The Wolf of Harrow Hall (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 7)
Page 7
“How very romantic,” said Lord Greymount, in tones which seemed to indicate that he thought precisely the opposite. Well, I supposed to one such as him, the love between a forest hunter and the youngest daughter of a tin merchant was no very great thing.
“She thought so,” I said lightly. “At any rate, she was in charge of my education, and so she taught me how to speak like a young woman of good birth, to read and write and do my sums. It is more than most of the others in Kerolton have had, although she did try to teach some of the village children, back when my mother was a little girl. But the other villagers did not like that, thought she was putting on airs, and they told her their children had more worthy activities to occupy their time, and that was the end of the matter.”
“I see.” He frowned, as if turning the information I had provided over in his mind. “You do not speak much of your mother. That is, you did not say anything to me about whether or not she is worried by your absence.”
“That would be difficult, my lord, seeing as she is dead.” At least, that was the story I always told myself. She would not be so very old, barely four decades, and so I supposed she could be alive somewhere. But I did not want to think that she yet lived and had never returned to see how I fared. It was easier to believe her dead.
His response was swift. “I am sorry.”
“Thank you, but she has been gone since I was very young. I barely remember her.” Which was true enough. Something about a pair of shining blue eyes, and wavy deep brown hair that fell to her waist, hair that flew out all around her as she lifted me into the air and twirled me around and around. That was my clearest memory of her, of the way the sun had slanted down into the clearing where we stood and awakened glints of copper and bronze in her dark hair. She had been so very beautiful. No wonder Amery Willar had wanted to make her his wife, even though she’d disgraced herself by bringing a bastard child into the world.
Somehow I knew what Lord Greymount was going to say next. I could feel myself stiffen as the words left his mouth.
“And your father?”
I knew it was silly to worry about what Phelan Greymount might think of me. Even so, I found myself hesitating, attempting to think of the best way to answer his question without condemning myself forever in his eyes. In that moment, I hated how the world had assigned guilt to me for something that had been none of my doing. I certainly had not asked to be born.
But then I pulled in a breath and made myself face him squarely. Perhaps he would see that as an impertinence, that I would look up into his eyes with all the boldness of an equal, but I would not quail before him, not when I was about to tell him how truly mean my birth had been.
“I do not know, my lord.”
My answer surprised him, that I could tell. His eyes widened, and I saw shock register there before his expression smoothed itself back to its usual impassivity. “Your mother never spoke of him?”
“Not that I know of. She was…gone…before I was old enough to ask for any real details. But my grandmother vows that my mother never confided in her, either.”
“That is quite…extraordinary.”
That’s one word for it, I thought with some bitterness. All I could do, though, was lift my shoulders, willing him to take my apparent indifference at face value, and to not look too closely in my eyes, so he might glimpse the hurt that still lurked there, even after so many years.
“You do not see it that way,” he said then, and again I was surprised by the gentleness in his voice.
“How could I? To be viewed as one worthy of scorn, to be called ‘fatherless’ and ‘bastard’ and far, far worse? My grandmother did what she could to shield me, but children can be cruel, especially to anyone they see as different from themselves.”
His mouth tightened, and for a moment he said nothing. As if sensing my distress, Linsi got up from where she lay on the floor and came over to me, then leaned her beautiful white head against my knee. For some reason, the sweet, simple gesture made tears sting at my eyes, but I blinked them away, instead concentrating on running my fingers through her soft fur so I might let that small comfort soothe my soul.
Lord Greymount did not miss any of that; his gaze flicked down to the dog, and then up to my face. “But you see,” he said, “in a way, is that not freeing? Your father could have been anyone, from a great lord to a traveling tinker. You are able to invent him as anything you like, because you do not have the weight of history and heritage to tie you down.”
I wondered what heritage he fought against, for although his tone was even enough, I thought I could detect a trace of bitterness at the edges of his voice. “That is a pretty way of looking at the situation,” I replied. “Would that I had thought of it when the village children were teasing me.”
And doing far worse than merely addressing me by whatever cruel epithets they could think of. I certainly would not speak of such things to Phelan Greymount, but when I grew older, and took on some of my mother’s beauty, there were young men in the village who thought because she had been loose with her virtues, then her daughter should behave the same way. I learned to be fleet of foot, and to do whatever I could not to be caught alone.
Despite those precautions, there had been one notable instance soon after I turned sixteen, when I’d had to club Ilan Martis over the head with a heavy tree branch so I could flee before anything more terrible happened. I’d never spoken of the incident to my grandmother, for I knew she would have taken up the matter with Ilan’s father. As for Ilan himself, well, he was mortified enough that a girl had gotten the better of him that he’d never mentioned it again. Ever after, he’d sent me angry, sidelong looks when I came to the village, but I shrugged off his smoldering resentment. The important thing was that he’d given me a wide berth afterward, apparently wishing to find easier prey. He had married the year after, to one of the miller’s numerous daughters, and that had been the end of the affair.
“I am sorry for that,” Lord Greymount said, and I shot him a look of surprise.
“Why should you be sorry, my lord? You were not the one taunting me.”
“I suppose it is only that it troubles me to think of a lovely young woman having to endure such torments.”
I was not sure how best to respond to such a statement, for hearing him call me lovely quite put me off balance. He had hinted at such compliments previously, but had never been so bald-faced about his admiration. In that moment, I decided it was best to pretend he had not mentioned my appearance at all. “I thank you for your concern, but that was years ago. We have all grown up, and those who were my tormentors are too busy with their own families to trouble themselves with me.”
“But you have no family of your own.”
It was not a question. I did not quite sigh, but I did expel a small breath, then gave Linsi a final pat on her head before I straightened and met Lord Greymount’s curious dark gaze. “No. Most of those in the village were not interested in aligning themselves with a fatherless young woman.”
“Most…but not all?”
I had already told his lordship most of my secrets, so it did not seem to me that it mattered whether I relinquished one more. “Clem Wisengot, one of the wealthiest men in Kerolton, did ask for my hand, but I refused him.”
This revelation elicited another lift of Lord Greymount’s strong brows. “Indeed? I take it his wealth was not enough to recommend him?”
“No, and neither was the idea of playing nursemaid to his late wife’s three children.”
A chuckle. “You are not fond of children, Mistress Sendris?”
“I am very fond of children,” I said calmly. “What I am not particularly fond of is wild beasts masquerading as children.”
This time his lordship’s response was an outright laugh, and another of those flashing grins, the ones that sent a strange tingling warmth straight to the depths of my belly. “No, I can’t imagine most people would be fond of such children. It seems you made a wise choice.”
“Is your nature truly so strange? You seem to me to be a young woman of rare common sense.”
His praise only warmed me that much more, but I made myself shrug. “Perhaps you simply have not had the acquaintance of many young women. I cannot help but notice that you have none working for you here at Harrow Hall.”
That remark did not appear to sit well with him; he did not exactly stiffen, but I detected a brief tightening of his mouth before he said, “A choice made for a number of reasons. You did have the misfortune to make the acquaintance of several of my men-at-arms, after all. A young serving woman would have to be always on her guard around such men.”
“I am sure they would learn to behave themselves, if you but spoke a word on the subject. And if they did not behave, could you not dismiss them?”
“More common sense, Mistress Sendris?” This time the smile he sent me was somewhat strained, and never reached his eyes. “My answer is that they are very good at what they do, and up here at the very northern reaches of our land, it is more important for me to have experienced men-at-arms who can defend this place if necessary, rather than to have women working in my household.”
I wanted to ask why Harrow Hall was in such need of defense, when the land had been at peace — at least, as far as I knew — for almost as long as I’d been alive. Yes, there was the occasional skirmish along the border North Eredor shared with Sirlende, but those small clashes took place off to the west, very far from here.
“I see, my lord,” I said, although I didn’t. Not really. But I was beginning to learn enough of Phelan Greymount’s humors that I could tell when it was better not to ask any more questions.
A nod, and then he said, “But perhaps you should choose?”
“‘Choose’?” I repeated, rather stupidly, for I couldn’t guess what he might be referring to.
He waved his hand toward the crowded bookshelves. “Something to occupy your time while we wait out this storm. That was the reason I brought you here, after all.”
Of course. Our conversation had so occupied me that I’d quite forgotten his comment about my taking some books to read. I summoned a smile, saying, “Oh, that is correct. Shall I take two or three, and then perhaps come to fetch more if the storm should prove to last longer than it will take me to read them?”
“Take as many as you can carry,” he told me. “For it would be easier if you did not have to make frequent trips here to replace the ones you have already read.”
His unspoken meaning was clear — or at least it seemed clear enough to me. I should not expect him to be the one to help me while away the hours. This small excursion, or whatever I wished to call it, would not necessarily be repeated.
Well, at least not until he or the dogs grew dull once again, and needed some novelty to break up their days.
I nodded and murmured, “of course,” and went over to the nearest set of shelves. A good deal of what I saw there was on practical topics, such as hunting and fishing and the raising of dogs, but there were also histories of North Eredor and its neighbors, and books of maps and geography. I selected as many of these as I could, stacking five of them in my arms before I realized that one more on the pile would probably cause the entire thing to topple.
“Let me help you with those,” Lord Greymount offered, scooping them up as they began to lean dangerously to one side. I noticed that he was careful not to touch me, however, just as he had avoided offering me his arm earlier. So whatever that strange spark was that had leapt between us, he did not wish to have it happen again.
I knew I could not ask him about that, however. Instead, I protested, “Oh, no, they’re fine — ”
“They were most decidedly not fine,” he said. “Another moment, and at least the top two or three would have been on the floor.”
I bit back another objection, for clearly he did not intend to allow me to carry the books myself. While I appreciated the chivalry of the gesture, I could not help but be somewhat dismayed at the sight of the lord of the manor carrying those books for me.
“Oh, Mistress Sendris,” he said with a chuckle, “please remove that look of distress from your face. I do not mind at all being your beast of burden.”
The dancing light in his eyes was infectious, and a welcome relief from his sober expression earlier, when I worried that I had offended him. I offered him a smile, and said, “I suppose better you than Linsi or Doxen. I have a feeling that neither of them would take very kindly to being asked to carry those books back to my chamber.”
“No, they most decidedly would not. I know this in truth, for when I was a boy and had their grandfather as my companion, I tried to get him to carry several of my toys on his back so that I might have him take them out to the courtyard. Let us just say that the toys were flung everywhere with great abandon, and Rix did not forgive me for several days.”
I tried to imagine Phelan Greymount as a young boy, but had some difficulty. He was so tall and strong that I could not picture him in my mind’s eye as anything other than how I saw him now.
Since he had made no mention of any siblings, I thought I knew the answer already, but I felt compelled to ask anyway. “Were you an only child?”
He shifted the books he carried, and gave a slight lift of his shoulders. “Yes. That is, I should have had a younger brother, but my mother died while attempting to give birth to him, and he died as well.”
I wished I had not asked, because the light had quite gone from his eyes as he made that reply. “I am so very sorry.”
“You need not trouble yourself. I was not yet three years old when my mother passed away, and, like you and your own mother, I can barely remember her. My father remarried, but she died in childbirth as well, and I suppose at that point he decided he had had enough of burying wives.”
Nothing I could think to say felt right, so I only nodded. It was not that uncommon a story, unfortunately; we women always took a risk when bringing new life into the world. My fingers brushed against the wool of my skirts, and I realized the gowns hanging in the wardrobe, and which I had been borrowing, must have belonged to her. That would explain the fineness of the materials, as well as their dated style. Did Lord Greymount think it odd to see me in them? But no, he had lost his mother very early on, and did not remember much of her. I somehow doubted that the few memories he had left had anything to do with what she had worn.
It seemed that he had had enough of conversation, for he began to move toward the door, his arms still full of books. Linsi and Doxen immediately leapt up and ran out into the hallway, clearly glad for this chance at some more exercise. I followed, feeling oddly tongue-tied. We had shared some confidences, his lordship and I, and yet it was all too clear to me that he was the one to set the rules for what would be spoken of and what would not. It was clear enough to me that he had had sufficient conversation on the topic of his family.
Whether he regretted anything of what he’d said to me, I could not know. For myself, I felt almost a sensation of relief. I had told him the worst, and yet the revelations about my parentage had not made him recoil in disgust, or treat me with any condescension. He could be high-handed, true, but I thought that aspect of his character had rather more to do with the station he’d been born to rather than his true nature.
We returned to my chamber, and he insisted on going inside so he could set the books down on one of the side tables there. I had always thought the room quite grand in scale, for it seemed to dwarf me when I was alone in it, but now it appeared almost filled now that it had Lord Greymount contained within its walls. And also, I couldn’t help feeling a certain rush of blood heat my cheeks as I looked past him to the bed, although he paid the furnishings no mind.
“There,” he said, giving the t
opmost book on the pile a tap with one finger before he turned back toward me. “That should occupy you for some time, Mistress Sendris.”
“Thank you for bringing them here,” I replied. “And for allowing me to take them from your library.”
“You are welcome.” He paused for a moment, and it seemed that his gaze lingered on my mouth.
Oh, gods. Could it be that he intended to kiss me? Yes, he’d avoided touching me during the entire time we’d been together, but….
We were all alone here. Perhaps it had been foolish to allow him inside my chamber. Perhaps he had begun to think as the young men of Kerolton had, that a woman whose mother possessed an easy virtue might very well share her same weaknesses.
My heart began to beat a little faster, and I wondered then what I would do if he did bend down and lay his lips against mine. The proper response, of course, would be to back away and act offended that he would take such a liberty.
Right then, however, I wasn’t sure if I would mind terribly if he did take that liberty.
But then he gave me a small bow and said, “Happy reading, Mistress Sendris. It is time to take the dogs down for their exercise, but I am sure they enjoyed sharing your company this afternoon. Have a pleasant evening.”
And with those words, he went out and shut the door behind him, and I was left quite alone.
Chapter 6
Although I was glad of the books Lord Greymount had so graciously brought to my room for me, I did not immediately pick one up. Instead, I went to the window and gazed out at the ever-falling snow, and pondered all that had passed between us. It would be foolish to deny I had begun to feel some sort of attraction to him, so I did not bother to do so. I did, however, scold myself for allowing that weakness to creep into my spirit. My heart was ever barricaded behind a high wall. It had seemed the safest course for me, for I doubted any man I wanted was someone who would want me in return. No, my only value lay in being someone’s nursemaid, as Clem Wisegrot had made all too clear. Certainly no one else had ever offered for me, or showed any interest, save the sort I did not desire in the least. I had done my best to ignore the strange, lonely ache I felt in my heart as I lay down to sleep in my grandmother’s cottage, telling myself that an empty bed was better than one occupied by a man I did not love.