Jenny noticed Earl William was not annoyed. Their envy pleased him. Jenny guessed he would feel the same if she were a fine charger or a suit of clothing. She glanced around for some escape. Adèle looked pinched with the strain of sitting between the king and his mother all evening. Poor Adèle. Jenny caught her father’s eye and he smiled broadly, delighted to find his daughter the centre of attention.
Jenny sighed to herself. She would have to handle this alone. “I am accustomed to a bench without a cushion, thank you. I can see perfectly from here. I care little for music. Some other lady would better appreciate your song.’” She tried to sound as abrupt as she could, without actually being rude. But somehow, her tactic failed. The young men laughed and nodded as if she had flattered them and pressed upon her more than ever.
“Enough,” Lady Ada said. “Anyone would think Lady Jeanette was the only girl in the hall tonight. Give her some room.” Her tone was so commanding, the young men fell back.
Jenny looked to her with gratitude, but Lady Ada’s gaze was anything but sympathetic. Without meaning to, Jenny knew she had made an enemy of this powerful woman.
Chapter Fifteen
Jenny woke early the next morning, before anyone else in the ladies’ bay stirred. Her head throbbed. Even the light hurt her eyes—her punishment, surely, for lying about a headache the day before. She wished the banquet had been nothing more than a bad dream. She had sometimes wondered what it would be like to be beautiful, like Isabel or Adèle. Now, she knew the attention was suffocating.
Turning on the pallet, she found herself facing the dress, draped over her trunk where she had cast it the night before. Such a lovely thing, but it was magic, she was certain. I can never wear it again, she thought with regret. When I am home, I will throw it into the fire.
Then, in spite of everything, she smiled. All the attention had at least served her in one way. Earl William had found it impossible to get her alone and claim his kiss. Jenny knew the kiss would have to be given, for Eudo’s sake, but she felt sure it would not be claimed with nearly as much ardour when that dress was safely packed away.
She shook her head, thinking of Tam Lin. She found the malice of his trick harder to accept than the magic itself, for surely, the way men had treated her when she wore the dress had been nothing more than a cruel jest on his part. She suddenly realized how much she had come to depend upon Tam’s friendship. And now, she thought, that friendship is over. He must be very different from the way he appeared to me. Twisted with magic and malice. By the time the other women began to stir, Jenny’s heart was aching just as fiercely as her head.
“You look so pale,” Adèle said when she saw her.
Jenny nodded. “I may not be able to eat. I rarely get these headaches, but they make me sick to my stomach as well.”
“Your maid can fetch some hot milk from the kitchen. Rest as much as you can, for the journey home will be hard with a sick headache.”
Adèle was so thoughtful. Jenny realized she had asked her friend nothing of herself. “How did you fare with the king last night?”
Adèle laughed. “No better than I feared. Lady Ada did her best to draw him out, but he said very little. She is such a forceful woman. I think she should accept her son’s decision and leave him alone. He is king, after all. But Jeanette, it might be best for you to stay out of her path. Lady Ada does not like to find herself outshone.”
Jenny gave a shaky laugh. “I know she was not pleased with me. But she is not difficult to avoid, and I will do just that. Adèle, you have been so kind. I will miss you.”
“And I you,” Adèle said, and they embraced. After Hilde returned with the milk, Jenny gave her a message for her father. “Tell the vicomte to send for me when it is time to leave, for I am sick with a headache.” Remembering Lilliesleaf, she added, “Tell him, too, that I will see Earl William before I go if the earl wishes. And tell my father I am sorry.” Then she lay down with a piece of wet linen over her eyes.
When it was time to go, Earl William was waiting with her father in the stable yard. He looked angry, but when he saw her, his expression softened. “So you really are ill,” he said. “I thought this might be some game to keep my interest. You look so pale and very . . . ordinary. Hardly like the lady I sat beside last night at all.” He sounded disenchanted.
Jenny remembered how he had misinterpreted her leaving at Lilliesleaf as well. Can he wish to marry me, she thought, when he knows me so little? She lifted her chin. “My lord,” she said, “it is not my way to win a suitor with ploys. You must take me for myself, or not at all.” Then she remembered the dress and blushed hotly.
He laughed. “You speak bold words, my lady, but your cheeks betray a maidenly modesty. You are not well enough to deliver my forfeit. Give me the kiss of peace. I will claim my prize when next we meet. But your brother is released from his parole.”
Jenny felt an overwhelming rush of emotions—annoyance, because it seemed Earl William would never see her as she really was, but also gratitude for releasing Eudo from his debt, and for deferring the kiss. As she received his brotherly kiss, her eyes filled with tears.
“There now,” he said, “be not sad at our parting. We will meet again.” Once again he had misunderstood her.
The journey home had the quality of a nightmare. Not long out of Marchmont, Jenny had to dismount to throw up her meagre breakfast. “We should stop and let you rest until you feel better,” her father said as she came unsteadily back to La Rose.
“No, Papa,” Jenny said. “This headache may last for days. I will be better off at home.”
“You are lucky to see these headaches so seldom, my child. Your mother was plagued by them.”
As they travelled on, Jenny noticed something troubled her father. He should have been happier. Earl William wished to see her again, and Eudo was relieved of the debt that would have put a strain on the entire household. Yet he brooded as he rode, his chin on his chest. What could be wrong?
When they stopped at noon to eat, Jenny saw Ranulf going to fill water bottles at a stream. She slipped after him with a piece of clean linen in her hand, unnoticed in the general confusion.
“Your maid should be doing that, my lady,” Ranulf said as she dipped the cloth into the stream.
“Sunlight makes my headache worse. This shade is soothing. Did you find what you need for the new falcon in Roxburg?”
“Yes. I should be able to take her soon. Perhaps next week.” His tone was chilly, reminding her of the shameful way she had treated him.
“I want to apologize for being so rude when you took me to see her. I was not myself.”
“Courtship is hard on a young woman, my lady. I noticed that the last few days.”
This was all he said, but Jenny knew she was forgiven. And he had given her the opening she was looking for. “Hard on their fathers too, I fear. My father frets today. Do you know why?”
Ranulf filled the rest of the leather bottles before he replied, meeting her eyes with reluctance when the task was done. He plainly knew more than he wanted to say. “My lady, it would be best if you ask your father. It is not my place to discuss his money with you.”
“His money? But Earl William released Eudo from his parole. My father should have no worries about money today.”
Ranulf grimaced. “I have already said more than I should, my lady.” He hurried down the path leading back to the encampment, but Jenny followed, speaking urgently.
“Ranulf, if I am the cause of my father’s unhappiness, will you not tell me?”
He stopped and turned. “If I tell, my lady, you must promise never to reveal what you know to his lordship. Give me your word.”
Jenny knew he would never have insisted she promise if she had not threatened to betray him before. “I vow on my life.”
“Very well,” Ranulf said. “I overheard your father and Earl William this morning in the stable yard. The earl will betroth himself to you only if your dowry is increased.”
“But all my father’s wealth has already gone to my tocher. How can he add more?”
He spoke with great reluctance. “The earl has recommended certain moneylenders.”
“No!”
“Hush, please, my lady. Someone will hear,” Ranulf begged.
Jenny lowered her voice. “This cannot be. Earl William is deeply indebted to moneylenders himself, but he is the king’s brother. My father would have no such protection. He cannot ruin himself for my sake. Tell me, Ranulf, is this bargain sealed?”
“I cannot say for certain, but it seemed to me they had not bound themselves yet.”
Jenny heard Hilde calling for her. “Thank you, Ranulf, for your honesty. I will not forget my promise,” she said in a rush. “Wait a bit before you follow me.”
Now, Jenny was almost grateful for the headache, which neatly masked her new distress. While the others ate she rested in the shade of a great oak tree, trying to sort through her feelings. I may be wife of an earl, she thought, even queen of Scotland. But this provoked no joy, only a wave of panic. She would be trapped in that suffocating role forever, married to a man who seemed to misinterpret her every move. She thought of her father. I cannot allow him to ruin himself for my sake. But she knew he was not doing this for her alone. Her father craved the company of powerful men, a place at court. Until this moment, she had not realized how much he would sacrifice for these things. Not only her future, but everything he possessed. She pressed the wet cloth to her eyes.
Jenny thought they would never reach home.
As soon as they entered the bailey, she slid from La Rose into the waiting arms of Galiene and Isabel. Galiene saw at once what was wrong. “Poor lamb. What a time to take one of your headaches.” Jenny was in bed with a tansy leaf tucked into the cloth on her forehead to cure the headache before her trunk was returned to the bower.
“What on earth is this?” Galiene cried as she opened the trunk. Jenny winced, remembering the green dress. She would have to explain it now. But Isabel said, “Jenny, how did these dead leaves get into the trunk with your clothes?”
“I shall have words with Hilde about this,” Galiene said. “That girl is worse than useless.”
“No, it was my doing.” Jenny struggled to think of a lie. “There were clowns at the fair in Roxburg. They threw leaves at the crowds for a joke. I came back late and had to hurry to dress for the banquet, so I just tossed my clothes into the trunk. I thought the leaves had fallen off. Hilde never saw them.”
So there was the final proof of magic. The fairy glamour that had held the dress together had vanished on the way home, leaving only the things the midwife had seen in Roxburg. I never want to see Tam Lin again, Jenny thought, turning to the wall so no one would see the hot tears spill down her cheeks.
Her headache was gone the next day, but it was harder to forget Tam than Jenny had expected. Working at her loom, she would suddenly think of something he had done or said and smile before she could remember to be angry. She had to remind herself that the real Tam Lin was very different from the man she had thought she knew.
She could not console herself with thoughts of Earl William. She was angry with him as well for tempting her father to ruin himself with moneylenders. Even without her anger, memories of Earl William offered meagre comfort. He was a boastful man who gained his way at any cost. She realized now that his kindness when they parted was probably sparked by the fact that he was getting far more from her father than he should.
“Jenny, look to your weaving,” Isabel said.
“Everything is awry. You must be unsteady from the headache. I can look after this,”
Jenny was grateful to surrender the shuttle and sit down. Her head felt fine, but she could not keep her thoughts on the loom.
As Isabel worked, she sang a song about a girl waiting for her lover to return from Paris for their marriage. The line at the end of every verse, “Marchons, joli coeur, la lune est levée,” was filled with joy. “Come, sweetheart, the moon has risen.” Jenny smiled to hear her sister sing a happy song again. She had been so wrapped up in her own concerns, she had not really looked at Isabel for weeks. Now, she noticed a new lightness in Isabel’s movements, a pride in the tilt of her chin that had been absent for too long. But Isabel might soon be leaving. Suddenly, Jenny could not bear to think she might never see her sister sing for a dance again.
“Isabel,” she said when the song was over, “do you think we might have a dance before the summer is past?”
“Why, Cospatric and I spoke of that very thing while you were gone,” Isabel said. “Remember how we used to dance every month on the full of the moon?”
Jenny’s smile faded. What was it Tam Lin had said the last time she saw him? “Come by the full of the moon and dine with me.” She could recall how his voice had sounded, his smile, the light in his eyes, and every detail filled her with an almost unbearable ache.
“What do you say, Jenny? The full moon is only a few days away,” Isabel said. “I thought you would be pleased.”
Jenny realized she had been silent too long. “Aye, Isabel. A dance would be just the thing.” To her surprise, Jenny found herself close to tears. She was relieved that Isabel was facing the loom. “I think I will take some sunshine,” she said, and she was gone before Isabel could turn to question her.
Outside, Jenny clenched her fists. I cannot walk around crying, she told herself. Tam Lin is nothing to me. I must forget him. When she looked up, she saw Ranulf. He looked so grim, she wondered if he thought she had broken her promise. At least I have nothing to fear on this account, she thought, for she had said nothing to her father. But Ranulf was not looking for her.
“Is your lord father in the bower, my lady?”
“No, he must be in the hall. Is something wrong, Ranulf?”
He nodded. “I went to look for that young falcon this morning. She is gone.”
“But how can that be? Perhaps you missed her?”
“No, my lady. The dame and sire are teaching the tercel how to hunt. But the young falcon is not with them.”
“Where could she be? Would someone take her?”
“I think not. Your lord father has the right of all the creatures on his land. A man who took a hawk could be punished by branding. But young birds often die, my lady. They are fragile creatures. I must go tell your father.” And he was gone.
The tears Jenny had struggled against spilled over. At least I have a reason to cry now, she thought. There was only one place she might find comfort. La Rose was saddled and out the bailey gate before anyone saw her.
The fields were gold with ripening grain in the fullness of summer now. A few had already been stripped of their harvest. In the fallow band on either side of the road, bramble flowers bloomed in a thorny tumble, attended by humming bees. Orange butterflies drifted from flower to flower. Jenny tried to take some of the peace of this place for her own, but she could not. The fierce ache in her heart refused all comfort. I will feel better in the forest, she told herself.
The great trees were heavy with greenery, and their shade was cool and deep. The few sunbeams that broke through the thick cover looked strong enough to climb, and the bracken ferns on either side of the roads were as tall as La Rose. But the forest no longer eased her heart. This was the place where she had met Tam Lin. Everywhere she looked, it seemed to speak of him.
She had not intended to go to Carter Hall again, but now she knew it was the only way she could help herself. I have to see him as he really is, she thought, to see his malice and his cruelty. That will give me a memory to overshadow all the others.
She remembered the freebooters only when she came to the ford, but there were no signs of tracks in the soft mud near the river. She urged La Rose on, hoping that seeing Tam Lin would give her a kind of release. At the well, she sprang from her horse and called his name, but only the birds replied. She looked all around, even into the old hall itself. There was no sign of him. The place was abandoned and empty. She
was not even to be granted this one chance to free herself from him.
“Damn you, Tam Lin,” she cried, “Damn you to Hell.” Then she realized his use of magic might well damn him.
She threw herself on the cold stone floor and burst into tears. Even as she did, a small part of her half expected to feel his hand on her shoulder at any moment, hoped he would gather her into his arms, kiss her tears away and make everything better. But she cried herself out alone, and lay there long after, like an empty husk. For she knew now that she loved him, but he was gone.
Chapter Sixteen
“Galiene, Galiene, get the lady, please. Tell her to come to the stables, quick.” Alric’s high voice pierced the thin wattle shutters of the bower, forcing itself into Jenny’s ear. After a long, sleepless night, she had finally drifted off with the wicked wish that she might never wake again. Now she pried one eye open. From the light, it was just after dawn.
“There are two ladies in this household, Alric. Which do you want, and why must she come to the stable before Mass?” Galiene’s voice was calm and firm.
“Lady Jeanette. The groom sent me. Something has happened to her horse . . .”
Jenny’s feet were on the floor before Alric could finish. “Tell the boy I am coming, Galiene,” she said, slipping a dress over the kirtle she had slept in. She came out, pulling on her shoes, her hair still in braids. “La Rose was fine yesterday. Is she ill?”
“No, my lady, not ill, exactly. Come see.” Outside, the air was filled with wafting river mist, lending an air of magic to the commonplace buildings of the bailey. Jenny overtook the lame boy in her rush to reach the stable. She had to push through a crowd of servants to reach La Rose.
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