“She is, indeed,” he said. He didn’t want to get to know the woman in front of an audience, but he thought he may as well start. Keeva wasn’t going to let the woman go any time soon. “You mentioned that you fostered at Framlingham?”
Eiselle turned in his direction. “Aye, my lord.”
“You were there for a short amount of time.”
“I was there long enough to learn how to run a household, how to paint, and I learned how to sing in Italian. Just a little.”
She didn’t seem inclined to elaborate on why she’d only spent a year at Framlingham when most young women fostered for several years. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before simply nodding. He wanted to ask her more, and talk to her more, but he was increasingly resistant to do it in front of Keeva and Daveigh.
If Eiselle was to be his wife, then he wanted to know her in private, just the two of them. But he suspected Keeva and Daveigh were present for fear that Bric might somehow be rude, considering how he’d made his displeasure with this betrothal known, so he really couldn’t blame them. They wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to offend or upset the woman. Of that, he had no intention, but he genuinely wanted to be alone with her and was frustrated by the fact that he was not.
“Then I look forward to hearing you sing for me some time,” he said, standing up. He was still in his armor and protection, and even still wearing his helm. He hadn’t taken it off. “You will forgive me for begging my leave, but I have pressing duties to attend to.”
As he stood up, Daveigh stood up and stopped him from moving away from the table. “Where are you going?” he asked, concerned but trying not to look as if he were. “Surely you would like to remain here and speak with the lady.”
Bric could see the stress in Daveigh’s face. “And I will, in time,” he said. “At the moment, you and Lady de Winter have her occupied, so I will leave you to your conversation.”
Daveigh was picking up on Bric’s frustration, but he was at a loss to understand why the man was upset, other than the fact that his betrothed had arrived. He lifted his eyebrows.
“Would you prefer that we leave?” he asked.
Bric thought he would sound rather ridiculous if he agreed. He’d shown nothing but resistance to this woman, and now he wanted to be alone with her? Confusion joined his frustration, and the more he debated about his response, the more embarrassed he became.
He needed to get out of there.
“I have duties to attend to,” he said again. “Nottingham scouts have been sighted in the area and I should be out with my men. I will entrust Lady Eiselle to your care until I return.”
With that, he moved around Daveigh and headed out of the hall at a quick pace.
He disappeared swiftly and Eiselle watched him go. She could sense that the man wanted nothing to do with her and her heart sank. She’d asked him what he’d expected in a wife, but it was clear that he wanted no part of the arrangement. She had expressed a fear of falling short of his expectations and he’d alluded to the fact that he didn’t think that would be possible but, perhaps, he’d had time to think about it. Perhaps, she was indeed falling short of what he’d expected.
Feeling rather sad and unwanted, she spoke.
“Sir Bric is a very busy and important man,” she said, trying to sound as if his rapid departure didn’t bother her in the least. “I am sure he has many duties to attend to and idle chatter is not among them. Lady de Winter, if you would be so kind as to show me to my chamber, I would be very grateful. It has been a long trip and I should like to rest before supper.”
Keeva thought she heard sadness in the Eiselle’s voice and it was all she could do to keep her temper. Bric had succeeded in offending the woman and she was positively livid at the man. But to Eiselle, she was polite and helpful.
“Of course, my lady,” she said. “I have a lovely chamber prepared for you on the top floor. It faces south, so there is sun most of the day. I think you will be very pleased with it and… and I want you to know how very glad we are that you are here. In fact, we have already sent for the priest. He should be here this evening. We thought to have the wedding on the morrow.”
So soon. Eiselle was surprised to hear that. “As you say, my lady,” she said. “I am agreeable to whatever you wish.”
Keeva stood up from the bench, taking Eiselle politely by the arm. “Should we send word to your parents? We could delay it a day or two if they wish to attend.”
Eiselle shook her head. “The knights that came to collect me offered to escort my parents as well, but they declined,” she said. “My father will not leave his business and my mother does not leave the house at all. She has not left the house since I was a young girl.”
Keeva looked at her, curiously. “Not even to see their daughter married?”
Eiselle was being forced into an embarrassing admission. She didn’t want to tell Lady de Winter how glad her parents were to see her married off, and how happy her father was to be rid of her.
“I am sure Sir Bric will permit me to visit them after we have been married,” she said, skirting the issue. “I know my father should like to meet him.”
Keeva didn’t push, perhaps sensing that the absence of her parents at the wedding was a sore subject. “As I am sure Bric would be happy to return to your home to meet your parents,” she said. “But for today, you have come to be married, and on the morrow, married you shall be.”
She said it in a tone that left no room for discussion, but there was a reason for that – the lady need not ever know that Keeva and Daveigh believed the sooner the marriage took place, the better. Bric wouldn’t have time to run off, or delay it somehow, so they wanted to have the ceremony performed quickly for all concerned.
Eiselle, however, wasn’t so stupid that she didn’t see that something was afoot between Keeva and Daveigh. Like they had a secret between them. Not knowing these people, and having no idea why they were looking so shrewdly at each other, she simply pretended to be ignorant.
Suspicious, but ignorant.
While Daveigh begged his leave and followed Bric’s path from the keep, out into the coming dusk, Keeva took Eiselle companionably by the arm and led her to the spiral stairs built into the thickness of Narborough’s keep. The keep itself was a massive structure, with the great hall and several chambers on the first floor and several more chambers, sleeping chambers, on the second and top floor. Truthfully, Eiselle had never seen such a big building, even though Framlingham Castle had been quite massive. But it didn’t have the keep that Narborough had.
Eiselle hadn’t had much chance to look over Narborough when she arrived, but what she had seen was impressive. The huge keep, in the middle of hill-like earthworks, had a forebuilding around the stone steps that led up into the great hall. The stonework on the exterior, from what she saw, was exquisitely carved, and that same craftsmanship carried into the interior. The door frames and frames around the stairwells also had faces chiseled into the stone. As they headed up to the floor above, she reached out to touch some of the stonework around a very small window.
“This is a beautiful keep, Lady de Winter,” she said. “I am sure you and your husband are very proud of it.”
Keeva ran her fingers along a face etched into the windowsill as they passed it going up the stairs. “This is a very old keep,” she said. “It was built well over one hundred years ago by Sir Denis de Winter, a knight who came ashore with the Duke of Normandy. He was instrumental in helping settle the land, and this keep was built just for him by Savoy artisans. He brought them from France. He built three other castles along the great river, too. I am certain Bric will take you to see those someday. The House of de Winter has an impressive empire.”
They had reached the top floor, entering into a large room that had pallets and cots shoved up against the wall. It was where the servants and some retainers slept, but Keeva led her through the straw on the floor, and the scattered bedding, to a small corridor.
“
I can see how grand it is already,” Eiselle said. “I… I am glad to be here, Lady de Winter. If I have not told you that already, I do apologize. I should have told you that the moment we met.”
They came to another elaborately carved doorway with a heavy oak panel set into it, and Keeva paused, facing Eiselle in the weak light.
“And I am very glad you are here,” she said, but she had that same expression on her face that Eiselle had seen earlier, as if the woman was keeping secrets from her. “My husband is glad, also, and I am sure that Bric is glad, though he does not show it. My lady… Bric is my cousin and I know him well. He is a man of few words. He does not say what he thinks, and he can be rather quiet when one wishes to have a conversation with him. I tell you this because I do not want you to feel sad or disturbed if he does not express how glad he is to have you here.”
It seemed to Eiselle that Lady de Winter was apologizing for the man. “I am not sad nor disturbed, my lady,” she assured her. “In fact, he has been quite kind to me. We had a conversation when I arrived, and I asked him if he was agreeable to this arrangement.”
Keeva’s eyes widened; with fear, Eiselle thought. “You did?” Keeva asked hesitantly. “What… what did he say?”
Eiselle smiled as she thought on their conversation. “He told me that no one forced him into it,” she said. “He seemed agreeable.”
Keeva let out a muttered hiss. “Thank God.”
“What was that?”
Realizing she’d spoken too loudly, Keeva struggled to recover. “I simply meant that… that I am most thankful you and Bric had a chance to speak,” she said, quickly opening the door and hastening to change the subject. “Here is your chamber, my lady. I’ve had the servants bring your trunks up here and you should be quite comfortable.”
The room was small, but lavishly furnished. The bed was big, with a great drapey canopy and heavy curtains to keep in the warmth. Her trunks were neatly stacked against the wall, and there was a small table, two chairs, a rather large wardrobe, and a dressing table filling up most of the space. But it was lovely, far more lovely than her room at Hadleigh House had been, and she was quite pleased by it.
“It is delightful,” she said sincerely. “Thank you for going to such trouble to make me feel welcome.”
The truth was that Keeva was bending over backwards for the lady, compensating for what she was sure was Bric’s coldness towards her. But the mention of a conversation with Bric upon the lady’s arrival made Keeva very curious, indeed. So he said he was agreeable to the arrangement, did he? She could only hope that somehow, someway, the man had changed his mind.
She intended to find out.
“It is my pleasure, my lady,” she said. “I shall have hot water sent up to you so that you may bathe, and I shall send Bric for you when supper is ready. I am looking forward to hearing more about your fostering at Framlingham Castle and more about your life in general. I… I do hope we become friends, my lady. I should like that.”
Eiselle thought that was nearly the first genuine and unguarded thing she’d heard from Lady de Winter since they’d met. The lady seemed to have been uneasy since they’d been introduced, with long glances at her husband, and making apologies for Bric as if she felt she needed to. There was something strange going on, but Eiselle couldn’t worry about that at the moment. It wasn’t as if she could do anything about it, whatever it was. She was forced into this situation as much as any of them and was determined to make the best of it.
“I would be honored to call you my friend, Lady de Winter,” she said. “I am looking forward to it.”
Keeva smiled at her, a genuine gesture, and shut the door behind her as she quit the room. Eiselle simply stood there, near the window, wondering about the strange atmosphere she had entered into at Narborough. Lady de Winter had made her feel welcome, but Eiselle received a sense of desperation about it, as if Lady de Winter was trying overly hard to make it so.
Strange, she thought.
But then, something occurred to her, something Bric had said. When she had asked him if he was agreeable to the marriage, he’d said something odd –
Did someone tell you I was not?
It hadn’t been the response she’d expected, and Lady de Winter’s apologies for the man told her that, perhaps, there was something behind it.
Perhaps, he hadn’t been agreeable to the marriage, after all.
If he wasn’t, then she would surely soon find out.
CHAPTER FOUR
They had a priest, and a feast, and a bride, but they had no groom.
Bric, along with Pearce and Mylo, had ridden out just after sunset when they’d received word that raiders, possibly the Nottingham rebels, were attacking a nearby village. Concerned that the raid was meant to draw the army away from Narborough, Daveigh remained behind with a goodly portion of his army while Bric and the others rode out to see about the raid.
In Bric’s defense, he hadn’t a choice about riding away just as the priest had arrived from King’s Lynn to the north. The town in question was Downham, a few miles south of Narborough, so Bric led a squad of men from the castle and Daveigh ordered the castle bottled up against a possible attack.
With all of the men outside, remaining vigilant as a cold and moist night settled, there were only five people in the hall enjoying a rather elaborate meal – Keeva, Eiselle, Sir Pearce’s wife, Zara, Sir Mylo’s wife, Angela, and the priest who ate more than two men combined. The priest had introduced himself as Father Manducor, a warrior for God, and he was a mass of a man who planted himself at the end of the table and ate like a glutton. In fact, Eiselle was having a difficult time looking at anything other than the priest, who burped and slurped his way through Lady de Winter’s lovely meal. The dogs who roamed the hall of Narborough had all congregated around the priest, who was throwing bones and scraps to the floor at an alarming rate.
Appalled by the priest’s behavior, Keeva kept up a running stream of chatter as the man’s ghastly manners could be heard above all. She had first introduced Zara, Lady de Dere, and Eiselle had been pleased to meet the woman who was very close to her own age. Zara was blonde, rather plain, but she had a bright smile that seemed to be constantly plastered on her face.
Angela, Lady de Chevington, was also introduced, a very young woman who had a two-year-old child she spoke of constantly. Between Angela’s chatter and Zara’s grinning, Eiselle wondered if she was ever going to fit in with these women. She tended to keep to herself, and she wasn’t particularly social because she’d never had much opportunity for such things, so the interaction with new and strange women had her stomach lurching again.
As Angela spoke of her young son and his love of playing in horse dung, Eiselle found herself smiling wanly and drinking far too much wine to settle her belly. At least, she hoped it would. But about an hour into the feast, she started to hiccup uncontrollably.
“My lady, are you ill?” Keeva asked with concern. “May I get you something to ease your affliction?”
Eiselle had her hand to her mouth, struggling to stop the hiccups. “I am not ill, my lady,” she said, ripping off a loud hiccup. Mortified, she smiled weakly. “I… I suppose it has simply been a long day and I am weary. My stomach is unsettled and I do apologize for my terrible manners.”
Keeva was genuinely concerned. “Your manners are impeccable, my dear,” she assured Eiselle. “I am sorry your constitution has been upset. Mayhap you would like to retire for the evening? I am not sure when the men will return, so you may as well retire.”
That sounded like a very good idea to Eiselle. She was looking forward to spending some time alone, retreating away from people she didn’t know but who were trying to be kind to her. In truth, she was tired of listening to the priest burp and grunt, and he’d deteriorated into farting, so she thought it best to simply return to her chamber.
“I should like to, my lady,” she admitted. “I am sorry to retire so early. I am sure you wished to speak long into the night
, but I have a feeling there will be many opportunities to do that.”
She was looking at the other ladies as she spoke, and Zara smiled that toothy smile at her. “Tomorrow we were planning on going to the stream to the west of Narborough,” Zara said. “There are bushes of berries and it is also a very good place to hunt mushrooms. Will you attend us?”
Eiselle knew they were trying to be kind but, before she could answer, Keeva spoke. “Tomorrow is her wedding day,” she reminded Zara. “The lass doesn’t want to be pawing through the bushes on the day she is to marry. There will be time for that later.”
With that, she stood up, indicating for Eiselle to do the same. Eiselle bid a good evening to the ladies at the table as Keeva once again escorted her to the chamber on the upper floor. As they entered the stairwell, Keeva spoke softly.
“Zara and Angela mean well, but I swear to you that I cannot stand their prattle at times,” she muttered. “Zara is empty-headed at times and she drinks to excess. Wine is like mother’s milk to that lass.”
Eiselle looked at her with some shock. “How… terrible,” she said, not knowing what else to say. “She seemed kind enough, as did Lady de Chevington.”
Keeva snorted. “All Angela can speak of is that little brat who runs wild,” she said. “Well, I suppose that is not fair; the lad is very cute, but he has a wild streak in him. She had better learn to tame it before I have to take a stick to him.”
She was animated as she spoke, her Irish brogue heavier the more animated she became. Eiselle ended up grinning at her as they ascended the stairs. “A holy terror, is he?”
Keeva looked at her with surprise before bursting out laughing. “A beastly child if there ever was one,” she said. “You shall meet little Edward soon enough.”
Eiselle lifted her eyebrows. “I am sure I will,” she said. “Lady Angela seemed very proud of him.”
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