Fugitive Countess

by Anne Herries

  ‘We know he appreciated your skills and your worth as a wife,’ Henry said. ‘There have been charges of witchcraft made against you, madame. Some say that you could not have saved your husband’s life if you had not used the black arts—what do you say to this charge?’

  ‘If the use of herbs and devoted care is witchcraft, Sire—I am guilty. I used nothing that cannot be readily found in the hedgerows or the woods.’

  ‘And you did not use incantations to aid his recovery?’

  ‘Had I known one that would save his life I would not have hesitated, but I am not a witch and I have no magic—just a little skill with herbs and healing.’

  ‘It is as we imagined. Your husband was no fool, madame. He praised you in his letters to us. We thought you innocent, and that was the reason we asked Sir Anton to find you and bring you here. Your husband, the Comte of Montcrief, has done service for us in the past. Tell us how we may serve you. Sir Anton tells us the Bastard of Rouen has seized the castle and will take your son’s inheritance if he can.’

  ‘I would have justice for my son, Sire. My husband lodged his gold with the Jews, who are court goldsmiths in France. Rouen seeks to gain control of it, but it belongs to my son.’

  ‘And it shall be secured to him if England’s influence weighs with our brother of France. Your home is another matter. We do not approve of fighting amongst the barons, and to instigate a siege at Montcrief would cost many lives. However, we shall see what can be done.’ Henry held out his hand to her. Marietta curtsied once more, and kissed his ring—very like that her husband had worn, she noticed.

  ‘You are gracious, Sire.’ She hesitated. ‘Am I acquitted of all charges?’

  ‘There were none to face. We had you brought here for your safety. You may remain at court if you wish—unless you have somewhere to live?’

  ‘My father’s cousin, Lady Claire Melford, would take me.’

  ‘The choice is yours. You are free to leave, but we would see you again in the future—and the lady you claim as cousin. The Earl of Rundle and his wife are always welcome at court.’

  Marietta curtsied deeply. ‘I am so grateful, Sire. I shall hope to visit the court with my kinsfolk another time.’

  Henry waved a hand at her. ‘Go, then. You may attend the banquet with Sir Anton this evening if you choose.’

  Marietta thanked him again, curtsied, and left the chamber. Outside the door, she found Anton waiting for her. His eyes searched her face and he nodded.

  ‘Henry has used his good sense. You are acquitted.’

  ‘I am free to stay at court or go.’

  ‘And you choose?’

  ‘I shall go back to your uncle’s home. My son is there, and I am anxious for his safety. Before that…’ She shook her head. ‘His Majesty said there was a banquet at court this evening.’

  ‘I am to take you with me?’ Anton inclined his head. ‘If you wish to attend?’

  ‘Yes, I should like that,’ Marietta said, suddenly shy and unsure. ‘If you would wish to take me?’

  ‘We accede to Henry’s wishes,’ Anton said, his expression giving her nothing. ‘He has been gracious, and it would be foolish to ignore his command.’

  Marietta looked at him. ‘Afterwards, you will take me to the Lady Claire and my son?’

  ‘Of course. Why should I abandon you now?’

  ‘I thought…I have already been a great deal of trouble to you…’ Her eyes searched his face, but she could not read what was in his mind. ‘You spoke once of your daughter. Do you not wish to go to her?’

  ‘In good time. Madeline is safe with my mother for the moment. In the other matter, I have but done my duty. Henry commanded me to bring you to court. I acted in his name. You have nothing to thank me for, Comtesse.’

  ‘My name is Marietta.’

  ‘It would not be fitting now. His Majesty has seen fit to restore your good name. You are the Comtesse de Montcrief and must be treated as your rank deserves.’

  ‘I see…’ Marietta shot a glance at his profile as they left the palace. She sensed a barrier between them. Anton looked stern, a little pulse flicking at his temple. It was quite clear to her that nothing had changed. The King had declared her innocent because of his friendship with her husband—but that did not mean that Anton Gifford believed it. She knew that he desired her, but did he feel anything more?

  She sighed inwardly. If he cared for her his reaction would surely have been very different.

  Anton refrained from looking at the woman who rode her horse so proudly. He had wanted to sweep her into his arms and shout with joy when she told him she was acquitted, but his conscience had held him back.

  She was innocent of murder, but he was not. His anger had driven Isabella to her death that day—at least that had always been his belief. Miguel’s suggestion that she might have been pushed down those steps had set him wondering. If Isabella had been pushed, it meant that he was not directly guilty of her death. Yet there must have been a reason for her murder…

  Marietta glanced round the large room. It was filled with richly dressed courtiers, light flashing from the magnificent jewels they wore about their person. She had been seated with some other ladies at a table close to the high board, where the King and his favoured nobles were seated. Anton had been so honoured, as had the striking woman Marietta had noticed in the garden earlier that morning.

  She touched the arm of a young woman sitting next to her. Bertha had been friendly when they met, and she felt able to ask a question.

  ‘Who is that lady sitting two places from the King? He seems to look at her often, and she is beautiful—her face is lit up from inside when she smiles.’

  Bertha giggled. ‘Do you not know that she is Anne Boleyn? She is His Majesty’s favourite of the moment. Some say that he will marry her.’

  ‘I thought he had a queen?’

  ‘He does, but…’ Bertha shook her head. ‘You should not ask such questions.’

  Marietta looked at the young woman sitting at the high table. She was beautiful, but also proud. Did she think that the King would put his wife aside to marry her? The church forbade such things. Marietta did not see how it could be done, though it would be easy enough for the lady to become his mistress. Perhaps she was too proud for that. But a divorce might rock the security of the English throne.

  It was not for Marietta to judge what the King did. She put the thought aside and glanced round the room once more, becoming aware that she was being watched. Miguel’s eyes were on her. His expression was so severe that she wondered if he hated her—yet why should he?

  Had he hoped that she would be imprisoned and condemned as a witch? Was he angry because she had been released?

  Marietta turned away. Course after course of rich food had been brought to table as the evening wore on. Feeling it wiser not to touch some of the richer dishes, Marietta had supped but lightly. She enjoyed the entertainment, laughing at the antics of the jugglers and the fool. He was a dwarf, and ran about the room hitting people with a pig’s bladder that was tied to a stick and filled with air.

  Towards the end of the evening musicians began to play, and some people got up to dance. Marietta declined one offer with a young, rather handsome gentleman, preferring to watch. In her heart she hoped that Anton might ask her, but he was in deep conversation with His Majesty. At one point he left the hall with the King.

  Marietta felt uneasy. Had he forgotten her? What ought she to do? She was not sure that she could manage to find her way back to Lord Melford’s house alone. She wandered over to a window and glanced out. The view was of a secluded courtyard. In the moonlight it looked mysterious and peaceful. However, her reverie was interrupted as a young page approached her.

  ‘You are the lady Comtesse de Montcrief?’

  ‘Yes. Do you have a message for me?’

  ‘Sir Anton Gifford awaits you in the courtyard, madame. I am to take you to him.’

  ‘Thank you…’ Marietta smiled her relief. She h
ad been foolish to worry. Anton would not forget her. ‘Please lead the way. I shall follow you.’

  The page started off, and Marietta followed. She had thought he might mean the courtyard overlooked by the Great Hall, but it seemed he did not for he led her down a long dark passage which seemed to go on endlessly and take several twists and turns. Eventually they reached a door, which the page indicated.

  ‘The courtyard is beyond, madame. You will find the gentleman waiting.’

  As he turned away, Marietta noticed a smirk on his face. Did he imagine she was meeting a lover in secret?

  She opened the door and peered through it. The night air was very cool, but the moon was full. Somehow reassured because of the light, Marietta ventured outside.

  ‘Anton…are you here?’ she asked, for although there was a small fountain, a stone bench and what looked like beds of rose bushes and lavender, as yet not in bloom, she could see no one. The courtyard was bordered with high walls. ‘Anton…I have come…’ She took a few steps into the open space and then heard the door slam behind her. Suddenly fearful, she rushed to the door and tugged at the latch; it would not budge. Someone had locked it from inside. ‘Open this at once!’ she cried, and beat on the door with her fists. ‘I am locked out here and it is cold…’

  No answer came. Marietta felt an icy trickle down her spine. She was trapped, because she could see that there was no other way out of the courtyard. Someone had sent the page in Anton’s name to lure her here—but why?

  She shivered, feeling the cold of the night air begin to seep into her flesh. Who had trapped her here? Was it the Bastard of Rouen? A moment or two of reflection told her that had it been he she would already have been dead or his captive. Someone else had done this—but who could it be?

  Marietta began to walk around the perimeter of the small courtyard, hoping that she might find a gate, or some other way of leaving it. However, there was none. Someone had planned this well, but why shut her out here? Was it merely to frighten her, or were they hoping that she would remain here all night? She shivered, crossing her arms over her breasts, hugging herself to try to keep warm. She must move about or she would not be able to bear the cold. If only she had found a servant to send for her cloak—but she had not given it a thought. Usually Anton did these things for her. He had taken care of her and she ought not to have doubted him.

  Tears caught in her throat. Anton was often stern, and sometimes harsh, but he was a man of honour. Surely he would look for her when he realised that she was missing?

  She went back to the door and banged on it again and again, calling out for help.

  ‘Please help me. I am locked out…’ she cried. ‘Please help me…’

  ‘I shall wish Your Majesty goodnight,’ Anton said. ‘The hour is late, and the Comtesse will wonder where I am.’

  ‘Forgive us, Gifford. We have kept you too long. The lady will begin to think that you have deserted her.’

  Anton bowed and left him. He was thoughtful as he returned to the Great Hall to look for Marietta. He had made up his mind that he would ask her to marry him. She needed the protection of an honourable man, and their night of passion had shown him that she would be a wonderful wife. His hesitation had been because he was afraid to trust again, but now he decided that he must take the chance. No other woman would satisfy him. He must have Marietta or no one.

  Glancing round the huge hall, he saw that it was almost empty now, for people had begun to drift away after the King’s departure. A brief glance told him that she was not here, but he saw Miguel talking to one of the ladies and went up to him.

  ‘Have you seen the Comtesse?’

  ‘Not for some time,’ Miguel replied. ‘Perhaps she tired of waiting and went home?’

  Anton’s gaze narrowed for a moment, then he shook his head. ‘She would have no idea of how to get there. She would have waited for me to take her.’

  ‘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 he
ar 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.’