The Countess Bride

by TERRI BRISBIN

  “Emalie, I have made a choice.”

  “And does my lord husband agree with your decision? Is she suitable as a Dumont bride?”

  His eye twitched at her tone again. So, ’twas not about the gold. It was about the bride choice.

  “Marguerite of Brittany.”

  The silence between them grew as Emalie turned and looked out the window of her chamber. Not sure what to do, he waited for her response.

  “I wish you both well in this match.” Her words were the correct ones, but there was no feeling of warmth or support for his choice.

  “Emalie, how have I offended you?” he asked as he approached where she stood. She turned to him now and met his gaze. “What could I do differently?”

  The fight left her and her shoulders slumped at his words. “There is no offense given by you, Geoff. You do what we were both raised to do—carry out our responsibilities no matter the cost. ’Tis the way of things.”

  “Are you not happy with your marriage to my brother?” At her look, he added, “I know that there is some difficulty between you now, but before this were you not happy? Do you not love him as he loves you?”

  “Yes,” she answered begrudgingly. “Do you love her?”

  “Marguerite? Nay, there is no love between us. Did you love Christian when you married him? I seem to remember it differently.” Geoff had been present for part of their first year of marriage and he did not remember love between them. Sometimes there was not even civility. “At least she will accompany me to my home and I will not have to take hers.” The words escaped before he could stop them. Emalie’s eyes glazed over for a moment, then cleared and met his.

  “’Tis right you are, Geoff. I did not accept your brother nor his right to my home easily. I loathed all that he did when he took my father’s place in this very hall. ’Twas not an easy way to begin.”

  “Marguerite does not seem to loathe me, so mayhap we will deal well with each other in marriage. What think you?”

  Emalie was in his arms, hugging him, in a moment. “You will do well together. She is the only one of the women here with any backbone, and you Dumont men need someone able to stand up to your arrogance, yet she is compassionate at the same time. I have seen her dealings with her parents, her maids, even with children, and I think she will do well as your wife.”

  Geoff was overwhelmed by her words. Feeling the lash of an insult wrapped in compliment confused him. But apparently she was pleased with his choice.

  He stepped back from her embrace. “I must go now, Emalie. Keep safe and be well.” He walked to the door and opened it. “And make peace with my brother, for you know you do not want this discord between you over something that can never be and something that even I have accepted.”

  “Will you marry at the Château or in Vannes?”

  “I have not thought on it. That is something to be worked out in the agreements, but first I must see to my king’s wishes.”

  “I would like… I mean, I am certain my lord husband would like to host a celebration here in honor of your marriage.”

  “When all things are settled, I would like that, sister.”

  She smiled then through her tears, and he took his leave. His brother and she would surely clear up their argument and they would be of one accord again. Geoff was certain of it, since he knew they did have the bond of love between them.

  He took his leather gloves from his belt and pulled them on as he walked down to meet with his men and leave. He was nearing the main floor when he spied Baron Evesham entering a small alcove with a man Geoff did not know. Stepping softly, he listened to their words. Luc had told him of Evesham’s camaraderie with Prince John, and this furtive meeting reeked of something not right. Geoff approached with caution and stayed a few yards from where they met.

  “She is back at the convent,” the other man whispered.

  “Are you certain?” the baron demanded.

  “Aye, milord. I saw ’er enter the gates meself.”

  “Did you send word to the prince as I ordered?”

  “Aye, milord, just as ye said to.”

  “If you are wrong or lose her again, I will inform His Highness that you are the one who lost her the first time. Do you understand me?” The sounds emanating from the alcove told Geoff that Evesham was pushing or shoving the man.

  “I do, I do, milord! Forgive me, milord. She were screaming terrible that day and the one, ’e cuffed ’er on ’er ’ead and she crumpled, she did. She looked dead, she did, when they carried her out. ’Ow was I to know she weren’t?”

  “You fool! Hear me now, for a mistake could cost both of us much. Take those three that saw her in the forest with you, and meet the prince’s men at the convent. They will recognize her and not let her slip away again.”

  Geoffrey held his breath. They spoke of Catherine! She was not safe in the convent, for John was on his way there and would do what he had to do to get back something or someone he wanted.

  None of this made sense to him, but he knew that the prince took whatever he wanted. He remembered vaguely that John’s threats were at the heart of what had brought him and Christian to Greystone three years ago.

  He checked to ensure no one was nearby, then left the keep in the opposite direction from where Evesham and his man still spoke. Walking into the bright sunlight, Geoffrey saw his men near the stables and headed toward them. He thanked God that they were wearing their mail and he his, for they could leave immediately. He took the reins from the stable boy and mounted his horse in one leap.

  “We ride,” he called out in a loud voice, and kicked the sides of his horse to push for a gallop.

  He and this group of knights had traveled and fought together before, and he knew they could sustain a hard pace for as long as their mounts held up. Familiar with the forest and the smaller roads surrounding Greystone, Geoff knew he could reach the convent on the outskirts of Lincoln before Evesham’s men could.

  He would wait until they were closer to their destination and then tell the men what his plan was. The only thing he could think about was that Catherine was in danger and he had to get there to protect her.

  He must.

  He did not know all that had happened in the past, but he could not allow Catherine to pay yet again for the weaknesses and sins of her brother. Christian Dumont had promised her protection, and Geoff would carry out that promise. No harm would come to her while he still had life or breath.

  Chapter Nine

  Beads of perspiration rolled down her brow and her back as she toiled in the rear section of garden. In spite of the large trees that spread their shade over most of the plots, the heat of the day, combined with having her head covered with a sturdy kerchief and wearing long sleeves, made for a sweaty afternoon. But Catherine did the work cheerfully, allowing the peace and monotony of it to lull her into a state of calm.

  After so many days of upset, so much time spent worrying, she felt wondrously good to be at peace with the decision she’d made. She and the reverend mother had spent most of the previous day in discussion and prayer, and now Catherine believed she could accept the way her life would go. Even though Mother Heloise did not completely agree that her vocation was a true one, Catherine would stay until the abbess was convinced, then take her vows. The Gilbertines allowed lay men and women to dwell among them, so not being accepted as a novice immediately posed no problem.

  Catherine sat back on her heels and blotted her forehead and face with the edge of her sleeve. Looking at the expanse of unweeded garden, she knew there was plenty of work ahead of her.

  And ’twas a safe place to hide away.

  Where had that thought come from? Was she hiding? Catherine picked up the small spade near her and plunged it into the moist soil, loosening some tangled weeds. Not really hiding, she decided, but she had removed herself from the center of several battles.

  Summoned by the earl, she had answered his call early yesterday morn. From the raised voices within their chamb
er, Catherine had known she was the cause of some deep dissension between the earl and countess. She had waited a moment or two before knocking on their door, long enough to know that her presence was inflaming many tempers. Surprisingly though, her audience with the earl was one of the calmer ones she’d had in her several years of visiting the Dumont household.

  With his voice low and his tone even, the earl had explained that the danger he had sought to keep her from had come back, and that she must return to the convent until he could deal with it. He’d said that he could not tell her all of the details, but she had his word that this danger was real and impending.

  Catherine had never doubted his word, and was convinced he spoke the truth. Truly though, it was the look of terror on the countess’s face that had persuaded her more thoroughly than any words spoken.

  Chills moved down her arms and back at the memory of the haunted gaze of Emalie Dumont. As their eyes met, Catherine had felt fear within the countess. The scariest was that Catherine had known the fear was for her and not the countess herself. She’d nearly tripped running to her side….

  “My lady, you are not well,” she said, kneeling beside her.

  “I will be well when I know you are safe within the convent walls.” Lady Harbridge reached out and touched a cold hand to her cheek. “Do as my lord husband advises, Catherine. Please.”

  “Can you speak of this danger, my lady? Make me understand?”

  “No,” the earl and countess said together, though the earl’s voice was more emphatic. The lady looked to her husband, then away from both of them, allowing him to answer.

  “Catherine, this is for your own good. I know you do not remember all that brought you into my care, but I promised to keep you from danger and I will honor that promise.”

  “My lord, tell me what I do not remember. Please!” Tears filled her eyes and made her throat burn.

  “I know you think I hate you, but I do not. Indeed, when you know the truth, it is you who will hate me.” His voice was the kindest it had ever been, and the urge to weep filled her. “But we have not the time to expose all our truths now. Your safety depends on your quick return to the convent. There will be time enough later to ask your questions.”

  The countess would not look at her or speak, and Catherine shivered in fear. She rose to her feet, looking at the earl and then his wife. Nodding, she waited on his orders.

  “Sir Walter will take you back himself. He awaits you in the side courtyard. Gather only what you need for the journey, and the countess will arrange for the rest of your belongings to be delivered to you.”

  “Aye, my lord,” she said, bowing her head before him. This might be the last time to calm the niggling doubts within her, and so she asked him directly, “My lord, is this about the love I bear for your brother?”

  He strode to where she stood, and a part of her was tempted to cower. Instead she met his steely gaze and waited for his answer. The earl looked at his wife once before replying to her question and the challenge within it.

  “I promised your brother that I would see to your protection, Catherine. That is what this is about—my word of honor given and kept.”

  Her brother? She knew that the earl had killed her brother. Gossip had revealed that fact during one of her first visits here, but she kept the knowledge to herself and did not ever ask about it. She knew no details except that there had been a challenge made and accepted, and her brother had died in the fight.

  Why would Christian Dumont promise anything to the man who had caused such mayhem for his and the Montgomerie families? In truth, she did not remember much of William. He’d left when she was still a child, going off with the sons of other nobles to make his way in the world and to seek whatever diversions and challenges he could. He was a stranger to her when she went to live with him after their parents’ deaths. He’d left her in the care of servants until the day he’d summoned her to… To where? She did not remember.

  The earl’s explanation caused more questions, but he had told her there was no time. If he had shared this truth with her, could she not share one of her own in gratitude for his efforts on her behalf?

  “My lord, I would have you know that I do not wish to come between you and your brother. I have no intention of declaring my love for him or making him choose between me and the responsibilities he carries for you and your family.”

  She watched as a look of satisfaction passed between Lady and Lord Harbridge. Obviously, the concern that she would cause a conflict between the brothers was one they held, and hopefully one that she had calmed.

  It was then, with a quick and wordless farewell to the countess, that she found herself escorted back to the convent and, after a long night, was now working the garden in the heat of the day….

  Tearing loose another hardy green weed, she threw it in the pile she was gathering, and reached for yet another.

  A commotion near the main building of the convent drew her attention, for it was so out of place here. Loud voices, men’s voices and the sounds of weapons. Weapons? Swords? Here? Brushing the dirt from her hands, she stood and watched as the reverend mother came running toward her, followed by armor-clad knights.

  Catherine could not move. Although Mother Heloise’s face was anxious, she did not seem overly upset by the interruption to their daily routine of prayer and work. Holding her spade almost as a weapon, Catherine waited.

  “Catherine, you need to come with me.”

  “But Mother,” she said, as she watched the knights walk closer, “who are these men and what is happening?”

  The tallest man drew nearer and lifted his helmet from his head. When he’d pushed his mail coif off his head, she blinked at the sight of Geoffrey Dumont before her. The other knight revealed himself and she recognized the captain of Geoffrey’s guards, Girard. Geoffrey came closer and took her hand.

  “Catherine, please accompany us into the reverend mother’s chambers. We must speak.” She must have given the impression of refusing or delaying, for he whispered, “Now. Quickly.”

  She nodded and allowed him to lead her with his hand on her arm. The tension in his body and in his manner was obvious, and she kept pace as best she could with his long strides, moving into the building that housed the main chapel, the reading rooms, the kitchens and dining halls, and the abbess’s chambers. He did not pause as his man took up a position next to the door and waited for them to pass. Strangely, she noticed that he stepped in front of the doorway as Geoffrey closed it behind them.

  Released from his grasp, she took the chair before Mother Heloise’s table and waited for him to speak.

  “Catherine, I am under orders from the king to return to him in Normandy. I want you to come with me.”

  She gasped. No words would come to her in response to his request. Her mouth dropped open, but she could not speak.

  “We do not have much time, for you are in danger here. Mother Heloise is content with my explanation and the truth of my words. Will you come with me now?”

  Stunned at his invitation, but still not understanding it, she finally forced out a reply. “Where, my lord? Why?”

  He pulled a stool over and sat before her, so close that the size of him blocked everything from her view. She had never seen him so decisive, so focused, so forceful.

  “King Richard has summoned me to meet him at Château Gaillard for some purpose as yet unexplained. He has granted me full use of my titles and powers as Comte de Langier and—” he paused and lowered his face nearer to hers before continuing “—my choice of wife.”

  “He must want something from you badly if he offers you all that,” she said without thinking.

  Geoffrey’s expression lightened a bit and he smiled at her. “’Tis the way of kings, Catherine. They grant you all that is already yours so that they can command your obedience and cooperation.”

  “What must you do?”

  He took her hand in his and entwined their fingers in a most inappropriate way, conside
ring where they were and who was witness to his actions. But Catherine could not bear to let go.

  “I must bring my wife to him and probably fight Phillip of France with him.”

  Confused, she tried to sort out her thoughts. What was he asking her? “Do you wish me to accompany you and serve the woman you choose as wife?”

  “Nay, Catherine,” he whispered. Touching his roughened palm to her cheek, he lifted her face until she looked into his eyes. “I wish you to be my wife.”

  For one endless moment, she let the words go through her and imagined that all she had dreamed of would come to pass. She closed her eyes and saw them together in the sunny valley he had described to her so many times. His main estate, the Château d’Azure, named for the blue glow of the stones when the sunlight reflected off of the nearby lake and river and hit the glass-like finish, sat high on one hill facing the entrance to the valley. Rich, abundant fields surrounded the castle and several villages dotted the countryside. His castle…his lands…his wife?

  Her reverie ended when he squeezed her hand, and she stared at Geoffrey. A feeling of distance grew and soon she felt as though she were watching this scene from somewhere else, that someone else was speaking.

  “Nay, my lord. It cannot be,” she said, pushing away from him. “Your brother surely objects to your choice.”

  Geoffrey stood and looked at Mother Heloise. Turning back to her, he answered her doubts. “Although the king’s orders supersede even my brother’s wishes, Lord Harbridge does not disagree with my choice in a wife.”

  She blinked at his declaration. His gaze did not falter, but she noticed his cheeks pulsing as he clenched his teeth tightly. This made no sense at all.

  “I know that this must be a shock to you,” Mother Heloise said from behind Geoffrey, “but we must act with all haste. The count transports valuables to the king and must be on his way. Even now his men await you outside the gates.”

  Catherine stood on shaking legs and looked at her mentor. “You know the earl’s mind and heart on the subject of his brother’s marriage, Reverend Mother. How can this be?”