by Anton, Shari
The linen fitted her, if snugly. The boots were roomy, but not overlarge. Marian melted as the maid brushed and plaited her hair, then covered it with a veil.
“Oh, much better!” Ursula declared.
Marian viewed the transformation in the silvered glass and agreed. Much, much better.
Chapter Twelve
Stephen rather liked the honor of sitting at the dais beside Ardith. From this vantage point, he could see most everything happening at the tables stretched down the great hall, note which nobles got along with their seating partners and who didn’t. Sometimes the pairings proved amusing.
Carolyn was also so honored, seated at Gerard’s left, between his brother and Lady Ursula. The placement told everyone in the hall that the family held Carolyn in high regard, and the “why” of the high regard would quickly become the speculation of the evening. No doubt several persons had already guessed Stephen’s intention to marry Carolyn, and then a debate would ensue about the wedding date and over who would be invited.
Stephen marveled at the predictability of his peers, at what messages could be sent and received by the mere chance of where one ate one’s supper in whose hall. These nobles didn’t know about the contest between him and Edwin, of course, that some doubt yet existed over who would win Carolyn’s hand. They simply saw the esteem accorded Carolyn and made their assumptions, exactly as Ardith had intended. Except she didn’t know about the contest, either. Still, ’twas nice to know his family accepted Carolyn, and it didn’t hurt to have his rival witness their approval.
Not quite so easy for all to comprehend was Ardith’s decision to put Edwin of Tinfield and Marian de Lacy in the highest seats at the highest table. As the noblest of rank attending the festivities and a great friend and ally of Gerard’s, the earl of Warwick and his wife normally occupied seats at the dais. Neither of those high nobles seemed to mind being bumped down two full placements. Indeed, the earl and his wife seemed to enjoy Edwin and Marian’s company.
Stephen hadn’t yet figured out Ardith’s purpose, but he knew better than to disturb her until after the servants finished bringing in the first course. So he watched Marian’s eyes sparkle at some remark made by the earl.
This was how he remembered first seeing Marian so many years ago. Gowned in fine linen, her eyes alight with enjoyment, the girl who smiled easily at a jest. The other Marian, the widow who garbed herself in rough peasant-weave, seemed to have fled for the night and Stephen commended himself for taking a small part in that woman’s banishment.
This was where Marian belonged—in a noble hall, suitably garbed and conversing with her peers, not hidden away in a hut in a hamlet. She’d once held sway in her father’s hall, charming everyone with her pleasant voice and witty conversation, her genuine interest in whomever she spoke to, even the servants. Yet she’d given it all up or lost it somehow.
The niggling feeling returned that he was somehow at fault. He’d tried to talk to Marian about the rift with her family, find out more about her deceased husband. She refused. He should let the thing be.
Ardith shifted in her chair, turned to watch the doors. They opened and in walked five sturdy lads, each bearing a huge platter on which rested a fully dressed roasted peacock. To the appreciation of those at table, the lads went about the business of serving. Ardith relaxed a bit.
Stephen nudged her elbow. “Good show.”
“Let us hope one of the peacocks does not slide off onto someone’s lap.”
Stephen doubted she truly worried. Wilmont’s servants were too well trained for such a happenstance. Still, she watched one of the lads approach the dais to present his bird to Gerard.
“You must explain something to me, Ardith.”
“What is that?”
“Why you placed Edwin and Marian so high.”
He’d finally distracted her enough to gain her attention.
“Convenience sake, mostly. This way I need only give her a small signal when the time comes for me to see to Matthew, and I thought being partnered with Edwin, someone she knows, would make her feel more comfortable.”
“And why does your seeing to Matthew affect Marian?”
“Because she will go up with me, as she promised the girls.”
She said it as if he should somehow know all this. His confusion must have shown.
“Ah, I assumed Marian told you of what went on upstairs.”
In the midst of introducing Carolyn to Gerard when Marian came down the stairs, Stephen hadn’t yet found the opportunity to talk to her. At the shake of his head, Ardith went on.
“Last night’s incident badly frightened Marian’s daughters. They were reluctant to allow their mother out of their sight. She assured them she would not be gone long or far away.” Ardith put her hand on his forearm. “The girls were not satisfied, however, until told you would be in the hall. ’Twould seem they assume that since you rescued Marian once, you could do so again should the need arise. ’Tis quite a trust they have placed in you, and I cannot think of anyone who more deserves it.”
The peacock arrived at the lord’s table and Ardith turned her attention to her duties once more.
Ardith’s words tore at his heart. He could think of several people who deserved her regard far more than he. She simply wouldn’t accept that he’d failed her. ’Twas his fault she and Daymon had been kidnapped, taken away in the middle of the night by a ruthless enemy of Gerard’s. Gerard had left the two people most precious to him in Stephen’s care, and he’d failed to protect them.
Stephen twirled his eating knife between his fingers. Ardith had placed Marian right beneath his nose for the girls’ sake, so he could watch over Marian, protect her from harm if need be.
A sacred trust, one he didn’t want. Too often he failed to meet others’ expectations of him, and he hated the thought of disappointing Audra and Lyssa.
’Twas why he’d chosen to marry Carolyn, a woman who expected only one thing from him—an occasional visit to her bed to sire her heirs. Given his unexplainable lack of lust for the woman—hellfire, ’twas the one expectation he’d never envisioned having a problem meeting with any woman.
The earl rose from the bench, held his goblet high and shouted his compliments to Ardith. The other guests joined in the raucous cheer accompanied by whistling and pounding on the table. Stephen lifted his goblet—and watched Marian, caught up in the glee.
His heart skipped a beat. He ceased to hear the noise around him, see anything beyond the bright smile on her lovely face. With her goblet held up in salute, Marian’s gaze shifted briefly to lock with his for one, perfect moment.
As if lightning struck, his senses fired and came alive. What a joy she was to look upon, to speak to, to hold, to—
“Stephen, you had best eat before the meat grows cold.”
Stephen looked down to see two large chunks of meat on his trencher obviously placed there by Ardith—and he hadn’t noticed.
“My thanks,” he muttered, and tried to keep his thoughts where they belonged for the rest of the meal.
Hard to do when Marian’s laughter drifted up to snare his awareness, when the flutter of her hand as she talked caught his attention. Harder still when he noticed she never looked his way again, but bestowed her smiles and conversation on Edwin.
Course followed course. He ate, but the food sat hard in his stomach. At the last, he barely tasted the dried apricots and raisins sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon, a dish he usually enjoyed.
Ardith sat back in her chair, placed a hand on her stomach. “Dear me, I must remember I am no longer eating for two!”
“Ah, but you must eat to keep up your energy. For all you do around here you could eat for three and still keep your lovely figure.”
“My thanks, but I do believe I shall refrain.” Ardith looked down at where Marian sat. “I almost hate to bother her. She is having such a good time.”
“Time to go up?”
“Almost.”
Stephen didn’t
mind bothering Marian at all. She was having entirely too good a time in the company of Edwin of Tinfield and Charles of Warwick.
“Say the word and I will fetch her,” he offered.
“How gracious of you.”
He thought so, then grew impatient when Ardith turned to say something to Gerard instead of moving to go upstairs, but then she wouldn’t. Nobody rose from table until after the baron did, and Gerard didn’t appear ready. He hadn’t yet finished his apricots.
Neither had Marian. She plucked a piece of the succulent fruit from her bowl with her fingertips, placed the slice of apricot between her lips, and held it there. Likely sucking on it, rolling her tongue around the fruit to moisten it, causing it to swell.
Stephen closed his eyes and inwardly shuddered. Not even the scrape of Gerard’s chair released him from his misery.
Marian bit into the apricot, savoring the sweet flavor. The baron had pushed back his chair and risen, a signal to all that they may do the same. ’Twas greedy of her, but she wanted another hour of fine food and mellow wine and pleasant conversation.
Gad, she sat at table above the earl of Warwick! Ardith had explained her reasons for the seating to the earl, and he and his wife hadn’t minded in the least. Such good company they’d been, and Edwin…well, Carolyn was an utter fool to refuse the man’s suit. He’d been utterly charming and poised.
The rest of the party at the dais also rose, but none of them stepped down, merely stood about talking. Until Ardith headed for the stairway, Marian didn’t need to move, so she plucked the last apricot from her bowl and popped it in her mouth.
The earl’s wife leaned forward, her eyes atwinkle. “So, is there a wedding in the offing between Stephen and Lady Carolyn?”
Marian swallowed hard to keep from choking. All in the hall had been privy to the family of Wilmont’s honor of Carolyn de Grasse and would make the same assumption as the earl’s wife. ’Twas the one disheartening aspect of the evening, that the whole time Marian enjoyed the supper, she’d also yearned to be the woman seated at the dais.
Foolish, of course. Still, she’d been hard-pressed to look at Carolyn or Stephen all evening, so she’d tried to ignore them. For the most part, she succeeded.
“The matter is by no means settled,” Edwin stated, quietly and calmly. How hard it must be for Edwin to witness Carolyn’s acceptance by Stephen’s family. It did Marian’s heart good, however, to hear he hadn’t given in to despair.
Stephen approached, escorting Carolyn.
Something bothered Carolyn. Her smile was in place, but she wasn’t at all happy.
Stephen bowed slightly in the earl’s direction. “Charles, I am given to understand you took one too many heron during today’s hunt.”
With a smug look, the earl rejoined, “I did, an unforgivable feat I am sure Gerard hopes to best on the morrow.”
“He does, but I intend to beat you both.”
“Ah, a challenge then?”
“Naturally,” Stephen said, then turned to Edwin. “You once remarked on the quality of Wilmont’s mews. Care to join us on the morn?”
“Delighted,” Edwin answered, and Marian guessed he truly was. Even she wouldn’t mind a chance to fly one of the falcons perched behind the dais, each one more magnificent than the other.
“Wonderful. That settled, I fear I must deprive you of Lady Marian’s company. Marian?”
She leaned over to look around Stephen. Ardith and the baron stood a ways off, waiting. Marian rose, her heart divided between remaining in the hall and returning to her daughters. Return she must, but ’twas harder than she thought it would be.
“I thank you all for a delightful evening,” she told the earl and his wife. “’Twas truly enjoyable.”
The earl stood and took her hand between his. “Our pleasure, my dear. ’Tis sorry I am you must leave us so soon.”
Stephen chuckled. “But my lord, I would never be so mean as to deprive you of pleasant company. I take Marian away, but leave Carolyn in her stead.”
Marian moved aside to allow Carolyn by. Carolyn’s smile faltered slightly as she leaned over to whisper, “You and the girls are returning to the tent now?”
“Aye.”
“Good. We will talk later then.”
She’d been right about Carolyn’s false smile. Whatever was bothering her cousin? Had something happened, or been said, by one of Stephen’s family to put her out of sorts? Could it be serious enough to make Carolyn rethink her plan to marry Stephen?
Marian inwardly scoffed. ’Twould take a miracle to put Carolyn that out of sorts.
Stephen put his hand on Marian’s elbow. The gesture sent shivers through her entire being. He gave her a nudge toward where Gerard and Ardith waited.
“You look lovely in blue,” he said softly.
The compliment shouldn’t delight her so. She remembered her ire over his interference.
“You should not have spoken with your mother about my lack of a suitable gown.”
He leaned in closer, his breath a warm caress. “Are you truly sorry I did?”
She should push him away, put some distance between them. “I should be.”
“You did appear to be having a good time.”
“I did. The earl and his wife are delightful, and Edwin is always good company.”
“Does this mean I am back in your good graces?”
She’d been horrid to him last eve, rude today. He’d done nothing wrong yet tried to make amends.
“I owe you an apology, Stephen. Might we talk later?”
“We might,” he said wryly.
Ardith smiled at their approach. “Marian, you have not yet met my husband. Gerard, this is Marian de Lacy.”
Marian dipped into a deep curtsey, then rose to find the baron’s green eyes studying her. His regard was intense, yet not frightening. Marian guessed this man could be intimidating if he so wished.
“Lady Marian. I hope your stay at Wilmont somewhat makes up for your journey to get to us.”
Obviously he’d heard about last night’s mishap. How far had the tale spread? The earl hadn’t mentioned it. Perhaps not everyone knew.
“Wilmont’s hospitality is most gracious, my lord.”
“I understand your daughters are upstairs with my sons.”
“Handsome lads, all.”
A smile touched Gerard’s mouth. “I believe so, too.”
Ardith moved toward the stairs, Marian followed, with Stephen and Gerard falling in behind. Climbing the stairs proved easier this time. Unfortunately, she must give up both the gown and the boots.
Ardith opened the door to the children’s room. From inside, Marian heard the nursemaid’s lilting voice. The young woman sat in one of the chairs, holding the baby. The other children sat on the floor around her, picking at the food on their trenchers, listening to her story.
The girls must have heard the door, for as soon as they spotted Marian they were up and running. They hit her with force, as they had last night, but tonight there were no tears, no apologies, only relief and joy.
Audra let go, then launched herself at Stephen. He no more than caught her up when Lyssa wrapped around his legs.
With a soft smile he returned their affection, and Marian’s heart tore open.
All I need do is tell him.
Stephen would acknowledge the girls as his. Love them. Likely provide for them far better than she could. They would enjoy his affection and the benefits of his wealth.
But not his name. Unless Stephen married their mother, the girls would bear the burden of bastardy, a heavy burden when added to the encumbrance of being twins. Stephen didn’t want to wed with Marian. He wanted Carolyn as his wife, a point his family had made very clear at supper tonight.
Carolyn. Her cousin to whom she owed so much, and when wrapped around Stephen last eve, been so willing to betray. No matter how deeply she loved Stephen or believed Carolyn should marry Edwin, she had no right to become intimate with the man Carolyn wishe
d to wed.
Stephen ruffled the twins’ hair. “You two look tired. Ready to go to the tent?”
“Are you coming with us?” Lyssa asked hopefully.
He squatted down, his expression disturbed. “There truly is no reason for you two to fear for your mother’s safety here at Wilmont. What happened last eve was an accident, and is over. You understand this?”
Two little heads bobbed.
He looked from one to the other. “And you would still feel better if I escorted you to the tent, I take it.”
“Aye,” they confirmed in perfect accord.
“Then so be it.” He stood up. “Marian? Ready?”
She had wanted to speak with Ardith, who now cuddled her baby to her, preparing for feeding. Her ladyship looked weary to the bone.
“Lady Ardith, would you mind if we put off our talk until another time?”
“Not at all. Perhaps on the morrow?”
“Perhaps. We will take our leave, then. My thanks for a lovely supper. Girls?”
She and Stephen waited by the door while the twins did a round of curtsies and thanks to Ardith and Gerard, and the nursemaid, and the boys.
As the four of them left the chamber, she remembered her borrowed gown.
“Hold a moment,” she told Stephen, then hurried to the solar, rolled her slippers and gown up tightly and tucked the bundle under her arm. The girls could help her with her lacings tonight, and the gown returned to its owner tomorrow.
Stephen looked askance at the bundle but said nothing. He led them down the stairway, around the edge of the great hall. Marian noted the few heads that turned their way, but no one seemed overly interested. Grateful for the disregard, she followed Stephen and the twins out the door and into the dusk of a summer evening.
The inner yard and bailey were quieter now, most everyone either in the great hall or off attending chores and duties before night descended. Marian fell into step beside Stephen, the girls walking briskly a few paces ahead.