Lady in Red - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 8)

by Shea,Lisa

  Jessame nodded in agreement. “You are right – that cross was a fixture on her, even when she left home. But it was not on her body when she was brought to us. With the grief, I never even thought about it.”

  Berenger looked across the group. “So it seems likely that our killer took the ebony cross from Sabina, and took your coin necklace as well. If we can find these two things, we should have proof of our killer.”

  Jessame swung her eyes to meet Mary’s. “When do you go back for a dress fitting?” she asked. “Maybe I can go with you on some excuse, and search their house for the proof we need.”

  Berenger’s voice was swift and sure. “No. Absolutely not.”

  Jessame’s face flared with heat. “But we are so close!” she insisted.

  Berenger shook his head. “There is no way I will let you near those harpies without me being right there in the room with you.

  Mary looked askance at Berenger. “I hardly think I could have an excuse for you to be present during a dress fitting …”

  He nodded in agreement. “That is true, but I have a better plan. Lady Cavendish has been after me to accept a dinner invitation for weeks now. Tomorrow at church I will let her know I would love to attend dinner, and that I would be interested in having Jessame attend as well.” His mouth quirked up into a grin. “The entire village knows by now that we have been coming out here to fix up your home. I will explain that Jessame wants to draw inspiration from Lady Cavendish’s fine tastes.”

  Jessame pursed her lips in doubt. “Would she really want me to come along? After all, Cassandra was less than flattering in her comments about me.”

  Berenger grinned. “Oh, absolutely. The women are burning up with curiosity about you. Add into that the idea that you are coming to them for ideas and inspiration, and they will fall over themselves to show you every nook and cranny you ask about. If the necklace is there, we should be able to find it.”

  Roger raised up his mug, and five mugs were lifted alongside his. “To achieving justice.”

  Jessame clinked her mug with each person in turn. When she came to Berenger, she held his eyes for a long moment. His gaze was steady, sure. She knew without a doubt that, no matter what came, he would be by her side.

  Chapter 19

  Jessame sat on the front steps in the morning sunshine, smoothing down her green dress for the hundredth time, wondering just where Berenger could be. The service should have been over quite a while ago. Had something happened to hold him up? A gentle breeze caused the tips of the grass to dance, and the surface of the pond rippled.

  Frustration tightened her shoulders. Now that Besame had been pronounced dead to the community, she could no longer go out in that guise. She did not want to casually start wandering around as Jessame, either. That would seem an odd departure from her behavior of the past eight years. So, once again, she was trapped within her land’s boundaries, walled in by an invisible shield which slowly constricted in around her.

  There – was that movement? Her heart leapt and she leaned forward, staring down the grassy path. Yes, there was the sturdy build, the sure stride that caused a flush to run throughout her body, warming her from within. But the movement was confusing. At one side he led his horse, and at the other …

  Her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open, and then she was running, racing, laughing out loud. Berenger dropped both sets of reins as she drew close, putting out his arms, and she leapt into them, spinning around with him in sheer delight.

  “You found him! You found Misty for me!” she called in exuberant joy, her heart swelling nearly out of her chest in bliss. “How did you manage it?”

  “I have my ways,” he murmured against her ear, his strong arms holding her in close. She tilted her head up to his, and then they were kissing, lost in each other, and the world wrapped them in its comforting warmth.

  Finally she pulled back, looking over at her beloved steed, stroking his chestnut nose. “Do you remember me, my darling?” she asked him, gazing into his large brown eyes.

  Berenger’s voice was rich. “As if anyone could ever forget you.” He reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a rosy apple. Jessame took it at once, and smiled in delight as Misty carefully drew it from her fingers, munching contentedly on it.

  She swooped the leather reins in one hand, and in a moment the four were in motion again, taking the quiet path back up toward the house.

  Jessame’s brow wrinkled in consternation. “But we only have the one stall fixed up so far, and the fence is down in several places.”

  Berenger gave a toss of his head over his shoulder. “The other four will be along soon, in the wagon,” he assured her. “They had to get a few supplies. I am sure between all of us that we will have things sorted out soon enough. The weather is fine, the larder is full, and we are well stocked with ale.”

  Jessame put her hand in his. “If someone had asked me a month ago if I thought this possible, I would have accused them of suffering from a blow to the head,” she laughed. “It is almost too much to take in.”

  He gave a gentle grin. “Is that why you are not curious about our plans with the Cavendish family?”

  “Oh!” cried out Jessame, blushing. “I had completely forgotten. Yes, do tell. What did they say?”

  “As we expected, Lady Cavendish nearly fell over herself agreeing to host you. She would like us to both come over next Saturday, so she has ample time to prepare a proper feast.”

  Jessame’s heart fell. “Next Saturday? I want to get this resolved and over with! One of those women is a murderer. The sooner we figure out which one, the sooner we can bring her to justice and put it all behind us.” Her brow furrowed. “What if this delay causes another innocent girl to be slain?”

  Berenger shook his head. “Your attack was last Tuesday. When was the attack on Sabina?”

  “June 27th,” replied Jessame without hesitation. “I remember how pitch black the night was; it was a new moon. We could barely see the Sheriff’s face in the doorway, and it was a moment before we knew who he was, before we realized what his presence might portend.”

  “It was a new moon the night before you were attacked,” pointed out Berenger in a quiet tone.

  Jessame thought back to that night, how they had become enraptured in the discovery of each other, how they had not bothered to light a candle against the pitch darkness of the night as it had eased in. They had laughed in delight as they expanded their other senses, drinking in the smell and texture of each other throughout that long night.

  “You are right,” she replied, her voice hushed. “And the other girls?”

  He nodded. “I confirmed with Father Stockman after the service. Each girl had been slain on or just after a new moon.”

  “So we should have several weeks yet,” realized Jessame with a relieved sigh. “This gives us plenty of time.”

  “And plenty of time to prepare,” added Berenger.

  She looked at him in confusion. “Prepare for what?”

  His eyes moved down to the knife she carried at her hip. “If we are indeed heading into the home of a murderer, I would have you at least somewhat more prepared in the use of that blade. I cannot account for all eventualities, but I will make sure you are as safe as possible.”

  She blushed, remembering how inept she had been when Hosea had attacked her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  His eyes met hers. “It will be my pleasure,” he assured her.

  They tethered their two horses by the side of the stables, and, true to Berenger’s word, the wagon rolled up shortly thereafter well stocked with lumber, tools, and four grinning helpers. The group got to work, first moving as a team around the circumference of the enclosed ring, sounding each board and post, shoring up or replacing beams as necessary. Millie and Rudyard moved back and forth with mugs of ale and wooden platters of cheese and bread. The time passed quickly, full of laughter and shared conversation.

  The sun was easing lower in the sky when they
declared the ring fit for the steeds and turned them loose in it. Then they turned their attention to the stables. The outer shell was sturdy enough, needing merely a few boards mended or a few holes filled in. Mary and Jessame swept out the dust and mice while the men hammered and patched. Millie brought in a pair of lanterns, and the sun had just dropped rosily below the horizon when they declared the job well done.

  They trooped into the house, and Terric’s call greeted them as she headed into her room to change.

  “Stultus est qui stratum, non equum inspicit!”

  She heard Berenger’s warm voice come from the study; she knew he was gathering her father up in his arms, carrying him into the dining room.

  “The man who inspects the saddle blanket instead of the horse is stupid!”

  Jessame grinned, sliding on the green dress, dipping a cloth into the water bowl on her dresser and wiping the grime off her hands and face. In a moment she was joining the group as they took their seats at the table.

  She gave Berenger a nudge in the ribs as he lowered himself by her side. “Ah, but what is the rest of that quote?” she asked him teasingly.

  “Most stupid is the man who judges another man by his clothes or circumstances,” he responded with a wink.

  Roger’s face lit up. “That is especially true in your case, Jessame,” he laughed. “Many people in the village did indeed judge you solely based on the way you talked and dressed.”

  Berenger put a hand gently on hers. “Well, soon that will all come to an end,” he reassured her. “You will be able to walk openly wherever you wish, and be respected for all the wonderful traits that you possess.”

  Jessame flushed, the wonder of it coming to her. He was right. Soon the shackles would come off; she could go where she wished, visit and explore. Her father was doing better each day.

  “As soon as we have the murderer caught,” she whispered, half to herself.

  Berenger lifted his mug in the air. “To justice,” he toasted.

  The mugs clinked around the table, and she held his gaze as she drew down the rich liquid, warming from within and without.

  Chapter 20

  Jessame balanced her practice knife carefully in her grip. The dull wood was carefully crafted by Roger to hold the proper weight and shape of the real weapon. There was a motion, and she drew it quickly down and to the right. She deflected Berenger’s club blow, then dove in, drawing her blade in a slicing motion inches away from Berenger’s stomach.

  “Well done!” he praised, stepping back. “Only three days in, and you are picking this up quite well.”

  “It is only because my teacher is a master at what he does,” responded Jessame with a smile, wiping the sweat off her brow. “I am sure these six hours a day of practice have something to do with it as well.”

  “Did you need to rest?” he asked with concern. “Your bruises have faded, but I imagine your shoulder still is not at full strength.”

  She shook her head. “I am enjoying our time immensely,” she smiled. “And you are of course right. I will not underestimate the danger this time. If they realize who I am, and somehow we end up alone, I need to make sure I can hold her off until you arrive.”

  “As long as you can scream, I will be by your side in under a minute,” he promised. “Their house may be large, but it is not that large.”

  He raised the club over his head, and she settled into a guard. This time he came at her left shoulder, and she spun, using her left arm to deflect his swing down into the ground before driving her blade hard toward his underarm.

  “Good, aim for the vital spots,” he encouraged. “The neck, under the arm, the stomach, the groin. These are areas where even a small wound can cause great damage.”

  “I am glad the women were not attacked with blades,” mused Jessame as they set up again, their feet matting down a circle in the grassy meadow before the house. “I think I can handle a club, but I am not sure about anything worse.”

  “A club can be dangerous enough,” warned Berenger. “And, if either woman happens to realize who you are during the dinner, and feels threatened, they may go with a weapon of convenience. You need to be prepared for anything.”

  He drove at her again, and she fended off one round, then two, before dropping back for a moment to catch her breath.

  She pursed her lips doubtfully. “And you are sure this will work, to tell them that Besame was a distant cousin of mine?”

  Berenger nodded, resting his club on the ground for a moment. “People see what they expect to see. I imagine they barely looked at your face the times they met you as Besame. They were too horrified by the cut of your clothes and the wildness of your behavior. They might realize that you are similar, certainly, but they would be hard pressed to think you were the exact same person. A change in your accent, in your hair style, in your manner of dress, and they will accept the story without a blink.

  “Well, I certainly hope so,” murmured Jessame, and then they were in motion again, spinning and swirling in the summer breezes.

  *

  Jessame ate one last piece of bread in satisfaction, a pleasant fullness settling her. The table was quiet; only Berenger and her father sat on either side of her. With most of the serious renovations now taken care of, Mary visited occasionally with a new table covering, while Roger swung by to talk with Berenger and to work on shoring up the front door or sealing a hole in the back wall. Life was settling into a new routine, one Jessame found immensely satisfying.

  She cleared the table with Millie while Berenger carried her father up to bed. By the time he had come back downstairs she was sitting on the grey rock, staring out across the quiet, mirror-smooth expanse, her bare feet stretched out before her.

  He took his spot beside her, and she leaned against him tenderly, drawing strength from his presence.

  Her voice, when it came, was rough. “I missed you,” she admitted, and it was as if ten years of longing, of hurt, of pain and anguish sloughed away in that moment, as if a fold in time occurred and suddenly their past was connected to the present in a barely interrupted stream.

  He wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close in the rosy streaks of sunset. “I missed you too,” he murmured in her ear.

  There was a low flapping of wings, a gentle whooshing noise, and suddenly two large shapes moved overhead through the gathering dusk, the large white bodies lowering in an elegant spiral to settle down into the pond’s center with barely a splash. And there, before them, were a pair of beautiful white swans, their necks arched, each black eye-mask leading down to a beak the rich color of a painted lady butterfly.

  Her breath caught, and she froze against Berenger, afraid beyond all measure of startling the pair and sending them away forever. The two birds explored the pond carefully, nuzzling their heads into a patch of reeds, peering around the back side of a small pile of stones. Then, seemingly satisfied, they waddled up on the far side of the water, moved into a patch of bushes, and settled down to rest.

  Jessame melted against Berenger, her heart brimming with joy. “Oh, Berenger,” she sighed, her eyes fixated on the hiding spot of the two magnificent animals.

  His lips pressed tenderly against her forehead, and his voice was hoarse when at last he spoke. “I love you.”

  Chapter 21

  Jessame’s heart thumped heartily against her chest as Berenger helped her down from Misty’s back and onto the elegant front steps of the Cavendish home. She was careful to keep her embroidered moss-green dress clear of the wet grass and mud. Mary had certainly outdone herself in preparing Jessame for the evening. The dress was lovelier than anything Jessame had ever owned, and she knew the woman had poured her heart and soul into its creation.

  She nodded as a servant came to lead away the two horses, then adjusted the silk shawl at her neck with a careful tug. She then turned to look up at Berenger. He was gazing down at her with a mixture of pride and concern mingled in his gold-flecked eyes. He let a hand trace along the braid whic
h framed her face. His voice was a mere whisper.

  “I am immensely proud of you.”

  She blushed, resisting with every ounce of her self-control the urge to lean forward, to fold into an embrace, to bring her lips up to meet his. For one more night she had to playact, to hold within herself her desires and dreams. It was critical that neither of the Cavendish women suspect that she was more than a casual friend of Berenger’s. She needed for them to be warm and open to her presence here within their walls, rather than thinking her a rival for Berenger’s interest.

  Berenger still held her hand from where he had helped her down from her horse, and she felt his finger turn against her palm, slowly tracing out letters. Her eyes widened with understanding, and she focused on the message they gave.

  “I love you.”

  She smiled, nodding, and then they were both turning, moving side by side up the long, finely crafted steps toward the carved oak door. Torches along their length lit the area fully, holding off the growing dusk.

  Berenger had barely finished knocking when the door was smoothly drawn open, and a finely dressed servant stood there, his pale face a mask of decorum.

  “Welcome, you are expected,” he intoned in a cool voice. “Allow me to guide you to the receiving room.” He stepped back, waving a hand in a controlled gesture to draw them in.

  Jessame looked around as they stepped into the large hall, honestly impressed with the fine quality of her surroundings. Polished wood stairs swept forward and up to the bedrooms. Large entryways on either side led to rooms lit brightly by beeswax candles. There were colorful tapestries, vases of flowers, gold-framed mirrors, and beautiful carpets over dark oak floors. Every surface shone as if it glowed from within.

  The trio of hosts was perched on ornately golden couches as they entered the receiving room, and the two women’s eyes leapt at her as eagerly as a trout chases after a tasty bug, devouring every corner of her features. They rose as one, stepping forward to separate her from Berenger and look her over.