by Julia Latham
“I won’t.” Her shoulders sagged. “I had hoped we could remain friends.”
He stood up. “I—I will think on that.”
He strode away, ducking beneath the branches of a tree, leaving her alone. She sat still for a while, feeling sad and confused. At last she resigned herself to accepting that she’d hurt Simon, but that it couldn’t be helped. Even if she’d felt more for him, she could not have allowed him to court her. He could very well be tarnished by the investigation of her.
And then she thought of Robert, and knew that she could never have felt the same way about Simon.
She left the lady’s garden and wandered toward the tiltyard. It was Robert she wanted to see, even though she’d avoided him in the early hours of the morn. He was easy to spot, and she realized that he was sparring with someone she didn’t recognize at first.
But it was Sir Anthony. The two men crossed swords, gauging each other in the way of men that seemed so incomprehensible to her. She watched for several minutes, hugging herself, not even breathing as they moved gracefully in a deadly dance. It was soon obvious that although Sir Anthony had half a dozen years of experience on Robert, he could not match his skill. Could he see that Robert was holding back, as Sarah could?
At last they separated, removing their helms, smiling at each other, saying something she was too far away to hear. When Sir Anthony turned away to find another partner, Robert noticed her. For a moment it was as if they were alone, their gazes locked, their bodies tense, their need so obvious to each other.
At last he turned away, breaking the spell he’d woven about her. It took her a moment even to remember that she’d promised to show Lady Ramsey the new loom in the weaving chamber. She hurried back into the keep.
Robert spent several hours working himself to exhaustion so that he wouldn’t have to think. He sparred with every man who challenged him, jousted atop Dragon until even the horse breathed heavily with the exertion. He didn’t want to think about Sarah running after Simon, and what might have happened next.
Jealousy ate at him, and he didn’t like what it did to him. Where was the man who’d been able to enjoy women for the brief time allotted him? Why wasn’t that enough with Sarah?
If this was love, he didn’t like the feeling.
The only thing that mollified him was Simon’s black mood on the tiltyard.
“Sir Robert!”
He looked up in surprise when he heard Francis’s voice. The boy came running into the stables, where Robert was absentmindedly currying Dragon.
“I’m going to pick out a pony,” Francis said, reaching to grab his hand. “Will you come help?”
Robert looked up to see Sarah and Ramsey in the doorway. Sarah looked hesitant as she stared at him, though her eyes betrayed a longing she tried to hide from Ramsey. The unhappiness inside Robert eased just a bit, although he still had to force his usual grin.
“I would enjoy looking at ponies with you, my lord.” He tossed the currycomb to one of the stable boys. “Care for Dragon, please.”
Francis continued to pull on his hand. Out in the sunny courtyard, Robert noticed the sweat-streaked dirt on his bare arms.
To Sarah, he said, “Forgive me for not being presentable, mistress.”
“You have worked hard this morn, Sir Robert.”
He well knew she’d been watching.
“I will forgive you this once,” she finished, the faint flirtation back in her voice.
Even in front of Ramsey. Interesting.
They all followed Francis to the side of the stables, where three ponies trotted and played together in the paddock.
Robert and Ramsey answered Francis’s questions, discussing the ponies as seriously as if each might become a warhorse. Robert had to concentrate so that he wouldn’t keep glancing at Sarah, her hair shining in the sunlight, as she rested her forearms on the paddock rails and laughed at the antics of the ponies.
At last, Francis chose a chestnut mare with a white marking above her eyes and a playful manner. He thought the mark looked like lightning, so that was what he chose to call her. He wanted to ride, of course, and the three adults applauded his skills as he showed off Lightning in the courtyard.
Robert saw Sarah’s curious expression when Margery approached them.
The seamstress bobbed a quick curtsy to Ramsey. “Father Osborne is ready, milord. I’ll watch Francis for you.”
Ramsey glanced at Sarah and quietly explained, “’Tis time for the reading of Drayton’s will. The estate lawyer is in London, so Father Osborne will do the honors. He says that you should come, too, Sarah.”
She nodded, keeping her eyes on the ground. “Aye, sir.” Then she glanced at her friend. “Margery, thank you for staying with Francis. Please take care with him.”
Margery nodded, her eyes full of questions she didn’t ask. “Please take care with him” was a strange thing to say to a woman who regularly helped watch over the boy, Robert mused.
In the lord’s solar, the mood was strangely more tense than somber. Father Osborne had the will spread out before him. The steward, the treasurer, and Walter were waiting, along with Lady Ramsey, who smiled at her husband as he took his seat beside her.
“Did Francis choose a good mount?” she asked.
Ramsey nodded. “I am sure he will show it to you this afternoon.”
Father Osborne cleared his throat, and several quiet conversations halted. Since Robert had already seen the will, he watched the others’ expressions. Master Frobisher and Sir Daniel both seemed touched by the bequests left to them and other senior members of the household. Ramsey shook his head, a sad smile on his face, when he heard about the property left to him. Lady Ramsey dabbed her wet eyes.
“And to Mistress Sarah Audley,” the priest intoned dryly, “his lordship granted a brooch, a favorite of Lady Drayton, to whom she gave so much comfort.”
Father Osborne handed a wooden box to Sarah, who rubbed her fingers across the delicate carving and kept her face low.
“Please show it to us, mistress,” Lady Ramsey said softly.
Her husband nodded. “Aye, Lady Drayton would have wanted you to wear it proudly.”
Sarah quickly wiped beneath her eyes with her fingers, and then opened the box with trembling hands. Robert didn’t think displaying the brooch was a good idea, but he remained silent.
Lady Ramsey rose to her feet and walked to Sarah. “You are overcome, my dear. Allow me to help.” She pinned the brooch near the neckline of Sarah’s simple gown, then patted her shoulder. “She mentioned many times to me how glad she was that Francis had you.”
More tears slid down Sarah’s cheeks, and while she murmured her thanks, she fumbled for the handkerchief up her sleeve.
Father Osborne cleared his throat again. “Lord Drayton had another bequest for Mistress Sarah, a small manor, Oldbarow Hall, in Warwickshire.”
Sarah made an appropriate gasp. Robert saw the swift glances that passed between the steward and treasurer, then Ramsey’s look of interest. The mood in the chamber shifted from sadness to unease.
Sarah bit her lip, then looked at Ramsey. “That is the property of my childhood, Sir Anthony. My father only leased it from Lord Morton, and I thought it lost to me forever. I cannot believe Lord Drayton’s kindness…” Her voice faded off and she quietly used her handkerchief, eyes downcast.
“You are well provided for, Sarah,” Ramsey said, patting her back. “Your service must have impressed his lordship.”
The eyes of both the steward and treasurer went wide, and they hastily looked away. Robert knew what they were thinking, that Sarah’s service had been performed in Drayton’s bed. Did Ramsey know this rumor? It was difficult to tell.
Robert glanced at Walter, whose gaze back at him was piercing.
When the reading was finished, and everyone began to leave, Walter drew him aside in the corridor. “You already knew the contents,” he said quietly.
Robert looked about, but saw no one listening.
“I did. But I only discovered it late last night.”
“And you told Mistress Sarah.”
“I wanted to see her true reaction.”
“What was it?”
“Shock, fear. She knows how suspicious this looks.”
“But not to you.”
“She wasn’t Drayton’s mistress, Walter. ’Tis not her fault that he was kind to her.”
“But you saw the reactions of all the others.”
“I did,” Robert said solemnly.
“’Twill be more dangerous for her now, once word spreads.”
“I will watch over her.”
Walter crossed his arms over his chest, his stance stiff with disapproval. “And perform your other duties as well?”
“I have never failed in my duties, Walter, and you know that.”
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Walter finally nodded. “Ramsey did not receive much of consequence.”
“Except the boy’s guardianship, which will last thirteen more years. That is a long time to have sole control of a large estate—with no one looking over his shoulder.”
“Drayton trusted him.”
“And mayhap it was misplaced.”
“Very well, Sir Robert. We will see what happens next.”
He was confident in himself, confident in his strategy. But once again, it was obvious Walter did not agree with him. This was another strike against him that Walter would certainly relay to the League, but Robert did not care, when Sarah’s life was at stake.
Chapter 18
During dinner, Sarah heard the whispers. No one openly treated her with anything but respect, yet…she heard the whispers.
Now everyone was putting together the belief that she was Drayton’s mistress, along with the impressive inheritance she’d just received, the ability to support herself for life. She’d be the lady of a manor now.
Even though some might despise her, for the first time since her childhood, she had security. Now she could only pray that Robert was truly on her side.
When she left the kitchens after discussing the evening meal with Cook, she found Simon waiting for her in the great hall.
He didn’t ask for privacy, but he spoke in a low, cool voice. “Mistress Sarah, I have heard about the contents of Lord Drayton’s will.”
“I am not surprised,” she said, regretting the trace of bitterness in her tone.
“Did you reject me because you knew you were going to inherit the manor?”
Her eyes flew wide. “Nay! My decision regarding the two of us had nothing to do with this inheritance.” Although she had known of it before she’d spoken to Simon that morn…
He studied her, wearing a sad, resigned expression. “I would understand, of course. You would be a lady of property, and I only a lowly knight.”
“Nay, Simon, that would never occur to me at all.”
He sighed. “’Tis a shame I know not what to believe of you anymore.”
As he walked away, she stiffened, holding her head high, fighting back tears. Was this how it would always be now, her friends and fellow servants unable to trust a word she spoke?
“Mistress Sarah!” shouted Francis.
She blinked hard and put a smile on her face to see him running toward her ahead of Margery. The seamstress was watching Sarah with concern, and she couldn’t help wondering what her friend had seen—or perhaps what she’d heard.
“I’m going to wrestle today!” Francis said, practically jumping up and down before her. “I’m good at that.”
“I know you are,” she said, smiling even as she ran her hand across his brown curls. “Go on ahead and we’ll be right behind you.”
He headed for the double doors, and Sarah fell into place at Margery’s side as they followed him.
“Ye’ve had a rough morn,” Margery said, briefly touching her arm.
The kindness made those foolish tears threaten again, but Sarah held them back. “Aye, I have. And I think the day will not get better.”
They stepped outside into the courtyard, where they could see Francis catching up to a half dozen boys of various ages.
“The brooch is lovely,” Margery said softly.
Sarah sighed as she looked down at it. “I almost wish to hide it away. It seems to shout, ‘Drayton’s mistress.’”
“Nay, it does not,” Margery said, though she was obviously trying not to smile.
“Did he have a mistress, do you think?” Sarah asked contemplatively. “He was a man of middle age, hardly ancient.”
Margery watched the boys, shading her eyes. “I know not, Sarah.”
“Because a mistress really does have a motive, and combining that with a handsome inheritance, I look very guilty.”
“’Tis a piece of land, not all the jewels of the kingdom.”
“Hmm.”
“I refuse to be sad about this, Sarah. Ye have a place of yer own to settle on when Francis no longer needs you. Perhaps ye’ll need a seamstress…”
Sarah smiled and bumped Margery’s shoulder with her own. “Perhaps.”
Late that afternoon, Robert and Sir Anthony Ramsey retired to the lord’s solar for privacy. Ramsey asked his wife to join them, and Robert wasn’t surprised. They spent much of the day together, as if they couldn’t bear to be separated. It seemed a pleasant way to live, he thought.
They began their discussion with Ramsey ruminating on his relationship with his cousin, that they saw each other at least once a month, that their wives were close. Lady Ramsey nodded her agreement, her eyes moist. Ramsey also confirmed that he was in residence at Drayton Hall in the weeks leading up to Drayton’s death. But so were many people, Robert knew.
“Drayton never mentioned any problems with the staff or neighboring lords,” Ramsey continued. “He was so well respected. ’Tis hard to believe anyone could have a reason for killing him.”
“I’ve heard that often these past days,” Robert said dryly. He paused, then asked, “Did Drayton have a mistress?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Ramsey answered promptly.
“Once I heard a rumor about Mistress Sarah and his lordship,” Lady Ramsey offered.
Ramsey frowned. “’Twas not our concern, my love.”
“Yet I asked you to speak to Drayton about it, considering she is the boy’s nursemaid.”
“And did you, Sir Anthony?” Robert asked.
“Aye. Drayton was bothered by the news, for he said he had something else in mind for Sarah.”
Robert did not betray his alertness. “And what was that?”
Ramsey spread his hands wide. “He told me he was going to ask Sarah to marry him.”
Though his mind raced at these new implications, Robert only nodded.
“I can remember sitting with my cousin while we watched Sarah playing with Francis in the distance. Drayton was wearing a fond smile. He abruptly said that he was going to ask her to marry him, that she would make a good mother for Francis.”
“Mistress Sarah never mentioned anything like this.”
“I do not know if he discussed it with her,” Ramsey said. “But later that month we were in London with Lord Drayton, and my wife saw him…courting another woman.”
Robert kept his body still, although his every sense heightened. This changed everything.
Ramsey sighed. “I worried that Mistress Sarah might be hurt. But then he took ill, and I never had a chance to ask him what he’d decided to do about the two women.”
Robert nodded. “Thank you both for your time.”
They glanced at each other, as if surprised the interview was over so quickly.
“We are at your disposal, Sir Robert.” Ramsey rose and took his wife’s arm.
After they’d gone, Robert remained still, thinking. He knew Drayton had not asked Sarah to marry him, or she would have said so. Robert could not confirm a dead man’s conversation with his cousin, but it wouldn’t matter in the end, for Ramsey had already betrayed himself,
Robert thought with satisfaction. Even as he knew he had to discuss this with Walter, he decided not to speak to Sarah of this new development until he had all of the facts. He didn’t want to raise her hopes.
After supper, as the evening began to wind down, Robert at last found a moment alone with Sarah in the great hall. She seemed…melancholy, but the pearl brooch continued to shine by the light of the hearth, as if she wore it proudly, though he didn’t believe that to be the case.
“How do you fare?” he asked quietly.
He thought her smile a bit forced, but it was still a lovely thing to behold.
“Well enough,” she answered, “considering that everyone is now beginning to realize what I might have had reason to do.”
“Do not think of it like that, Sarah.”
She nodded, then glanced up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “I thought you might be angry with me.”
He smiled. “Why would I be angry?”
“You did not seem happy to see me walking with Simon.”
He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, she rushed on in a low voice.
“What we…shared last night was special to me, Robert. I could not continue to allow Simon to think that I favored him. It would be cruel.”
He wanted to touch her, but could not. He murmured, “So what did you tell him of us?”
“Little, actually. He already guessed I favor you.”
She hesitated, and he thought a faint blush touched her cheeks.
“He said that you would hurt me, that you were a man who favored the conquest, not what came afterward.”
“He thinks to assume so much?” Robert asked with faint sarcasm.
“He was hurt, Robert. I don’t know what he truly thought.”
“Thank you for telling me,” he said. He hesitated, then found himself saying quietly, “I admit, I experienced my first taste of jealousy over you and Chapman.”
“Really?”
“Aye. I have never known a woman like you before, Sarah.” He continued to stare down into her warm brown eyes, wanting her to believe his sincerity, in this at least.
At last she lowered her gaze, smiling, blushing. Robert thought this was good. He didn’t want people to think he’d ceased his flirtation because Sarah was guilty.