VIII
Mason was not fooled, by Linnet’s compliance. He could tell she had not liked turning over her accounts one bit. But he did not have time to pussy-foot around her finer feelings. He needed to know how things truly stood at Castle Cadwallader. Women were strange creatures, but even he had to agree she seemed even-tempered for a female. She had not pouted or shed tears after her de-flowering and indeed for almost a week now, she had sat three-parts of the day in a dank cellar, scribing. Now as he watched Robards strike a line through yet another fictitious servant in red ink he could feel his brother’s disapproval. He quirked an eyebrow at Oswald’s troubled countenance.
“Well, what is it?” he asked finally. “Out with it. You’ve been pacing and sighing this last hour.
“You should go to her,” frowned his brother. “And sit with her a while in the solar.”
Mason’s eyebrows rose. “Why should I? I clearly have more pressing concerns.”
Oswald rolled his eyes. “This seems rather… unseemly, brother.”
“What does?”
“This pre-occupation with the dowry she brings you. It's been almost a week now you've been totting up your wealth.”
Mason gave a short laugh. “Why else do you think I married her?” he asked coldly.
Oswald swiveled to look at Robards who was apparently absorbed with checking off his list against Linnet’s household book.
“For the sake of the gods Mason… what of servant’s tattle,” he urged in a low voice.
“Linnet’s well aware of the fact,” he said scathingly. “I spoke no words of love or courtship.”
“Well maybe you should have,” muttered Oswald.
“No, I thank you. I’d rather have honest plain dealing than hollow words and promises. Do you really think Roland would have played the lover for her?” he sneered. “He wasn’t even going to bed her.”
Oswald’s lips thinned. He was breathing hard now. “You think because she’s small and ugly she doesn’t deserve a few pretty words?” he asked. “When she brings you all this?” he swept a hand wide.
“Is that what this is about?” asked Mason in a low, lethal voice. He had gone very still for a moment. “Your bastard brother now head of an estate three times as big as his sire’s?”
A look of surprise flickered over Oswald’s face and then his eyes dropped a moment as he seemed to turn over Mason’s words in his mind. Then he looked back up, his gaze open. “No, Mason, I can honestly say that is not it. I am worried about … about this marriage.”
Mason’s eyes narrowed to slits. “What affair is it of yours, brother?”
“What will our father say?” Oswald continued in a rush. “You were always so focused on your career and now…”
“The uprising in the North is quelled, Oswald,” he cut in dryly. “That chapter is now definitely closed.”
“But your post in the King’s army..? It took you so long to get promoted to general.”
“What of it?” he shrugged. “I will return to court as soon as I have trusted people in position here at the castle to keep all in order.”
“You will just abandon her then? So soon after wedding her?”
Mason laughed harshly. “Name one of our number who keeps his wife by his side,” he jeered. “Her place is here. I doubt very much she’d enjoy life at court.”
“It’s just she’s so… naïve and trusting, Mason.”
He felt himself stiffen. “Save your concern for your own wife when you take one, Oswald. I have said I will find some trustworthy retainers and then yes, I will leave her like a shot from a bow.”
Oswald’s mouth tightened with disapproval. “You have many qualities I admire Mason. But I wish to the gods, you had not taken such a woman to wife. You are ill-suited, I fear.”
Mason’s hands fisted at his sides, but he reined his temper in with effort. “Your concern is duly noted, brother.” He said and it was the first time he had addressed him as such. Oswald flushed. “Now let this be the end of it, for the deed is done and there is no use now regretting it.”
Mason knocked swiftly on the studded oak door before pushing it open. Linnet was in their room rather than the solar. She was sat in the window seat, a needle and thread in hand and a pile of cushions at her feet. As he approached he could see she was embroidering gold letters. With a flicker of surprise he realized they were his initials. He paused a moment as she snapped the thread with her teeth and discarded the cushion she had been working on. Was this what she had been doing with her evenings? He had been leaving her to her own devices now for days. Only joining her in their rooms when it was very late and his wife fast asleep.
“Have you finished?” she asked softly.
“For today. Tomorrow I shall start on the stables and out-buildings. Then next week I will start riding out to start looking at the lands and tenants.”
She nodded.
"That will take at least a week, if not two." And by the time he was finished he would have been married a month already.
“But we have finished the castle contents, more or less,” he continued smoothly. “I shall leave totting up the pantry, buttery and livestock to Robards.”
She nodded again as he dropped down onto the window seat beside her, stretching out his long legs before them.
“Linnet, I want you know I do appreciate how …practical you have been about this. Our bargain, arrangements…” he trailed off with a shrug.
She turned impulsively toward him. “And I too,” she said with feeling. “I am ever so grateful for what you have taken on and I mean never to let you down again.”
He blinked a moment at her vehemence. “What I have taken on?” he repeated slowly.
“My vassals, and um..” she swallowed nervously. “My inexperience and lack of housekeeping skills." She swallowed. "You gave me the keys to the castle but I don’t deserve them. Have I made you a very bad marriage bargain?” Her eyes were shining with unshed tears and she looked so worried that he found himself feeling a twinge of the guilt Oswald had been unable to inspire in him only half an hour earlier.
“Not at all, nothing like that.”
She gulped. “Really?” It was little more than a whisper.
He found himself leaning forward and tugging the cushion from her grasp before flinging it on the floor. Suddenly he felt glad that Oswald had spouted all that crap to him about being an inconsiderate bastard. At the time it had been infuriating, but perhaps he had needed to hear it? Linnet’s lips had stopped trembling although her eyes had spilled over and her cheeks were now wet with tears. He tugged her over from the opposing seat into his lap and let his own lips travel over her soft skin, sipping at them. Her cheeks felt perfectly smooth and you could not feel the thousands of freckles in any way by mere touch alone. He murmured when he felt her hand reach out and stroke down his face in a soft caress he had not expected. She fanned her fingers out and rubbed against his stubble. He almost laughed. “Is it rough?” he asked throatily.
“A little. But not unpleasantly so,” she admitted breathlessly.
“You’re silky smooth. Like satin, only warmer,” he told her huskily. Where the hell had that come from? Sweet words, Oswald had said. He hadn’t known he was capable of them.
She smiled at that, looking unspeakably flattered. “You’re so kind,” she breathed, coloring up adorably.
Adorably? He blinked at his thoughts. What the hells was going on with him? Kind? Hardly. His chest tightened inexplicably. The Jevons had done worse than defraud her estate. They had failed to protect their innocent little niece from a marauding bastard like himself.
Mason watched her carefully over the next week. Oswald was right, he was going to have to try and have a care with her he realized with foreboding. She had absolutely no guile, no defense and no insight to the harsh realities of life. Her sheltered upbringing had not prepared her for a husband such as himself. That was why she had thrown herself at his feet and offered him her hand, her wealth and a
child of her womb. She was a total innocent. He had taken her up on it and now he was going to have to live with that. It wasn’t all bad, he supposed. Because of her he now had lands and wealth far outstripping that of his own father and legitimate brothers. Oswald was a saint. There could be no other reason his brother was not gnashing his teeth with envy. Of course, Linnet was plain. She would never inspire jealousy in any man’s breast. But that was his cross to bear, and truth be told he was sure that having a beauty for a wife brought its own problems for a man. She would never be demanding or coquettish, expecting him to trail after her like a trained lap-dog. She would never flirt with other men or drive him to distraction. He doubted she knew how. And despite her reputation, she was not some chronic invalid. He had hopes that if he was gentle with her and patient, she would give him a son and heir. A son that would bear the title of Duke of Cadwallader. It was a week later when Mason had finished his inventory of the armory, stables and outbuildings. They were eating a private supper in their rooms as he looked over his list of findings. Linnet made valiant small talk throughout the meal, but at the end when he produced her ledger her gaze had studiously avoided falling on it. He cleared his throat. “Can I explain this to you Linnet?” he asked in a low voice. He had a much clearer view now of how things had been running at the castle. Most of the Jevons' tricks had been laid clear to his piercing gaze. She swallowed and after the smallest of pauses nodded, coming out of her seat and around the table to sit down directly next to him. She placed one hand on his sleeve for a moment and gave a small reassuring squeeze before tucking her hair behind her ears and leaning forward to look at the open page. He saw her flinch at all the crossings out of her angelic round handwriting. Robards’ scrawl was not half so neat. But it was accurate. Her head hung slightly and he reached one hand to the back of her neck where he ran his thumb up and down her slender neck in a gesture meant to comfort her.
“You see where Robards has crossed out name after name on your list of servants?”
She nodded bravely.
“Tis because they never existed, Linnet.”
Her head turned to look at him. Her gaze was uncomprehending. “But… I never dreamt them Mason. I was told…”
“Aye. That you were. Your aunt I expect, told you the ale wife in the buttery had a team of four women working with her?”
“Yes,” she nodded.
“’Twas a lie Linnet. The ale-wife has only ever had one assistant. Never four. This pattern, this method is repeated for every servant grouping you have listed.”
Linnet looked down the page at all the crossed-out names. She paused a moment and then looked him straight in the eye. “So they could draw more money each month for wages,” she said hoarsely.
“Exactly. And then there’s the mouths to feed, the cloth to clothe, the fuel to burn, all magnified by four times the workforce you actually had in your household accounts.”
She swallowed. “I see.”
“I suspect a lot of the expenses listed in your book for repairs and maintenance never actually took place. There are several parts of the castle that need renovation.”
She nodded bravely, but he could see she felt a total idiot.
“’Tis not your fault,” he found himself saying despite himself. “You weren’t to know.”
“But…” she shook her head. “That’s not true though is it?” she trembled. “Because after just one day in my company you realized there is naught amiss with my heart.” She lifted her hand to her chest. “Where as I, fool that I am… All this time I believed…”
“…The lies of people you trusted and who raised you,” he cut in.
She gulped. “I feel so stupid,” she said in a small voice. “You must think-“
He cut her off by sliding his hand under hers where he could feel her heart steadily beating. “I’m just glad there’s naught amiss with it.” When her fingers warmly grasped his, he realized he was telling the truth.
Oswald joined them for supper the following night of sturgeon in a strong yellow sauce which Mason guessed was to disguise the taste of salt, followed by a very good pigeon pie and vegetables. The kitchen staff were skilled and he was glad the Jevons’ had not thought to take them with them.
As the last course was cleared away and fresh wine and beer brought forth for the table, Oswald asked him directly: “Have you sent word to our father yet?”
Mason leant back in his seat gesturing for Cuthbert to refresh his cup. He glanced at Linnet but she had barely touched her own mead. “Not yet,” he admitted. “But he will not be uneasy. We only left court two weeks ago.”
Oswald shook his head. “Where do you imagine Linnet’s uncle and aunt have scurried off to, brother?” he asked quietly.
Linnet looked up with interest.
Mason shrugged, not overly concerned. Oswald was always over-cautious. “Does your uncle have a property of his own?” he asked Linnet.
She shook her head. “They had a manor house over at Lye-Green, but they sold that after my father died.”
“They will go to court,” said Oswald heavily. “Depend upon it.”
“To court?” asked Mason in surprise.
“Sir Jevons is a courtier,” pointed out Oswald. “He holds some minor office…” he glanced across at Linnet for confirmation.
“He is a door-ward for the king,” she confirmed. “And very proud of the fact.”
“A door-ward?” snorted Mason. “I would not want him guarding my treasure.”
Linnet flushed and he wondered for a moment if she had thought it a clumsy attempt at gallantry. He shifted awkwardly in his chair. Paying pretty compliments were not his forte. The sooner his new bride wised up to that, the better it would be for her.
“But why should you worry if they have fled to court, Oswald?” she asked after a moment’s heavy pause.
Oswald looked even more pained than usual. “They will have gone to court full of the news of your hasty marriage and the fact Mason threw them out.”
Mason lowered his cup and found them both regarding him with worried faces. For a moment Oswald’s words did not register. He had been too distracted by Linnet addressing his brother by his given name. Though, the gods alone knew why that should bother him. He blinked, gave his head a slight shake and growled: “Let them. Wymer has more to occupy him than some disgruntled courtier.”
“But our father will likely not take the news well from a stranger …”
Mason shrugged a shoulder again. He had not overly concerned himself with pleasing Baron Vawdrey since he had been a boy. His father’s state of mind was largely a matter of indifference as far as he was concerned. Oswald constantly pandered to the old man and where did it get him? Their father was not one whit fonder of his heir than he was his other two sons. If anything he was more critical of Oswald who he claimed ‘fretted like an old woman’ and lacked decisiveness. He shouted and bawled at Mason when in a rage, but it was like water of a duck’s back.
“It little matters to me how he takes it,” he rumbled and Oswald pursed his lips. Even as he opened his mouth to direct some comment at Linnet, Mason raised a finger:
“Do not try to involve Linnet in this,” he warned. “It’s family business.”
“She is family now,” Oswald pointed out tersely.
Mason glowered at him as Linnet bit her lip and fiddled with the base of her goblet.
“I would not put it above my kinsman to stir up some trouble,” she said in a worried tone. “I only hope he does not poison your father against me.”
Mason dropped his gaze from her earnest expression. His wife had no way of knowing how poorly she was regarded at court. The name Linnet Cadwallader was synonymous with that of ‘wretched invalid’. When his father had betrothed his youngest son to her, he had done so in the full and absolute belief that she was misshapen creature without long to live. His father had been angry that Roland had baulked at the last minute and refused to honor the contract, but he had not really blamed him.
And any show of spirit usually earned the old man’s grudging respect. Mason had fully expected to return to find his father and younger brother fully reconciled. It crossed his mind now, that both of them might feel differently when they learned of Sir Jevons' perfidy. After all, Jevons had not wanted his niece to produce any offspring that would obstruct his own eventual claim to the Cadwallader estate. He had grossly exaggerated Linnet’s poor health over the years for his own aims and exploited her isolation.
“I doubt Jevons can stir up too much scandal at court, not without his own role coming to light,” he said with a shrug.
“His own role?” Oswald looked uncertainly from Mason to Linnet and then back again. “What do you mean by that? I thought the coin was far in excess to what was anticipated? Some three times over…” his words trailed off at Mason’s heavy frown.
Linnet drew in a sharp breath. “Then… The coffers ...?” she gasped, her wide eyes flying to Mason.
He gave a slight shake of his head. “I meant to explain all this to you in a week's time when I've got the full picture,” he said shortly. “Now is not the time.”
“It is not kind in you to let Lady Linnet think her kinsman a thief, Mason,” Oswald objected.
Mason glared at him as a rather hurt look crept over Linnet’s face. “It’s not as straight-forward as that you fool,” he said. “Only think, how did Sir Jevons accumulate all this extra wealth? Use your brain, man.”
Oswald merely stared in puzzlement. It was Linnet who came up with the answer.
“He levied far heavier taxes on the people,” she said tonelessly. “Oh gods. Three times heavier?” Her face paled. “But however would our vassals have managed such a demand?”
Mason shook his head. “They would have found it very hard,” he said grimly. “Very hard indeed.”
Linnet was quiet for the rest of the meal. She only piped up once and that was to query if the soldiers they had sent from the Cadwallader estate for the King's army would have been sent the supplies she had instructed. Robards assured her he would make enquiries with the tanner and blacksmith and let her know if the orders were fulfilled. She excused herself as soon as the table was cleared and Cuthbert escorted her back to their rooms. Mason stayed with his brother a while, looking over a map of the estate. They were plotting out their full tour of the estate for the next couple of weeks. The lands were extensive with many tenants. He invited his brother to join him riding out the next day.
Her Bastard Bridegroom: A Medieval Romance Page 7