Whistling softly, Ewald wandered toward the window. Norbert stared up at the smoke-darkened beams, probably looking for signs of rot. He appeared tired or unwell, paler than before, a bit blue about the lips and with dark circles under his eyes. Perhaps he was having to do more work, since his son was no longer at his beck and call.
“Won’t you please sit down, gentlemen?” Celeste said. “And then we can discuss the price each of you is willing to pay for the house and all the remaining contents.”
“The furnishings as well, eh?” Ewald boomed.
“Yes, everything except the few things I’ll take with me when I leave.”
After that clarification, they sat in the chairs she had arranged near the window, the two men eyeing each other warily while she folded her hands in her lap.
She expected Norbert to make the first offer, so was caught off guard when Ewald did. “I am prepared to pay one hundred marks.”
She regarded him serenely and didn’t immediately reply.
As she expected, she didn’t have to say anything to prompt Norbert into bidding. “I will offer one hundred and twenty.”
She thought the house alone was worth well over that. However, she was also fairly certain neither man would accept her estimate of the value of her property because she was a woman. Nevertheless, she furrowed her brow and said, “So little?”
Norbert frowned, while Ewald rubbed his chin. “One hundred and fifty,” the latter said at last.
Norbert rose, strode to the wall, then back again. “Sister, I don’t know what some people have been saying to you, but the house isn’t worth as much as you’ve obviously been led to believe.”
Again she waited, and sure enough, Ewald spoke before she had to. “Trust you to try to intimidate a nun into paying less than something’s worth,” he said. He gave Celeste another smile. “Two hundred is more than fair, Sister, and I hope God will take that into account when I reach the gates of heaven.”
“Gates of heaven? You?” the chandler scoffed. “You won’t be going there.”
She suspected Norbert would be much more likely to find himself in the other place than Ewald, who declared, “At least I’m not trying to gouge a nun out of a fair price.”
“Fair price? The furnishings alone are worth—” Norbert caught himself and flushed.
She wasn’t going to let him off the branch onto which he’d climbed. “You were about to say?”
He cleared his throat and pointedly ignored his competitor. “The furnishings are lovely.”
“My mother’s taste was excellent, as was Audrey’s, and they paid well for the furniture and other household goods.”
“At the time they were newly bought, I’m sure they were worth a great deal,” Ewald said.
So not as valuable now, he was implying. On this point Celeste feared both he and Norbert would agree.
Sighing heavily, she wrinkled her brow and bit her lip as if she was trying not to cry. “I had hoped to repay all Audrey’s debts after everything was sold, and have some money left for the church, too,” she said with a catch in her voice.
Unfortunately, it seemed her words and manner didn’t inspire either man to be more generous. After a moment that was far too long, Norbert grudgingly offered, “Two hundred and twenty marks.”
“Two fifty,” Ewald immediately countered, proving that their mutual animosity was more effective than her attempt to appeal to their sympathy.
“Two sixty,” Norbert returned. “And that is far too much.”
“You old skinflint!” Ewald exclaimed, glaring at his rival and apparently forgetting he had ever offered less. “Three hundred.”
“You’re always claiming to be rich,” Norbert retorted. “Obviously you’re lying. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out you’re in debt up to your ears. Three twenty-five.”
“Me in debt? Me? That’s a dirty lie, you lout.” On the edge of his seat, Ewald swiveled toward Celeste. “Four hundred!”
“Who are you calling a lout? Unlike you, I come from a respectable family, and one with money, too. Five hundred!”
“Respectable, is it?” Ewald charged. “It’s no secret you treated your wife and your son as if they were your slaves. No wonder Sarah died young. You worked her to death!”
Norbert jumped to his feet. “You’re bitter because she wanted me, not you! Seven hundred! Match that if you can, you lying, duplicitous dog!”
Glaring, Ewald rose to stand nose to nose with him. “A thousand!”
“I accept!” Celeste cried before Norbert lost his head completely and offered even more. That might make Ewald come to his senses and stop bidding. As it was, a thousand marks was an incredible price.
Staring at his competitor, Norbert opened his mouth and closed it, looking like a landed fish. “You...you... I hope you die!” he shouted at last. “I hope you get leprosy!”
With that he turned on his heel and marched out of the room. A moment later they heard the front door slam.
Celeste sat heavily, feeling as if she’d been through a storm at sea.
Ewald, meanwhile, wiped his forehead with his broad palm. “Forgive me, Sister,” he said somewhat shakily. “I lost my temper. I shall go and fetch the money, and have my clerk prepare a bill of sale for you to sign.”
“Thank you,” she replied.
Still looking rather stunned, Ewald nodded and left her.
Both men were hot-tempered, and perhaps could get angry enough to kill. Ewald, however, seemed more likely to do the deed himself in a fit of ire rather than goad another to do the deed for him. Norbert, though... She could see him using more sly and deceitful means to get what he wanted.
That possibility, among others, would be for Roland to explore. The house was sold and she was going to leave, likely never to return.
“Sister?”
She half turned, to see Lewis in the doorway. “Lewis! How did you—”
“I saw my father coming here and, well, I didn’t want him to see me, or to speak to me, either, so I came in through the kitchen.”
Wringing his hands, he regarded her anxiously. “You sold the house?”
“Yes. It’s time I returned to the convent.”
He came closer. “There’s no need to rush off. Not now. Gerrard is leaving Dunborough, hopefully forever. He’s put Ralph in charge of the garrison and he’s going to DeLac to tell Roland. He said so in the hall before I came here.”
Celeste stared at Lewis with wonder, trying to comprehend what he was saying. Was it truly possible that Gerrard would leave Dunborough, never to return?
Yesterday, after he had revealed Roland’s astonishing offer, he had said he might go, and yet in her heart of hearts she hadn’t really believed that he would refuse the chance to rule Dunborough.
Apparently he would.
He had obviously meant what he’d said, that it would be better if he began anew elsewhere, free of reputation and speculation.
She might never know where and she would surely never see him again.
“What’s the matter?” Lewis asked, frowning. “I thought you’d be glad he’s going. Aren’t you pleased he’s leaving after the way he treated your sister?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, confused.
“I thought you knew. They were lovers.”
Chapter Nineteen
A vision leaped into Celeste’s mind, of the wood and Gerrard and...Audrey.
Lewis regarded her with pity. “I thought someone would have told you they were intimate. It was no secret that Gerrard came to visit your sister often, before and after Roland returned with a bride.”
Esmerelda and others had said Gerrard was a liar and a rogue, evil and debauched. And Audrey was beautiful. But had he and Audrey been lovers? No, Celeste still couldn’t be
lieve it. Even if Gerrard had wanted Audrey—a thought almost too painful to bear—her sister wouldn’t have given up her maidenhead without an offer of marriage from a rich and titled man. Gerrard was neither, nor had he had hope for any such achievements until recently.
When had Roland made his offer of the estate to Gerrard? After Audrey’s death, or before? If it was before Audrey had been killed, perhaps she had taken him to her bed.
Maybe Gerrard was exactly what rumor and gossip described, after all.
Perhaps she had been wrong to condemn herself for their lustful encounters. Gerrard could be clever enough, deceitful enough, duplicitous enough, to seduce her in such a way that she didn’t realize he was doing so.
Perhaps he was even playing some kind of warped and twisted game with her, or exacting his revenge for the injury she had caused years ago.
She could not, would not, leave here until she had answers to those questions. “Has Gerrard left the castle yet?”
“I don’t think so. He’ll have to get his baggage—”
She limped toward the door.
Lewis hurried after her. “Where are you going? What’s wrong with your leg?”
“A minor injury, and I’m going to the castle. I must and shall speak to Gerrard before he leaves today.”
* * *
Gerrard sat on the dais finishing his bread and ale. As soon as Arnhelm was found, they would start the journey to DeLac. No doubt the soldier was saying his goodbyes to Peg.
Gerrard rose and was about to go to the kitchen in search of the errant soldier when the door to the hall opened and the last person he expected to see walked in.
Feeling like a trapped beast, he watched Celeste limp toward him.
“Gerrard, I would like to speak with you,” she said, coming to a halt in front of the dais, the skirt of her habit swinging and her beautiful face flushed.
His heartbeat quickened. Perhaps she’d heard he was leaving and had come to ask him to stay. Maybe she would tell him she was staying, too.
He hoped so, because he loved her.
Roland’s wife had been the first to make him yearn to be a better man, but only Celeste had both touched his heart and excited his desire. He had realized that the day before and done his best to make her want to forgo the life she’d chosen, hoping to eventually persuade her to be his wife. Instead, she had been adamant in her decision.
His wish that she might stay lasted just an instant, for the look in her eyes told him that she was angry and indignant.
It was more likely she’d come to say good riddance, despite her sore ankle, and he was suddenly sorry he hadn’t left the day before, if not sooner. Her expression also warned him that she wouldn’t leave until she’d said what she wanted to say, and it likely wasn’t something he wanted the household to hear. “We can talk in the solar.”
“No, I would rather talk here,” she replied. “I have questions about Audrey, and you.”
Oh, God! He’d dreaded this moment from the day Celeste had arrived. “I would rather answer such questions in private.”
“No, Gerrard,” she said, staying where she was. “I have been far too ignorant of my sister’s life and I will have my questions answered here and now. Were you and Audrey lovers?”
Her boldly stated query resounded through the hall with the clarity of a bell. The soldiers and servants still about swiftly departed and even the dogs made themselves scarce, until the two of them were, in fact, alone.
It was small comfort, yet better than having an audience.
“No, we were not lovers,” he answered honestly, his words seeming loud in the empty vastness of the hall.
Her eyes narrowed. “You were never intimate?”
How easy it would be to lie! To deny everything. To be a duplicitous scoundrel, a man without honor and unworthy of respect or admiration. To tell her they were not intimate. Instead, he chose the more difficult way and gave her the truth. “We kissed.”
Celeste sucked in her breath and the color left her cheeks. “How could you?” she demanded in a whisper, staring at him as if he were the devil incarnate.
She had started this and he would tell all, regardless of the cost. “We kissed after I had asked her to marry me and she had accepted.”
Celeste staggered back a little, as if his words had been blows. “You asked and she accepted? You truly wanted to marry her? Or were you simply trying to seduce her?”
The old accusations, the same foul charge based on past behavior, but also lies and speculation.
Yet he would answer this honestly, too. “I never tried to seduce your sister. She offered to use her wealth to secure a title from the king and persuade him to give me Dunborough, and I was willing to marry her to make it so. It wouldn’t have been a love match, but it would have been no worse a marriage than many another.”
He might never even have realized what he lacked, because Celeste would not have come back into his life. Only now, because of her, did he know what love between a man and woman could be, when it was too late.
Celeste regarded him steadily, her expression unreadable. “She had no wealth to offer.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, confused. “Of course she did. Your father was a rich man.”
“He was, but she was deep in debt, as any of the merchants of the town could have told you.”
His mind reeled. Celeste sounded so certain, yet how could that possibly be true? Audrey had lived as if she had vast riches at her disposal.
“How can that be?” he demanded. “You saw her clothes, the jewels, the furnishings in your father’s house.”
“Her jewels were paste, the furniture purchased by my parents. As for the gowns and everything else, she owes every merchant in Dunborough.”
Celeste had to be mistaken. “Have you seen proof of these debts?”
“Yes. I found the bills and I’ve promised to pay them. Yet you knew nothing about this?”
Her skepticism was as painful as her anger.
“Why would I?” he replied. “Audrey never told me, never even hinted, that she lacked for money, and she always wore the finest clothes. I’m not her husband or her father or her brother, so no merchant would have said anything to me about her liabilities.”
He saw doubt come into Celeste’s eyes and pressed on. “I swear to you, I knew nothing of your sister’s finances.”
At last Celeste looked as if she believed him. Unfortunately, that was not the end of it.
“And if you had known,” she charged, her voice still stern, “would you have married her regardless?”
“If I had discovered it after we were betrothed, yes, I would have married her regardless,” he said with firm conviction, and even though he would have been caught in a trap of Audrey’s making. “I had given my word. I’m not so lacking in honor as that.”
He could only hope that Celeste would believe that honest answer, too.
And there was something else to consider, something she might not have thought of when it came to her sister’s debts. “If another man had sought your sister’s hand and then found out she wasn’t as wealthy as she let on, he might have been angry enough to want her harmed, perhaps even killed. No man likes to be tricked. And if he wanted to justify his actions, thinking her a deceitful whore could do that. Men will often find ways to excuse their selfish decisions.”
“As you did?”
The accusation hurt him. Nevertheless, he would answer this honestly, too. “Yes, as I made excuses for my excesses and poor judgment for years.”
“Did Duncan know about your betrothal?” Celeste asked, her voice still hard, still merciless, still stubbornly determined.
“Just as I was ignorant of her debts, no one else was aware of the betrothal,” he answered, fighting to keep his distress from his feat
ures. “That was only between Audrey and me.”
“Or so you thought. If Duncan found out, that could have set him on his murderous path.” Celeste blinked, and suddenly he saw the pain beneath her stoic mask, a misery as deep as his own. “Yet you never told me. When I talked of possible reasons someone might want to harm my sister, you left me in ignorance to try to find another cause.”
If ever he had reason to loathe himself...
His heart breaking even more, he regarded her with remorse and regret. “Because I was ashamed. Aye, and greedy and ambitious, as your sister was. She wanted power and wealth and position, and so did I.”
“That is no excuse for not being truthful about what happened between you,” Celeste replied, her words more distressing than a slap. “Tell me, Gerrard, how far would you have gone in the wood if I hadn’t stopped you? Would you have made love to me?”
“Since it’s honesty you want, yes, I would have made love to you. I wanted to make love to you as I’ve rarely wanted anything before.”
“More than Dunborough?”
“Much more.”
“And Audrey? Did you want to make love to her, too?”
His brows lowered as the interrogation continued, and his anguished frustration grew. “What do you really want to hear, Celeste? The truth? Then here it is—I would have made love to your sister if she’d let me. She never did. But I didn’t set out to seduce Audrey or do anything that would get her killed. And if there was deception between us, she was just as guilty.”
Celeste stepped back as if he’d struck her. “Nothing’s ever your fault, is it, Gerrard? There is always someone else for you to blame.”
“I’m not blaming Audrey,” he cried with chagrin and despair. “I blame myself for letting my aspirations and envy and resentment cloud my better judgment.”
“You should have told me of your betrothal. Instead, you kept it from me all this time. Worse, you made me believe you had changed until...until you tried to seduce me in the wood.”
“I tried to seduce you?” he repeated incredulously. “Who grabbed me and kissed me? By God, Audrey may have been ambitious, but at least she was no hypocrite and didn’t try to make a man feel ashamed of his desire.”
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