Where Love Has Gone

by Speer, Flora

  “You were remarkably quiet during our ride back,” Cadwallon said when the two men were in the guestroom they shared, washing up before the evening meal.

  “I was thinking.” Desmond splashed warm water on his face and reached for the linen towel Richard held out to him. He wasn’t going to admit that most of his thoughts had centered on Elaine, rather than on his mission. He could not understand how a young woman who was not pretty could so quickly invade his mind until there was precious little room left for manly concerns.

  It wasn’t as though he was deprived of female company. He’d had enough beautiful ladies fluttering around him while he was at court with Royce, any of whom would gladly have accepted his lusty embrace. He just hadn’t wanted those women. He’d had enough of casual bedding, and living with his brother and sister-in-law during the past year while he regained his health had shown him how true affection and tenderness produced a contentment and a genuine happiness that Desmond had always assumed lay far beyond his reach. He still believed happiness was beyond him, but he was no longer willing to settle for anything less.

  “Elaine’s a clever young woman,” Cadwallon said, as if he could read Desmond’s thoughts.

  “She does seem to be intelligent,” Desmond cautiously agreed.

  “She certainly distracted you.”

  “Distracted? How?” Surely, he hadn’t been so transparent that Cadwallon had perceived his interest. Impossible; he had no interest in Elaine.

  “You were pushing her hard during the early part of our ride,” Cadwallon said, “all but wringing out of her the information she didn’t want to speak. So she offered something else.”

  “Oh?” Desmond closed his mouth and waited, knowing the other man would continue.

  “That business about the king of France.” Cadwallon laughed. “Elaine knows Royce, and I’ll wager she knows what kind of work Royce does for King Henry. She also knows Royce sent us here. It follows, then, that Elaine knows the kind of work we do for Royce. So, she dangled poor, old King Louis the Fat before you, and you took the bait.”

  “Are you suggesting Elaine lied?” Suddenly, inexplicably, Desmond’s fingers itched to wrap themselves about Cadwallon’s neck.

  “Of course not.” Cadwallon laughed again. “She took great care not to lie. She mentioned a suspicion, then changed it to an impression. And you did what she wanted. You let the question of what Elaine knows about her sister but isn’t telling us drop unanswered and unexplored.”

  “So I did.” Desmond was ready to give credit where it was deserved. “As you said, a clever woman. I admit I fell into her trap. But later, when you left us alone there on the beach, I set a snare for her.”

  “And?” Cadwallon regarded him with a smile.

  “She neatly avoided my trap by following you into the water.” He didn’t mention holding Elaine’s hand.

  “And in the water, she avoided my questions with her innocent prattle about seashells. All of which means,” Cadwallon said, “we have to concentrate on the issue that brought us here, and not allow Elaine to distract us again.

  “Ewan,” Cadwallon went on, turning to his waiting squire, “did you learn anything from Jean the kitchen boy?”

  “Aye, my lord,” Ewan responded. “Jean adores both Lady Aglise and Lady Elaine. He’s from Gorey village, so he knows all the fishermen and many of the sailors who put in at Gorey. It seems there’s a regular traffic between Jersey and Normandy, and with England, too. I think you were correct to say Jean is the person Lady Aglise would apply to if she wanted to leave the island. But he swears she didn’t leave. He’s truly worried about her.”

  “I’ve heard much the same from every man-at-arms or squire I spoke to today,” Richard added.

  “So, Cadwallon said, “it seems Elaine is not mistaken in her contention that her sister is still here on Jersey.”

  His glance caught and held Desmond’s and it was Desmond who said what both of them had likely been thinking for most of the day.

  “If Lady Aglise is still here, and no one has seen or heard from her since February,” Desmond said, “then she must certainly be dead.”

  Chapter 4

  “No, you may not ride out again with those men,” Lady Benedicta told Elaine. “Your absence yesterday left your chores undone. We don’t have enough maidservants to do your work as well as their own.”

  “I’m sorry if you and the maids were inconvenienced,” Elaine said. “But, surely, finding a missing woman is more important than mending torn sheets or supervising the scrubbing of the stillroom floor.”

  “Not if the woman is missing of her own volition.” Lady Benedicta’s mouth snapped shut on the abrupt, coldly spoken words.

  Elaine knew there was no arguing with her in her present mood. Only a display of meek obedience would soften her. Elaine resolved to keep silence on the subject of Aglise for the entire day. She told herself it scarcely mattered whether she went with Desmond and Cadwallon, or not. When the men returned from their second day of searching, she’d learn if they had discovered any sign of her sister. If Desmond refused to answer her questions she would attempt to persuade the kindly Cadwallon to tell her what she wanted to know.

  So, over the next few hours she hid her impatience while she mended torn linens. With her head bent over the work she allowed her thoughts to drift. They drifted to Desmond. Though he was far from ugly, he was not particularly handsome, either. Taller than most men, well muscled without being unpleasantly bulky, with light brown hair and grey eyes, he could have been almost any knight from her late father’s service at Dereham. Yet Desmond was clearly not an ordinary man. His sharp features displayed such intelligence, and his eyes were so alert as they took in everything happening around him, that Elaine found him compellingly attractive.

  Her warm reaction to him shamed her. This was no time for her to be looking at a man with personal interest, not while Aglise was still missing. She should never have allowed him to hold her hand. That she could regard him, a man she barely knew, as anything more than a helper in the search for her sister was shocking. Perhaps she was not so very different from Aglise, after all.

  “This is fine needlework,” Lady Benedicta said several hours later, while she and Elaine were in the linen room folding a newly repaired sheet. “You do sew an admirably fine seam.”

  Elaine looked at her in surprise, for Lady Benedicta seldom praised her and the sheet was no better sewn than dozens of others she had repaired over the last two years.

  “Thank you, my lady,” was all she said.

  “Did Lord Royce’s men learn anything worthwhile yesterday?”

  The question came suddenly, taking Elaine off guard. Fortunately, she didn’t have to think about her response.

  “What they wanted,” she said, “was to ride around the island with someone who knows it well. They did stop here and there to ask if anyone had seen Aglise recently, but mostly they were interested in seeing places where she could be hiding, or beaches and harbors from which she could have left Jersey. They seem to believe she has left, which may be why they didn’t search more closely.”

  Elaine didn’t mention the remarkably intense interest with which Desmond and Cadwallon had gone over every aspect of the landscape. She was sure that after only one day they knew as almost much about the island as she did. And then, of course, there had been Desmond’s sudden accusation that she was concealing information. She had turned aside his questions and Cadwallon’s later queries as they stood in the water, but she didn’t fool herself into believing either of them was finished with the subject.

  “Of course, Aglise has left.” Lady Benedicta placed the folded sheet on a shelf and smoothed the linen with strong, capable hands. “I know you do not want to believe ill of your sister, but it is all too clear to me that she has fled with a lover.”

  “What lover?” Elaine trembled with fear as she spoke. “Are you aware of any particular friendship my sister has?”

  “I’d be the last pers
on to whom Aglise would confess her misbehavior,” Lady Benedicta scoffed. “I should think you would know, since the two of you were so close.”

  “We are close,” Elaine said. “Please, my lady, do not speak of Aglise as if she is gone forever.”

  “She has certainly left Jersey forever,” Lady Benedicta stated firmly. “I am glad of it. She sorely abused our hospitality. You may choose to associate with her after you have left Warden’s Manor. That will be your decision, not mine. I am rid of Aglise.”

  Elaine bit her lip and kept silent, knowing it was better not to argue with her foster mother.

  “Where, exactly, did you ride yesterday?” Lady Benedicta asked. She wasn’t looking directly at Elaine, for she was busy distributing sprigs of dried lavender amongst the sheets to keep them sweet-smelling and to discourage moths or crawling vermin from making a feast of them.

  “We took the road along the cliffs, then turned south to Saint Ouen’s Bay, and then along the southern shore back to Gorey.”

  “Our men-at-arms searched all of those places several times,” Lady Benedicta noted with a disapproving sniff. “They found no trace of Aglise.”

  “So I told them,” Elaine said. “They insisted they needed to see the island for themselves, so they can decide where to concentrate their efforts.”

  “It’s a waste of time, when the silly girl is already gone,” Lady Benedicta said. She paused, a few sprigs of lavender still in her hands, and shot an irritated glance in Elaine’s direction. “Really, I am most displeased with you for writing that letter. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for bothering Lord Royce when he has far more important matters to attend to. You should not have encouraged him to send his men here. I’m sure they could be put to better use elsewhere.”

  “I suppose you are right, if you truly believe Aglise is gone from Jersey,” Elaine admitted with a sigh.

  “If you will only think honestly about your sister’s character, you will realize I am, indeed, right. Aglise is a foolish, troublesome girl. Now that Lord Bertrand has determined she is not on Jersey, the problem of finding her rests on your mother’s shoulders, not on yours – nor on my lord Bertrand’s shoulders, or even upon our two visitors.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Elaine did her best to sound meek, though she was angry enough to rip apart the shelves that were so neatly stacked with clean linens. She didn’t think she could bear another disparaging word from Lady Benedicta on the subject of Aglise. Nothing, nothing, was more important than finding Aglise, and everyone who knew her ought to be seriously concerned until she was found.

  “They discovered nothing, did they?”

  “I beg your pardon, my lady,” Elaine said. “I was wool-gathering. What did you ask me?”

  “Pay attention when I speak. Your knights-errant found no useful evidence?”

  “No, my lady.” Elaine realized that Lady Benedicta’s persistent queries weren’t aimed solely at criticizing Aglise. She suspected Elaine of knowing more about Aglise’s disappearance than she was telling, and she saw it as her duty to discover what that knowledge was. Doubtless she also felt compelled to do all she could to guard Lord Bertrand’s honor as designated protector of the sisters and, thus, to safeguard her own good name as well. The possibility of a scandal brought upon them by Aglise’s conduct must be deeply troubling to Lady Benedicta. Though Elaine experienced a stirring of reluctant sympathy toward her foster mother, she was not going to betray her sister. She thanked heaven that she could answer Lady Benedicta’s last question honestly.

  “If Desmond and Cadwallon had discovered anything at all to do with Aglise, I would have told you and Lord Bertrand at once. They learned nothing that I am aware of.”

  “Well then, we may dare to hope they will go away and leave us in peace.”

  “I believe they are only waiting for the ship that brought them to return for them,” Elaine said. She tactfully refrained from pointing out that on any given day Lord Bertrand’s men-at-arms, many of whom were frequently drunk, did far more to disturb the peace of Warden’s Manor than Lord Royce’s two men.

  “They needn’t wait at all,” said Lady Benedicta. “Any ship leaving Gorey Harbour for Normandy can take them along as passengers.”

  “But, if you should suggest as much to them, my lady,” Elaine said, trying her best to sound as if it were an innocent question, “won’t you seem inhospitable?”

  Lady Benedicta did not respond. With her lips pressed together in a stern expression, she finished counting the sheets, then stalked out of the room, her skirts swishing along the floor. Over her shoulder she called a brusque command for Elaine to see the solar thoroughly cleaned before the morning ended.

  At the midday meal Lord Bertrand was even more emphatic than his wife that Desmond and Cadwallon ought to finish their work and leave as soon as possible. Again he berated Elaine for having written the letter to Royce that had brought the two men to Jersey.

  “I’ve a good mind to send you back to your mother, perhaps in Lord Cadwallon’s charge,” Lord Bertrand threatened, scowling at her. “After a few days with Irmina, you will learn to appreciate our kindness.”

  “I cannot leave until I know where Aglise is,” Elaine protested, afraid if she did leave the island, she would never solve the mystery of her sister’s disappearance. For reasons she dared not explain out loud, she was certain the truth about Aglise lay on Jersey.

  Upon hearing her words, Lord Bertrand’s scowl deepened, though he said no more on the subject.

  Through all of the trivial domestic irritations of the afternoon that followed, Elaine pondered the question she could not dismiss from her mind. Should she confess to Desmond and Cadwallon what little she knew about the most intimate details of her sister’s recent life? Was it time to destroy Aglise’s good name in hope the information, once revealed, would aid in finding her?

  Aglise had not confided in Elaine; she had chosen to keep silent and she had proven to be amazingly discreet. But Elaine, knowing and loving her sister so well, had finally discovered the truth.

  Castles and manor houses, crowded and enclosed upon themselves as they were, especially in isolated locations such as Jersey, were not places where secrets could easily be kept for long. Elaine had pieced together snatches of accidentally overheard conversations, the impression given by glances exchanged when seemingly no one else was looking, the blush that often lay on Aglise’s soft cheeks, and she was certain she had reached the correct conclusions. Moreover, since Elaine had discovered what Aglise was involved in, it was likely other people had made the same discovery.

  When Desmond and Cadwallon appeared in the great hall that evening Elaine scarcely knew whether to be glad to see them or worried that they, too, would soon uncover facts damaging to Aglise. The question of how much to reveal to them gnawed at her. She took her seat beside Desmond at the high table wishing she dared lay her head on his chest and pour out all her fears.

  Then she reminded herself that beautiful Aglise might have done the same thing and immediately received the comfort and understanding tenderness she sought. Elaine, who thought of herself as the plain, quiet, uninteresting sister, knew better than to expect tenderness from any man.

  Desmond noted Elaine’s pale face and carefully contained manner and wondered what had caused it, and why she was studiously avoiding his gaze. Before he could pursue the matter his host intervened, speaking with a heartiness that Desmond found false.

  “Well, good sirs, have you finished your investigation?” Lord Bertrand asked.

  “Not yet,” Desmond answered, doing his best to sound noncommittal.

  “Since Jersey is so small, I am surprised it has taken you so long to search all of it,” Lord Bertrand continued. “Though, from what I’ve been told, you have questioned everyone who lives here in Warden’s Manor and most of the folk in Gorey village, too.”

  “We have been busy,” said Cadwallon with one of his broad grins.

  Lord Bertrand sent Cadwallon a look that Des
mond, watching closely, could not decipher. But the quick glance put all of Desmond’s senses on alert.

  “I have finished dictating my replies to the letters you brought from King Henry and from Royce,” Lord Bertrand said. “My secretary promises he will have them ready for my seal first thing tomorrow morning. So, if you have been waiting for them, my lord, you need delay your leave taking no longer.”

  Desmond felt Elaine, who was seated between himself and Lord Bertrand, stiffen as if in shock at such rudeness. She turned from Lord Bertrand to cast a worried gaze upon Desmond, who smiled in hope of reassuring her.

  “How much longer will your investigation take?” she asked.

  “We will need another day, I think,” Desmond said, careful to show no sign of annoyance with his host. “Two days more, at most.”

  “Why so long?” demanded Lord Bertrand, frowning at him. “Have you found some indication of where Aglise has gone? I cannot think you have; my men-at-arms overlooked nothing. I supervised their search, myself.”

  “You were most thorough, which is surely why we are unable to detect any sign of Lady Aglise,” said Cadwallon. When Lord Bertrand swiveled in his seat to glare at his other guest, Cadwallon continued, “We have, after all, merely been following in your careful footsteps, my lord. Since we have so far uncovered no trace at all of Lady Aglise, and if the last few people to whom we want to speak can offer no suggestions for further investigation, then we must conclude that she has departed from Jersey, just as you and Lady Benedicta have said from the first.”

  “But -” Elaine must have seen the slight shake of his head that Desmond gave her, for she stopped whatever she was going to say.

  “Speaking for myself,” Cadwallon went on, extending his smile from his host to Lady Benedicta, “I will be grateful if Desmond and I reach King Henry’s court to find Lady Aglise ensconced there, with all the squires and young knights tripping over themselves to dance attendance on her. Everyone does say she is wondrously lovely. Despite the distress her unexplained absence has caused to her sister, and to you, my gracious lord and lady, I think we will all be happy at such a conclusion.”