Once they reached the keep entry, Aubria began asking for her father and Colton squirmed to be set down. Esma and Neilie had their hands full with the family’s items that they would take with them to the tournament field; extra clothing for the children, toys and other possessions like blankets.
Amalie waved them onward to the party that was collecting in the bailey, grabbing both of her children by the hands and preparing to take them outside herself. But as she took the stairs that led from the entry down into the courtyard with the bailey beyond, the squat, sturdy two-story building off to the left caught her attention. She gazed up at it, knowing that Lady Elizabeth had two rooms whose windows faced out over the bailey. In fact, she swore she could see the woman looking down at them.
That gave Amalie an idea. Instead of heading out to the bailey where her husband was undoubtedly tying up the loose ends before they headed off to Keighley, Amalie took the children into the two-story building where Lady Elizabeth was lodged.
It was dark, cool and musty inside as Amalie led the children up the stairs and directed them to Lady Elizabeth’s elaborate door. On the occasions that Amalie had come to see the woman and was subsequently sent away, she had been alone. Now, she wasn’t alone; she had brought the magic keys that would open the woman’s door. She planted Aubria and Colton in front of the door and told them to knock.
Aubria did, loudly. Colton saw what his sister was doing and he began to knock loudly, too. Being the more verbal of the two, he began to yell as well. Amalie fought off a smile, watching her children practically beat the door down and having no doubt that it would work the desired effect. She didn’t have long to wait.
The children hadn’t been pounding a minute when they all heard the bolt thrown. In short order, the door hesitantly creaked open. But Colton threw his weight behind a shove that pushed it wide open, charging into the room as if he belonged there. Aubria followed.
Amalie came to stand in the doorway, watching her bold young son face his grandmother and demand ‘eets’. Lady Elizabeth, pale and tightly wimpled, tried very hard to understand him.
“He is asking for sweets,” Amalie said softly. “He believes it is his right to have sweets from everyone.”
Elizabeth looked at Amalie, grinning, before turning back to Colton. “Is it sweets you want, young man?” As Colton nodded vigorously, she looked rather concerned. “I am afraid I do not have any sweets for you. But… I do believe I have something you might like. Will you come with me?”
She was holding out her hand to him. Colton took it boldly and when he realized she was walking to the adjoining chamber, took the lead and practically yanked the woman into the room.
Amalie could hear them in the chamber, Lady Elizabeth’s soft, gentle voice and a squawk from her son now and again. She took a step inside the door, looking around at the lavishly appointed chamber; rich wall tapestries and plates decorated the walls and hearth. Aubria was making herself quite at home, nosing around Lady Elizabeth’s fine table and touching the blown glass pieces. Amalie saw what she was doing and hissed at her, calling her off. Aubria turned her big brown eyes to her mother, quite innocently, and continued doing just as she pleased.
Amalie lifted an eyebrow at her disobedient daughter and entered the room, taking the little girl’s hand and pulling her away from the table with its fine treasures. As the two of them stood patiently just inside the doorway, Elizabeth and Colton emerged from the adjoining chamber and Amalie could see immediately that her son had a small sword in his hand. It was about a foot long, very dull steel, with a rather elaborate hilt for such a toy.
Colton swung the sword around happily and Amalie realized that, very shortly, she was going to have a serious fight on her hands when she took it away from him. Before she had the opportunity, Elizabeth spoke.
“I pray you are not offended that I have given Colton this sword,” she looked at Amalie. “It belonged to Weston as a child and I have always kept it safe, hoping that I would be able to give it to Weston’s son someday.”
That brief explanation removed all willpower from Amalie; certainly she could not take it from Colton now. Although she wasn’t thrilled with him having a small sword, she moved forward to her son and pretended to show interest in it.
“That is a fine weapon, Colt,” she held out her hand. “May I see it?”
Colton let her touch it but he wouldn’t let go of the hilt. Amalie ran her fingers over the cold steel, seeing that it was indeed very dull and somewhat thick. He probably couldn’t hurt himself with it if he tried. Feeling slightly better, though still not completely convinced, she turned to Elizabeth.
“It was very kind of you to give it to him,” she said. “If Weston approves, then he may keep it.”
Elizabeth smiled timidly and Amalie shifted the focus from Colton and his new sword to the true purpose of their visit.
“In fact, Weston and Sutton are competing in the tournament at Keighley today,” she went on. “We would like very much for you to join us.”
Elizabeth’s smile faded and she looked surprised. “Join you?” she repeated. “I… I do not know, my lady. Surely Weston wishes only for his wife and children to attend. I would be of no value to him, I am sure.”
Amalie cut her off. “Ridiculous,” she snapped softly. “Please come with us. Weston and Sutton usually help me mind the children but they will be occupied. I could use your assistance, especially with Colton. He is a rather lively child.”
Elizabeth looked to Colton, now slashing through the air with his mighty sword. It was evident that she was torn as she watched the tow-headed little boy pretend to be a knight, much as her young sons had done those years ago. Her reluctance grew until, unable to hold back any longer, she turned to Amalie.
“I would like nothing better than to come with you to Keighley, my lady,” she said softly. “But let us be plain; Weston has no use for me and I am sure he would not want me at the event. Although your offer is gracious, I must decline.”
Amalie gazed steadily at the woman, realizing the taboo of discussing the subject had been broken. As Aubria went back over to the table with the blown glass figures and Colton leapt about with his sword, doing battle against unseen enemies, Amalie went to the small, blond woman with the dark blue eyes.
“I understand that you are attempting to abide by Weston’s wishes given his behavior towards you,” she lowered her voice. “He has explained to me, from his perspective, what his relationship is with you. But as I explained to Weston, what happened was a very long time ago and he only remembers the event from the eyes of a devastated six year old. I would like to understand what it was that made my husband turn against you, if only so I will not continue to force you two together if it is sincerely not appropriate. As Weston’s wife, I seem to be caught in the middle and I would like to understand what, exactly, I am in the middle of. Would you be so kind as to explain what happened those years ago so that I may understand?”
Elizabeth looked at her fearfully for a moment. But then, her expression began to flicker with sorrow, with recollection, and finally with resignation. She watched the children, including Aubria as the little girl picked up one of the precious glass pieces, before finally returning her attention to Amalie.
“I would like to,” she murmured. “But I am afraid that Weston will become angry if I do.”
“He will not become angry because I will not tell him.”
Elizabeth looked rather surprised by that. “Why would you not tell him?”
“Why should I? If you want him to know, you will tell him yourself.”
Elizabeth sighed faintly, hesitation on her delicate features. “It was a long time ago, my lady.”
Amalie could see that the woman was torn. “I realize that,” she said softly. “I also realize that you do not know me. Although I am Weston’s wife, you do not know me at all. Perhaps you do not trust me with such family secrets and to that regard, I understand. I am not so sure I would tell a stranger my deepest
secrets, either. But I love your son with all of my heart and soul; he is the most remarkable, kind, considerate and generous man in the world. I would kill or die for him. And you are his mother, the woman that has given birth to him, and I am inherently respectful of you for that reason alone. You seem kind and sweet, and I would like for my children to come to know and love you. But I cannot truly allow that until I know what has happened that would make Weston so angry towards you. He has told me his version of the story; will you not tell me yours?”
Elizabeth gazed steadily at her, realizing that her initial impression of Amalie had been correct; she was beautiful, kind and intelligent. Sutton had extolled the virtues of Weston’s wife to her but she did not truly believe him until now. Anyone who would love her son so much instinctively had her trust and admiration. She dare not hope for more than that, but something in Amalie’s manner gave Elizabeth comfort.
“What would you like to know?” Elizabeth asked softly.
Amalie regarded her carefully. “The truth,” she replied. “What happened between you, Weston’s father and Weston’s grandfather?”
Elizabeth lifted her eyebrows and averted her gaze, moving for one of the two finely covered chairs in the room. As Colton leapt and slashed and ended up knocking over a small shovel used for the fireplace, Elizabeth suddenly seemed very old and very tired. She watched the little boy pick up the shovel and resume his fighting.
“Weston does not truly know all of it,” she murmured. “You were correct when you said that he remembers everything from a six year old child’s perspective. He was too young to tell the truth.”
Amalie sat down in the chair opposite Elizabeth. “Did you ever try?”
Elizabeth shook her head, looking at the hands in her lap. “Nay,” she replied. “He was too upset over his father’s death and his grandfather thought it would be best to send him to foster to help him forget. But the problem was that Weston went away before I was able to speak to him about it and he ended up blaming me for everything. I have never been able to convince him otherwise.”
“Then tell me the truth. I want to understand.”
Elizabeth looked up from her hands. “The truth is rather shocking.”
Amalie lifted an eyebrow. “Not any more shocking that what Weston has already told me.”
Elizabeth shrugged and looked to her hands again. “I was the only child of Hugh de Busli of Laughton Castle,” she said softly. “My ancestors arrived with William the Conqueror and my family history is distinguished. When I in my youth, my father and I would visit Heston de Royans, as my father and Heston had served together under Henry the Third.”
Amalie interrupted softly. “Heston?”
Elizabeth nodded, smiling faintly. “Marston’s father and Weston’s grandfather.”
Amalie shook her head. “I understand that all of the de Royans men share names with the ‘ton’ ending. Before Colton was born, Weston and I spent hours reviewing names that would follow that tradition. He would not consider anything else.”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “Well I know it,” she sobered. “There is a long line of de Royans men that bear that tradition; there was Newton, Eshton, Preston and so on. You will see this on Weston’s written patins of lineage that he presents at the tournament today.”
Amalie chuckled, rolling her eyes. “I hope we do not have too many sons,” she said. “We will run out of names. But forgive me; I interrupted you. Please continue.”
Elizabeth nodded, thinking on where to resume her story as Colton suddenly found something else of interest near the hearth and began chopping at it with his sword. Aubria was still fingering the glass figures.
“As I said, my father and Heston had served together under King Henry,” she went on. “Although I did not know it at the time, my father and Heston were in negotiations to wed me to Marston. Heston was not too terribly old at the time; I was around seventeen years of age when I first met him and he had seen forty three years. He had been long widowed; Marston’s mother had died giving birth to Marston. I remember thinking that Heston was very kind and very handsome, but not much beyond that. Marston was in London at that time, serving in the king’s ranks. When my father and Heston reached a contract between Marston and me, I was left behind at Netherghyll to await Marston’s return from London.”
Amalie regarded her for a moment. “Your father left you alone without a chaperone?”
Elizabeth nodded. “It was quite proper, I assure you,” she said. “For all intent and purposes, I was Marston’s wife, so it was quite acceptable. Heston and I spent a great deal of time together, waiting for Marston to return from London so that we could be wed. But the more time we spent together, the more we began to realize that we had feelings for each other. Heston was a wonderful and generous man; in fact, the way you described Weston is the same way I would describe Heston. I was horrified, of course, when I realize I had fallen in love with the man, more horrified and thrilled when he told me he loved me in return. We spent three blissful months together until Marston returned from London, and then….”
Amalie could see where the story was leading, or so she thought. She was compassionate in her reply. “And then you had to marry him.”
Elizabeth nodded, smiling weakly. “I had no choice,” she whispered. “It broke my heart to have to marry the brash young knight, whom I did not know at all. Heston stood stoically throughout the ceremony but his heart was breaking as well. But we had no choice in the matter; either of us. That night, Marston became drunk and… well, suffice it to say that the consummation was not as I had hoped. Marston was not the man his father was; he was rash, loud and powerful, but had little concept of compassion or feeling. He hurt me that night and there Heston could do nothing about it except hold me and cry. It was devastating for us both.”
Amalie gazed at the woman, feeling more sadness and pity than she had ever felt in her life. She also felt a kindred spirit in Elizabeth, a woman brutalized on her wedding night. Reaching out, she put her hand on Elizabeth’s tender wrist.
“I am so sorry,” she murmured. “But how did Marston’s death come about?”
Elizabeth seemed to grow more nervous. “Early on, it was clear that Marston wanted nothing to do with me,” she whispered. “Other than our wedding night, he made no effort to accomplish his husbandly duties. He would be gone for weeks at a time, returning for brief periods in between. I began to hear rumors of his mistresses and of de Royans bastards. Of course, Heston and I were deeply in love so I did not particularly care about Marston’s behavior. He was not a wicked man; he simply did not want a wife. I received all of the love and attention I could ever want from Heston. But then I became pregnant and everything changed.”
It took Amalie a moment to realize what she was saying. Slowly, her eyebrows lifted. “Then Marston is not…?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Nay,” she murmured. “Heston is Weston’s father.”
Amalie tried not to appear too shocked. “And Sutton?”
“Heston’s also.”
Amalie took a deep breath, absorbing the information. “And Weston does not know?”
“He never gave me the opportunity to tell him. Sutton does not know, either.”
Amalie averted her gaze, digesting the news and struggling not to judge the woman or openly react. “You said everything changed once you became pregnant,” she said. “What happened?”
Elizabeth wriggled her eyebrows and looked back to her hands. “Marston found out, of course,” she said. “I would not tell him who the father was and he beat me almost to death before Heston was able to intervene. Heston almost killed his son but I stopped him. After that, Marston became a bitter drunk; he would drink himself into oblivion daily and beat the servants habitually. He would ride out into the countryside and we heard stories of him raping women and burning homes. Heston kept me safely protected or Marston would have surely beaten me as well, maybe worse. This went on for months until Weston was born. And then… when West
on was born, something in Marston changed again. He gazed at the baby, retreated to his solar, and we barely saw him anymore after that. He spent his days drinking and sleeping.”
Amalie was coming to think she had gotten more than she had bargained for with the story. It was absolutely tragic, on so many levels. Elizabeth finally looked up from her hands, fixing her dark blue gaze on Amalie.
“Sutton was born a little more than a year after Weston,” she said softly. “Marston would come out of his solar on occasion and as the years progressed, he seemed to lose his hostility. He clearly adored Weston and Sutton, like an older brother would. The boys adored him in return. He stopped drinking and seemed ready to assume the mantle of an honorable man. But he wanted the one thing from me that I could not give him; respect and obedience. I was deeply in love with Heston and he, with me. Even though we were not married, he was my husband in my heart and spirit and body. I would not leave Heston to assume a life with Marston. So one day, Marston went into his solar and fell upon his sword. It was Weston and Sutton who found him there, dead.”
Amalie knew that part of the story and it was a horrible tale. She could only stare at the woman, shaking her head with sorrow. “Weston said that when he told you of Marston’s death that you smiled,” she whispered. “He has never forgotten that.”
Elizabeth cocked her head faintly. “I do not believe I smiled,” she said thoughtfully. “In truth, I do not know what my reaction was other than to think that years of torment, for both Marston and I, were over. Marston was not, nor had he ever been, a happy man. But I was very sorry that Weston had to be the one to find Marston’s body.”
“Perhaps you should tell him that one day,” Amalie said, squeezing Elizabeth’s wrist. “If nothing else, tell him that. He needs to hear it.”
Elizabeth nodded somewhat hesitantly, timidly putting her free hand over Amalie’s hand that clutched her wrist. Amalie smiled at her.
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