by Olga Daniels
Those “turning movements” brought her shoulder to shoulder with Richard, and another flirtatious meeting of the eyes, but this time she was on her guard. Coolly she wondered how many dancing partners he had seduced with those movements.
“Regard me as the centre of a circle around which we are dancing,” Richard instructed.
Amused, she obeyed with genuine pleasure.
“Now we come to the movement that makes this dance different from all the others. You must place your right hand on my shoulder, and hold on to your petticoats with your left—”
She did as he asked, though she was amazed at such an instruction. She was even more amazed when suddenly he grasped her around the waist, his hand holding her firmly just above her hip. He followed this by placing his right hand just below her bosom. She was about to protest, but in that instant he impelled her up off her feet, by applying strong pressure with his thigh.
She was shocked to find she was virtually sitting on his lap! She screamed. Ignoring that, he swung her up into the air and spun around and around. She hung on with both hands, helpless as her skirts and petticoats swirled up, revealing a disgraceful length of bare leg. Her brain was reeling. She felt quite dizzy when he set her down on her feet again.
“Bravo! Bravo!” the Earl’s loud voice rang out. He had come into the room whilst she had been swung around like a doll.
“Sir Richard!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “Are you sure that is how it is danced at Court?”
“Exactly,” he said. “You did very well.”
“It was a question of survival,” she snapped.
The musicians finished the melody and clapped their hands in approval. Everyone had found their dance highly entertaining, except Meg, who was convinced she had been made a fool of.
“Magnificent,” Richard exclaimed. “But you should keep your hand on your skirts to keep them from flying around you.”
“Don’t tell her that,” cried the Earl. “That was the part I enjoyed most of all. A mightily pleasing spectacle.”
“I do not wish to be made a spectacle of!” exclaimed Meg. She glared at the Earl, but he was no longer looking at her. Nancy and Gervase had sauntered into the room.
“You missed a treat!” he told them. “Richard and Meg have just danced the lavolta—the most revealing I’ve ever seen. Let’s have an encore, Richard.”
Meg stepped back. “I’m sure Mistress Nancy would like to dance with Richard now,” she said. “I do not wish to do more today.”
Richard cast a sharp look at her. For a moment she thought he was about to insist, but evidently he took note of her furious expression, for he bowed and said, “We will practise again tomorrow, my lady.” Then he advanced to Nancy, holding out his hand in invitation. “May I have the pleasure?”
Perversely Meg now wished she had agreed to dance again. It gave her no pleasure to watch them circling around each other, eyes locked, playing the game of love. She turned away. That proved she meant nothing to him. Dancing alone with Richard was dangerous.
For comfort she looked to where Sarah was sitting, and noticed with surprise that Alan Crompton had joined her. They were chatting together just as they had done on the journey, absorbed in each other. Meg was pleased for them, of course, but their togetherness made her feel terribly alone.
She turned again to watch Richard and Nancy, saw Nancy smile at her partner, place her hand on his shoulder. He grasped her, swung her up and around. Her weight prevented him turning as fast as when she’d been in his arms, and he seemed relieved to set Nancy back on her feet, which gave Meg some satisfaction.
Gervase stepped forward to dance with Nancy, and Meg walked over to Sarah and Alan. She had never before thought of Sarah as beautiful, but the light shining in her eyes transformed her. She must warn her not to show her feelings so transparently.
But was her maid the only one in need of such a warning? Wasn’t she in danger of doing just the same?
The following days passed in a flurry of activity such as Meg had never known before. Life in the nunnery had not prepared her for any of the things she was supposed to take part in at Bixholm.
Richard insisted that she should try everything—all the activities that to him were a normal part of life but which were so strange to her. In vain did she plead that she needed more time to master each new sport or dance, but he would not allow it.
“We have so little time,” he said. “It’s better for you to know something of everything rather than perfect your skill at only one or two.”
“Why is there such a hurry?” That question was always on Meg’s mind. “I have not yet been introduced to any particular gentleman. So how does anyone know that he will wish to marry me?”
“Oh, he will. I am sure of that, and they are sure of it too. You must not question me on the matter, my lady, for truly I am able to tell you nothing.”
Richard gave a wry smile. Something in his expression, as well as his words, made her heart sink. She felt that he was sorry for her, but, under orders from the Earl, was determined to maintain silence on the matter. Since she did not wish to incur his displeasure she could only bow to his wish. Yet that did not still the rebelliousness that was building up within her.
She knew that Richard held high office in Lord Thurton’s household, yet he was not a free man. She sensed that the Earl had some hold over him, but could not imagine what it could be. His instructions were to educate her in a variety of social accomplishments and it was clear that he would carry out that task and nothing more. Yet were the times when he showed warmth towards her only figments of her imagination? Was it always a pretence? An affectation? Part of the duplicity that surrounded her now?
She toyed with the idea of acting stupidly, pretending she was unable to learn anything. But when Richard demonstrated something new, her natural eagerness and desire to please made her do her best. She loved dancing, and would practise for hours on end without tiring. And she enjoyed archery—more so as every day her skill with the bow improved. She became accustomed to watching the tilt. She still feared that Richard might be hurt, whilst at the same time she could now appreciate his skill and enthusiasm.
It was a pleasure to watch the falconers out in the field as they exercised and trained the birds. She was fascinated by their beauty: the peregrines, dark-eyed, long-tailed, graceful in flight with tapered wings, and the goshawks and sparrowhawks, too. Though she drew back when Richard suggested she should take part. It was her first act of rebellion.
“Please do not ask me.”
“It’s a merlin,” Richard explained. “A lady’s hawk. Is she not a lovely creature?” He held the bird towards her.
“The bird is indeed beautiful,” Meg agreed, running a tentative finger over its slate-blue back. “But I confess I am a little frightened by it.”
“I promise it will not hurt you.”
“No, sir. I cannot hold it. It has such a sharp hooked beak, and those talons!” She shuddered.
“I would give you covering for your wrist and hand.”
“I know it is natural for hawks to hunt and kill, but I do not wish to take part in such a sport.”
“Will you not even try?”
“I cannot. I will not.” Nothing he said would persuade her to change her mind. Her attitude hardened. In a small way she felt she was making a point. She would enter into those activities which pleased her, but refuse to take part in any that did not. She scanned his face with some anxiety, waiting for his reaction. She was prepared for a clash of wills and determined to stand her ground.
“Very well.” He shrugged and smiled disarmingly. “It’s of no consequence. I realise hawking is not to everybody’s taste. Shall we return to the castle?”
He offered his arm and chatted pleasantly as they strolled over the field. His relaxed attitude showed that he bore no resentment at her rebellion. Perversely she was not sure if she should be pleased or resentful that her act of defiance had made so little impact.
&n
bsp; As they entered the castle her spirits were uplifted by the sound of the musicians at practice.
“Shall we join them?” Richard said. “You have not yet had the opportunity of learning the latest songs. Would you like to do that?”
She wondered if there was a tinge of sarcasm in his voice, for he was asking her most politely. However, he was smiling, and his suggestion was one that pleased her.
“I should find that enjoyable,” she agreed. Then, after a pause, added, “I recall that I was ridiculed because I thought only of the singing of psalms, as we did in the choir at the nunnery, but I shall be happy to learn other songs.”
“They should not have behaved towards you as they did on your arrival,” Richard said. His voice was no more than a whisper in her ear. “I thought you bore their churlish remarks with great dignity on that occasion.”
“Thank you.” The compliment pleased her.
The musicians were rehearsing the tune that was one of the most popular at Court, not least because it was said to have been composed by the King himself. One of the musicians began to sing.
Greensleeves was all my joy,
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my lady Greensleeves?
Meg found it pleasant and easy to join in. Her voice had been trained for singing in the choir, and that made it easy for her to pick up the rhythm.
From that they moved on to some of John Tavener’s songs: “My Harte, my Mynde?” and “Love will I Never Love thee More”.
They were accompanied by expert lute players, one of whom taught her the words. “You have a lovely voice, my lady,” he said. “It has obviously been trained.”
“I’ve always enjoyed singing,” Meg told him. He was a charming young man, to whom music was more than just a job. He was immersed in its intricacies and always sought perfection.
“Where did you learn?” he asked.
“In the nunnery.” She smiled at his expression of surprise. “My mother sought sanctuary there when I was but a baby.”
“They taught you well.”
“The nuns had an excellent choir and I was encouraged to join. It was all church music.”
“Religious music is some of the most wonderful ever written. But it is not to the taste of everyone.” He paused, his face expressive. She knew he was thinking of the Earl and Nancy. “Fortunately I also enjoy the popular songs for entertainment.”
Time slipped away quickly and pleasantly that afternoon. She was surprised when Richard said they should change in readiness for the evening meal.
“Tomorrow there is to be a great gathering for a hunt,” Richard told her.
“So I have heard,” Meg said.
For several days the castle had been a-buzz with talk of the hunt to come. All the young men and women had been looking forward to it with great excitement, and others had come to join in—noblemen and their ladies from neighbouring estates.
Meg did not say so, but she had no intention of joining them.
That evening, when all had eaten and drunk their fill—and more besides—the Earl turned towards her. “I hear you’ve learned some songs, Meg, is that so?”
“Yes, Uncle.”
He leaned back in his huge chair, replete and well-pleased. “Just what we need. You can sing for us now.”
“Now?” She hesitated. She had not thought to perform so publicly or so soon.
“Now!” thundered the Earl. “Let’s hear what you can do.”
Richard offered her his arm. “Allow me to escort you to the musicians.”
“I—I can’t. I’ve forgotten all the words.”
“If you la-la-la, most of them won’t know the difference.”
She chuckled. She did not believe him, but it helped her to relax.
The musicians stood up as she approached; they bowed. They had been kind to her that afternoon. She must not let them down. For if she failed the Earl’s wrath might spill over to them also.
They began to play “Greensleeves”. On the first note the words came back to her. The melody lifted her. She had never sung before with such a gifted accompaniment, and all the chattering voices in the Great Hall fell silent.
They applauded loudly. The Earl was among those expressing delight. “More!” he shouted. “More!”
She sang one more song, then begged to be excused. “I have not yet learned any other songs,” she said.
“Very well,” Thurton said. He looked delighted as he turned to Nancy. Sarah just made out his words as she was being escorted by Richard back to her seat. “She’ll be a sensation at Court,” he said. “The King’s own song. I’ve never heard it sung so well. He’ll love it!”
Meg was horrified at the thought—did they really expect her to sing before the King? She hoped she had not heard correctly. Then peals of laughter reeled around the Great Hall. The usual entertainers were already at their antics. The Earl was soon convulsed with laughter. The more vulgar the jokes, the louder he and Nancy laughed.
Now that she knew what to expect Meg had prepared herself. She conjured up the thought that Sarah had put into her mind. She ignored the words and antics and imagined the face of the Prioress, had she been there. That invariably brought a smile to her lips, and the Earl was deceived into believing she was changing her ideas. He nodded towards her with approval and leaned over to pat her hand. With considerable self-control she managed not to cringe.
The party broke up sooner than usual that evening.
“Up and about early tomorrow, ready for the hunt,” the Earl announced.
Meg intended to indulge in a pleasantly long lie in bed.
Sarah brought the breakfast tray very early. Then, surprisingly, dashed back to the kitchen, as if she hadn’t a moment to lose. Meg began her breakfast in a leisurely manner. Long before she had finished Sarah bustled back into the chamber, bringing a ewer of hot water.
“You better hurry, my lady,” she said. “They’ll soon be a-mustering, ready for the hunt.”
“I know. I’ve heard the commotion outside.” Meg yawned and stretched. “But, since I’m not taking part in it, I’ve no need to hurry.”
“Oh, but you must, my lady!” Sarah was aghast. “Sir Richard particularly made me promise to have you ready in good time.”
Meg sat up, buttered an oatcake and nibbled the edge of it delicately. Sarah watched her with an expression of horrified disbelief.
“Sir Richard said if you wasn’t up and out in good time, he’d come in and fetch you himself.” Sarah paused, then added, “Probably dress you himself, too, the way he was carrying on.”
Meg almost choked on the oatcake! Would he dare to do that? Would he come into her chamber and forcibly make her get ready for the hunt? She decided he probably would.
“Well, if I must!”
“I should think so, my lady,” Sarah said cheekily, as she poured water into a basin. Her mistress would not be late if she could help it. She hustled Meg through the routine of dressing and hairbrushing and braiding without relaxing one iota her normal standard. Meg felt less urgency than usual.
Determined to take no part in the hunt, she sauntered out into the courtyard and stood lazily surveying the busy, colourful scene around her. Horses and riders, men, women and children were milling about. The verderers were on foot, keeping control of the greyhounds and mastiffs.
Richard came up to her, leading his own mount and also her mare, saddled and ready.
“Good morning, Meg. Excellent weather for the chase,” he observed.
“It is, indeed, a delightful morning.”
She seemed to have no option but to allow him to help her up into the saddle. Especially as at that moment Nancy rode up alongside. She was accompanied by another younger companion, who was, Meg decided, one of the most beautiful ladies she had ever seen. Her costume was magnificent and she handled a large, very restive grey horse with consummate ease.
“Isabelle, may I introduce Thurt
on’s niece, Lady Margaret? Meg, this charming lady is the Marchioness of Belaugh.”
They bowed their heads to each other with cool civility.
“Ah! The young lady on whom Edmund’s hopes are riding,” commented the Marchioness. “Very pretty. Very pretty, indeed.”
Nancy smiled, as if the compliment was directed at her. “We are in the process of creating a magnificent new wardrobe for her,” she said.
Talking about her again as if she was not there! Evidently the Marchioness had heard about her in advance. Their attitude caused Meg’s anger to flare, but she held her tongue. She was about to wheel Molly and move away when Sarah appeared. She carried a silver tray with beakers of wine and held it up to Nancy and the Marchioness, then to Meg.
“Sarah, you shouldn’t have been asked to perform that task,” Meg objected.
“Nobody asked me, my lady. I volunteered,” Sarah said merrily. “Didn’t see why I should be left out.”
“But you’re afraid of horses!”
“I know better now. Mr Crompton’s been taking me out riding every day. Not just pillion to him, either, but on a horse of my own!”
“Goodness!” exclaimed Meg.
“He says I got a good seat—an’ he tells me that’s a compliment!”
With a merry laugh, Sarah curtsied and moved on to offer her tray to other riders.
Nancy finished her wine and turned back to Meg. “The Marchioness is a great friend of mine,” she remarked. “And also of Richard’s.”
Richard doffed his cap and bowed low. “Now that you are here, dear lady, the gathering is complete,” he said.
The Marchioness chuckled. “Such words fall easily off your tongue,” she said. “But they are not borne out by facts. You have not ridden over to visit me these past two months.”
“Alas, no. But I have heard that you have not been short of visitors, dear lady.”
“It is true. I have not. But you know you have always—”
The sounding of the hunting-horn drowned out her words. The meet was preparing to move off. The Earl shouted to Richard to ride up at the front, for he was to lead the great gathering. The Marchioness moved forward and cantered alongside him. She obviously assumed it was her right to share the leadership of the hunt. She was sure also of Richard’s welcome, Meg thought, noticing how he turned his head, smiled at the lady and made some seemingly intimate comment.