by Olga Daniels
“It is crucial that nothing should go amiss at this stage.”
Richard nodded acceptance. He could not trust himself to speak.
“Mistress Nancy and I have talked it over,” the Earl continued. “It is clear that my niece has blossomed from the shy child that she was into ripe womanhood.”
Richard’s feelings were of deepening gloom, but he spoke coolly. “She is now an enchanting young woman.”
“Exactly!” said the Earl. “An enchanting young woman! Tempting to any man, eh?” Richard did not answer. He was wondering what was the purpose of this interview. “Tempting, eh?” pressed Thurton. “And you spend all day, every day, often alone with her.”
It seemed to Richard that he had seldom been alone with Meg—except for that delightful, all too brief occasion in the woods, which had no doubt been reported to Thurton by Gervase.
“You wish to appoint someone else?” he asked cautiously.
“No. You are to keep on with the good work—”
“We think it essential for you to continue schooling Meg,” Nancy interrupted the Earl. “For despite your efforts, Richard, she is as yet by no means perfect.” There was a carping note in her voice.
“Quite,” agreed the Earl. “Now we wish you to accompany us to the chapel.”
“Certainly.” Richard shrugged.
Gallantly he offered his arm to Nancy, but all his senses were alerted, his eyes darting left and right. Was it a trap? Had Gervase Gisbon poured poison into the Earl’s ears? Was a hired assassin poised ready to strike?
The castle chapel was large and cold, the lime-washed walls extensively decorated with paintings of saints and sinners in ochres, vermilions, and copper-salt green. The Earl strode down the centre of the nave towards the colourful stained glass window above the altar. He stopped beside the lectern, on which a Bible was chained.
The Earl turned sharply and faced Richard. Nancy stepped aside. “A safeguard, Richard,” he said. “This enterprise is too important for it to be ruined by some unexpected slip. We fear that being in close company with my niece, whom you yourself describe as enchanting, may present too great a temptation—”
“My lord, I gave you my word.” Richard interrupted sharply. “My honour—”
“Honour has been forgotten before this, when passion has taken over,” the Earl said. “I know men—and their weaknesses. I know how a woman’s beauty can make stronger men than you are forget their duty. If you wish to remain as mentor to Lady Margaret, you must take an oath on the Bible.”
“I assure you it is unnecessary,” Richard insisted.
“Then it can do you no harm to take it. Come here. Swear before almighty God that Lady Margaret is still a maid.”
“To the best of my knowledge and belief that is so,” said Richard.
“Secondly you must swear that she will remain inviolate.”
“I cannot take responsibility for the lady for ever,”
Richard demurred. “But I will willingly swear that I shall protect Lady Margaret’s chastity, with my life, if need be, until she shall marry.”
“Then put your hand on the book and repeat those words.”
Solemnly Richard obeyed.
“Good.”
The Earl and Nancy walked away. Just before they left, Thurton turned. “Have you seen to providing Lady Margaret with a faster mount?”
“I will do so immediately, sir.”
“We shall depart for Westminster any day now and I intend to make our arrival as notable as possible.”
“I will see to it, my lord.”
Richard stayed in the quiet of the church for a few minutes more. He had no regret over the solemn oath he had taken. He had worded it with care. In that moment he had been forced to face the reality of his feelings. When he had said “until she shall marry” his mind had suddenly focused. He had almost added the word “me”. What a foolish thought that was! Meg was far beyond him. He shook his head, then walked briskly to the stables.
Meg knew Richard would be expecting her to join him for another dancing session but her mood remained rebellious. Let him wait! Smouldering with rage, she picked up the skirts of the newly finished gown she was wearing and walked quickly along the castle corridors. Sarah hurried behind her, keeping silent. She knew the time was not right even to try and talk her mistress out of this mood. In her own chamber, Meg began to tug at the fastenings of the elegant gown.
“Sarah—help me out of this—this thing!” she commanded.
“Yes, my lady,” Sarah murmured. “But truly this gown is very becoming to you, and it is by no means immodest—”
“It’s one they’ve had made for me. I want to be my own self again. Bring out the clothes I wore at the nunnery.”
Sarah was shocked. “You cannot wish to wear those things again!”
“I do. And I will. I take it they are clean?”
“Of course! I washed them myself.”
“Thank you, Sarah. Now please fetch them.”
It took very little time to put them on. “Ah! How comfortable they feel!”
“Ugly, though,” said Sarah.
“I don’t care. You and the nuns made them for me, and they were stitched with care and love, not for showing me off to potential suitors.”
With a feeling of freedom such as she had not experienced since her arrival at Bixholm Meg walked out of the castle. She wandered around, just as she had done on her first morning. The gardeners were busy tending the herb garden and the vegetable plot. She leaned on a wall and watched them. The soft cooing of doves was in the air, the dainty birds fluttering in and out of the dovehouse. The scene was peaceful but it did not calm her.
She had felt humiliated by Richard’s intrusion into the fitting session. How dared he assume that she would accept his presence? She chewed over the hurt, telling herself he was no different from the Earl or Nancy. It was yet another instance of treating her as a nonentity. He had never done that before. His actions had always been courteous, kind, considerate. It seemed quite out of character. The only thing in his favour was that when he had realised his presence was unwelcome he had departed.
They had spent so much time together that it was strange not to be with him. She had enjoyed most of the activities to which he had introduced her. Best of all had been dancing, for she had a natural sense of rhythm. She could not help wishing she could be with him now, stepping out a gay galliard, a stately pavane or even the risqué lavolta.
“Look at me. Smile. Make eyes at me—just pretend,” he had instructed. Then added with a light laugh, “You don’t know how to flirt, do you?”
“Why should I? It is insincere.”
“Not at Court, because everyone knows it is meaningless pleasantry.”
She had been shocked. Then, as time went by, she had begun to find it rather pleasant to return those flirtatious gestures. Was that all it had been when he had kissed her so sweetly in the woods? She was too honest not to know that her response had been meaningful. His kisses had effectively lifted her away from all that was mundane. She had felt she could renounce everything else in the world, as if she had been born just for that day. She had wanted no other heaven than to lie there with him, had yearned for him to continue loving her for ever. It had been like an eclipse of the sun when they had been disturbed.
They had so seldom been on their own together. When he tutored her in various pastimes and recreations, almost always there were other people around, watching, laughing, shouting encouragement or the reverse. Her days had been so full. He had led her from one activity to the next. She had danced late into the night, until she was so tired that she had almost fallen asleep on her feet. But she had been learning fast, and mostly she enjoyed what she was doing.
She had scarcely realised it, but those long hours with Richard had awakened in her a yearning for something more. She had felt the quickening of her blood, the racing of her heart. When she had lived in the nunnery love had been only a concept, something that migh
t happen in the distant future. Now, as she wandered moodily over the turf that surrounded the castle, the truth came to her. She had fallen in love with Richard.
It was shameful, because Richard had never spoken of love; he was only interested in playing the game of courtly love. Moreover, the Earl had made it abundantly clear—he is not the one for you. And he had full control over her future.
The sound of cantering hooves interrupted her reverie. She turned and saw Richard approaching, riding one horse and leading another. He reined in beside her. She expected to be reprimanded for not attending the dance session. He even smiled and, noticing her simple clothes, raised his eyebrows. She tossed her head with a haughty gesture, expecting him to make some disparaging remark. She would make no apology. Her mood was still defiant.
To her amazement, he chuckled. Although it seemed to be a friendly sort of chuckle it made her angry. Did she look so funny? If he had not been so high up on that great horse she would probably have slapped his face.
“My lady.” He spoke with deference, and as ever his voice sent a shiver of delight coursing through her. “The Earl was disturbed that you were unable to keep up with the hunt and has ordered me to provide a more powerful mount for you.”
“That was not the reason I lagged behind.”
“Nevertheless he is right. We ride to London in a few days’ time.” He swung himself out of the saddle. “I’ve chosen this mare. What do you think of her?”
Meg stroked the hard forehead, patted the strong neck. Brown and white. She and Meg took to each other immediately.
“She is beautiful. What is her name?”
“Bella,” he answered. “I rode her yesterday and found her lively but with a commendably good temperament.”
Meg looked Bella over and loved her almost as much as she did Molly.
“Will you ride with me, to see how you get on with her?”
He made no mention of the previous incident. She wished he would apologise, but, being realistic, knew he would not do so. Whatever her feelings, she decided that a good hard ride was just what she needed.
“If indeed I am to ride her to London in the near future, it would seem sensible for me to try her out.”
He helped her up into the saddle and, without even waiting for him to remount, she wheeled the mare and set off at full speed. In her mind she was trying to get away from him—even though her heart told her that was impossible.
The mare was fast and strong, eager to gallop. The fresh air blew into Meg’s face and through her hair. The power of the animal excited her as they raced away over the pastureland that surrounded the castle. She glanced over her shoulder. Richard was chasing after her. She urged Bella to go faster, wanting to get away, to leave him behind. She hoped it would humiliate him, as he had done her. Easily and rapidly he closed the gap between them.
“Slow down, Meg,” he shouted above the pounding of the horses’ hooves.
She would have ignored his call, still rebellious, but they were approaching the forest. To have continued at such a pace beneath the overhanging trees would have been madness. Reluctantly she reined in, but did not stop. She wondered, with ridiculous inconsistency, if he would suggest they might meander through the trees. Part of her yearned to find again that secluded spot where she had discovered such happiness. Would it—could it—be repeated if she was again alone with Richard? The mare moved on at a walking pace towards the opening in the trees, where a track invited them into its depths.
Richard called again, more sharply. “Stop, my lady.”
So it was my lady again now! It had been Meg when he had kissed her. The defiance dropped away. She waited for him.
“We have to return. The farrier is waiting to look over the horses’ shoes.”
She turned Bella and gently, side by side, they trotted back.
“You ride very well,” he said.
“Thank you.” She was studiously polite.
“I thought you might have difficulty in managing such a spirited animal.”
“The Prioress at the nunnery kept a fine stable.”
“And she permitted you to ride?”
Meg gave a wry smile. “My mama persuaded her to allow me to have riding lessons on a very gentle old horse.”
“Bella does not fit that description,” he remarked dryly.
“No, well, I’ve always enjoyed riding. I love horses too. I spent hours and hours at the stables, and I persuaded the grooms to take me with them when they went out exercising the horses. Some of them were really fast.”
“That explains it. What do you think of Bella?”
“She’s wonderful.” She leaned over and patted the mare’s neck. As they talked the atmosphere between them became normal again. “When do we go to London?” she asked.
“In a day or two, I believe.”
“It’s strange, but I have no wish to leave here.”
“It has not been too unpleasant, then?”
“You know it has not. But I confess I am more than a little afraid of going to Court.”
He wanted to reassure her, but found himself tongue-tied. It would be a lie to say she had nothing to fear.
“Do you think I shall find a husband there?” she asked.
“I have no doubt of it.”
That deepened her anguish.
Chapter Eight
The journey to London was uneventful, but to Meg no less interesting and enjoyable for that. Every village they passed through was new to her, and the countryfolk bowed or curtsied and ragged children capered merrily alongside the horses. She wished she had money to throw for them, but when she suggested this, Nancy told her not to be so silly.
The riding party consisted of Meg, Nancy, the Earl, Richard and Gervase, together with their servants. As before, Sarah was riding pillion behind Alan. There were also outriders, for defence should they be attacked by highwaymen. Grooms and stablehands led packhorses with personal possessions, including the elaborate clothing which had caused Meg so much anguish. Carts had been sent on in advance, packed with additional items.
Fortunately the weather was warm and dry, so that the state of the roads was less treacherous than might have been. Even so there were deep holes and ruts, which could have caused a rider to be thrown or a horse lamed if care was not taken. Bella was sweetly behaved, strong and willing, and Meg began to think of the mare as a friend.
Quite often, and for long periods, Richard rode at her side. They talked companionably, but always there were other members of the party within earshot.
Sometimes Nancy joined them. “Everyone that’s anyone is in London.” She exuded an air of excitement. “There’ll be so much to do—balls and pageants, and a Great Tournament is planned! How I wish we were there already! This journey is so tedious!”
Meg did not agree, but she did not wish to enter into an argument and remained silent. It was easier just to nod amiably.
Sometimes the Earl brought his great horse up alongside her. He had a look of delighted anticipation which had the effect of making Meg nervous. Those things that were enjoyed by Thurton and Nancy were usually very different from her own inclinations.
“How do you like the new mare?” he asked. “You handle her well.”
“Thank you, Uncle Edmund. She’s a lovely creature.” Meg smiled at him, because that was something upon which she was fully in agreement with him.
“Ha! You’ve learned to smile! You’ve blossomed since you’ve been with us. No longer the frightened waif from the nunnery, eh? Richard has worked wonders with you.”
That was an unpleasant reminder that those days and evenings she had spent so happily with Richard had been at his lordship’s bidding. She had no comment, but Thurton was so pleased with himself, and with her, that he did not notice.
“It’s all for your advancement. I have great plans for you. You know that, don’t you?”
Meg’s belief was that it had been more for her uncle’s advancement than hers. “All I know is that your i
ntention is to find a husband for me,” she said.
“Exactly! The best match in the land, no less.” The Earl was beaming; she had never seen him in a better mood. “Oh, Meg! My own dear little niece! What a sensation you’ll make when I take you to Court. Bless my soul if you won’t!”
He was in an exceptionally genial mood. She had never seen him so mellow, and was emboldened to ask, “Is it at Court that I shall be introduced to the gentleman you hope will offer for my hand?”
“You will. You will, my dear.”
“Then should I not know the gentleman’s name and something about him? I would then take special care to be on my best behaviour when we meet?”
“Anxious to meet with the gentleman, are you?” He chuckled happily. “Patience, wench. Just do as you are told. Keep that smile on your pretty face and the whole world will be at your feet. I promise you will meet him very soon.”
The world at her feet! What nonsense was that? Had he perhaps been imbibing too freely at the alehouse where they had rested? She was about to question him further, but he spurred his great charger forward.
“Soon,” he called back to her. “Very soon. Be patient, my beauty.”
Be patient, indeed! Did he really think she was so anxious to be wed? If it had been to Richard she would have welcomed the announcement, but how could she feel anything for a stranger? She uttered a silent prayer that this fine gentleman whom she was expected to marry would not be like the Earl in any respect. Sometimes she wondered if he was ill in the head. Why should anyone wish to marry her? She had not even the smallest of dowries. If Bixholm had belonged to her, as in truth it should, then her prospects would have been quite different. That would have been an estate to bargain with—but her uncle had forcibly possessed it all those years ago, and most definitely he did not intend to part with it now.
She was of good blood. Her mother had been proud to tell her that she was descended from one of the earlier kings of England. But who would care a jot about that? Meg certainly didn’t.
They passed through the hamlet of Islington, and rode into the inner city through the great gate at Bish-opsgate. The wall on one side was crumbling, and on the other it had recently been patched up, probably paid for by a rich merchant who lived nearby. The streets were narrow and unpaved, and her nose was unpleasantly assailed by the smell of rotting refuse at which ravens and kites scavenged. Patches of green, trees and gardens, showed between some of the fine houses of the rich merchants. Lesser dwellings crowded shoulder to shoulder.