A Wayward Woman

by Helen Dickson

  ‘Perhaps she went to meet someone—a lover?’

  ‘She knows no one here. You wrong her, Miguel.’ Anton frowned. ‘She may have wandered off looking for me and got lost. This place is a rabbit warren if you do not know it well. We must search for her. I shall question the servants. Someone must have seen where she went …’

  ‘I can do that for you if you have more important business.’

  ‘You can search outside the palace with some of my men.’ Anton looked round. ‘I shall start with that serving woman over there. She looks to be ordering the others and may have some sense …’

  He left Miguel and went over to a woman dressed in a grey gown made of good cloth, who seemed to be ordering the servants as they began to clear away the debris and discarded wine cups left lying about by the courtiers.

  ‘Good evening, madam. I need to find a lady. This is her first visit to the palace and I think she may have got lost. Can you help me to search for her?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the woman said. ‘I will summon the pages that have not yet retired. They are always about, and see much that happens. One of them should have seen her. Can you tell me the lady’s name?’

  ‘She is Comtesse de Montcrief and she is under my protection.’

  ‘I shall help you all I can, sir.’ She beckoned to a young woman and spoke to her, then turned back to Anton. ‘Bethany will take you to the room where the pages wait until they are required or given leave to go to bed. I am certain one of them will know something.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Anton took a silver coin from his jerkin. ‘I am grateful for your help.’

  He was frowning as he followed the younger woman. Why had Marietta left the hall? Surely she had known that he would return for her?

  How long had she been here? Marietta hugged herself to keep out the chill wind. She had walked round and round the courtyard a hundred times, every now and then going to try the door and call out for help. No one had come, and she thought that perhaps this courtyard was seldom used. She might be here for a long time.

  Supposing no one came tonight? Supposing no one came for days?

  Fear rippled through her. She was close to tears, but crying would not help her. If the walls had not been quite so high she might have tried to climb them, but there was nothing to help her gain a foothold.

  She was trapped! She might die here!

  Fighting her fear, Marietta went back to the door and tugged at the latch. It moved, and the door opened. She stared at it in disbelief. Why had it not opened before? For a moment she hardly dared to go inside, fearing that someone might be waiting behind the door to pounce on her.

  But she must go in or she would freeze to death! Venturing in, Marietta found that the torches which had lit their way here had guttered in their sconces on the wall and gone out. She had been locked outside for what seemed a very long time. She was shivering as she felt her way along the passage, touching the rough stone of the walls. At the end of the hall were some stairs. Had they come this way? She could not recall stairs, but she could see no other way to go.

  At least now there was a window and more light. At the top of the stairs there were passages to the left and the right. She took the left. Inside it was a little warmer than outside in the courtyard, but she was still so cold that it was all she could do to stop her teeth chattering.

  At the end of the passage there were more stairs, this time leading down. Marietta stood undecided, and then heard the sound of voices from below. Perhaps she could find someone who would tell her the way back to the Great Hall.

  She ran down them and saw that she had come into a chamber that was full of men. They were drinking and laughing, some of them in a state of undress. As she entered they turned to stare at her and fell silent.

  ‘I am lost,’ she said. ‘Can you please tell me the way to the Great Hall?’

  ‘I can show you more than that, lady,’ one of the men said in a ribald manner, and made a gesture that made Marietta recoil in horror. As he moved towards her she gave a scream of dismay and ran back the way she had come. As she fled she could hear the drunken laughter of the men. Did they think she was a whore, come in search of some sport?

  She ran back along the passage, feeling close to tears. How was she ever to find her way out of this maze? Hearing voices, she stopped, her heart racing. Lights were coming towards her, but this time she was nervous of calling for help.

  She stood poised for flight, though she hardly knew which way to turn. The lights were very near now, and she saw that a man and a pageboy were approaching her.

  ‘Please …’ she began, and then faltered as she saw the man’s face. ‘Anton—thank God. I was lost and.’

  ‘Marietta?’ he cried. ‘Where on earth have you been? I have had the palace searched for you. Why did you not wait for me?’

  ‘I was told you awaited me in a courtyard and I went to meet you. But you were not there and the door was locked behind me.’

  ‘The door was locked behind you? How could that be?’ Anton’s disbelief was in his eyes. ‘Was someone with you?’

  ‘A page took me there, but left before I went into the courtyard. The door shut with a bang and I could not open it. I was trapped for a long time—and then … it was suddenly no longer locked.’

  ‘You panicked and could not open it at first,’ Anton said with a frown. ‘You say a pageboy told you I had asked you to meet me—but when I spoke to the pages none knew of this …’

  Marietta lifted her head, looking into his eyes. Why did he always doubt her?

  ‘I speak the truth, sir. I was summoned to meet you, but when I got there you were not waiting for me. The courtyard had high walls and I could not leave it.’ Her eyes sparked with temper. ‘It was bitterly cold. Do you think that I would linger there longer than need be? The door was locked. I paced the courtyard because I was so cold, but I tried the door many times. It was always locked, and then suddenly it was not.’

  Anton reached out and touched her arm. Discovering that she was icy cold to the touch, he took off his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  ‘I sent you no message,’ he said, and his eyes were narrowed, thoughtful. ‘If you were trapped, as you say, someone played a silly trick on you, my lady.’

  ‘Perhaps—though why would someone play a jest on me? I hardly know anyone at court.’

  ‘I cannot think why anyone would do such a thing. It was a dangerous jest, for if you had remained there much longer on such a night you might have died. We must hope that you do not take harm, Comtesse.’ He took her arm, his thoughts of asking her to be his wife pushed to one side in his concern. ‘Come. You are shivering with cold. I must call off the search and get you home …’

  Safe in her bed, with several quilts to keep her warm, Marietta fell into a deep sleep. She slept despite the disturbing dreams that caused her to cry out once or twice, and she did not wake to see the man who watched over her. She was not aware that he stretched out on a coverlet at the foot of her bed, leaving just as the first light began to creep in through the shutters.

  Waking some time later, to find a maid had brought her warmed ale, hot rolls, butter and honey, Marietta was aware that she had a sore throat. She had not escaped completely unscathed from her ordeal of the previous night, and knew that if she had not been released when she had been, she might well have taken a chill that would lead to a fatal illness.

  She put two spoons of the honey into her warmed ale and drank it. The drink was soothing and eased her throat, though not completely. When she tried to get out of bed she felt a little dizzy. The unpleasant feeling passed in a moment or two, and she decided that she would ignore her feeling of being unwell. She was not certain that Anton believed her story. He probably thought she had been to meet one of the courtiers in the courtyard and turned cold, for he did not seem to have a high opinion of her.

  Perhaps because she had given herself to him on the journey here he thought her a whore?

  Tears stung Ma
rietta’s eyes but she blinked them away. Short of confessing that she had fallen in love with him the first time they met on the Field of the Cloth of Gold, she could not explain her feelings. He would probably think it the fancy of a foolish girl. Besides, to confess her love for a man who clearly despised her would shame her. She was shamed by the wantonness she had shown as they travelled to London. Had she not genuinely believed that she was to die as the murderess of her husband, she would never have done it.

  However, she could not take back what had happened. She must simply retain her dignity and hope that once Anton had returned her to her kinswoman she need never see him again.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘The Comtesse de Montcrief says that she was sent a message that was supposed to come from me,’ Anton said, his eyes meeting Miguel’s across the room. ‘She claims that she was trapped in a courtyard with no means of escape for a long time—and then the door was suddenly unlocked.’

  ‘The wind must have blown it,’ Miguel said. ‘It stuck, as doors will at times. What else could it be?’

  ‘But who sent her the message?’

  ‘Can you be certain anyone did?’

  ‘You think she went to meet someone—a man?’

  ‘I do not think anything about the lady, Anton. She is not my concern.’

  ‘No, she is mine. I brought her here, and until she is safe with my uncle and her cousin I must care for her. Had she died it would have been a stain on my soul. I cannot bear the guilt of yet another death.’

  ‘You blame yourself too much. Isabella fell to her death that day. You were not there to see it, but she ought not to have been careless in her condition, for she carried your child.’

  ‘If the child was mine.’ Anton’s eyes darkened. ‘You know of the letter that claimed she was faithless … that her child belonged to another?’

  Miguel looked at him, seeming almost wary. ‘You asked the truth of her—what did she say?’

  ‘She denied it, and ran from me in distress. You know this, Miguel. I have spoken to you of my guilt, for you are my closest friend. If I cannot confide in you, who may I confess my sins to—other than the priest?’

  ‘You know I am always here for you.’ Miguel’s dark eyes were unfathomable as he looked at Anton. ‘Do you believe her innocent or guilty—I speak of Isabella?’

  ‘For a while I thought her guilty, and it tore the heart from me, but when I saw the stricken look in her eyes I thought I had misjudged her. She ran from me in such distress. I was never sure if she had deliberately thrown herself down those steep steps.’

  ‘I am certain it was an accident.’

  ‘Then you do not believe that she quarrelled with someone and was pushed to her death—whether by design or accident?’

  ‘Who would she quarrel with—and why? The servants adored her. You were the only one to think ill of her—and you were not there.’

  ‘Do you believe that, Miguel?’ Anton’s gaze narrowed. ‘Or do you think me guilty of yet another sin?’

  ‘Have I given you cause to think so? I told you that I had the gardener searched for. Had he been found I would have brought him to you. If someone else killed her they should be found and punished.’

  ‘I loved her. Even though I believed she had betrayed me, I loved her. My words were cruel that day, but I could never have harmed her—do you believe me?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Miguel could not quite meet his eyes. He brushed a speck of dust from his black velvet jerkin. ‘When do we leave for the Earl of Rundle’s house?’

  ‘Tomorrow, if the Comtesse is well enough. It will be a wonder if she has taken no harm from her ordeal. If I should discover the perpetrator of this evil trick I shall punish him, Miguel.’

  ‘I think you should be careful how much you believe of what that lady says. She has been cleared of murder, but she is not as innocent as she would have you believe.’

  ‘What makes you say that, Miguel?’

  Miguel stared at him for a moment and then shook his head. ‘I have no proof. I merely sense that she is trouble. Do not ask me why. Men have already died for her sake, and they won’t be the last.’

  ‘In that you speak truly,’ Anton said. ‘I have requested an escort from His Majesty when we leave the city. I expect that Rouen may try to waylay us on our return. He is unlikely to give up without a fight. He wants her, dead or alive. Mayhap I should have killed him as he slept. No matter—I shall guard her well. I do not intend to have her snatched from my care again.’

  ‘And when we reach our destination?’

  ‘I am not certain,’ Anton said. ‘There is much to consider. My duty ends when she is safe in my uncle’s care, but the future is not clear. I mean to settle here in England, but I think that you may wish to return to Spain?’

  Miguel looked at him oddly. ‘Are you telling me that you no longer have need of my service?’

  ‘You are my friend, Miguel. I merely suggest that it may not suit you to continue in my household if I remain in this country. I mean nothing more.’

  Marietta went downstairs when she was dressed and ready. She wandered about the house, feeling restless, and finally settled in the back parlour overlooking the garden. She would have liked to go out, but her throat was still sore and she did not wish to risk making herself worse. They would soon be leaving for her kinswoman’s home, and she wanted to be ready when Anton gave the word.

  She was sitting lost in thought when the door opened and someone entered. Turning, she saw that it was Anton and rose uncertainly, wondering what he would say to her.

  ‘How are you, madame?’

  ‘My throat is a little sore. Otherwise I think I have taken no harm. I was fortunate.’

  ‘Yes …’ Anton’s dark eyes were on her. ‘Have you given much thought to the future?’

  ‘Claire told me that I should be welcome to stay with her. I do not know what more I can expect. His Majesty promised that he would do what he could for me, but I am not sure it would be safe to return to France. Even if Rouen were no longer at the castle there might be others who coveted my son’s possessions.’ She hesitated, then, ‘My husband told me that I should find an honest man to marry, a man who would stand guardian to my son and see that he prospers. Perhaps I shall find such a man, but I am not sure it is possible. Some will think me tarnished by scandal, no matter what the King says.’

  ‘It is possible that you may find some still have doubts,’ Anton told her and looked grave. ‘That cannot be changed. I am sorry for it, Marietta, but there is little I can do.’

  She raised her head proudly. ‘Why should you do anything more than what you have promised? I am already too much in your debt.’

  ‘You owe me nothing, lady.’

  ‘I owe you my life. The King may help my son regain his fortune, but had you not come to my rescue I might be dead.’

  ‘I do not ask for gratitude.’

  ‘What do you ask of me?’ Marietta held her breath, hardly daring to look at him.

  ‘There might be something …’ Anton’s gaze narrowed. ‘I have had it in mind for a while to offer you marriage. As your husband I should be the guardian of your son and his fortune—and I would make it my business to recover his inheritance and to protect it for him until he came of age.’

  ‘You are asking me to marry you?’ Marietta stared at him, her heart beating wildly. ‘Why do you offer me marriage? You have already promised to protect my son’s inheritance. I cannot expect more of you.’

  ‘You ask me why?’ Anton frowned. ‘I believe we should deal well together, Marietta. I know you are a good mother, for I have seen you with your child. I believe you might find it in your heart to offer love to my daughter. She has been too long without a mother …’

  Marietta looked into his eyes. Was his concern for his daughter the only reason he wished to wed her?

  ‘You are generous, sir.’ Her heart raced, because a part of her longed to accept his offer. It was what she wanted more than anything in
the world but she was uncertain of his feelings. If he could never love her she might find it too painful to be his wife. ‘I am honoured that you should ask me, and grateful for your promise to help my son recover his inheritance, but … I am not worthy of such a marriage. Even though the King has pardoned me the shadow of accusation hangs over me. There will always be those who think that I am a witch and that I murdered my husband.’

  ‘Only fools or bitter minds will think it.’ Anton took her hand. ‘Let me make you safe, Marietta. As your husband I can protect and care for you so much more easily than if we live apart.’

  ‘Would it help you with your daughter if I agreed?’

  ‘I believe you might bring a smile to her face again. She is too serious these days.’

  ‘You must give me a little time to decide. I had not expected this, Anton.’ She lifted her eyes to his face. ‘You must know that I feel … kindness towards you …’

  ‘I know that you are warm and beautiful, and it would make me happy to spend my life protecting you and our children.’

  ‘I shall give you my answer when we reach Lady Claire’s home—if that is agreeable to you?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  He looked disappointed, and Marietta wanted to tell him that she had changed her mind and would marry him this instant but something held her silent.

  ‘I am content to wait for your answer.’

  ‘Thank you. When do we leave London, sir?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning, soon after first light—if you are well enough to begin the journey?’

  ‘I shall be well enough. The sooner I am back with my son the better.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine you must miss him?’

  ‘I love him dearly.’ Marietta smiled. ‘He is all I have in the world.’

  ‘Yes, I dare say he is. I believe you are a good mother, as well as a good wife.’ Anton’s thoughtful eyes studied her. ‘Is there anything you wish to purchase in London before we leave? His Majesty gave me five hundred silver pieces for you—so that you might purchase clothes and replace those possessions you were forced to abandon in your flight.’