"Wouldn't it be logical to take the steward?" asked his brother with raised brows. "He can introduce the tenants to you."
"I'd rather leave Robards here," answered Mason. "He's got the castle inventory to finish up."
"And?" prompted Oswald shrewdly.
"I want people to be able to talk freely in front of me. Without a member of the old regime in attendance."
"That makes sense," agreed Oswald. "Very well, I shall join you on the morrow."
Mason drained his cup of ale. "I'll bid you good night," he said with a nod.
When he got back to their room he found Linnet had snuffed out the candles on her side and was lying with the covers drawn up to her nose facing the wall. He smiled grimly to himself as he stripped to the waist and washed. She was probably tired after all the recent activity. He glanced over at her a few times as he readied for bed but she didn't stir. Something told him she wasn't asleep though. To his surprise, once he snuffed out the candle and climbed in beside her she rolled over so she was facing him.
"Can't sleep?" he asked in a low voice.
She shifted closer and reached out a tentative hand resting it against his cheek. "I've been thinking about what you might hear tomorrow," she sighed. "When you start meeting with the tenants."
He lay still a moment, surprised by her touch. "I'll report back. You'll soon hear all."
"Can I come with you?"
He frowned in the darkness. "I don't think that would be wise Linnet," he said heavily. "You've extensive lands. There will be a lot of riding involved for days on end. Can you even ride?"
He heard the pillow rustle as she shook her head. "No, but that's not what really concerns you though, is it?" Her tone was mildly apologetic for contradicting him. "They all despise me don't they." Her tone was flat. She withdrew her hand and wrapped her arms around her slight body.
"Sir Jevons would have levied those taxes in your name Linnet," he pointed out matter-of-factly. "You must realize you won't be a popular figure."
But he knew he wasn't telling her anything she hadn't already guessed. For a sheltered invalid she was pretty sharp. He reached out and drew her up against him even though he knew she wasn't trembling from the cold. He ran a comforting hand down her side, as careful with her as he would be with any shy creature. She lay her head against his chest and let him comfort her. He wasn't usually so considerate with women he realized wryly. For some reason he remembered her words from a couple of weeks ago. You're different in the dark. He wondered if she really believed that. Her sheltered upbringing certainly hadn't taught her much about men! He wondered idly how she would spend her days now she was down from her tower? Once the inventory that had kept her so occupied was finished. She was totting up the castle linens and furnishings now. She would be bitterly disappointed if she expected him to dance attendance on her. He had enough to keep himself occupied advancing his career and paying court to women had never been to his taste. The war in the north was over, that much was true. But he was not yet ready to play at the role of landed property-owner, though pouring over the plans and maps had left him strangely intrigued about estate management. He had a suspicion he could adapt to this new life eventually in twenty year’s time when his beard was grey, but he was not yet ready for country life. Or a wife! He frowned into the darkness. How did any women occupy themselves he wondered? Needlework, music, gossip. He had seen her embroider which was one out of three.
"Do you play a musical instrument?" he asked abruptly.
Linnet's head rose from his shoulder. "I'm afraid my ill health did not permit...," she said before biting her lip. "I suppose I could take some lessons now if you think I ought ..." her words trailed off.
"It makes no odds to me, Linnet." he said. "I've not much of an ear for music," It little signified. What she needed was society and the company of other genteel women. That would take the burden of her burgeoning friendship off him.
"What of our neighbors?" he asked. "Have you ever met them?"
"No, my health prevented it. At least... I thought it did,” she added conscientiously.
"Do you know much of the families whose land borders ours?"
She considered this a moment. "Only what my aunt and her ladies told me. On the north border is the Jauncey estate. Sir Lambert Jauncey died last spring leaving his younger brother Chilton, his widow and his mother. I've never met them."
"And on the south border?"
"The Lascombes. A very old family in the county. Lord Lascombe has been married three times and his current wife is ..." she broke off distractedly.
"Is what?"
"Much younger than he," she said hurriedly.
His mouth twisted. "Yes, but that wasn't what you were going to say."
She hesitated.
"Illegitimate?" he guessed.
"No, no...," she protested. "Tis only what my aunt told me, I was repeating it without thought."
"What then?"
"Low-born," she admitted with reluctance. "Her father was a miller."
"I see." It seemed some female gossip had reached her ears after all. "What about the north-easterly border?" he said remembering the map from earlier.
"Some new family. My uncle was most displeased. They are from a merchant background and my aunt refused to socialize with them. She said they were upstarts and a blight on the area."
"What do you think?" He was curious.
She digested this a moment. "I think I should like to meet them," she said.
He gave a shrug. "Why don't you then? You could invite the womenfolk here."
He heard her swift indrawn breath. "Oh yes!" she agreed. "Company would be nice. I do miss my aunt's ladies in waiting. Well, at least a couple of them were fairly nice on occasion."
"I don't see why not. It would be a good idea to spread the word that you are not an invalid on her death bed." Then you would not be so dependent on me, he added silently. And will not be so devastated when I leave you here alone for months on end.
"We could have a banquet," she suggested enthusiastically. "Maybe send for some musicians from Lynford."
"I think you should start small," he suggested making it clear that he would not be participating in the social circle.
She went quiet at that. "Perhaps it would be better," she agreed ducking her head.
"Linnet?"
"I only hope ..." she hesitated. "they people will like me," she finished in a small voice.
He stared at her pale face in the darkness. "Why wouldn't they? You're likeable enough."
"Am I?"
'And if they don't, why would you care? You're wealthy. They'll cultivate your company anyway."
She tried to pull back to get a better look at him, but for whatever reason his arms tightened on her preventing her retreat. "Wouldn't you care what people think?" she asked curiously.
"No," he replied firmly. "Whether people like me or not is up to them."
"What about what they think of your wife?" she persisted.
He pondered this a moment as he'd never given it any thought. "The same principle applies," he shrugged. He thought her shoulders slumped a moment.
"Oh," she said sounding a little sad.
"Linnet, go to sleep," he said firmly.
"Very well husband."
It took him far longer to go off to sleep than it did her.
IX
When Linnet woke the next morning she found the bed empty and realized Mason must have already left to start his sweep of their lands and boundaries. She lay for a moment wondering if he'd had to prize her off him before he could rise and devoutly hoping that he hadn't! She had woken a few times in the past couple of weeks and found herself wrapped around him. Usually however, he rose before her. Rising swiftly, she called for Gertrude and made haste to dress and make her way to the great hall for a hurried breakfast. She had much she wanted to do today! Cuthbert came immediately to her side as she spooned jam onto her bread. "Oh Cuthbert, would you mind sending word to your
grandmother to come up to the castle? I haven't seen her in a while."
"Aye milady," he agreed. "Would you be wanting her to come up this morning?"
"When she is able," she agreed. "We were going to try a new skin remedy for my freckles."
Once she had broken her fast she hurried along to her tower to fetch her writing things to invite the neighboring ladies over now she was emerged from her convalescence. Climbing all the steps to the top left her out of breath, but not fit to drop. She placed her hand against her chest to feel its steady beat. Although it was pounding, it did not skip or reel as if it was about to give out. She made her way thoughtfully to her trunk and retrieving the key from its new place on her chateleine, she opened the lid and looked down at her collection of inks, reed pens and parchments. There were two high piles of vellum sheets. The left pile were entirely illustrated with intricate borders and gothic lettering and tiny miniature pictures of the hero Sir Maurency and his heroic deeds. On every tenth page there was even a smattering of gold leaf from the precious dwindling supply her father had left her. The second pile was blank sheets yet to be used. The top-most one showed the page she was currently working on. She had already written out the words of the story in precise black lettering and painstakingly outlined the illustrations which were now waiting to be filled in with colored inks. She lifted the page and looked at the figure of the knight critically. She had thought when she had drawn him that he embodied every knightly virtue. Now she thought he looked a bit insipid somehow. She frowned. He would need to be re-worked before she added in the inks. With a shrug she bundled the supplies she needed into a woven work bag and then re-secured the trunk. Swinging the bag over her shoulder she made her way thoughtfully back down the winding steps and then hurried across to the courtyard and the main part of the castle. Dragging herself from her thoughts she noticed she was still drawing curious looks from those hustling and bustling around the castle and sent smiles and nods to those she passed. Of course, it would take a while for them to become used to seeing her out and about and as Cuthbert had warned her, half of them thought she had two heads! As Mason was absent she had donned a light linen veil as was seemly for a married woman and she had on a red velvet gown with semi-fitted sleeves. It was a dress she hadn't worn much in the past as to be honest she had mostly worn semi-dress only when confined to her tower as an invalid. It seemed pointless being fully laced and dressed when she was not allowed out of doors and was only visited by ladies. Feeling every stone underfoot for the last month, she realized her fabric shoes were probably not going to be robust enough for general wear and tear and that she would need some stouter footwear. She added it mentally to her list of outstanding tasks and hurried to her sitting room to write out some invitations to the ladies to come and pay a social call on her at their liberty. When she reached the solar she found someone had lit her a small fire as despite the sun shining in a blue sky there was still a nip in the air. After setting her inks and pens out on the writing desk, she cut the parchment with her pen knife and then started ruling out the lines for her script. Cuthbert sidled in at some point with some fruit cordial for her on a tray. He set it down for her and then peered over her shoulder at her writing.
"Who's Lady Sybilla?" he asked with interest.
"The widow who lives on the estate at our north border," she answered.
He poured her a glass of fruit juice and then placed a peeled apple at her elbow. "Granny's coming over presently. She says she has a new remedy for you. Not hare's blood this time."
"Thank goodness," she shuddered. She had felt bad refusing Mother Ames's suggested treatment last time but that really was too unpleasant to contemplate!
"Why do you wear a veil today when my master will not like it?" frowned Cuthbert.
She gave him a sidelong look. "Your master is not here today Cuthbert," she told him dryly. "And I am a married lady and should have my head covered."
He seemed to mull this over a moment as she took a gulp of juice and then returned to writing out an invite to the ladies of the Lascombe family next.
"Will you illustrate the invitations to the neighbors?" he asked, absently eating a slice of apple.
"I don't think so..." she hesitated. "Unless... I did a small border of vines down the one side?" she cocked her head to look at the small rectangle which now Cuthbert mentioned it, did seem a little bare. She hesitated. "Perhaps I will just add a little decoration."
"Granny said that Sir Mason rode past her cottage this morning with Sir Oswald." Cuthbert dropped down onto the rug in front of the fire.
"Did he speak with her?" asked Linnet as she unscrewed her bottle of green ink.
"I shouldn't think so. She doesn't pay rent," he shrugged.
Linnet nodded, Mother Ames had been assured her cottage rent-free due to her status as village wise woman. Her late father had been a great believer in her remedies and treatments. She busied herself drawing a twirling vine down the side of the Jauncey invitation card and inked in some graceful green leaves. "Have some more apple Cuthbert. And maybe this would be a good opportunity for you to practice your letters."
Cuthbert groaned. She had taught him his letters herself, but he was frankly an indifferent scholar. "Lady Millicent said it was pointless teaching the likes of me," he reminded her darkly.
"My aunt is no longer mistress of this house," she pointed out firmly. "And I happen to think they will stand you in very good stead."
He rolled his eyes. "Aye milady," he sighed, pulling out a chair next to hers and appropriating a sheet of parchment. As Cuthbert scratched his quill pen over the page beside her, covering it with an assortment of blots and scrubbings out, she finished all three invitations and placed them on the window seat to dry.
Robards appeared just before midday with a final draft on the food store inventory he had been working on. What they had stocked up seemed like a healthy amount for the castle to her. He also had good news in that the tanner had confirmed the leather jerkins and boots she had ordered for their soldiers had indeed been bought and paid for and sent to the battle lines to their troops. This cheered Linnet no end as she often thought of the fifty men they had sent to swell the King's ranks. If they had not received any of the things she had ordered to follow them from home she would have been devastated. She guessed that her uncle would not have wanted to look bad in front of the King by sending their troops unkitted for battle. It would have been a face-saving exercise at court, but she didn't care. She and her aunt's ladies in waiting had sent several bundles of blankets and warm woolen undergarments for their men. It had been one thing she had felt involved in although she had not left her tower once. She looked over Robards inventory figures and gave her opinion tentatively. He seemed ill at ease although he agreed the food stores were in good order. She guessed it was because her husband was out visiting the tenants without him and felt a pang of sympathy as Robards retreated. The steward never seemed to stop working from dawn till dusk. She wondered briefly if he had a wife tucked away somewhere. She didn't have long to dwell on this though as the nervous looking maid that she had since learnt was called Nan announced that Mother Ames had arrived to see her.
"Show her in please Nan, and fetch us some refreshment if you would."
A woman with a mass of grey hair strode into the room, in a black woolen dress and a serviceable pair of clogs. She carried a walking staff though she had no limp. Cuthbert swiveled in his seat to give her a grin. Linnet jumped up and made her way over to the older woman, grasping her hands in greeting.
"You are welcome Mother Ames," she said warmly, drawing her over to the window seat.
”Finally come into your own, I see," said the woman with a cackle as she cast a swift appraising look over her. "I saw the prowling black panther riding out this morn, though he passed me by."
Linnet thought fleetingly of the Vawdrey heraldic beast, though Mason, born on the wrong side of the blanket did not have the right to use it in the strictest sense.
&nb
sp; "My husband," she said nodding her head. "He has ridden out this day to see the lay of our lands."
Mother Ames sent her a shrewd look from her beady eyes as she seated herself on the dark red cushions. "He will hear nothing good from your tenants."
Linnet felt herself bridle a little. "You have never seen fit to mention this to me before."
The older woman shrugged. "You weren't in any position to hear it before."
Linnet mulled this over as she waved Nan in bearing a tray of spiced biscuits and a jug of dark ale for the wise woman. Once she had poured her a cup and checked on Cuthbert's spelling she returned to sit at the window seat with Mother Ames.
"And how do ye like your new husband, young miss?" asked Mother Ames smacking her lips together after draining her cup.
Linnet pondered this a moment. "He is very fine," she responded.
"Is he, is he indeed?" The old woman sounded skeptical.
Cuthbert twisted in his chair. "He's a soldier, grandmother. With a sword as tall as me."
Mother Ames snorted at her grandson's wide eyes. "Give me your hand, child" she said turning to Linnet.
Linnet complied, though in truth she had only seen her read palms for her giggling aunt's ladies in waiting before, never herself.
Mother Ames grunted. "A husband of your own choosing, is it?" she said casting a surprised look at Linnet's face. "Bold piece," she laughed. "I have hopes of you after all." She passed a thumb over her palm and frowned. "But what's this...? A lion intercepts your panther, my little leopardess. I see interesting times ahead." She muttered distractedly to herself. "Not been presented at court have ye, little one?"
Her Bastard Bridegroom: A Medieval Romance Page 8