Gilliane (Roselynde Chronicles, Book Four)
Page 41
She was aware that Adam had been surprised and uneasy at her choice and sought to placate him, but her wildest guess could not have fallen upon the reason. Adam had been pricked by jealousy. When he had asked Gilliane to name a castellan, he had half feared she might put forward someone unknown to him who was Louis’s man. He did not really think this would happen, but could not resist testing her. What he truly expected—since she could have appointed anyone while the letter lay at Roselynde unanswered—was that Gilliane would say she knew nothing about the matter and leave it in his hands. Even Alinor and Joanna left such decisions to their husbands.
What Gilliane had said was both a pleasant and unpleasant surprise. The pleasant part was encompassed by the facts Geoffrey had pointed out and the pride Adam felt in Gilliane’s judgment. This was tempered by the promptness with which she had put forward a candidate who could be considered her man rather than Adam’s. No doubt that was a result of his mother’s meddling—setting into Gilliane’s mind that he desired her lands to add to his heritage. Adam hoped she would have forgotten that, but this suggestion proved that the problem was still in the forefront of her mind. Gilliane did not trust him. Probably that sweet offer to defer to his opinion and accept a man of his choice was a test for him, as he had been testing her. The clever witch! Now, even if he saw a fault in young Sir Richard, he would have to hold his tongue. To put forward his own candidate—his right as her overlord—would convince her he wished to rule her lands.
Then the green-eyed demon rose up to add trouble to that already in Adam’s mind. Adam did not see any fault in young Sir Richard, but how could Gilliane know that? It was Adam who had ridden the demesne with the young man and taken him into the town clustered around the harbor. Had Gilliane also found time, when Adam was not by, to discuss the management of Tarring keep with young Richard? If she had, how did it come about that she had never mentioned his name until this moment? Was it not suspicious—the way she said she knew no more of him than Adam did?
Adam took hold of himself while his mother discoursed to Gilliane on the advantages and disadvantages of maintaining the same castellan in a keep for a long period of time. If Adam permitted himself to believe Gilliane desired Sir Richard’s son, he must believe her truly a whore. Only that forenoon when she went to his chamber to unarm him, she had come to him as if she wished to swallow him whole instead of only swallowing his shaft. She was not a drab who would display the same hot desire for every man who paid. Adam knew he had never seen, not once, not for a moment, a single look of interest in Gilliane’s eyes when they fixed on another man—not even his stepfather. She could be just so fine an actress, she was so clever… No! Gilliane was not a whore!
“There is one trouble only with your choice, Gilliane,” Adam said slowly. “If we draw young Richard from Tarring, we will leave it with only Alberic, and—”
“Oh no, my lord. I will go to Tarring,” Gilliane cut him off promptly.
Adam cast a glance of such fury at Alinor that she almost cried out in protest. Then she laughed. “No, Adam, we have not quarreled, Gilliane and I, nor have I pressed her to such hard labor that she feels the need to flee Roselynde—do you, my dear?”
“Of course not, madam.” Gilliane laughed. “I love Roselynde, and I hope that I will someday be permitted to come again.”
“Do not be silly, child,” Ian said, smiling. “Come whenever you like. You need no invitation from us any more than Adam needs an invitation. You will be welcome to me and to Alinor whenever you can spare us your company.”
“Nonsense, Gilliane,” Alinor said at the same time. “You are well beloved here and you are welcome at any time for as long as you like. But you are quite right that it is time for you to return to Tarring. There are many things to which young Sir Richard could not possibly see. I dread to think what muddles the maids have made in weaving and sewing, and you must look to your fields and see over the spring planting so that you can judge what the harvest will be. Otherwise, child, less will come into your granaries than should.”
While Alinor described what Gilliane should look for and the best relationship among quantities of barley, wheat, oats, and rye and how she might consider rearranging things if a good balance was not achieved, Adam regained control of his temper. He had never suspected a quarrel between Gilliane and his mother, nor had he thought Alinor had worked Gilliane too hard. Gilliane’s desire to return to Tarring had seemed part and parcel of her suspicion that he wanted her lands. Now, again, he was trapped. He could not protest, or he would confirm Gilliane’s fears that it was Tarring he wished to have rather than Gilliane.
Adam had hoped to leave Gilliane safe in Roselynde while he went to capture Bexhill. Tarring was a strong keep, but Adam feared that, once he aroused Louis’s adherents at Pevensey and Hastings, they might attack Tarring to draw him away from Bexhill. If Gilliane had been at Roselynde, he would have left Tarring to defend itself, merely sending an observer from time to time to make sure the keep was in no danger of falling. With Gilliane inside, Adam was not sure he would be able to hold to this plan. And here was his idiot mother encouraging Gilliane to go home when she knew perfectly well he would be making war in the vicinity.
As his instant anger and panic subsided, Adam realized that Alinor had probably thought the matter over and felt there would be no danger. It was true that Tarring was out of the way of the main action. If Louis’s men were not all in the field retaking the keeps Pembroke had seized, they were far more likely to attack him directly than to seek to draw him away by an elaborate subterfuge. Besides, Sir Richard at Glynde was only five miles away and would be glad to show thanks for the favor done his son by sending regular patrols to keep a watch on Tarring. Bexhill was near enough for Adam to defend Tarring with Sir Richard’s help and maintain the attack on his objective. Those were calming thoughts, and the notion of being with Gilliane at Tarring while men and supplies were gathered was even pleasanter.
Adam had managed that quick coupling this morning and was in no physical need, but he was finding that such animal satisfaction was the least of his desires. He wanted to be with Gilliane, to sit idly by the fire in her bedchamber and talk easily of the estate and the realm and their own plans. He wanted to lie beside her and gaze upon the dark glow of her skin, the red-brown nipples like glossy buds on the summit of her round breasts. He was growing to hate the hurry and the guilt, the need to hide what everyone knew was taking place but politely ignored. He wanted a wife and the right Geoffrey and Joanna had to lie abed together in lazy contentment after their lovemaking. At least in Tarring, he could have something more than the stolen quarter-hours propriety kept them to in Roselynde.
Thus, Adam pushed aside his fears of leaving Gilliane alone in Tarring and joined willingly in the discussion of when the move should be made. That matter settled, the ladies went off to their various duties around the keep and the men remained, idly talking by the fire. Geoffrey yawned widely; he had greeted Joanna as avidly and at considerably greater length than Adam had greeted Gilliane.
Ian grinned at him. “I know that was not only owing to boredom, but do not worry about being too quiet here.” Geoffrey snapped his mouth shut and began to protest, but Ian waved him into silence and continued. “I have had a letter from Peter des Roches. He desires that you should come to him, bringing Joanna, as soon as possible. The king, it seems, is most anxious to hear the details of what took place at the Battle of Bouvines. Perhaps Peter wishes to bask in your glory.”
“There was not much glory about me at Bouvines,” Geoffrey remarked dryly. “All I got from it was a walk like a crab.”
“Well, yes, Peter may have been thinking of that, also. Everyone who was there mentions you, how fiercely you fought—yet you were sore wounded.” Ian looked at Geoffrey thoughtfully. “Henry is twelve years old now and exceedingly desirous of leading his own army. Peter doubtless counts upon you to be able to hold the balance between making the boy a coward and making him a daredevil.”
“Now, now, one must not call a bishop of God’s Church a devil,” Ian remonstrated, also laughing. “Especially when I know he desires to do you good. It would be very wise for you to go and let your cousin know you and bind him in love. Peter knows that this is the time to make a lasting bond with the young king. He is, I hear, very clever and will appreciate your seeing eye, Geoffrey.”
“I agree it is a good time to fix our interest with Henry. Yes, indeed, and I am grateful to Peter des Roches for the invitation. I will tell him so.” Then he turned to Adam. “Do you want me to carry your appeal to Peter? If it were not that—”
“What appeal?” Adam interrupted blankly.
“Well, I suppose it will be Gilliane’s appeal, really, for an annulment of her marriage. I know you are determined to kill this Osbert de Cercy, but God knows when you will be able to get at him. If he is as lily-livered as you believe, he may even have run back to France after his father’s death. Surely, you will not wait forever to marry the girl. If she should get with child, it would not be fair to her. I had my doubts in the beginning, but I have none now. Joanna says—”
“Good God, what an idiot I am!” Adam exclaimed. “I never thought of it. Can you believe I could be such a fool as not to realize the marriage could be annulled? Why, why did I not ask Gilliane to write to the Bishop of Winchester from Tarring? Curse me for a fool! Now it is too late.”
“What do you mean, too late?” Ian asked in amazement. “Surely, you cannot believe Gilliane is unwilling. Adam! I saw how she greeted you.” Suddenly he frowned and said more slowly, obviously reluctantly, “Are you unwilling? Have you changed your mind or do you feel that she…that because she…”
“No!” Adam exploded furiously. “It is nothing to do with me, even if I were unwilling—which I swear I am not. It is my dearest wish to marry Gilliane—but even if I were unwilling, you know I would wed her after what has passed between us. Gilliane will not marry me—at least, not at this time.”
“You are mad!” Ian said forcibly.
“Adam, I do not know what crochet you have taken,” Geoffrey put in, “but I tell you the girl is top over tail in love with you. Joanna says she scarce breathes waiting for your letters—although what she can make of such scrawls or what good she can get from so few words I cannot tell. Why do you think she would refuse marriage?”
“Because Mama told her I wanted her lands,” Adam said grimly.
“Do not be ridiculous!” Ian exclaimed.
Geoffrey drew in his breath but said nothing.
“I do not mean that Mama used those words to Gilliane, but she must have spoken of how well the lands run with mine. Also, I heard her myself when she was speaking to Arundel say that she would not be so behind-hand as to fail to fix the Neville estates into our family. Gilliane heard it, too. She was so angry she would not look at me for near half an hour, until I…well, never mind that.”
“Are you sure?” Ian asked. “She does not seem at all that kind. She is so gentle.”
“She is gentle enough,” Adam agreed bitterly. “She will not rail at me nor throw things nor stamp her feet and shout as Mama does. I know that. Simply, she will excuse and delay and find contrary reasons…she will not marry me. She all but said so. She said…no, never mind what she said, but the sense of it was that she loved me but would not have me for a husband.”
“Now, that does not make sense,” Geoffrey ventured, “although I must admit that it is most unfortunate Lady Alinor was constrained to make that statement to Arundel in Gilliane’s hearing. And it is not surprising the girl should be angry, but if she loves you…you are already her overlord, and you—”
“I do not know what is in her head,” Adam interrupted. “Do you know why Joanna does the things she does? I have tried to tell Gilliane that I desire only her, that she may rule Tarring and her men as she chooses—within reason and within the bounds of her oath to me and mine to Henry—but she will not listen.”
“What do you mean, she will not listen?” Ian asked.
Adam blushed. “She…er…diverts me.”
Geoffrey bit his lip to suppress a smile. Joanna often “diverted” him from topics she did not choose to discuss that way. To look to Ian was no help. He was showing such deep interest in the servants who were setting up tables for a meal that Geoffrey imagined Ian was also often “diverted” from his purpose in a similar manner. It was not really funny, however. Somehow Adam would have to convince Gilliane he did not wish to reduce her to a powerless puppet. It was a difficult problem made more complex by the past treatment Gilliane had received, and it might take a while to accomplish.
“Then I had better not do anything about an annulment. Once it is granted, she will be meat for the table of any man who can seize her,” Geoffrey said slowly.
“I know,” Adam sighed. “The thing is, I do not wish to force her again. Once we were wed, she would see I was no different, that I would remain fond and, within reason, let her go her own way. But to fright her again by forcing her…”
“No, do not do that,” Ian urged sincerely, “and not for her sake, my son, but for your own. It is a thing that curls round and round in a man’s mind and taints the sweetest kisses with sour doubt.”
“How would you know?” Adam asked with a bitter laugh.
Ian looked past him. “I did not force your mother—well, you know Alinor is not the woman to yield to force—but your father was only a few months dead when I married her, and she loved your father deeply, Adam. There were circumstances…John had a grudge against her and I wished to protect her. I…er…overpersuaded her. I could not forget it. I was a fool. When Alinor accepts a thing, she accepts with a whole heart, but I kept remembering and I twisted her words and looks in my mind until I near ruined us.”
“Mama loves you now,” Adam assured him anxiously.
“Yes, I know that,” Ian replied. “But I made much grief for both of us. Do not worry about it. It is long past. I only told you so you would not make the same mistake.”
“But what am I to do?” Adam pleaded.
“Perhaps Lady Alinor or Joanna—” Geoffrey began.
“No,” Ian interrupted. “At least, not yet. Gilliane loves them and clings to them—poor child, she never had a mother or sister. Adam would be forever wondering whether she married him for their sakes or for his own. Take her back to Tarring, Adam. Do as I do with your mother. Stand behind her while she deals with her people. Take her to Kemp and show her how you rule your own and still treat her with great respect, even when she is in your stronghold. Then ask her outright, assuring her she will still rule her own. I will have copies made of my contract with your mother and of Joanna’s with Geoffrey. Let her read them and know that you will sign a similar contract with her. She loves you, Adam. She will yield.”
An almost identical conversation took place in the women’s quarters the next day while Joanna was helping Gilliane to pack. Ordinarily, Catrin would have packed, but Gilliane had been about to leave behind all the gowns Joanna and Alinor had given her, so Joanna was overseeing a repacking that included the gifts.
The discussion began casually enough, with Joanna suggesting that Gilliane send Geoffrey a copy of her marriage contract with a deposition by the castle priest that she had been forced, married without her approval or knowledge. She assured Gilliane that no difficulty would ensue. The Bishop of Winchester would carry the matter before the papal legate, and Gualo would issue the annulment. To her amazement, Gilliane burst into tears and sobbed that Adam did not wish to marry her.
“I know your mother desires it and that you are willing, also, because of the lands, but Adam—”
“That is impossible,” Joanna interrupted. “Do not tell me that Adam does not love you!”
“Love? Perhaps,” Gilliane sighed, wiping away her tear
s. “He desires me, that is true, but he was shocked when I told him your mother felt we should marry.”
“Nonsense,” Joanna exclaimed. “He was the one…”
Joanna did not finish that. Adam would not be the first man to change his mind when he found he could have without marriage what he thought he would need to marry to obtain. Moreover, Joanna knew Adam was free enough with any married dame who ogled him or responded to his advances, and she had seen the contempt in his eyes when those women were spoken of—although he himself never admitted or implied any intimate relationship. But such women were a far cry from Gilliane. Gilliane was not of easy virtue. She never looked at another man—not even at Ian. It was cruel and wrong if Adam did not see that. It was cruel and wrong for Adam to punish Gilliane for loving him too well.
“It is nonsense,” Joanna repeated. “I will speak to him. It is ridiculous—”
“No,” Gilliane begged, “no, please. I do not care. If you tell him he is wronging me, he will leave me. I will die! Please!”
Seeing the terror Gilliane felt, Joanna dropped the subject. She was not of a hasty disposition like her mother, and she was prepared to let the situation develop on its own. Particularly after Gilliane and Adam left the next day and Joanna revolved the matter in her mind, she became more and more convinced that Gilliane was mistaken. Adam had never once looked at her with contempt. His face showed desire, admiration, tenderness, teasing affection, occasionally a flash of doubt or anger—never contempt. He must intend marriage. Gilliane had misunderstood some word or look. It was odd that Adam said nothing to her, but he had spoken outright of marriage to Alinor. Joanna smiled. Silly girl. Adam would never go back on his word. Let them work it out for themselves, Joanna thought. The fruit will be all the sweeter for the salt tears that watered the tree of love.
For Adam and Gilliane, it was an easy trip home. They stayed with Arundel one night—on their best behavior, a polite and proper overlord and vassal. The picture was marred a little by the blushes of both under Arundel’s heavy-handed teasing, but his wife soon curbed his tongue. The next morning they rode to Wick and Gilliane spoke to Sir Richard on the subject of giving his son Wick to hold. His gratitude and delight promised well for the future of Wick, and for Gilliane’s relationship with father and son. He would stay, Sir Richard agreed, until his son came, and put him on the road to good management.