by Robyn Carr
“But they’re proud, sire, to be yours.”
He smiled at her innocence. He wondered that often. Proud? Hardly proud but certainly excused in lieu of a king’s wrath and thought and spoken of with care. A few scattered titles, pensions that could be revoked or ignored with his passing, the arrangement of proper marriages, that was all he could do. He would have much preferred legitimate children, but life was not so kind.
“Am I the bearer of good news?” he asked.
“You’ve put to rest a grave uncertainty, sire. Good news? I’m not sure. Forgive me, sire, but I’m not—”
He hushed her, waving a hand. He understood that perfectly. However he personally chose the course for his own life, he was a man to greatly respect some moral conviction. “Then we’ll live with this gracefully and if possible, quietly.”
“There is one thing, sire,” she attempted softly.
His brows lifted as he awaited a request, wondering wearily if there was so much difference between women after all.
“We could be friends.”
“There are many who would like to befriend me, princess.”
“I’m certain of that. More than you prefer, no doubt.”
He laughed, his happy and amused laugh. This had been the only way she could determine his mood, the tone and scale of his mirth. So she hadn’t greatly angered him. But then she had never known him to be greatly angered.
“Your friendship would be a welcome change, madam. Good night.”
The next time she saw Charles he was gracious and attentive. Nearly a week had passed since she made her visit to his bedchamber. She was no longer uncertain and nervous in his presence. She believed they shared a very important bond and it gave her pleasure and confidence. But Charles, true to his manner, never openly admitted what she was to him.
At a crowded affair at the palace Chad blended into the crowd after the entertainment was over. He had moved in the direction of the gambling and Chelynne was left to receive some attention from the duke of Monmouth. He playfully courted her, and having come to know something of his character, she guessed he wouldn’t mind a scene with the earl. Indeed, he might welcome it. He was a mischievous man, already accused of multiple crimes, murder among them. But his attentions to her had not been long cast when the king and York sauntered over to them.
“You’ve a certain determination where this young woman is concerned,” Charles told him.
James smiled impishly and returned, “It’s most difficult not to, sire.”
“Come along, my lord, and allow me some moments of your time,” Charles invited.
Chelynne was left in the hands of the king’s brother, who tried to strike up idle conversation with her. She couldn’t keep her mind on what York was saying because the king had taken his son only a short distance away and stood talking to him. Their talk was brief and in a moment Charles was back and young James had gone away to prey on some other tender heart. And York, discreetly, took his leave and the two stood alone. Charles looked down at the countess of Bryant with a twinkle in his eye.
“You didn’t tell him, sire?” she asked nervously.
“No, but what I did do might sit worse with you.” He grinned.
“Lord, I don’t think I want to know,” she said with a gulp. Charles smiled lazily and she felt the crimson flowing to her face, brightening her color and giving her away.
“I didn’t say I had. I simply said I had a mind to.”
“It shouldn’t much matter,” she said, suddenly at ease, laughing a little. “It’s been decided. Just look around us.”
Charles didn’t even bother to look around. He knew what he would see if he did. He knew he couldn’t carry on the simplest conversation without the rumors deciding his circumstance, the truth to it being the least important thing. “I imagine you’ll be counted among that number,” he said good-naturedly. The countess laughed a little, accepting her assignment with equal good grace. “I’ve heard myself to have had women the numbers of which would make me a champion. Do you start to see the disadvantage of being the king’s friend?”
Chelynne stood on tiptoe to look all around her. Finally she spotted Chad, a great distance from them, and their eyes met. He was watching her, closely. From what seemed miles across that grand room she could see the hard flint of his eyes. She lowered herself back onto her heels and looked up at the king. She smiled sweetly. “Indeed not, Your Majesty. Thus far there has been nothing but advantage.”
SEVENTEEN
How long had the weather been damp and dreary, Chelynne wondered. The beauty of summer, the luscious green was so far behind her she could scarcely remember it now. She smoothed the green velvet of her gown over her lap dreamily. She remembered when this one had been made and she thought it the exact color of the lawns at Welby Manor. Now, with her mood as dull and gray and damp as London, she simply couldn’t believe England was that green in summer.
Chelynne confided to Stella that the king had confirmed her suspicions and confessed there was a possibility she was his own offspring. Stella, loyal to the end, swore it was not so. She wept and pleaded with her young ward to disregard this as slander. The outburst went on for a few days with Stella quieting finally but never giving in. She was steadfast. Madelynne was not in love with the king.
“It was never my purpose to decry Mother’s virtue,” Chelynne told Stella. “I could never lay blame to her for loving one such as he.”
“But ‘tis not so!” she insisted.
“Nonetheless, he’s admitted this. And it’s done. And if you did not know it is because my mother was discreet. Let’s give her praise for that much and forget the thing.”
But the inevitable damage was done. She was marked as being heatedly pursued by the king and probably already a conquest of his. Chelynne didn’t care because it was useless to care. And the greatest insult came from the effect it had on her husband. She remembered the first indication he gave that he’d heard the gossip.
Chelynne wasn’t sure if he intentionally brought it up or not, for it did seem coincidental to her at the time. They were on their way to a dinner and she was putting forth her greatest effort to be gay.
“You seem to be adjusting to London with more ease, madam. Have you perhaps found something here to bring you pleasure at long last?”
“I confess I find nothing much pleasurable about London, my lord. It might be only that I find no more energy to fight these ways. I’m making the best of it.”
“I thought you would, given time.”
“Or trouble.”
“Or that. But nonetheless it pleases me to see that something makes you happy. Since it couldn’t be me.”
“Oh, my lord, whyever would you say that?” she returned saucily. “Why, what woman wouldn’t be proud to have a husband so handsome and rich? I’m sure I am the envy of all the ladies at court. They would assume I have your affection as well as your name. Wouldn’t they laugh to know they have more of you than I?”
“I have been refused, remember that, madam. Now you finally sound like a lady of the court.”
He looked away from her and she interpreted this as disgust. She wanted to hurt him as deeply as he hurt her. And she hated herself for feeling hurt, for even being affected by him at this late date.
“And you should be well pleased, my lord. Is this not what you have wanted of me? To be like the rest of them?”
“Regardless of what I wanted of you, my dear, you chose your own fate. You can decide your own destiny. I have nothing to do with that. You cannot blame me for everything and you certainly can’t blame me for gossip.”
That was when she knew that he had heard the rumors. She jumped at her chance. “Have you been waiting for me to do that, too? Yield to temptation? Take a lover?”
He was not surprised. “Is that what you have done?” he asked with a raised brow and an amused expression.
“And if I have?” she returned, hoping for something akin to emotion on his part. Jealousy and an
ger would please her. Anything would do, as long as it was not that heartbreaking indifference.
“What could I possibly do about it? Seal you away? You’ve proven that you know the way to open my doors. The next alternative is to lock you in your rooms and stand guard myself. At least you are no longer so careless with your life.”
Unexpectedly she started to laugh. Why in the world was he still concerned about her life? Would it embarrass him to have her killed as a result of her own foolishness? “My willingness to bear your children was long ago rebuked, my lord. What would you have of me now? Ever willing and eager at your call?” He threw her a murderous look that even a few months ago would have frozen her but now only goaded her into more taunting. “Tell me, my lord, would you take the king’s bastard under your roof and give it a name?”
Shocked, he leaned forward. “Are you with child, Chelynne?” he asked in a stunned whisper.
Tears stung her eyes. She hadn’t counted on her own words hurting her as they did. When she had first determined so long ago that she loved her husband helplessly, the thought of bearing him a child filled her with joy. Now the thought brought sadness, for she believed it impossible. The purpose a woman was specifically designed for was not possible for her.
“No,” she replied weakly. “No, I am not so fortunate.”
But he was serious. “You want a child so badly?”
“I wanted a child once,” she said defensively. “I wanted a marriage and in that, children. I had a great many private ambitions for myself, sir, much as that might surprise you. And none of those dreams of mine concerned the court or lovers or any of your wealth!”
“All lost now, Chelynne? Are there no more dreams?”
“All lost, my lord. I thought I explained that I’ve reconciled myself to this.”
“Chelynne,” he said seriously. “Chelynne, listen to me. You must take care. You must not do anything in desperation you may later regret. Many times things seem hopeless, but you’re very young and there are years ahead of you. An impulsive action now may result in years of doubt and regret. There are methods, madam, for avoiding more serious complications. You might employ some of them.”
Her eyes were wide with disbelief. In duty he could be tender, even compassionate. It was his obligation to care for her if he could, and now it seemed he was advising her to take care in her affairs. He was the most profound mystery in life.
“Are you suggesting, my lord, that I take care not to get us one of the king’s bastards to raise?”
“Chelynne,” he sighed. “I am trying to understand you. Give me credit for that, at least. I am advising you to carefully think on what you involve yourself in lest it reach a point where I cannot help you out of it even if you want me to. However insurmountable your problems seem now, there may yet be a course to dealing with them.”
“You have little reason to worry, my lord. I shan’t further complicate your life. I am not sharing a bed with the king, but I do not defend myself to you. Think what you will.”
He had no comment on that. He didn’t say he believed her and he didn’t say he thought she lied. If he was prepared to test her virtue, she was not prepared to yield the opportunity. They did not discuss it again.
Chelynne received a message from Lady Graystone. Gwen wished to visit. Chelynne couldn’t imagine why this woman would wish to call on her and she wasn’t wily enough to plan out her actions very well. She was prepared for more trouble from Gwen but little else. Chelynne was learning, but she wasn’t learned. The ways of scheming and weaving webs of intrigue still mystified her and dealing with scandalous behavior didn’t come naturally.
“Lord, my lady, but you’re looking fit as ever,” the baroness greeted Chelynne when she arrived. “But I must confess I expected to find you in a fit of some kind. You’ve been about so little.”
“I’m more content to stay at home, madam,” Chelynne replied.
“And of course I’ve seen Cha—His Lordship has been about, that is. He promised he would give you my best.”
“I thank you for thinking of me.”
“Why, madam, you’ve been much in everyone’s thoughts these days. As a matter of fact, you’re all the talk. I thought to warn you of rumors lest you’re caught unaware—”
“That is no longer possible, madam. I am completely aware.”
Gwen chuckled contentedly. “It is not necessary to prepare you, madam; I’m glad of that. Louise is more refined than most, but—”
“You’ve seen a great many pass through Whitehall, haven’t you Gwen?” Chelynne asked in a quiet voice. Truthfully, however she disliked Gwen, she pitied her somewhat. Her lust for power was so obvious and her failure to achieve greatness rather pitiful. She was lovely and accessible. There was no doubt that she would have shared Charles’s bed just as many others had, but the lack of a long-lasting position branded her as unsuccessful.
“There have been a few,” Gwen answered in an unenthusiastic voice. For a brief instant these two women communicated. Each seemed to know the other’s thoughts. But it passed swiftly.
“Well, this will no doubt disappoint you, madam, but if I’ve caught the king’s eye, that is all. I haven’t the nerve to make trouble there.”
“Trouble,” she laughed. “You jest! What trouble could come from being favored by the king?”
“With a husband like mine?” Chelynne countered, knowing how wickedly she lied.
Gwen’s eyes were bright with glee. “What harm could he possibly do the king? I know it’s thought all the mode to have a man killed over you, but truly, my lady, do you think Chadwick the fool to show his wrath to the king?”
“Certainly not, madam. I believe his wrath would be all for me. I assure you, I value my life more than that.”
Gwen gasped. “Do you mean he’s threatened you?”
Chelynne sighed. That would be the next thing. Once the all-important position of being worthy of gossip is achieved, every possible slip of the tongue is exaggerated until worn out. “As I told you, madam, he hasn’t had the cause. And it is not in Chad’s character to threaten. He is a man of action.”
Gwen relaxed in disappointment. All the excitement was gone from this conversation. “Well, that isn’t the reason I’ve come. Bear with me, madam, for this is most difficult.” Gwen dropped her gaze and took a breath. She looked up to Chelynne again and there was sincerity in her gaze. “I beg your forgiveness for my behavior and would like us to be friends, if it is still possible.”
“Whatever do you mean? Have I done something amiss? I hadn’t purposely led you to think friendship impossible between us, my lady.”
“I believe you’ve seen through me from the first. I’ve been quite jealous of you. I honestly don’t know what Chad might have told you of me but the truth is, there was a time when we were very close. We’ve known each other since childhood...for a very long time.”
Chelynne couldn’t believe Gwen would face her this way, this honestly. She couldn’t guess the purpose, but it made her very uncomfortable. “Here now, madam,” Chelynne said nervously. Gwen actually had tears in her eyes and Chelynne fished for her own handkerchief. “Surely there’s no cause to turn to tears. You needn’t confess to me. What is done is done.”
“I’ve never been very wise in loving.” Gwen sighed dejectedly. “Truly, I thought he had some love for me or I never would have—” her voice broke and she tried to recover herself. “When he told me he could not marry me I thought to hide my shame in marrying Lord Graystone quickly. But it wasn’t long before I lost him, too.”
“Madam, please, do not weep so. It is best forgotten now; you needn’t tell me so much.”
Gwen dried her eyes on the lacy piece and behind it she scowled. This little package was certainly not very bright. She went on with her story as convincingly as she could. “When he was leaving me he explained that he couldn’t marry me, under any circumstances. Had Lord Graystone not begged for my hand soon after, I don’t know what I would have don
e.”
“Oh, dear heaven,” Chelynne gasped. “Was there a child?”
“No, there was no child!” Gwen snapped, forgetting herself in mounting impatience. God, but this wench was stupid. If her information was correct Chelynne had the record of Chad’s marriage and was totally unsure of his circumstance. “But I suppose that is the reason for my shock and hurt when he took you as his wife without a word of explanation to me. I reacted impulsively and regret it now. I thought he had lied to me and simply couldn’t understand. It was most difficult for me. I thought...he...cared...for...me.” She blew her nose loudly into the rag.
Chelynne sat upright, thinking quite clearly now. “There, madam, dry your eyes. Did he say why he couldn’t marry you?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” She sniffled back her tears and looked sympathetically at Chelynne. “It was unfair of me to treat you so. I never thought of your misery, I thought only of myself. Please say you’ll forgive me.”
“Of course, of course. What did he tell you?”
“That he was married. I thought you knew.”
“Well,” Chelynne said uncertainly, not knowing how to get more information without looking like a complete fool. “He was.”
“Oh dear.” Gwen straightened as if in shock. “What’ve I done? Oh, I’m sorry. I meant only to set it aright.”
“Madam, what troubles you? What have you done?”
“I never intended to make more trouble,” she said, rising. “Forgive me. I’ve said too much. I must be going.”
“No, madam, not now. Pray sit and let me determine the trouble.”
Gwen sat wearily, a beautifully guilty frown creasing her brow. She had Chelynne’s complete interest. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “I’ve used poor judgment again. I cannot say more.”
“And if you do not explain yourself I shall have to make the problem my concern. That could be a great deal more unpleasant, don’t you agree?”