The Everlasting Covenant

by Robyn Carr

  “Things have not changed very much at all.”

  “Not at all – the choices are even the same,” he said, somewhat sullenly. “The torment of having nothing and pretending our feelings do not exist ... or this, however meager. Anne, I cannot help but feel you are meant to be mine. I will wait. Maybe our circumstances will change. God knows, they have changed enough in seven years, and I am still your slave. If you are ever afraid, you must tell me. But I cannot live without your love, Anne. It is the only thing I have had these many years. It is all I have now. I will keep you safe, whatever the cost. It has been a long time, can you trust me again?”

  She kissed his lips. “I have to trust you, Dylan. If I cannot trust you, I am living a life of lies.”

  She knew this was not an easy thing for Dylan, for he had no idea the son she protected was his own. She smiled, and, strangely, she did not feel guilt or shame. What they did was wrong, but their love was right. Her body told her so. She loved him, and her love was good and strong.

  ***

  She was happier than she had ever been. Since the day she had chanced to meet Daphne deFrayne at Westminster, she had feared losing control of her emotions. She feared that first moment when their eyes would meet. But having Dylan again, however briefly, had become the ballast in her unsteady life. She returned to his mother’s house only twice more. Dylan was correct, their embraces would be few. But Anne thrived on those moments. She found she shared Dylan’s opinion--a few stolen moments and the knowledge that their love was true and enduring were so much better than the torment of having nothing at all.

  “Lord Forbes returns this week, Dylan.”

  He kissed her cheek. “So we will be apart for a long time. ‘Tis well. The babe grows larger in your womb and you must not take these risks. But I will be waiting. Near.”

  “I wish I could be with you always.”

  “Someday, my Anne. I will be waiting for our someday. You have many blessings to account for. And I--I have more than I dared hope.”

  ***

  Late in January in I466, four months after first seeing Dylan in his mother’s house, Anne stood beside the Earl of Ayliffe in the presence chamber of the king and queen while Dylan and Cameron deFrayne, with their mother, made their first appearance at the royal court. Anne’s burden was great and she expected to go to childbed in another month. It had been many weeks since she had even seen Dylan and their last meeting had consisted of only a few private words and a quick embrace encumbered by her growing pregnancy.

  Dylan graciously moved through the introductions to the Earl of Ayliffe, the Countess, and many other people he did not know. Anne’s eyes twinkled with pleasure. Selfishly, she was delighted to be able even to see him, to know he was safe and whole, to look at his handsome face again. She also believed his return would be good for England.

  Later that evening, when Anne found an inconspicuous stool in a corner, Dylan approached her. There were many people crowded into the room, but the glow in his eyes was for her alone. He glanced at her enormous middle. “You are beautiful,” he whispered. He passed her a goblet of wine.

  “Thank you, sir. I was very proud to be a witness. Has anything of yours been restored?”

  “Nay, nothing. But that is the least of my worries. You will have your lying-in soon, my love. I will pray for you.”

  “Dylan, I will go to Ayliffe in the spring. It will be a long time.”

  “Easier to bear now, I vow. I know the earl cares for you well, and I love you, my Anne,” he whispered, barely mouthing the words. She was not able to reply, for she faced the room at large from her stool, Dylan’s back was present to those who might discern his secret message. But her eyes shone with secret happiness.

  Before another word could be said, Anne’s eyes were drawn away as she saw her husband approach. Brennan joined them, placing a hand on Anne’s shoulder as he spoke to Dylan.

  “Anthony tells me you are old friends. If that is so, we are all glad you are home. And one day we must get deep in our cups and you will tell me the tale of how you managed the Ayliffe costume for your escape.”

  “I am not the one to ask, my lord, but the lady whose nimble fingers fashioned the garments from memory alone. My apologies,” he said, bowing deeply. “But I thank you for my life, however far from your plan it was to save me.”

  Brennan laughed good-naturedly. It had been five years, after all. And if Anthony Woodville’s sister could marry the king, surely Dylan deFrayne could come home. “I suspect it was all to the good.”

  “Thank you, my lord. At the risk of being too forward, I would like to say that I have heard many flattering things about you. Your reputation is strong – you have a large force of arms.”

  “I have been fortunate,” Brennan said. He glanced at his wife, and she placed her hand over his on her shoulder. “In many things.”

  Dylan chuckled, with not even the slightest jealousy. His restoration to England and his reunion with Anne had cured much of his anger and impatience. He was resigned. He had his country again, and Anne’s love. The wait might be long, but he was determined that one day he would have Anne for his own. Until then, Lord Forbes was an able caretaker. “That is very plain to see, my lord. I vow to wait until we’re better acquainted to tell you how much I envy you.”

  “You needn’t sir. Every man in England envies me, and no one pretends otherwise.”

  “It would seem the good lady is making her last appearance, while I am making my first. I wish you both good health, continued good fortune.” He bowed briefly, turned, and blended into the crowd.

  “A pleasant young man,” Brennan said. “It is good that he is with us again. Anthony says he is strong.”

  “Brennan,” she said, placing a hand over her swollen middle, “please take me to my bed.”

  He looked down at her and knew instantly, her time had come. He whisked her away to their lodgings and sent for the midwife, staying with Anne and holding her hand as she labored with the anxious child who came early, quickly and easily. Anne and Brennan were given a baby daughter. The little lass was born with her father’s reddish-gold hair, and her mother’s dark eyes.

  Joy and pride filled her. Two fine men love me, she thought. Should I be forlorn? Ashamed? I would give each what the other has if I could. I would give this kind and gentle husband the passion that is for Dylan alone, but it will not come. I would give Dylan this wifely service and loyalty, but it cannot be. Pray God I do not hurt either of them. Bless these tender mercies, and let me be strong.

  The babe was named Deirdre Elizabeth Forbes and she thrived on her mother’s milk and grew fat. The queen sent Anne silver plate, Lord Rivers sent lace from Calais to fashion a baptismal gown, the Duke of Clarence sent a tun of good Burgundy wine, and the deFrayne family sent a rich, ornamented tapestry portrait of the Divine Mother and Child created by Daphne’s nimble fingers.

  Marcella’s letters had been frequent since Anne’s angry departure from Ayliffe. To Anne’s complete surprise Marcella had stayed at Ayliffe even through the Christmas celebrating, though her letters clearly begged for an invitation to court. Anne finally relented when Deirdre was born, knowing she would have to face her mother again eventually. She hoped Marcella had given serious thought to their conflict and changed, especially since Divina’s death.

  Deirdre was a month old when Marcella looked over her grandchild and the gifts that had been received. Her face turned chalk-white with rage. She turned on her daughter. “So, ‘tis true. They are back and you helped them. It was rumored so, my friends write to me that my daughter did her part to restore them.”

  Anne knew at some point she would have to deal with her mother on this issue. She tried to remain calm. “Your argument with them is over, madam. Even Lord Forbes is glad to have the knights home.”

  “How pleased would he be if he knew,” she threatened in hushed tones.

  Anne struggled for composure she did not quite feel. “He would not believe you, madam. Be sti
ll!”

  “Ah? And if I point out to the fine earl how like Dylan deFrayne his firstborn looks? Do you think you can hide it forever?”

  “Sloan is Brennan’s son,” she said.

  Marcella laughed wickedly. “You will perhaps betray your husband with success, daughter, but you will not turn on me so easily. I will find a willing ear unless you do as I say.”

  “Why do you pursue this?” she asked. “ ‘Tis done, Mother. Leave them be. They only wish to live, as the rest of us do.”

  Marcella fingered the beautiful tapestry, but her eyes were glassy with hate. “It was she, wasn’t it, daughter? She made the costumes that were used to trick me. Well, it will take more than a skilled needle to trick me again. I will not let her win.”

  “Who, Mother? Madam deFrayne? Win? What more could you want? She has suffered enough, and for nothing “

  “Get me Heathwick,” Marcella said. “I know you can. I would be the Countess of Heathwick for my youngest son.”

  The color drained from Anne’s face. She knew the deFraynes petitioned the king for the restoration of their family lands, thus far unsuccessfully. Sir Trenton Gifford did not yet have any demesne, but being unmarried still and the youngest of three sons, he had plenty of time. Yet Marcella’s demand brought to light something Anne had never before considered. “It is so,” she said in a hushed whisper. “All these years, has it been only Daphne deFrayne you truly hate?”

  “That bitch has had more than I for long enough.”

  “That’s absurd, madam! You have had far more than she! Of everything, of wealth, offspring, influence close to the queen’s ear ...”

  “That’s what little you know of it. I want Heathwick for my home and I will be silent.”

  “All these years I thought it was wealth you craved. It is more than that. You use me to--”

  Marcella tore her wimple from her head, exposing her gray hair. “I am done with black. I wish to wear gems and colors ... and I wish to reside as dowager countess in Heathwick Castle. Does she wear black? Nay. Do that for me, daughter--get me Heathwick and I will leave the earl to think he has a son by you.”

  Anne reached out to her mother. “Madam, why do you hate her so? What has she done to you?” Marcella only stared at her as if she would stare through her. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Would you hurt your own grandchild, madam? Brennan will see to your comfort ... but I fear you will lose all if you betray us now. He will have no place for you if he casts me aside. I beg of you, let this revenge die now ...”

  “They may be home, these dastardly deFraynes, but I will not be silent while they are restored to their former wealth and influence and with your help!”

  “Trenton will not want Heathwick, Brennan has better for him if he can be patient.”

  “I want Heathwick. I want to live there and wear jewels again. I have been in mourning long enough. Daphne does not mourn him.”

  Anne shook her head in confusion. “Who, madam?”

  “Will you do as I say?” Marcella asked, refusing to answer the question.

  Anne watched her mother’s glittering eyes, she had seen this often enough. Marcella was fixed on an idea and would not let it rest until she had what she wanted. Why it was so important to take something away from Daphne, Anne had no idea. “And if I can arrange for your residence in that castle, you will cease in such demands? Do you swear?”

  “Aye, daughter. But do not delay.”

  “You will be less often at court. ...”

  “I want to be dowager countess for my son, for Trenton.”

  “And if he does not want Heathwick?”

  “I don’t care,” Marcella said firmly. “He will take it for me. I will not be still until it is done.”

  ***

  Anne used the six weeks before she was able to travel to Ayliffe to arrange her mother’s strange request. She conferred with Elizabeth, who was barely up from childbed herself, along with Anthony Woodville. Then she spoke to her younger brother, Sir Trenton.

  Anne felt confident of Trenton’s loyalty to her in all things but this. He admired and respected Lord Forbes and she was frightened that he would be ashamed of her, that he would shun her and refuse to help. It was with great caution that she approached him, praying she was right to assume he cared deeply for her.

  “Our mother wants Heathwick and title on your behalf, Trenton. She demands this.”

  “So?” he replied. “She has always hated them. She ...”

  “Trenton, the deFraynes have never been all the evil things that madam insisted. Lord Forbes welcomes the knights home and our anger with them is done. They are good men, they have suffered enough. But our mother will never be done with hating them. She threatens to tell Lord Forbes that Sloan is not his son.” Trenton gave a short laugh of disbelief, but when he saw the serious expression on his sister’s face, he quickly sobered. “She threatens to say that Dylan deFrayne was my lover while he was a prisoner at Raedelle and that I brought his child to my marriage.”

  “Anne …?”

  She lowered her gaze, for tears gathered in her eyes. “This is her threat, Trenton.” She braved a look at him. “There is no question that madam would get the attention of the gossips if not the earl. Please, Trenton, take her for me? I have endured her for five years at Ayliffe, and she is a hard woman to please. I cannot change her mind. I cannot let her hurt my son.”

  “Anne, do you think it will stop if she has Heathwick? Soon you must answer to these ...”

  “She is determined to do whatever damage possible to the deFraynes, despite the fact that the earl respects them and would have the hostilities end. And she is furious that I used my influence with the queen to have the deFraynes brought home.”

  “Why? Why would you do that?”

  She did not answer him, but only looked into his eyes, praying he would not hate her. There was a long silence. “She will hurt me, Trenton. She has never loved me.”

  A muscle moved in Trenton’s cheek. He could not dispute that simple fact. He had seen his mother’s behavior toward Anne often enough over the years.

  “I do not understand how you have let this happen, Anne.”

  She shook her head. “Nor do I, Trenton.”

  He touched her hand. “I will not let our mother hurt you. But I do not want Heathwick. I did not earn it. I would do any chore the earl demands, I would act as his seneschal if need be. I am ashamed of the way madam uses your marriage with the earl.” He sighed deeply. “As for the deFraynes ...”

  “Trenton, I beg of you, let us bury the hatred. Father wished it, Lord Forbes wishes it, and I wish it. Even if you cannot befriend any deFrayne, even on my account, you need not be enemies. Despite all that has happened, despite Wayland’s death at Raedelle and Dylan’s imprisonment there, he does not hate us all.”

  “How do you know, Anne?”

  “I know,” she said meekly.

  “I will not let her hurt you,” he said.

  She smiled in relief. “For this, Trenton, you have earned your place in my heart for all eternity. Thank you. And thank you for not asking me.”

  “Don’t thank me, Anne,” he said, concern showing in his eyes “I did not have to ask.”

  “Maybe someday, Trenton my love, you will understand. For now it is enough that you love me and will help me.”

  Anne spoke to Lord Forbes, who did not understand, but showed the same patience he had over the years. Finally, in a dark gallery at Eltham Castle, a few words were exchanged with Dylan. To her surprise, he only smiled. She had expected him to rage. “Silence her,” was all he said. “She is old and mean. She will not live long. Poor Trenton.”

  The entire family and all the staff was occupied with packing for the move to Ayliffe, with Marcella present, when Lord Forbes brought a document bearing the royal seal.

  “You are fortunate to have such a clever daughter, madam,” he said to Marcella. “Heathwick will be your home, with a stipend of one hundred pounds a year for suste
nance.”

  “Mine?” Marcella beamed.

  “More or less,” Brennan said, bending to his table to affix his own seal with candle wax to the thick vellum document. “Sir Trenton, of course, is the guardian, but you will gain the title you requested.”

  “Guardian, my lord?” she asked, confused.

  Brennan looked up from the table, irritation creasing his brow. He did not like Marcella and never had. Doing anything at all to improve her wealth or status grated on him, for he felt she was not deserving of either. Likewise, he did not understand Anne’s forgiving nature. He did not think his wife was wise to do so much for her mother. But he was unable to deny his wife’s merest request. He sighed. “The Countess told me you have an idea to relinquish Raedelle entirely to Quentin without your interference, as you should, but you are not satisfied to take residence with your other children and Heathwick is your desire, though I can’t say I know why. It is not a beautiful place.”

  “It was ... in its day ...,” she said, her voice weak.

  “So be it – perhaps you can fashion something out of it again. It suffered a great deal from the battles fought nearby, but you have my leave to do what you can. And countess for Deirdre you shall be.”

  “For ... Deirdre,” she gasped.

  “Aye,” he said, frowning, “I secured the place from the crown’s attainder for my daughter’s dower estate, naming you and Sir Trenton as guardians of that estate on her behalf. The privy title is only a courtesy, of course, but I concede you deserve as much, if only for your losses. I have given your requests due report, madam. Bart’s estate has been increased by adding attainted lands to his barony and before the year is out he will be named the first earl. And I traded some gold for the honor of countess that you will wear--I do hope you appreciate it. I grow weary of bettering your estate at my own expense.”