The Traitor's Daughter
Page 15
Alais looked at Agnes and knew that she did not want to know whatever her secret was and was about to say so, but Agnes continued before she could get the words out.
“I am in love with Hugh.” Agnes said it calmly and for that Alais was grateful, but she must know that that even if that love were returned, which Alais had reason to doubt, there could be no hope of marriage. Alais realised that Agnes was waiting for her to ask some kind of question, but Alais knew that any question she could ask would only result in a conversation that would be disappointing for Agnes.
“Do you…do you have reason to believe that he returns your affection?” she said when she saw she could be silent no longer.
“Oh yes,” breathed Agnes happily.
Alais was surprised; she had seen nothing between the two of them in the short time that Hugh had been at Liss which would seem to encourage Agnes in her belief. He had certainly not taken the opportunity to dance with her the night before he left and he had not seemed to seek her out particularly.
“Why do you believe that to be the case?” she asked, carefully, trying not to let her scepticism be too obvious.
“Hugh always seeks me out when he is here. He asks me to read in the evening. And if he has sewing to be done he asks me to do it.” Agnes reeled off her response as if she had been rehearsing it and Alais realised that she probably had. There was no one in the house with whom Agnes could trust such a secret, even Joan had probably not been consulted. Alais’ position was so lowly in the household that Agnes probably thought that she could cause her no harm. Alais felt her stomach turn. Poor trusting Agnes had just told her something that could be used to destroy her and she had not realised. Agnes’ secret was safe with Alais, but she wondered in how many other ways Agnes had made herself a hostage to fortune. Well, she thought, that could not be her concern; her priority was to find her proper place in this house, to take it, if necessary. Her immediate problem, however, was how to deal with this lovesick girl.
She considered Agnes’ reasons. Her cheerful nature stood out in the manor house, so it was not surprising that Hugh sought out her company, as Alais did herself. Although Hugh was of a melancholic nature, he would still appreciate someone as cheerful as Agnes. She was acknowledged by all as the best person at reading aloud in the entire household. Alais, who had herself frequently been asked to read at Leigh had conceded to herself without much struggle that Agnes was far superior to her in that respect. So, again, it was easy to imagine that Hugh was not showing any particular attention to her in asking her to read. Agnes had a fair hand for sewing, but Alais suspected that it was because she was the most amenable of the ladies that Hugh asked for her help. No, if this was all that there was as proof, it did not seem to her that Hugh was in love with Agnes. A man in love would have danced with her at least once that night, or would have taken care to show her some attention before leaving again. She knew, as Agnes did not, that Hugh had decided to marry Lady Katherine, who brought with her wealth and station. And she remembered, bitterly, that Hugh had told her that he could not love.
“I wanted to ask you to do something for me,” said Agnes.
“What?” asked Alais, fearful that she would not be able to agree to whatever it was that Agnes might want.
“When Hugh asks me to marry him,” and here Alais felt her heart stop, “I should like you to tell Sir William that it would be a good thing.”
Alais smiled at Agnes’ innocence. She was very confused about Alais’ own place at Liss. On the one hand she thought that Alais was so lowly that she could not be a threat to her and on the other she thought that she would carry some influence with her husband.
“You envisage some difficulty, then,” she managed to say, “in persuading Sir William to consent to the marriage.”
“Some,” acknowledged Agnes. “But of course, one of his sons is already married to my sister.”
Alais caught her breath and swallowed before she could speak. Agnes could not see the difference between Sir William allowing his illegitimate son to marry a woman of no wealth, property or aristocratic line and allowing his heir to marry a woman in the same situation. “Agnes,” she said, gently, “I think it unlikely Sir William will permit such a marriage, whether you have my support or not.” Alais saw anger briefly cross Agnes’ face.
“I know it will be difficult,” she said, stubbornly, “but Hugh does love me.”
“Do you think Hugh loves you enough to give up his inheritance, because that is what it must come to,” she said gently.
Tears spilled out of Agnes’ eyes and onto her cheeks. “He does love me,” she said again and Alais considered her question answered.
“His father will not give permission,” Alais said. However little she knew of her husband, she did know that. No father would allow his son to throw away his marriage prospects in such a way, especially a son who had already made one poor marriage.
“Dry your eyes,” she said gently, “and let us return to the house.”
The next afternoon, the boy that Hugh had taken with him to London returned. He carried a letter for Stephen from his father and a letter for his steward and, to Alais’ delight, a letter from Hugh to her. Hugh must have told the page to make sure that no one saw him give her the letter, for he came to her and said “Sir Hugh says you have much knowledge of healing herbs and that I was to come to you with this,” and he stuck a perfectly healthy hand in front of her face.
“Ah,” said Alais, nodding her head thoughtfully, understanding immediately. “I see why he was concerned. Come with me, there is something in the still-room that will help you.”
Once they were in the still-room, the boy grinned at her as if pleased with the ease with which his subterfuge had worked. He said nothing as she bound his hand, but took out of his bag a letter which she put into her pouch without looking at it.
“When do you return to London?” she asked.
“My lord bade me to stay here as short a time as possible, but I will not leave until tomorrow morning.”
Alais knew that she had time to reply to the letter. “Then I will leave you to get yourself to the kitchen and have some food. I will have another look at your hand and replace the bandage in the morning.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
The boy bowed and left her. Alais followed him into the passage and was not entirely surprised to find Marguerite walking by the door. How disappointed she must have been at their conversation, thought Alais. There was no letter for her to report to her brother, only solicitude for a servant. Even if she had looked through the doorway that Alais had carefully left open, she would have seen nothing, since Alais’ body had shielded the exchange from prying eyes. She hurried to Hugh’s room, where she could read the letter without fear of discovery or interruption. It was a surprisingly long letter. In person, Hugh said little, but he seemed to express himself best in writing. He told her about the court and how it was faring without its king and queen. He told her that messages from the Low Countries said that the king thought the people of Southampton had betrayed him to the French. How else could they have attacked so easily and done so much damage? Hugh added, dryly, that much of the wool and wine that had been destroyed had belonged to the king. What he did not say, since it might have been considered treasonable, but what he would have known as well as Alais, since Roger had complained of it many a time, was that the sea defences of the town were very poor and that the burgesses had petitioned the king for money on many occasions to improve them. Since Hugh had grown up at court, he knew better than to criticise the king in a letter. The rest of the letter described court entertainments, a hunt, what the ladies were wearing. She smiled at that, guessing that he had not told her because he had thought she would want to copy their costume, but because he knew that she would be amused at the strange style of dress.
He asked no questions and demanded no reply. He had signed the letter ‘your dutiful stepson’ and there was nothing in it that his father could not have re
ad, but Alais knew that the mere fact that he had written when his father had not, that he had made no mention of her husband asking after her in the letter, meant that the very existence of the letter was a danger to them. Nonetheless she was resolved to write back. It took her a while to decide on the tone of her letter. She must be as mindful as he that a letter did not always reach its intended audience first, so she was careful to include details of her daily routine without complaint or comment. She told him nothing of Elizabeth and Sir John, or of Agnes’ hopes, or of the way she was being treated by his brother. All these things would be made plain to him on his return to Liss, which return she both longed for and feared. She feared it for both their sakes. Hugh would not be pleased to see the way that she was being treated. That he had defied his father over her escort from Leigh showed that he had a highly formed appreciation of what was due to his stepmother, even from his own father. She doubted that the threat of losing his inheritance would hold him back. Unlike Agnes, Alais knew that Hugh would follow his heart in that regard, even if it meant losing everything.
She finished her letter and carried it with her until she could give it to the boy in the morning. Since Hugh had trusted him, she knew that she could, too, but there was the problem of what to do with the letter that Hugh had sent. After much consideration, she wrapped it in a leather pouch and hid it in the bottom of Hugh’s chest. She did not wish to destroy it, but once she had it by heart, she knew that it was the safest thing to do, for both of them
As Elizabeth had predicted, it was all too soon obvious that she was with child. In most cases, the reaction was what Alais had expected: surprise, a little condemnation. This was mostly voiced by Father Alonso. Generally, however, Elizabeth’s logic was understood and approved and, since Sir John had proposed as soon as her condition was obvious, the problem of bearing a child out of wedlock did not present itself.
It was Stephen’s response that surprised Alais. She could only categorise it to herself as fury. It was almost as if Elizabeth had taken something from him personally. Alais was not entirely sure now who had stood to inherit Elizabeth’s property. She knew that Elizabeth had her own lands, she having been her father’s sole heir on his death. Now Alais began to wonder how much of these properties had passed to Geoffrey on their marriage. If that was the case, these now belonged to Hugh, who would undoubtedly have returned them to Elizabeth or permitted her their use in her lifetime.
If they did belong to the childless Hugh, then Stephen was the heir. Like his brother, he must expect that the life of a professional soldier was more likely to be short, than not.
Poor Stephen, thought Alais. He was going to be even more disappointed when Hugh married Katherine and began producing heirs of his own.
This thought was increasingly painful to Alias. She had found that, just as the devil makes light work for idle hands, so he made light work for idle minds. With no conversation other than mindless chatter with Agnes, Joan and Elizabeth, Alais found herself spending more and more time alone in Hugh’s room, reading his letter and thinking about him. For all she chastised herself, she found it easier to dwell on pleasant times past, than on an uncertain and possibly unpleasant future. She could not feel guilty for this - her husband had abandoned her twice. There was not even respect on his part, but Hugh had shown her respect and affection. She did not need to think him in love with her; he had treated her with kindness. Never one to lie to herself, however, she knew that she was in love with him. She had not betrayed her marriage vows in deed, but she had in thought. She could never betray her vows as her husband had, but she knew that hers was the greater betrayal.
At the beginning of Advent there was more news from Sir William. He was still at court and likely to remain there until Candlemas. Still there was no message for Alais, no request to join him. Sir William had sent his own messenger, so there was no letter from Hugh. In the second week of Advent, however, Tom came again from Hill bearing letters from Roger, Matthew and Hugh. Roger sent her a small gift and told her how the rebuilding was going. Matthew thanked her again for the care she had given to Marion. She had given birth to a boy, Piers and was starting to recover. He sent some ointment that he thought she might be lacking at Liss. Hugh’s letter wished her well and said that she could reply by the same route. He was sorry he would not be seeing her at court for Christmas. He had heard the news about Elizabeth and was pleased, although his father was sorry to have harboured such an ungrateful and immoral woman for so many years. He had reminded his father that Alais had lost everything in the raid and Sir William had given him permission to send her some cloth. Alais bit her lip at the thought of that conversation. Hugh had sent three bolts of very fine cloth and she set about planning how she was going to use them. Once she knew what she was going to do, she wrote back to him, careful to ask that he pass on her thanks to her husband, sure that he would not do so.
With Christmas past, there was little for anyone to do, save sit in the hall and talk. The days were short and cold and there was little work that could be done in the daylight, although Alais tried to be as busy as she could. She missed Hugh more than ever and the evenings gathered round the small fire in the hall seemed endless to her. No one at Liss, other than Agnes, had any particular skill at telling stories and those that had some skill had run through their complete repertoire long before Alais had arrived. The family and retainers at Leigh had been content to hear the same story many times and they had many stories between them and many good story-tellers, but Liss grew bored easily and had little talent. Once Alais or Agnes had read from one of the small number of books that Sir William possessed or one of the minstrels had sung a song there was no more entertainment to be had and the small household broke up into smaller groups to idle away the evening. Some of the younger men took to gaming and managed to do so without openly attracting Stephen’s attention. Alais tended to sit with Agnes, Joan and Elizabeth and they were content to tell one another stories and sing songs, but one night when the children were ill and Joan was absent and Elizabeth was stupid because of a cold the three of them sat together quietly and Alais found her ear caught by a conversation between Richard and Stephen, in Latin. She found herself listening, despite herself.
It had been a long time since she had had the opportunity to take part in a conversation in Latin. It had been part of her education with Father Guillaume and they had frequently talked together in Latin. Since she had left Leigh, however, she had not had the opportunity. Alais listened to the two men expecting to hear an academic discussion. Stephen had studied at Oxford and Richard, too, must have been educated to a high standard to be able to join in the discussion, although Alais soon realised that his Latin was not as good as Stephen’s. It soon became obvious to her, however, that they were not speaking in Latin for the pleasure of discussing academic topics, but so that no one else in the hall would know what they discussed. What they were discussing was a plot to pay mercenaries to ambush Sir William and lay his death at the feet of his eldest son. Alais understood that it was a very simple plot. Hugh would be hanged for the murder of his father and Stephen would inherit. Richard expected a share of that inheritance, which Alais did not doubt he would receive. Unlike Hugh, Alais was beginning to understand Stephen’s affections. He was fiercely attached to Marguerite, whose twin he was and desperately in love with his wife, though he took great pains that no one should discover either affection. Alais was both quick and observant and she also understood that whilst he wanted his brother’s inheritance, he did not want it for himself, but for his wife and children and for his sister, whose husband had not proven able to keep hold of the land and money that he had inherited. Alais understood that Stephen would have preferred the cloister, but falling in love with Catherine had changed his plans.
Alais knew that she had to warn Hugh, but could not think how. Any messenger she could send would report to Stephen. Any letter that she could write would be intercepted before it could cross the moat. There was no other way to
warn him. He would die. Panic-stricken, she looked around the hall as if searching for guidance. Agnes laid a hand on her knee. “You look unwell,” she said, gently. “Do you, too, have a cold?”
Alais shook her head, then changed her mind as a shocking idea entered her head. “I do not know. I do feel a bit strange.” And that was no more than the truth. The idea that was suddenly filling her mind scared her so much that she thought she must be ill. She would go herself to London and warn her husband. She did not bother pretending to herself that she was worried about him. It was for Hugh’s safety alone that she feared and for Hugh alone that she could consider risking her life to take the warning in person. She did not yet know how she would do it. The attack was not planned for some days. She had no idea how far it was to London. If only she had spent more time with Hugh’s messenger. However far it was, she knew that Full Moon was strong enough to take her there and she was strong enough for the journey.
Pretending to doze, she continued to listen to Stephen and Richard. She must find out as many details as she could discover. And she had already decided that she would not leave tonight. Since Stephen could not possibly know that she understood Latin, her disappearance could hardly be considered a coincidence, but she had preparations to make. It was winter and she could not simply get on her horse and leave. Thinking like this calmed her and she was able to smile at Agnes when she asked after her health again later that evening.
As she lay in bed that night, she went over her plan. The chest in Hugh’s room was full of his clothes, so she could easily disguise herself again. Although this time she could not rely on a hood to cover her hair and would have to cut it off. Since she knew that this was an even greater sin than dressing as a man, she considered again every other means by which she might prevent Stephen and Richard from carrying out their plan, but could think of none. There was only one way and she decided to take it, no matter what the cost to herself.