Alais was beginning to think that all her mother’s years of preparations would be wasted. She had tried not to have too many preconceived ideas about what her life would be like after she married Sir William. In the four years of her betrothal she had paid more attention to etiquette and running a house than she had before. In the past she had been happy enough to assist her brothers with the land and the animals, but she doubted Sir William would need her help as they had done. It was not a woman’s place to look after the estates unless her husband was away and then her main duty was to ensure that he was not being cheated by his steward. Although she knew much about farming, she doubted that knowledge would be used here. After four years as a widower Sir William needed a wife to run his house. Alais had worked hard to understand how a household should be managed and had gone through the household accounts with her mother and spent many hours with Martin the steward finding out the few things she still did not know about what need to be done about the manor and who did it. She could sew and spin and read aloud. She knew which herbs worked best for the most common illnesses. She knew how to make cream and butter and small beer, although these things were not expected of a lady. She would be able to supervise or instruct her servants as necessary. And now she was confident that she could be a true helpmeet to her husband, but she was worried about the things that no one had told her about how she should please her husband. She was under no illusion that either one of them would fall in love with the other. At forty-two, Sir William was twenty-six years older than her and she had to stop herself thinking of him as an old man. He was the same age as her uncle Giles and he was lively enough and fit enough. Whilst she had hoped to marry a man of her own age, she knew that she would have that opportunity when Sir William died, although she was the daughter of a traitor and lucky to find anyone prepared to marry her at all, let alone one of the richest lords in the county and a friend of the king. She had spent many nights since the messenger arrived with a date for the wedding wondering if he would take her to court and if he did, how she should behave. Finally, she had asked her mother and her mother had been compelled to point out that it was unlikely that she would be welcomed in the court of King Edward, as her father had been one of those who had plotted and brought about the downfall and death of his father. “But,” Alais had said, “the king does not bear a grudge. He allows us to live here. He allowed Guy and then Raymond and then me to be the heir.”
Her mother had nodded wisely, but simply said, “It is one thing for the king to show his wisdom and mercy by allowing us to remain here, since it has secured for him the continued support of the local lords and our relatives who would not have wanted to see a stranger given the lands. It is another thing for him to welcome a traitor’s daughter into his court.” And for Alais, that was her first lesson in political expedience, the first indication she had had that Edward’s forgiveness might not be the result of his forgiving heart, as she had always imagined.
So she gave up all thoughts of going to court and concentrated instead on what she must do to please her husband. Now she began to wonder if what she had been taught to do would indeed please a man such as Sir William. She had only met him briefly on the day they had been betrothed. He had turned down her brother’s offers of hospitality and remained with them only for the ceremony. He had not even attended the celebration afterwards. He had given no indication that he would not be taking Alais with him when he left. She was of age and everyone had expected her to go with him back to his home. They had expected that the marriage would be formalised and consummated within a few weeks. Alais’ mother had put it down to him missing his wife and not being ready to take a new one. “Give him a few months,” she had said. “He will return in a few months.” The months had turned into years and there had been no word from Sir William. It had been so long that her memory of him had dimmed until all that remained was the impression of a predator. Even as a girl she had understood the desire she had seen on his face. He had not striven to hide it from her, although she doubted anyone else had seen it. She had expected to see desire there, why else did a wealthy middle-aged man marry a young girl, but she had been shocked by the rapacious nature of that desire. His sudden departure had confused her more than anyone else. If he had wanted her body that much, and she had known it could only be her body that he had desired, why had he left her behind?
In the four years since Alais had not found an answer to her question. She doubted not that she would find the answer here in his house. She had chosen to accept that he had not wanted to take the traitor’s daughter until it was necessary, but she was not satisfied with that answer. Her husband had had to ask the king’s permission to marry her. There was no one whose good opinion mattered more than that of the king and he already knew that Sir William was married to the daughter of one of the men who had betrayed his father. Personal distaste could not be the reason, since he had chosen of his own free will to marry her. Fear of what his children might think must also be ruled out, since he apparently did not esteem their opinion of him in the least. Sitting here and looking at the poverty of provision for his people she was quite prepared to believe that the real reason was that her husband had been too mean to take on another mouth to feed.
She sighed so loudly that Hugh asked if she was ill. Stifling a yawn she shook her head, smiling, “Merely tired, my lord.”
“I, too, am tired. I did not sleep well last night.”
Alais’ stomach turned over. He had not slept because he had almost kissed her, she was sure of it.
“Then, my lord, you should be abed soon. You have more days in the saddle ahead.”
He leaned closer, so that only she should hear. “I would not leave your company so soon, my lady. The prospect of a journey with only Edmund for companion is not as pleasant as it used to be.”
“My lord, I am grateful for the compliment.”
Lady Katherine demanded his attention before he could say more and Alais was grateful. She did not know where the conversation might have lead, but she knew that it should be avoided. She, too, could not regard the coming days with the same equanimity she had been used to, having grown accustomed to his presence and his kindness.
Having dealt with Lady Katherine, Hugh turned back to her.
“My lady, I know that you do not have a horse of your own and I doubt my father has thought to make provision. I know he is not suitable for a lady, but I give you Full Moon as a wedding gift. I will write the deed tonight and leave it for you.”
“My lord…” Alais was speechless.
“I know that you will look after him well and exercise him.”
Hugh’s expression was guarded and then she understood; Full Moon was to be her escape. With the excuse of exercising the horse, she could leave the house when she wanted.
“Once again, my lord, I am overwhelmed by your generosity. Thank you”
He smiled, but there was no humour in his eyes. “I also give you leave to use my room as you see fit. You may have need of a place where you can be alone. I can do no more for you, my lady.”
She made sure that he alone saw that she moved her hand as if to touch his. “You have done more than I had any reason to expect. I am in your debt.”
“Well,” said Hugh, loudly, to attract the attention of the entire hall, “it would be fitting to celebrate the safe arrival of my father’s wife to this hall.” All heads turned to him. “Let us call the minstrels and dance!”
Alais could not hide her delight; she loved to dance.
Immediately the servants came in and cleared and put away the tables. Some of the men left the hall to return with their instruments. Alais wondered who would dance, but she did not worry too much, knowing that she would dance with Hugh and that would be enough.
Indeed it soon became obvious to her, if not to anyone else, that Hugh’s sole purpose in calling for dancing had been to entertain her. He asked what her favourite dances were and demanded that they be played. When she told him that she
liked such and such a tune he began to sing it until the small band of minstrels joined in. He smiled into her eyes and she realised that he was really a lot more handsome than she had previously thought. Men and women began to laugh and smile as they moved around the hall in the various patterns that the dances called for.
Hugh stayed with her always, despite his brother calling his attention to Lady Katherine. That saddened Alais, as she thought the next time they danced in this hall she would dance with her husband and Hugh would be betrothed to Lady Katherine.
As it grew late the steward drew near after each tune to remind Hugh of his father’s orders about the candles. Finally Hugh relented and called an end to the evening. He walked her up to her room and placed her in the care of Agnes and Elizabeth. As he left, he bowed low and kissed her hand.
“Farewell, my lady,” he said, quietly.
“Farewell, my lord.”
When she woke in the morning he was gone.
Chapter Ten
The women rose early and went down to the hall to break their fast. Mindful of the demarcation that even Hugh had followed at Hill, Alais did not sit with Agnes and Elizabeth, but made her way to the top table and took her seat from the previous evening. The food, as she had expected was sparse and tasteless. It will not be long, she thought, before Isabella’s gown fits me well. As she finished her meal, Lady Katherine appeared.
“Ah, Alais, there you are. Come with me, I will show you your work.”
Alais was indignant, but remained seated.
“Did you not hear me?” Lady Katherine demanded.
“I heard you, Katherine,” Alais said, softly.
“I am Lady Katherine,” she said haughtily.
“And I am Lady Alais. And as Sir Hugh pointed out last night, I am lady here and not you.”
Lady Katherine smirked. “We will soon find out who is lady here and who is not. But I do not think I can bring myself to call a traitor’s daughter ‘my Lady’.”
“Then,” replied Alais, coolly, “I am afraid there can be very few conversations between us, for you and I are equals and if you call me Alais I must call you Katherine.”
Lady Katherine turned and started from the hall. Alais could not know whether she had made a powerful enemy or not. Certainly Lady Katherine thought her position powerful, but Alais was not so sure. Hugh had certainly felt comfortable ignoring her, but he was the heir and she was only the lord’s betrothed wife. Sir William and Lady Katherine both intended that the latter should marry Hugh and it seemed reasonable to Alais that Sir William would allow her great influence in his household. It was becoming very clear to Alais what her own position must be.
She had already decided on her first task of the morning; she would exercise Full Moon and discover the countryside around Liss. She had no intention of sitting indoors with a group of gossipy women and sewing when she could be riding her horse.
Alais went out to the stables and had a boy saddle Full Moon. The horse was eager to be away and, for the first time in her life, she allowed her mount to gallop. She had spent three days pretending to be a man and now that she was riding a stallion, she felt the need to continue the pretence. Full Moon did not care; he galloped for the pleasure of it. Alais discovered that she could easily control her horse at such a speed and the knowledge gave her power and drove all thoughts of Lady Katherine and Sir William from her head.
Alais was surprised at how great a release it was to be out of the house; she had not realised how oppressive she found it. Perhaps that was more due to Hugh’s absence than to anything else.
To cool him down she walked Full Moon around the village and then around the fields. She had formed her impression of what the fields would look like from the house and was not in the least surprised to discover that they were poorly kept. No one at Liss seemed to take any pride in their work. She wondered that the farmland produced enough food for the manor house, let alone the entire village. She dismounted and took some of the soil in her fingers and examined it carefully. It did not smell right and she knew that she was missing Leigh. Still, the land was not her concern, she reflected, as she dropped the soil and cleaned her hands. She returned to the house and gave the horse over to one of the stable boys. The boy was as surly as the rest of the servants and she decided that she would come out later to ensure that her orders had been followed.
The hall was empty when she returned and she walked round it slowly, taking note of what needed to be done. It was filthy and the tables and benches needed to be cleaned. Soot from the fire covered everything and the walls needed washing. Not knowing how her husband wanted her to run his household, she hesitated to start giving orders to the servants. Given Katherine’s attitude to her, and the woman’s apparent perception of her own position, Alais was beginning to suspect that her part in running the household might be minimal, but her fingers itched to be busy and make this house clean and tidy. Since she could do no real work, she went to Hugh’s room. As he had promised, the deed transferring Full Moon from him to her was resting on the chair. There was another letter with it. He gave her the use of his room, which Alais appreciated. In a house of secrets she, too, might want to keep things secret and, unless anyone actually saw her enter or leave Hugh’s room no one would suspect that she had ever been there. He also gave her the use of anything of his that she might need. She sighed; if only she were marrying him. Hugh had foreseen everything that she needed and had provided it where he could. He had been kind and respectful and she did not think she would see much of those virtues in the rest of his family. He suggested that she burn the letter, which she did, promptly. Then she went to look for Agnes and Elizabeth.
Alais found them in the solar with Katherine. Agnes was reading aloud to the small group of women, who were sewing industriously. Alais stayed for a moment, listening, struck by the beauty and passion in Agnes’ voice. Then she left to find the herb garden. Her tour with Hugh had shown that the still-room was in a sorry state. Many ingredients for medicines and salves and concoctions would be needed before winter set in and she wanted to make sure all was ready. To her delight, the herb garden was well-cared for. She found the gardener, an old man who had come to the estate with Lady Maud. Hugh’s mother had left him a pension so that he could stay on at Liss after her death. He was too old for heavy labour and had been left to tend the herb garden as he saw fit. Since Lady Maud’s death there had been no one to give him direction and no one with a real use for the herbs, apart from the cook, although Alais thought privately that from what she had tasted last night and this morning the cook could have little idea of what use to make of the herbs that he had at his disposal. They discussed what was available in the garden and what would continue to be available through the winter. The old man was pleased that someone else was taking an interest in what he was doing and Alais realised, with relief, that there would be some solace for her at Liss. She went to take inventory of the still-room. She spent the rest of the day sorting through the pots and the jars, arranging and rearranging them. She heard people moving to the hall for their evening meal and went to join them.
Stephen sat in his father’s chair and Alais made to sit beside him.
“No, not there,” Stephen said, turning his handsome face away as if she were not worth his notice. “Lady Katherine is to sit there.”
“Katherine is the guest and I am the lady,” explained Alais, patiently.
“No one in this house gives way to the daughter of a traitor,” said Stephen, still not looking at her.
“I am your father’s wife,” said Alais, feeling the anger build within her. It was one thing for her husband to insult her and quite another for his son to do the same.
“If you wish to eat, you must go lower,” said Stephen, disdainfully, finally turning his amused face to her. He was enjoying this. “With others who are not good enough to eat at the top table.” And he pointed at Agnes and Joan who were just then taking their seats. Alais could not think which would be the greater h
umiliation; to sit with the lower members of the household and eat, or to take her rightful position and go hungry. She drew a deep breath. Without Hugh, she had no one here to defend her. In essence, she knew she had no choice but to accept this humiliation. It seemed her life would be no more now than a series of petty humiliations. And Stephen seemed to delight in humiliating her at every turn. She could thwart Katherine’s attempts simply by ignoring her or making sure that she kept out of her way, but Stephen was head of the household until his father or Hugh returned and the servants obeyed him.
Over the next few days Alais settled into a life of tedium and insult. It was quickly made clear to her that her husband’s poor manners in not sending a proper escort were not an accident, as Hugh had tried to convince her. Everything about her life at Liss seemed calculated to emphasise that she was a traitor’s daughter who was only there on sufferance. She quickly got used to sitting in a lower place with Joan and Agnes. She enjoyed their company more than that of Stephen and Marguerite and Katherine, but she was worried by the insult. It meant that the servants did not respect her. Like her, they realised that such behaviour would not have happened without the explicit approval of Sir William. She wondered how she would run the household when he returned. After a few days, she realised that she was never meant to. Her only function had always been to give him Leigh and to warm his bed, if he so desired. Her suspicions about Katherine were confirmed daily as the entire household deferred to her. Poor Hugh, thought Alais, he had been the last one to realise that he was to be married to her. Even the servants had known before he did. He could not have realised that he no longer had a choice.
For a few days she was miserable, her life at Liss stretched out in front of her in endless years. She could see it going on and on with no joy to it, except when Hugh was here, but there was little joy to be had in loving another woman’s husband and she knew now that she did love him.
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