excellent correspondents and had described the girl and her situation. They had also given Alinor full information on their doubts and their suspicions concerning Adam’s predilection for Gilliane. Part of Alinor’s concern when Adam had not written or replied to her letters was that he had fallen under the spell of a designing woman. She was at least as surprised by Gilliane’s appearance as Gilliane was by hers. Alinor had been prepared for great beauty, but she had expected it to mask a hard shrewdness. What she saw in the huge dark eyes turned to hers was utter desolation.
The look was that of a lost child, and Alinor’s heart went out to the girl who could easily have been the daughter she had birthed dead between Joanna and Adam. It was impossible to believe that Adam had mistreated Gilliane deliberately, but he was very heedless and might not realize he was frightening her. She looked pale and tired, too. That Adam! He thought all women were healthy mares like Joanna and herself, and this poor girl was probably not accustomed to riding all day and camping in the open.
“There is nothing to be afraid of here, my love,” Alinor said softly. “Let me make known to you my daughter, Joanna.”
Automatically, Gilliane curtsied while her eyes moved to the woman Lady Alinor was introducing to her. She almost forgot to rise from her bend. It was the woman who had embraced Adam so fervently when he arrived, although now her flaming hair was modestly hidden under her wimple and her dress was neat and proper. “Adam’s sister?” Gilliane breathed, and then she blushed at her own stupidity. Of course it was his sister. He had often spoken of Joanna and, jealous fool that she was, Gilliane had not associated that with the love-name Jo. Also, Joanna had spoken of Mama. Who else could that have been but Lady Alinor?
The relief in the words Gilliane breathed and her blush clarified matters still further for Lady Alinor. She had seen Joanna’s affectionate greeting and Gilliane had apparently misunderstood it. It seemed fairly clear that Gilliane was head over heels in love with her scapegrace son. That was most interesting in view of what Ian and Geoffrey had said about Adam’s feelings. At present, Alinor could not judge those. Adam’s attention had been on her, then on Simon, and now, still carrying the child, he was talking with the three men who had come with him, introducing them to Sir Guy and to Father Francis, who had come from his chamber.
As the thought crossed her mind, Adam lifted Simon from his shoulders and gave him to Sir Guy. Then he turned back toward them and said, “Gilliane…” The tone was compelling. There was something he expected Gilliane to do that she had not done. The girl swung toward him, her eyes wide, anxious. Poor thing, overwhelmed and confused as she was, how did Adam expect her to remember every nicety of convention? Lady Alinor was about to mend the slight breach in manners herself, but Joanna had already understood and leaned forward to whisper, “Introduce your men to Mama, Gilliane.”
The kindness of the hint and the realization that Adam intended to support her position as overlady and thus as a gentlewoman of importance even within his own family restored a measure of Gilliane’s self-possession. “If you will permit me, Lady Alinor,” she said, “I would like to make known to you my vassal, Sir Richard of Glynde; and the castellan of Rother, Sir Andrew; and the castellan of Alresford, Sir Edmund.”
“You are very welcome to Roselynde, gentlemen,” Lady Alinor said, smiling and extending her hand to be kissed by each man in turn. “Sir Richard, I know you by name and by reputation. My first husband spoke most favorably of you to me. I know you lightened his heavy burden as Sheriff of Sussex by your sound justice and wisdom.”
Gilliane watched and listened with fascination as Lady Alinor found something personal to say to each man, set him at ease, drew him to talk, and soon had all the men smiling and comfortable. There was nothing haughty in her manner, yet Gilliane was sure no one would dare the slightest familiarity with her or fail to obey any order she gave. Joanna, having been introduced, was a quieter v
ersion of her mother. In another moment, Gilliane found herself, much to her surprise, drawn into the conversation. She was aware, however, that there were more servants bustling about the hall than there had been when they arrived and soon a very pretty maid said softly to Lady Alinor that the chambers and baths were ready if the gentlemen would like to be unarmed and made comfortable before dinner.
Baths for each guest! Gilliane blushed slightly with shame. She had not known enough to offer that to her guests at Tarring. Saer and his wife had never done so, but doubtless they were crude, dirty beasts compared to Lady Alinor. Adam had never suggested…but he was too kind to embarrass her by making a point of her omission. A middle-aged maid had approached Sir Richard and another made a curtsy to Sir Andrew, while the very pretty blonde young woman who had spoken to Lady Alinor went toward Sir Edmund.
“What a slut that girl is,” Joanna whispered in Gilliane’s ear.
Every drop of color drained from Gilliane’s face, and she was stricken mute. Joanna, watching the pair go off, did not notice.
“That is my maid, Edwina,” she continued, giggling, before Gilliane could force either denial or apology through her stiff lips. “I am sure she arranged with Gertrude and Ethelburga which one she was to have before poor Sir Edmund had even climbed the stairs. Oh, goodness, I should not have said that to you. You are his overlady. Do not tell his wife.”
“He is not married,” Gilliane managed to say.
“Have I shocked you?” Joanna asked contritely. “I am so sorry, but…”
“No,” Gilliane replied hastily. “No, of course not. It was…I was surprised. The maids were all so frightened of Saer and Osbert.”
“You need not worry about Edwina,” Joanna assured her, smiling again. Then she turned away from Gilliane to grasp Adam firmly by the arm. “Come with me, piggy, and let me see if I can get the stink off you. I declare, if I had been on the windward side of the keep I would have known by the smell that you were coming.”
“Oh, no!” Adam exclaimed playfully, backing away. “You are not going to get me in a tub again. You tried to drown me when I was a helpless babe. I remember.”
“I did not try to drown you! I was washing your hair,” Joanna protested.
“By holding my head under the water? Mama, did she not try to drown me? I want Gilliane to attend to me. She does not let the soap run into my eyes apurpose.”
“Joanna should have drowned you,” Alinor remarked sharply, with a swift glance at Gilliane’s blanched face. “Do you not see how tired poor Gilliane is? You big ox, because you are never tired, you never think anyone else can be.”
“I am not tired, madam,” Gilliane said firmly. If Adam wished to show his mother and sister what she was by taking her so publicly to his bed, Gilliane was even ready for that.
Alinor suppressed a smile. Of course, Gilliane would say she was not tired. If Adam told her to pick up the keep, the idiot child would try to do it. More interesting was the sudden expression of anxiety that came over Adam’s face.
“It was only a jest, Gilliane,” Adam said quickly. “I was only teasing Joanna. You go with my mother and rest.”
He turned away quickly then, as if shy of having his expression read. Alinor made no move, watching Gilliane follow him with her eyes. Perhaps she should have allowed the girl to go with Adam, Alinor thought. It is not only tiredness that is making her so pale. However, that opportunity was lost. Another would arise, or perhaps she could discover Gilliane’s trouble and suggest a way of healing it. Whatever it was, was connected with Adam in some way. Alinor took Gilliane’s hand and drew her up the stairs, talking gently of general matters in a way that required no reply.
Perhaps there would be no way to heal Gilliane’s trouble. The girl loved Adam—but what if Adam did not love her? It could be that his initial attraction had been wiped out by boredom. If Gilliane was as shy and gentle as she seemed, Adam might have tired of a pretty face backed by nothing. So far, he had rejected every proposal of marriage made to him because the girls were empty-headed. That look of concern… Well, Adam was very kind. If he thought he had been too hard on anyone, he would be concerned. Alinor asked a few careful questions, but the answers told her nothing. Gilliane blushed when Adam was mentioned, but there was no sense of possession, of he is my man, in her voice or manner when she spoke of him.
Alinor’s doubts about her son’s feelings were resolved very quickly, but she received no answer to her basic question. In fact, Adam’s conversation and behavior added to the puzzle. He was out of the bath and waiting in the hall for his mother when she came down to see if all was as it should be for her guests’ entertainment. He strode forward to meet her, saying, “Thank God you did not bring Gilliane down with you. I want to talk to you about her.”
“I bade her lie down. Perhaps she will sleep for a little while,” Alinor said neutrally.
“Mama, do you think Gilliane is very frail?” he asked anxiously.
“Very frail?” Alinor repeated. “You mean in ill health?”
“Not that, at least…she does not cough or breathe oddly,” Adam said, wrinkling his brow, “and she never complains or says she has pain or is tired, but Sir Richard is always telling me she cannot do this or that, and Sir Richard knows her longer than I.”
“I will need a day or two before I can really answer your question,” Alinor pointed out. “One cannot judge the soundness of a person’s health on half an hour’s acquaintance. Besides, after a long ride and the anxiety she must feel at meeting your mother…” Alinor let her voice fade suggestively, but the hint seemed to pass right over Adam’s head and she continued more directly, “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I do not wish to kill my wife out of ignorance,” Adam replied. “I thought at first Gilliane would have sense enough to say no if I bid her do too much, but she is like a willing horse, I fear, and will burst her heart before she denies me.”
Lady Alinor was so stunned by the first sentence Adam had uttered that she had no room in her mind for amazement at how well he read Gilliane’s nature. “Your wife,” she gasped. “But did I misunderstand Ian? I was sure he wrote me that Gilliane had a husband living.”
An angry shadow crossed Adam’s face. “Oh, yes, Osbert de Cercy, but he is living only until I can lay my hand upon him.”
“And has Gilliane agreed to this?” Alinor asked, carefully expressionless, wondering how she could have been so far wrong in estimating a character.
“No. She begged me to let him be,” Adam replied, renewing his mother’s faith in her own judgment but making her wonder if her son was an idiot.
“Adam,” she said, struggling to keep exasperation from her voice, “I am not trying to say that Gilliane does not love you because I have seen with my own eyes that she does—”
“Well, then,” he interrupted impatiently, “why do you look at me as if I have two heads when I say I want her to wife?”
“Because a person can have a fondness for a man, wish him well, feel terrible guilt if anything should befall him, even if she does not love him.”
“I do not understand you, Mama,” Adam said, a worried frown wrinkling his brow. “You just said you were sure Gilliane loved me. Now you are saying she does not?”
“No, I am saying she may have a kindness for de Cercy and object to having him murdered—”
“Oh, no,” Adam interrupted again. “Gilliane wants him dead all right. She killed one of his henchmen the day before yesterday and grieved terribly because it was not Osbert himself that she stabbed.”
This light, good-humored announcement stunned Lady Alinor even more than Adam’s statement—plainly somewhat in advance of actuality—that Gilliane was his wife. For a moment, Alinor gaped at her son, quite unable to formulate either of the two questions she wanted answered.
“Do not let that look of sweet innocence befool you,” Adam remarked. “Gilliane is clever as a witch.” Again a shadow of doubt crossed his expressive face. “I am only concerned for the
strength of her body, not of her mind,” he went on, “and if she will not tell me where to set the bounds of my use of her, I must ask advice elsewhere.”
But Alinor knew that the latter part of what Adam said had nothing to do with his unease. Moreover, the fact that he was not willing to talk about it gave it greater significance. Could Gilliane’s sweetness and anxiety be a sugared coating over something foul? Very likely that was what Adam suspected but could not bear to admit to himself. Had the coating cracked here and there and shown the putrid stuff underneath? Obviously, a consciously concealed evil would take more than a few words and looks to probe. Alinor set herself to discover, if she could, what had raised Adam’s doubts. The most obvious place to start was this stabbing.
“Clever is as clever does,” she said, “but a knife cannot be made by thought alone. What do you mean, she stabbed her husband’s henchman? How did this happen?”
To Alinor’s surprise, the doubt cleared from Adam’s face. The anger grew plainer, but as he related the tale of Gilliane’s abduction it was clear the anger was directed at himself. He rather glowed with pride at her courage and cleverness. Certainly, Alinor also approved heartily of Gilliane’s actions under the circumstances. The only thing that puzzled her was the knife. A question about how Gilliane came to wear such a weapon pulled the stops on what she had told Adam about her life in Saer’s keep and her fear of Osbert.
“Then why, if she hates him so much, did she bid you let him be?” Alinor wanted to know.
Adam blushed faintly and scratched his head as if he were about to admit something slightly shameful and puzzling but still a charming thing. “That is womanishness. Gilliane says he is a sly snake and will do me some harm I cannot guard against because I am not myself deceitful and dishonorable. She is not above being foolish where she is fond. Also, she gave me some tangled tale about her sin falling on my head if I killed him for her sake.”
That was interesting. If Gilliane was deeply religious, she might be distressed by conceiving a desire for a man other than her husband. Alinor believed in sin and in punishment for it, but such things did not prey on her soul. She confessed her failings, did penance for them, and did not let them worry her further. Of course, a sin you could not repent was another matter. Obviously, if you intended to continue to love a man out of the bounds of wedlock, you could not be absolved of the sin. Alinor had faced the same problem and could understand. She, however, had considered that she was young and strong and not likely soon to die. Thus, it was only a matter of waiting until she married the man she desired. Then she could confess and say, truly, that she repented having loved him out of wedlock, do her penance, and be absolved.
Gilliane (Roselynde Chronicles, Book Four) Page 31