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The Winter Promise

Page 12

by Jenny Jacobs


  “Elizabeth is quite fond of baubles.”

  She had to smile at that. “Indeed.”

  He nodded to Kenneth, who bowed and withdrew. Then Robert set the cloak pin aside and tilted his head to look at her. “And you, Imma? What may I give you for Christmas?”

  She gripped the chair tighter to steady herself. “I have no need of baubles, my lord.”

  “Then what would you have of me?”

  His gray eyes were very intense, alive in his calm face. What did he want her to say? What did he think she could say? She spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully. “I would have your esteem, my lord.”

  “You have that, Imma,” he said.

  She searched his eyes for a moment. Maybe he even thought he spoke the truth. Her smile slipped and she let it go. “Then that is all I need,” she said, and left the room.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Christmas morning dawned bright and crisp, and the members of the household glowed with cheerful tidings and excitement about the feast and the festivities to come.

  A messenger from the abbot had already arrived with a package containing the sweets and the book Imma had requested. She was pleased to have thought of such good gifts. Elizabeth would appreciate the book — she had few of her own. Tilly would enjoy the sweets, probably sharing them with her Osbrycht.

  The gown Elizabeth had caused to be made for Imma was finished and ready for her to wear tonight. Possibly Robert would even notice how pretty she looked in it.

  Imma pushed open the door to Elizabeth’s sitting room. Tilly had already joined Elizabeth and she smiled as Imma came in.

  “Happy Christmas!” Imma said. Elizabeth and Tilly responded with their own smiles and well-wishes.

  “It’s snowing again,” Imma said, drawing the door closed. “The servants are decorating the hall. How festive it looks!” Christmas in Canterbury had never been cheerful. Back in Wales, her uncle had celebrated by drinking himself into a stupor. Her cousins had always followed suit, so she had never found the holiday very appealing. But even Robert’s gray stone keep looked cheerful today.

  “Oh, you should see Glastonbury at Christmas,” Elizabeth said. “We used to celebrate there, before Robert became steward. The Glastonbury thorns would be in blossom, and the whole city shining.”

  “I should like to see that,” Imma said, though she never would. Next Christmas she would be somewhere else in England, married to a man she hardly knew.

  “It was beautiful,” Tilly said. “I wonder what it will be like in Normandy.”

  And that was the difference between them: Tilly eager to find out what her future held, and Imma dreading it.

  Selfishly she wished Tilly were not leaving; she liked the other woman. But in the spring they would all go forth on their separate journeys and it was likely they would never meet again.

  “Look what my dear Robert has given me!” Elizabeth said brightly into the silence. She showed the cloak pin to Imma.

  “Isn’t it lovely? My lord showed it to me the other day.” She could feel the flush rising on her cheeks just from saying his name. She rushed to say, “My lady, I have a gift for you.” She handed the package to Elizabeth.

  “My dear, there was no need.” Elizabeth beamed as she accepted the gift. She untied the ribbon and spread open the fabric wrapping. “Oh, Imma. A book! What a lovely thing to give.” She touched the slim volume and read out the title with satisfaction, then got to her feet to embrace Imma.

  “I sent to the abbot for it,” Imma explained. “Knowing it was for you, he enclosed a letter. I have it here.”

  “Oh, that will be his Christmas letter,” Elizabeth said as she accepted the packet Imma handed her. “He always sends his blessing and reports on what good works he has accomplished.” Elizabeth sat back down in her chair and broke the sealing wax, then unfolded the letter.

  Imma gave the box of sweets to Tilly, who exclaimed delightedly, then shyly produced her gift for Imma, a handful of colorful ribbons for her hair. Then she showed Imma the linen handkerchiefs she had sewed for Elizabeth, and the chest of beeswax candles Elizabeth had given to her.

  “I love Christmas,” Tilly sighed, biting into a sugared walnut from the box of sweets.

  “What did you get for Osbrycht?” Elizabeth asked, looking up from the letter.

  “I commissioned the leathermonger to make him a pair of boots,” Tilly said. Imma held her smile but Tilly must have seen it because she added, “It’s what he said he wanted, a good pair of stout boots. The ones he has pinch, he says.”

  “Comfortable boots are a good gift,” Imma said soothingly.

  “Besides,” Elizabeth said, “I am sure what he really wants is a kiss, and you can give him that easily enough.”

  Tilly blushed scarlet. Presumably to direct attention from herself, she said to Imma, “Robert gave Elizabeth the cloak pin, and he gave me this.” She indicated a silver brooch on her dress, in the shape of a cross inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

  “That is very beautiful.”

  Tilly dimpled prettily. “And he promised to negotiate an advantageous betrothal settlement from Osbrycht.”

  Imma laughed out loud, but when Tilly added, “What did Robert give you?” the laughter stopped.

  Imma’s throat tightened. Tilly’s own smile faltered, and then she said with a false note in her voice, “Well, perhaps he has just not had time.”

  Elizabeth looked away, picking up the abbot’s letter and busying herself with it. Tilly opened her mouth and then closed it. Imma sighed and took her accustomed chair, wishing she had brought her sewing with her. The room was quiet for a moment.

  Then Elizabeth gave a gasp, her hand going to her mouth.

  “What is it?” Tilly asked, moving quickly to Elizabeth’s side and darting an alarmed look in Imma’s direction.

  Elizabeth held up a hand as she continued reading. Finally she set the letter aside, her hand shaking as she did so. “My dear,” she said, reaching for Imma’s hand. “Oh, Imma.”

  “My lady?”

  “The abbot writes that he was delighted to hear from you. He had thought you were lost in the attack in Glastonbury forest. He did not realize you had sought shelter at Athelney.”

  Imma nodded, not quite sure what in that had upset Elizabeth so. In his separate letter to her, the abbot had said as much, and she’d reproached herself for never thinking to tell him the story sooner. Her only excuse was that her grief and fear had blotted out her good sense and after the worst had passed, she’d been more concerned about her precarious position here and the threat of the future than any of the events of the past.

  “Oh, Imma,” Elizabeth continued, tightening her grasp on Imma’s hand. “He says his men came upon a grisly sight in the forest — the remains of a party of forty strong, set upon by thiefmen. There was a great deal of damage done by wild animals and the abbot’s men could only recognize some of the bodies but realized who the company must be. The brothers bore all back to the monastery. Of course the abbot directed the proper burial of the bodies. He ordered everything burned that they could not salvage and use themselves. He did not realize Helen’s connection to me, or he would have written sooner. Instead, he sent the ill tidings to Edward, knowing Harold was his thane and believing you lost, Imma. He has now sent a messenger to Edward with the happy news of your survival.” Elizabeth tried to smile, but the abbot’s letter had obviously brought her grief to life again and she covered her eyes.

  “Oh, Elizabeth! I didn’t realize he’d discovered the remains. He said nothing in his letter to me. I suppose he didn’t want to distress me.” She rather wished he would have — it explained why Elizabeth’s riders found no sign of the company when they searched the forest. “Elizabeth, I would spare you this unhappiness,” Imma said. “I wish I had read the letter first. I’m sorry it gave you hurt on a joyous day — ”

  “Don’t berate yourself,” Elizabeth said, taking a breath and composing herself. “At least I know my Helen is at
rest now. I am glad to know what happened.”

  She gathered up the papers and put them in the wooden chest against the wall. “I will have to tell Robert. He will have to believe this.”

  Imma sighed. If Robert had wanted to believe her, he would have; if he did not, no letter from the abbot would change his distrust of her.

  “You misjudge him,” she said. “If you think that letter will make any difference.”

  Elizabeth gave her a level look. “I hope you are the one who has misjudged him,” she said unhappily. “But I’m afraid you’re probably right.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Good morning, Tilly,” Imma said, on a morning that brought the first hint of spring with it. She came into the bedchamber she shared with the other woman holding out a book. “You left your accounts in Elizabeth’s room.”

  “I was wondering what I had done with that,” Tilly said, setting her brush down and shaking her head as she took the book Imma held out. “I’m getting so absent-minded. I wanted to show Elizabeth how we account for the weaving. She’ll have to take over when I leave. She may need to take over sooner if I keep forgetting what I’m doing!”

  “It’s not long now, is it?” Imma asked, her heart twisting as she thought of spring and what it would bring.

  “Not long now,” Tilly said, her eyes shining. “I saw a violet in the valley on my ride this morning.”

  Imma sat on the bed, ready to listen if Tilly wanted to talk. Just because Imma dreaded what spring would bring didn’t mean she couldn’t be happy for her friend.

  “Oh! I haven’t shown you this.” Tilly set the book aside and Imma wondered if it would be forgotten again. Had she ever been so distracted by happiness? Maybe, when she was a child, and thought summer would last forever.

  Tilly walked to the clothes chest by her bed and opened the lid. she reached inside and pulled out a small object. “Osbrycht gave this to me as a betrothal gift. He and Robert have finalized the contract.” She held out the object for Imma to see. It was a small wooden box with a cloisonné enamel and gold lid.

  Imma stared at it. A beautiful trinket, of no little value. She had last seen it when Helen had tucked it into her traveling trunk before that awful morning in the forest.

  “It’s lovely,” she said, forcing a bright smile, trying not to recoil when Tilly thrust the box closer to her. Imma couldn’t bear to even touch it.

  “Osbrycht is very generous,” Tilly said, setting the trinket down. “Will you join me weaving today?”

  “Not just at present,” Imma said, getting to her feet unsteadily. “I have an errand. But later — ” Unable to keep the smile on her face, she grabbed Morfydd and her cloak and fled the room.

  She wrapped the cloak around her shoulders and went into the foreyard. Settling on her usual stone bench, she held the cat in her lap, stroking its fur to soothe her panicky feeling. She must think about what she’d seen. She was certain the cloisonné box belonged to Helen. She was equally certain she was the only person at Athelney who could recognize it as such. Elizabeth had probably never seen it before. How often had she been in Helen’s Canterbury home, looking at trinkets? It had fallen into the possession of the thiefmen, and from there to Osbrycht and thence to Tilly.

  Imma took a gulp of air, trying to catch her breath, to impose some discipline on her racing mind. How had Osbrycht obtained the box? That was the essential question. She remembered how he had asked her about the attack during their conversation at the welcome feast. If he had been one of the thiefmen, now he knew there had been a survivor. She had not thought his conversation remarkable at the time. But now … .

  When the attack happened, she had been among the trees on the trail of a crane, bow in hand, which was how she had escaped its violence. She had seen nothing of the attackers or the attack, only heard it happening and witnessed its aftermath. She would not recognize any of the thiefmen. She was no threat to anyone. She had said as much to Osbrycht. So she was safe, wasn’t she? He would have acted against her before now if she wasn’t, wouldn’t he?

  Why had he given the box to Tilly? He must know Imma might recognize it since she was an intimate of Helen’s. Why take the risk? Or perhaps he had not realized she would recognize the trinket. She had not told him she was a close friend of Helen’s, merely that she was in the company. Or perhaps like Lord Robert, he disbelieved her story. Or perhaps he had forgotten where it had come from. Or perhaps he had purchased it at the market at Glastonbury, never knowing its provenance. Perhaps —

  Her hands tightened in the cat’s fur. She forced herself to relax her grip. What should she tell Tilly? What purpose would it serve to relay her suspicions? If he were a thiefman — a murderer and worse — then Tilly should not marry him. But Imma had no proof that he was. If she told Tilly her fears, the concern would not be enough to make her refuse him, but it would be enough to taint her feelings with fear and doubt toward the man who would be her husband. If she told Tilly, Tilly would go to Osbrycht for an explanation. Tilly would think that was only fair. And Osbrycht would know what Imma suspected. Then — what would he do?

  She could ask Elizabeth her opinion, but it would be impossibly distressing for the older woman to hear her suspicions, considering how fond she was of both Osbrycht and Tilly. Imma couldn’t forget Elizabeth’s reaction when she’d thought Robert was lost. If she believed Robert’s household protected the men who had brutally savaged and murdered Helen, Elizabeth might have another heart attack. She would never survive a second one.

  Imma could approach Robert, but Robert had never believed her story in the first place. Why would he believe this one, especially since she had no proof? And if he did believe her, what would he do? Would he decide that since Osbrycht was being sent away, no other action was needed? Nothing could be proved against him. Imma was not sure how much Robert would care about Tilly’s fate.

  Except for Tilly, Imma would keep her peace. If Osbrycht were innocent, Tilly should enjoy her life with him. If not, Tilly must be warned and prevented from marrying the man. But how? Imma didn’t know.

  • • •

  She went into the lesser hall in search of Lord Robert, her arms full of the cat, stopping short when she saw Malcolm bent over the account books on Lord Robert’s desk.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, almost dropping Morfydd. She had nearly forgot her cousin was a captive at Athelney. At her question, Malcolm moved away from the desk and turned to face her.

  “I wish to speak with Robert,” his said, his voice cold, his eyes glittering with contempt.

  She didn’t believe him. “I would be glad to summon a servant to bring you to him,” she said.

  He smiled, but his smile was as cold as his voice. “That will not be necessary, my lady,” he said.

  “Oh, no,” she responded, making herself just as cold. “I insist.”

  She turned to the door but in two strides he was at her side. He grasped her shoulder and said, “Has he won your loyalty, then? Thirty pieces of silver, and you forget your family? My father raised you and loved you — ”

  “It isn’t like that,” she said, just as she had protested before, and he gave a short bark of laughter. Then he looked at her and said, “By God, you love him.”

  “No,” she gasped, pulling away, her heart thudding in her chest. No good could come of a conversation like this. She stopped and gathered herself. She mustn’t let him fluster her into doing or saying anything she’d regret.

  “I hope I’m wrong,” he said, then gave another unpleasant smile. “Although perhaps that is exactly what you deserve. Betraying your family for love of a man who is incapable of loving you back.”

  “That’s not true.” Even as she said it, she knew she wasn’t sure.

  Malcolm’s dark eyes never left her face. “Then you are willing to prove your loyalty,” he said. “You can — ”

  “I will prove nothing,” she interrupted. “I will not betray Robert. And I will not betray Gruffydd.”<
br />
  Malcolm gave a bark of laughter. “That, my lady, is an impossible task. You must choose.”

  “I will not do that.”

  “Then you have already chosen,” Malcolm said, and left the room.

  • • •

  “My lord.”

  Robert glanced over his shoulder. Imma hurried across the foreyard to catch up with him, the cat in her arms. He was on his way to meet with his horse-thane and to go for a quick ride with him while discussing the matter of horses that had been stolen. He had a busy day ahead and he hoped Imma would be quick. What business did she have that could not wait an hour until he returned to the hall?

  “Yes?” He tried to curb his impatience but he knew it sounded in his tone.

  “There is something I need to tell you, concerning Tilly,” she said.

  He stifled a sigh. “Must it be now?” he demanded. As much as he hoped Tilly would be happy, the women in his household tended to forget that not everyone had their entire focus on the girl’s upcoming wedding.

  “I think so,” she said, but she sounded doubtful.

  “Very well.”

  “Osbrycht gave her a gift — ”

  He could not help the sigh. “Well?” he demanded. “What of it?”

  She took a step back. “Never mind,” she said and turned away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Imma pushed open the door to the weaving workshop. She should have known better than to think Robert would hear her out patiently, understanding her concerns and acting on them. She must think, and consider a solution herself.

  The workshop was empty, as it often was this time of morning. No fire had yet been started in the hearth. She pulled her cloak closer as she shut the door behind her, then bent to lift a log into the fireplace.

  No prickles of unease warned her, no premonition demanded her attention. Without warning, the blow fell, slamming against the back of her head. Bright lights splintered all around her as she dropped to her knees. Rough hands grabbed her and bound her wrists and ankles. Before she could make a sound, coarse fingers stuffed a filthy rag into her mouth. Then the hands covered her with a length of fabric, blotting out the light. They carried her from the workshop and tossed her into an enclosed cart. As she tried to push herself to a sitting position, a driver called to the horses and the cart rolled forward through the gates of the keep.

 

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