Tallie's Knight

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Tallie's Knight Page 28

by Anna Gracie


  Tallie hurriedly thrust her hand in a fold of her skirts.

  "Signora, you permit?" Tallie shook her head and moved to step back,

  but the doctor ignored her. He reached down, gently brought her hand

  from its hiding place, and examined it. He swore softly in Italian.

  "Why did you not say something?" he said in a low, angry voice.

  Tallie shook her head, embarrassed.

  "It's nothing--a bit stiff, that's all."

  Carlotta came up behind him and peered curiously over his shoulder.

  She gasped. Tallie's left hand was black and blue with bruises, where

  her husband had gripped it in his fever. Several fingers were

  swollen.

  She could hardly move them.

  "Ice for the signora's hand, immediately," the doctor snapped.

  Carlotta ushered Tallie from the room in a tender rush, scolding her

  gently in Italian, interspersing her comments with shrill calls to the

  servant to hurry up with the ice.

  Tallie had no choice but to be swept away in the motherly embrace. It

  was strange, but oddly comforting to have someone fussing over her,

  even for such a trivial matter. No one had ever done it before, not

  even when she had been ill at school. She couldn't recall her mother

  very well, but perhaps her mother had fussed over her like this when

  she was a baby. Tallie laid her good hand on her belly, feeling the

  faint swelling beneath it. One day she, too, would fuss over this

  child the way that Carlotta was fussing over her. It was a wonderful

  thought. A tear trickled down her cheeks. Oh, heavens, she was more

  tired than she realised.

  Her hand was plunged into a bowl of ice-water, and after the first

  excruciating pain there was a blessed numbness. After a while the

  feeling started to come back. It throbbed, but not as badly as

  before.

  Carlotta smoothed on some foul-smelling ointment and wrapped the hand

  lightly in a cloth, then bustled her into a huge warm nightgown and

  tucked her into bed.

  "Signora... Carlotta, I must thank you--' Tallie began, but Carlotta

  shushed her and pressed her gently back on the pillows, smoothing her

  hair with a gentle rhythmic touch. She started humming--a lullaby,

  Tallie supposed--and a faint smile crossed her lips as she recognised

  that she was indeed being mothered like a small child. It was foolish,

  for she was a grown, married woman, and not a child at all... but it

  was very comforting... She closed her eyes and slept.

  "Magnus, you must stay in bed! The physician said--' " Damn that

  blasted leech. I have no intention of idling--' "But you are not yet

  strong enough--' Magnus flung back the covers and swung his legs to the

  edge of the bed. He sat there a moment, then shakily stood up,

  gripping the carved wooden bed head for support.

  Tallie, despite her anxiety, found herself smiling. Carlotta's late

  husband had evidently been much shorter than Magnus, for his nightshirt

  dangled well above Magnus's knees. The length of hard, hairy leg

  looked incongruous beneath the embroidered linen. She bit her lip and

  tried to look cross.

  "You are not supposed to be up this soon," she said severely.

  "Nonsense. I feel perfectly well. And besides I am bored--' " But--'

  "And damnably lonely," he finished, giving her a heated look.

  Tallie blushed. This time she could not stop the smile which quivered

  on her lips. She, too, had been lonely in the bed next door. It was

  amazing how quickly one could become accustomed to sharing a bed. Only

  a few months ago she had been unable to imagine it as anything but an

  intrusion, an inconvenience, an invasion of her privacy. but now she

  would not wish to fall asleep anywhere except in her husband's warm, j

  strong arms. She'd missed his warmth, missed the wonderful || feeling

  of belonging, the feeling of safety she felt when she fell asleep in

  his embrace. She loved waking up in the night and finding his long

  hairy leg wrapped around hers, loved resting her cheek on his smooth,

  hard chest and hearing his heart thudding steadily under her ear, loved

  the way he sometimes woke her in the morning. "Morning, sweetheart..."

  knowing that it was the prelude to a splendid bout of lovemaking.

  She loved those mornings best, watching his sleepy eyes focus, then

  darken into that brooding, storm-cloud grey that meant he wanted to

  make love to her. The look never failed to thrill her. And the feel

  of his unshaven jaw scraping sensuously against the softness of her

  skin. A pleasurable shudder passed through her. Yes, she had been

  lonely in her bed, too.

  "Fetch me that robe, would you?" Magnus said.

  "It's chilly."

  The man was impossibly stubborn! She didn't want to assist him, but he

  was clearly going to get up whether or not she agreed, and it was cold.

  Reluctantly she went to do his bidding, but before she reached the hook

  where the robe was hanging he took a few steps and wavered

  dangerously.

  She raced back to his swaying form.

  "I told you it was too early to venture out of bed," she scolded.

  "The physician said you must rest for another few days and regain your

  strength before you try to move. If you try too soon, you could have a

  relapse."

  "Damned quack!"

  "He saved your life."

  "What would a blasted village leech know?"

  Tallie, incensed by his stubbornness, abruptly let him go and stood

  back. Magnus swayed. His knees started to buckle. She gave him a

  tiny push and he collapsed onto the bed, swearing.

  Hiding a triumphant smile, she bent to lift his legs back into the bed,

  but with a jerk Magnus pulled her on top of him.

  "That's more like it," he growled in soft satisfaction, and planted his

  mouth on hers.

  Tallie gave up the struggle. It was bliss to be back in his arms

  again, and a kiss wouldn't tax his strength too much, surely. She

  kissed him back with all the fervour in her heart. Oh, she loved this

  stubborn man so much. His kiss deepened, and hazily she felt his hands

  seeking to undo the fastenings of her gown.

  "Madonna mia! Stop that at once! It is not the time!" It was

  Carlotta in the doorway.

  Magnus swore. Tallie tried to pull back from his embrace, but he

  refused to let her go. Trust his strength to come back now, she

  thought, embarrassed.

  "Signora Thalia, Signer Magnus, you must stop it now! Basta! Enough!"

  "Out, damn it, signora! Now!" snapped Magnus.

  "A man and his wife are entitled to... to-Confound it, Tallie, what's

  the Italian for privacy?"

  Carlotta ignored him. She hurried over to the bed, scolding in an

  under voice and tugged Tallie off.

  "Quick!" she whispered.

  "Fasten your gown. And as for you. Signer Magnus--' She broke off and

  began to smooth the covers over him.

  "Blast you, woman--' " Hush! " Carlotta snapped.

  "It is the Father."

  "What father? I haven't got a father," retorted Magnus angrily.

  "Damn it, woman, what the devil do you think you are doing?" He tried

  to fend off the hands that were busily buttoning his nigh
tshirt to the

  neck, but Carlotta would have none of it.

  "It is the Father!' she hissed. Footsteps sounded on the landing

  outside and she turned, smoothed her dress with quick, anxious hands

  and waited, a deferential smile on her lips.

  "Hell and the devil confound you, woman, I told you I haven't got a

  fath--' The door opened and an elderly priest in a long black robe

  entered. He paused on the threshold, took out a small vial and

  sprinkled a few drops of liquid around the room, murmuring in Latin.

  "Holy water," whispered Carlotta, crossing herself.

  Magnus closed his eyes in resignation and Tallie stifled a giggle.

  What if the priest had just walked in on them? Thank heavens Carlotta

  had come in first. But what was he doing here anyway?

  "How do you do?" the priest said in slow, rusty English.

  "I am Father Astuto. Carlotta tell me you make the difficult..." he

  frowned, then his brow cleared 'convalescence. " He bowed, clearly

  delighted at having remembered such a complicated word.

  "I come to entertain you with English conversation. I speak the

  English well, no? So we shall converse."

  He placed his vial of holy water on the bedside stand, pulled up a

  chair and sat facing Magnus with such a look of pleased and proud

  expectancy that Tallie was hard put to it to maintain a straight

  face.

  Magnus groaned and rolled his eyes.

  "You are in pain, my son." Father Astuto laid a thin, veined hand on

  Magnus's brow.

  "Do not try to talk. Repose yourself and I will talk to you of my life

  and my travels. It will be of great interest to an Englishman. I was

  born in the small village of-' A smothered choke of laughter escaped

  Tallie. Magnus opened one eye and glared balefully at her. Clapping a

  hand over her mouth, she hurried from the room. Behind her. Father

  Astuto's voice droned on.

  "Coffee, Signora Thalia?" said Carlotta, following her down the

  stairs.

  "The Father, he will stay at least three hours."

  "Th ... three hours?" quavered Tallie.

  Carlotta nodded.

  "Three, possibly four." She gave Tallie a sly glance.

  "That will keep your husband quiet, no?"

  Tallie's jaw dropped. She stared- at her hostess incredulously.

  "You mean?"

  'The Dottore said he must stay in bed, yes? And who better to keep him

  there than Father Astuto? He loves to practise his English. He will

  come every morning for the rest of the week. "

  Carlotta winked.

  "And if your husband doesn't sleep for the rest of the afternoon, then

  Father Astuto is losing his touch."

  "Carlotta, you are brilliant!" Tallie exclaimed.

  "I couldn't keep him from over-exerting himself, but Magnus is too

  polite to argue with a priest... especially such a sweet old man. How

  splendidly devious!"

  And she laughed until tears ran down her cheeks.

  Finally she sat drinking Carlotta's strong, milky coffee. Magnus was

  recuperating safely and she had no need to worry about him anymore.

  And with Carlotta and Father Astuto's help he would be out of the way

  for at least a week. This was the opportunity she hoped she might

  get.

  A chance to trace the last footsteps of her mother.

  "Signora Carlotta," she said slowly.

  "My parents are both dead."

  "Ahh, you poor child--' Carlotta began, her broad face crumpling in

  sympathy.

  "They died in Italy," Tallie interrupted the flow.

  "What? In Italia? No."

  "Yes, somewhere between Turin and the mountains."

  "Eh? Near Torino, you say?"

  Tallie nodded.

  "Yes, but I'm not sure where, exactly. Near some small village. There

  was a coach accident. It was about seven years ago. Did you hear of

  anything like that happening around here?"

  Carlotta frowned.

  "You say your mamma and your papa died in this accident?" She shook

  her head slowly.

  "I do remember something about an Englishman's coach... It was near the

  village where my husband's sister-in-law's uncle lives, but I do not

  remember anything about an English lady in the coach. And I would

  know, yes, for English ladies are not common in these hills." She

  patted Tallie's hand sympathetically.

  "I am sorry, child."

  Tallie felt the excitement inside her grow. It was as the letter had

  said. Her mother had not died in the coach accident with her father.

  "But you do remember a coach accident where an Englishman was killed?

  About seven years ago? "

  Carlotta nodded.

  Tallie took a deep breath.

  "Carlotta, can I trust you?"

  Carlotta frowned, and drew herself up as if insulted.

  "But of course--' " No one, not even my husband, knows this secret,"

  Tallie said hastily.

  "Especially not my husband."

  Carlotta's eyes gleamed.

  "I swear by the robe of the Holy Virgin, I keep your secret to the

  grave," she said, crossing her breast quickly.

  She spat into her palm and offered it to Tallie, who shook it

  gingerly.

  "I thought my parents died together in the coach accident, but a few

  years ago I received a letter which said that my father was killed but

  my mother died a week before, in a small village."

  Carlotta frowned.

  "I have not heard of this."

  Tallie continued in a rush.

  "The letter said she died giving birth... to a little boy. It said

  that my father believed my mother had been unfaithful and that he would

  have no foreigner's bastard foisted onto him." She fixed her eyes on

  Carlotta.

  "The letter said he left the baby behind in the village where my mother

  was buried."

  Carlotta looked stunned. She shook her head in disbelief at such

  goings-on.

  "Carlotta, don't you realise? All my life I have been without a

  family, with no one in the world who belongs to me. No one who loves

  me."

  "But your husb--' Tallie waved that aside. She didn't need to burden

  Carlotta with the knowledge that while Magnus might act possessively

  towards his wife he did not love her.

  "It's not the same. But perhaps, in some small village not far from

  here, there is a small boy who also believes he belongs to no one. But

  if the letter is right, and there is such a boy, he has a sister--a

  sister who wants him, who will love him." Her eyes sheened with

  tears.

  "I want to search for him, Carlotta, and I need your help."

  "But why not wait until your husband is well?"

  "He mustn't know."

  "But why, cara? " I know we told you that we were Signer and Signora

  d'Arenville, but the truth is, in England, my husband is a great lord,

  from a proud and ancient family. It was bad enough that he chose a

  nobody for his wife, but what do you think his feelings would be if the

  nobody wanted to search for her bastard half brother? " Tallie shook

  her head. She loved her husband, but she was not blind. He had chosen

  a nobody because she would cause him the least amount of bother.

  And the only child Magnus was i
nterested in was an heir to carry on his

  family name. Certainly he would have no interest in a bastard child of

  unknown parentage, possibly half- foreign and raised in a small and

  probably dirty peasant village. She could just imagine what he--and

  everybody else-would say. But if she found her brother first. Magnus

  was not the only one who could be stubborn.

  "Do you honestly think my husband would help me? Or would he hurry me

  back to England and thus prevent a scandal?"

  Carlotta's eyes were sombre. She nodded.

  "I will help you, car a. I know of these great proud lords. If we can,

  we will find your little brother. But are you sure Signer Magnus would

  deny him shelter?"

  "Shelter, no," said Tallie with feeling.

  "In an orphanage or school, perhaps. Or he might pay a tenant to keep

  him. But if I do have a little brother, I want more for him. I never

 

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