These overwhelming feelings must be some last moment of weakness and unresolve within her. She was content with her decision. She had thought about all the questions that the countess had raised, and knew she had but one choice for her life. If she could not marry Geoffrey, she wanted to marry no man. And so the convent was her only option, nay, her only refuge, to avoid an unwanted marriage.
“I am content with this decision, my lady. The reverend mother will accept me and she knows my heart on this.”
“Have you told Geoffrey of this? Does he know?”
Swallowing against the tightening within her throat, Catherine could only shake her head in reply. Closing her eyes, she fought for control.
“He knows that this visit is our last, for his choosing a wife will settle things for both of us.” She whispered the words that declared her fate as well as his.
“And the love you share? Have you spoken of it with him?”
She gasped at the question and its implications. Others did know. As much as she tried to hide it, and thought her efforts enough, apparently ’twas not so.
In a moment, the countess was at her side. “’Tis obvious to those of us willing and able to see it.” Her voice was soft and soothing. “Geoffrey has not spoken of it to you?”
Catherine realized the question at the heart of her words. Words spoken. Promises made. Betrothals were arranged on less than that.
“His honor would not permit anything to be spoken between us, my lady. He knows his duties, as do I.”
The countess muttered under her breath in reply, but the words “the earl” were clear. Oh no! She did not mean that the earl knew of her feelings for his brother? No wonder he hated her. ’Twas not because he thought her a burden on his wife. He probably thought Catherine would do whatever she could to trap Geoffrey into a marriage that would be advantageous to her.
The air around her began to flicker before her eyes and Catherine felt faint. Dropping to her knees, she leaned forward and tried to breathe. She could feel the countess touching her shoulder, but then the sights and sounds around her began to fade. Just when she thought she would lose consciousness, everything began to clear and she could hear the birds in the tree above her and the noises in the yard behind her. After taking a few breaths, she felt strong enough to stand.
“My lady, I beg forgiveness if I have given any offense to the earl in this. I meant no disrespect to him or to his family and I do not claim that any promises were made between Lord Geoffrey and myself. Please tell the earl. Please—”
“Catherine, you misunderstand my words. Here—” the countess sat back down on the bench and pointed to the place next to her “—sit and let us talk about this. I would not have you mistake my meaning and my comment about the earl’s knowledge in this regard.”
Catherine felt the need to run growing within her. In a moment it would be irresistible, and so she excused herself from the countess’s presence. Shame and guilt welled within her over her thoughts and even her dreams of happiness, a happiness she did not deserve.
“My lady? May I be excused for a short time?” Catherine walked to the gate even as she uttered the words.
“Of course, Catherine. You are not a servant here. Go now, but come to see me later.”
Chapter Five
She did not even slow down to hear the countess’s reply. Instead, her feet moved quickly until she was almost running through the yard and out through the portcullis. If anyone watching thought it was strange that the countess’s companion was leaving in such a hurry, no one thought to stop her. Soon she was on the road to the village, passing peasants and villagers traveling in both directions. Still, she ran on, for in truth, when these feelings came upon her, she could do nothing but walk or run from them.
When she could no longer breathe due to the painful strain in her side, and when her legs were beset with tremors, Catherine slowed to a walk and then found a spot off the path to sit down. Her hair, now loosened from its braid and coif, flowed over her shoulders. Tugging the coif free, she gathered her thigh-length hair and tossed it over her shoulders again.
That would soon change.
When she took her vows, her hair would be cut, and for the first time never be permitted to show at all. No decorative coifs or fancy braids would ever decorate her blond tresses again. A simple white habit would be her clothing for the rest of her life, and no one would ever wonder what color hair lay beneath the white wimple, coif and veil.
Catherine’s breathing slowed and she sat in the shade of the tree, listening to the sounds around her. This path was one she’d taken before; it followed the course of a small stream and ended near the fields of one of the villeins. She would have privacy here. And she was safe.
There was no explanation she knew that caused these anxious feelings to build within her. So strong did they become, however, that the urge to escape grew unmanageable to her. She lost control and had to get out and walk or run until the tension left her. The reverend mother seemed to understand, as did the countess, but Catherine herself did not. Usually, she followed the impulse as soon as she became aware of it. Walking around the convent grounds and praying was acceptable behavior for the residents there so it did not draw undue attention. And here at Greystone, the countess made it clear that it was with her permission that Catherine walked where she would and when she would.
Another flaw in her character, certainly, but to find the cause she would need courage she did not have. Many times she had thought to confront Lady Harbridge or the reverend mother about the dark spaces in her memory, but a physical fear made it impossible. There was a reason she could not or would not remember from the time she came to live with her brother until she awoke one night at the convent in some sort of convalescent stay. There had to be.
Catherine climbed back onto her feet and looked toward the castle on its high mount, nearly half a league away. The walk back would give her time to collect her thoughts and ready herself for what she must face. The least she could do in return for the generosity and support of the Dumonts was to attend the banquet this evening. She would need to overcome her discomfort at being in large groups as well as being with people she did not know. She would blend into the background as she usually did, and no one but the countess need even notice she was there.
Catherine decided that she needed to face these next days and their challenges with a lighter mood. Had not the good sisters taught her that a sacrifice or good work done with a heavy heart or in regret was not worth doing? Neither the one performing the act nor the one who should benefit would, if the deed was not carried out with a pure heart.
Her love for Geoffrey would sustain her through this time of trial. She knew her place and his, and once he had chosen a bride, she herself could move on and settle in her life. Feeling her sense of calm and balance restored, Catherine decided it was time to go back to the responsibilities she had accepted in service to the countess. And to explain herself to Lady Harbridge.
Picking up her coif from where it lay on the ground, she shook it free of dust and tucked it in her sleeve. There would be plenty of time to replace it before reaching the main road to the castle, and she would enjoy the feel of the breezes lifting the hair on her shoulders and neck.
The horses were upon her almost as she set her foot on the road. Reeling back, Catherine stumbled and would have fallen, had not one of the three men vaulted from his mount and grabbed her arm at the last moment.
“Here, demoiselle. Allow me to help you,” he said, as he slid his hands along her arm. Catherine knew his grip was stronger than was necessary to give her support. When his hand brushed her breast, she knew the move had been deliberate. She tugged away, trying to loosen his hold, but he was bigger and stronger than she.
His companions dismounted and approached her, and her stomach began to clench in fear. Their manner was threatening and she knew their intent without any statement of it. She was the prey.
“You have a familiar look about you,
my sweet. Surely, we have met before this?” The tallest of the three stood before her and, leaning close to her, lifted a few of her curls and wrapped them around his fingers. “Although I should remember someone so beautiful and with such charms.” She shivered as his gaze moved over her from head to hips and then back.
The third man, of shorter and bulkier build, moved in from behind, closing off the one avenue of escape. His fetid breath on her neck caused her stomach to heave, and she feared she might lose the food she had eaten a short time before.
“So, tell us, demoiselle, are you truly out here alone?” The first man pulled her closer and almost whispered the words in her ear. “Could it be that you were waiting for us?”
Catherine shook her head. “I am not alone,” she said, hoping they were fooled. Never in all her time spent as Greystone had she feared for her safety among the villagers or the castlefolk. She had walked alone many times and never been bothered or accosted in such a manner. Her momentary surprise turned to fear as the men moved even closer.
“A sweet morsel like this for us, Garwyn? I think not. Ones like this—” the tall one now wrapped more of her hair around his fist, making it impossible for her to pull away “—are not for the likes of us unless we take them.”
Catherine began to struggle in earnest and had opened her mouth to scream when a voice came from across the clearing. “The lady is under the protection of the Earl of Harbridge, who would take offense at your treatment of her.” Catherine recognized Sir Luc Delacroix, Greystone’s castellan and the earl’s friend, and offered a quick prayer of thanks at her rescue.
“And who are you that we should not take our pleasure where we may? We are guests of the earl.” All three men turned to face Sir Luc, and the two who did not hold her placed their hands on their swords in direct challenge to him.
“I am the earl’s man, as are these,” Sir Luc said, as a small group of men-at-arms on horseback moved closer. “From the insignia you wear ’twould seem that you are Evesham’s men?”
“Aye, we are Evesham’s men.”
“Then release the girl and find your lord where he hunts game in the forest on the other side of the castle.” Sir Luc pointed off in the distance.
Catherine feared they would resist his orders, but after seeing the numbers against them, the men muttered oaths under their breath and let her go. Shaking from the terror of the averted attack, she sank to her knees as they regained their saddles and goaded their horses to a hurried pace.
“Leave the earl’s people be, for I know where to find you,” Sir Luc called out just before they moved onto the road.
The hands that touched her now were safe ones, as Sir Luc assisted her to her feet and held her up for a few minutes while her legs and breathing steadied. Then he led her to his horse. After mounting, he reached down and pulled her up behind him. Tucking her hands around his waist, he motioned to his men to ride.
“My thanks, Sir Luc.” It was all she could force out through teeth clenching against the fear still pulsing through her.
“’Twas foolish of you to come out so far unattended, Catherine,” he said to her over his shoulder. “There are too many strangers among us now for it to be safe.”
“Yes, Sir Luc,” she whispered, slumping at his rebuke. He had always been kind to her, even though his lord did not treat her that way. Now even he turned against her.
“Your pardon, for my words were too harsh, Catherine. The lady Emalie told me of your leaving and asked me to see to your safety due to just this possibility. She worries over you and I would not want to face her if you had been injured.”
Catherine did not reply immediately, but simply held on as they approached the castle gates. When the panic overtook her, she did not think of safety. She did not think at all—she reacted. She only knew that she must escape the confines that held her and did not take time to reflect on all the possibilities. She must learn to control this weakness within herself.
“I understand, Sir Luc. I do not want to trouble the countess.”
He stopped, and one of the stable boys came over to hold his horse as he first handed her down and then dismounted. Dismissing his men with a nod, he turned to her and lowered his voice.
“Did they look familiar to you, Catherine? I heard one mention that you did to him.”
“No, Sir Luc. I know them not.” Did he think she had lured them to that spot for…for seduction?
“Worry not on this,” he said in a softer tone. “If you need to leave the yard or go to the village, ask one of my men to accompany you.”
“I will, Sir Luc.” He was about to leave when she touched him on the arm to gain his attention. “Will you report this incident to the earl?”
“I see no need for that,” he replied. His eyes revealed the lie of his words, for he looked away for a moment even as he reassured her. “Now, go and refresh yourself, for the countess awaits you in her chambers and bade me tell you to seek her out before attending the solar.”
He turned and left without another word, so she sought out the room assigned to her during her stays here, and washed her hands and face, only then remembering the coif in her sleeve. Taking several minutes, she brushed her hair, gathered it in a braid and replaced the coif to cover it. Finding a light veil, she laid it over her head and placed a small cap on top to hold it in place. Now she felt more in control.
Leaving her room, she walked up to the countess’s chambers and knocked. Alyce, the lady’s maid, opened the door and motioned her inside. The countess sat on her bed, engrossed in conversation with her daughter, the oldest of her two children. Young Isabelle, called Bella, was a bright child of who had over three years. Her nurse stood nearby, smiling at her charge’s words to the lady. After a few more moments, the child slipped off the bed, took her nurse’s hand and turned to leave.
Spying Catherine at the door, Bella ran over and hugged her around the legs. “’Tis grand, Catherine. Maman says I can sit at table at Uncle Geoffrey’s wedding!” Bella jumped up and down, still holding on to Catherine’s skirts.
“Remember, Isabelle, only if you behave as a lady should.” Although the countess’s face was serious, a smile played at the corners of her mouth.
Bella stepped back, releasing her hold, and smoothed her gown. In a motion reminiscent of the six prospective brides, she lifted her hair, flung its red-blond length over her shoulders and shook her head so that it flowed down her back. Catherine tried not to smile at her precocious antics.
“Yes, Maman,” Bella said as she curtsied to her mother.
Emalie nodded to the nurse, who opened the door and led the child out. The door was fully closed before the countess laughed aloud.
“She has been watching the visitors closely and learning from them. I just wish she would pick up a good trait from them and not these frivolous ones.”
“I noticed she resembled Lady Melissande with her flowing hair,” Catherine added, trying to lighten the moment.
“If she copies Melissande’s skill with the needle and thread, I would not be unhappy. That one has talents that even I envy.” The countess slipped off the bed and adjusted her own gown. “So long as Bella does not pick up her propensity to faint at the least provocation, which could prove to be a problem.”
Catherine smiled, enjoying the countess’s insight into the woman under consideration. Emalie had chosen with care to try to find a suitable match for Geoffrey. This was as good a time as any to broach the subject of Geoffrey’s marriage and Catherine’s own future.
“My lady, I beg your pardon for my behavior earlier and would speak to you about your…my lord’s…the marquis…”
“Geoffrey’s marriage plans?” the countess offered softly.
“Aye, my lady.”
Without a word being spoken, Alyce left the room and pulled the door closed quietly behind her.
“Sit, Catherine,” the countess said.
When she had also taken a seat on a chair, Lady Harbridge nodded at her to cont
inue. Catherine took a deep breath and folded her hands on her lap. Where to begin?
“I felt some connection with Geoffrey at our first meeting nigh on two years ago, but thought it more about our nearness in age. He spoke to me as no one here did, and seemed to be interested in my thoughts and concerns. You did the same, but it was different somehow with him.”
The countess looked at her and nodded once more, but said nothing.
“We would meet on the back steps at the end of our day and tell each other stories. He answered my questions and guided me in those terrifying days on my first visits here. And—” she smiled as she remembered his cajoling “—he always made me promise to return again in spite of my fears of this place and all it involved.”
“Catherine, I had no idea your fears ran so deep. You never spoke of them to me.”
“I feared speaking of anything, my lady. The reverend mother warned me to never speak of my past or of who I really was, and I worried that any word spoken would give away those secrets. So ’twas easier to say nothing.” She looked up and saw understanding in the eyes of her benefactress.
“He was so confident and accomplished and handsome even then. He goaded and prodded and was encouraging and happy. He was the first man…” She paused as a fleeting memory of her brother crossed her mind. “He was the first man to treat me in that way. And in spite of knowing from the beginning that we could not be together, I fell in love with him.”
“These Dumont men are hard to resist.” The lady smiled as she spoke. “Arrogant and prideful, but honorable and irresistible at the same time.”
“Aye, just so.”
“Go on, Catherine.”
She stood and walked to the large window in one wall and looked out as she continued.
“Ever honorable, my lady. I believe he feels love for me, although we both skirt around speaking of it openly or candidly. We have cloaked our feelings in friendship, for we both know what is expected of us.” Could her pain be heard in her words? The slicing sting of denied love hurt even now. “So, no promises were made other than that we would remain friends.”
The Countess Bride Page 4