by Olga Daniels
“Richard!” she exclaimed, raising her arms slightly, accidentally moving the shawl.
His lip curled with scorn. “They told me the King’s new mistress was with him.” His gaze dropped to the stain visible on her nightgown. “I didn’t for one moment think it would be you!”
Tears filled her eyes. How could she explain? She had spent the night in bed with the King—she could not deny it. If Richard had been alone, she might have tried to make him understand, but there were too many interested onlookers. Humiliated, defeated, she would not even make the attempt.
“I am pleased you’ve been released, Richard.”
She longed to tell him she had interceded on his behalf, but could not. His mood suggested that any explanation she made would be misunderstood, even if he believed her. The coldness of his face cut her to the quick.
“It was on the King’s orders,” he said. “I’m waiting here to convey my thanks and reaffirm my loyalty to His Majesty.”
“As indeed you should,” she said.
“I’m told he fancies another day’s hunting.”
“I wish you joy of it. Please be so good as to allow me to pass. It is cold and I have no slippers.”
Without another word he stepped aside. She did not look into his face. She could not bear to read the condemnation she was sure must be expressed there. She assumed an appearance of calm as she proceeded through the second ante-room, then ran along the passages until she reached the door of her own bedchamber.
Sarah was huddled in a chair, wide awake, misery pulling down the corners of her mouth. She had been crying; her eyes were puffy and reddened. At the sight of Meg she sprang to her feet and regardless of decorum flung herself into her mistress’s arms.
“Oh, my lady. My dear, dear lady!”
“Hush, Sarah. It is all right. I have suffered no harm.”
She broke off. Sarah had noticed the bloodstain on her nightgown. Shock registered on her expressive, open face.
“It’s not what you think, Sarah,” Meg said hastily. “It’s the King’s blood—”
“The King’s blood! Oh, my God! What have you done? If you took a knife to the brute it’d be no more than he deserved. I’ll say I did it, to protect you—”
“Hush, Sarah. I haven’t harmed His Majesty. He’s not a well man. He has the most awful ulcers on his legs. They were painful so I cleaned them and renewed the dressings, and that is the only reason I have blood on my nightgown.”
“He did not use you ill, my lady?” Sarah persisted anxiously.
“Truly, Sarah dear, it was only a matter of a few kisses, and as I was attending to his poor legs I talked about my family and about Richard, and then His Majesty did something wonderful. He sent the Officer of his Guard to arrest my uncle and he has ordered the release of Sir Richard.”
“Well! I never did!” exclaimed Sarah.
“Isn’t—isn’t it—wonderful?” Meg said, and her voice broke and tears began to run down her face.
It wasn’t entirely wonderful. Her uncle would no longer be able to threaten her and force her to marry the King. An enormous burden had been lifted and Bixholm would be hers again—but she had lost Richard.
“Oh, my lady! You poor sweet thing! Whatever am I thinking about? You must be tired out—won’t you lie down?”
“I’m not tired, Sarah. Just a little overwrought, perhaps. I have slept, but it has been such an extraordinary night.”
“Of course it has,” Sarah said soothingly. “And I know you’ve conducted yourself bravely, as you always do.” She paused, and a look of joyous wonderment lit her face. “Is it really true that the King’s had the Earl thrown into the dungeon?”
“It is.”
“Whoopee!” The yell of celebration that burst from Sarah’s mouth was matched by the beaming grin that spread over her round, red face. “Oh, I haven’t been so happy for years! I hope that Nancy woman’s been thrown in along with him!”
“I don’t know—” Meg began.
“I’ll go and find out,” Sarah volunteered. “I haven’t been out of this room since they took you away, so I’ve no idea what’s been afoot. You sit down there, my lady. I’ll have a word with them that work in the kitchen. They’ll know! They allus do! An’ while I’m there I’ll fetch refreshment for you, and maybe hot water—”
“Yes, please, Sarah. I feel much in need of a really good wash.”
Sarah hovered uncertainly, suddenly serious. “You’re sure you’ll be all right?”
Meg reassured her with a smile and a nod.
“I’ll be quick as I can.” Sarah chuckled. “I can’t stop a-laughin’. Won’t it make a change if that old bully’s gettin’ a bit of his own medicine?” She hurried away in great glee.
Meg sat by the window, but for once she had no interest in looking out. Richard’s disapproving face remained etched on her inner eye. His expression had told her so clearly that he had lost all respect for her. He had not loved her when he had believed her to be a good woman; from now on she could expect nothing from him. It would be a waste of breath even to try—and she was far too proud to plead for his understanding. He had no idea of the pressure she had been under to go to Henry’s bed-chamber, and she would never tell him.
It was over. Finished. She would start a new life at Bixholm. When she’d left Norwich she had been eager to get away from the religious life. Now she had experienced the hazards, the greed, the superficiality that dominated high society, she felt drawn towards a quieter, more contemplative existence. Not to return to the nunnery; she didn’t want that even if it were possible. But perhaps she could use Bixholm for some charitable purpose. Surround herself with other women who had been wronged in some way.
Since the closure of the great ecclesiastical buildings there were hundreds of impoverished people without homes or hope. She would assist ladies like her own dear mother, allow them to live good and useful lives, but without self-denial and with pleasures and companionship.
The idea was only vaguely taking shape in her mind. She had to find something to fill the void where once Richard had been. She would never marry, never have children; she was certain of that. Instead she would fill her days with good works.
Chapter Seventeen
Meg wondered what was being said about her in the kitchens, but thought it best not to ask. What could anyone think? She had no illusions. The whole household must know she had spent the night in the King’s bed-chamber, and no one would believe in her innocence after that.
When Sarah returned she was accompanied by other serving wenches carrying buckets of water.
“It’s true, my lady.” She grinned. “The Earl’s been locked up, just as you said.”
“Best news I’ve heard all year,” said one of the wenches.
Whatever they thought about Meg, the talk was only of how the Earl had been arrested and frog-marched across the courtyard and thrown into the dungeon. Everyone rejoiced over that, and also over Sir Richard’s release.
Sarah supervised the girls as they poured water into a large bowl, then shooed them out of the room.
She assisted Meg to bathe, chatting as she did so. “There’s happiness all over the castle,” she said. “Even some of the men who came with Thurton say they prefer to serve under Sir Richard.”
Sarah talked on as Meg began her breakfast. It was rumoured that Captain Bennington would be returning soon, with a party of loyal men. They had left Leet on Richard’s instructions the day that Thurton arrived and had lived rough in the woods, ready to attack when the time was right. The presence of the King had prevented that.
Nancy was staying in her room, refusing to see anyone except Gervase Gisbon. That didn’t cause much surprise, and absolutely no concern. They were powerless—and likely to drink themselves into an early grave, judging by the quantity of wine they had ordered.
“Is there any word about Alan?” Meg asked hopefully.
“Nothing at all.” Sarah shook her head sadly. “I’ve no idea w
hat’s happened to him. There was a rumour that he’d been seen a few days ago. But he’s not sent any word to me.”
“He would have if it was possible,” Meg said.
“Aye. There was a time when I believed that,” Sarah said. “Now I don’t know what to think. I don’t even know if he’s alive or dead.”
“You mustn’t give up hope, Sarah,” Meg said.
Tears welled in Sarah’s eyes. She turned to the window and wiped them away on her sleeve. Meg’s heart was heavy for her, suffering and bravely hiding the pain. At least she knew Richard was alive and well.
“Looks as if they’re gettin’ ready for a hunt,” Sarah remarked. “They’re bringing out horses an’ dogs, an’ the verderers are there.”
“The King ordered it,” Meg said.
She remained seated at the table. She pushed the tray aside and brought out a sheet of writing paper and a quill pen. This was not going to be an easy letter to write, but she must attempt to make peace with the King. She could not bear to go through another night like the last one. Was it possible to make him understand without offending him? She was scared of awakening his wrath, and that would be difficult to contain.
Sarah was still gazing out of the window. “Your Sir Richard is down there,” she said. “Looking fine and handsome. Do come and see him, my lady.”
“He means nothing to me.” Meg’s voice was hard.
Sarah swung round. Her face expressed concern and disbelief.
“He doesn’t love me,” Meg said. “I’ve known that for a long time, and this morning he made his feelings absolutely clear.”
“Oh! My lady!”
“I am no longer troubled about it,” Meg lied. “I’ve decided to take up residence at Bixholm. There may be a few legalities to be settled, but I won’t wait for that. I shall leave here today.”
“Remember what happened last time we rode off,” Sarah said.
“I remember very well,” Meg admitted. “This time I shall take retainers, armed men to counter any attacks. You say Captain Bennington has returned to the castle?”
“So I was told,” Sarah said. She turned back to the window. “There’s the King comin’ out now. They said he woke up this mornin’ in the best mood anyone’s seen him in for weeks—laughin’ an’ jokin’ with everybody.”
Meg said nothing.
Sarah turned back to the window. “What a size of a man he is! Can’t hardly walk. It’s takin’ three men to get him up on his horse. You ought to see this.”
Meg had seen enough of the King. She began her letter.
I commend myself to the kind heart of Your Most Gracious Majesty. I beg forgiveness that I shall be unable to speak my farewells to you in person.
“He’s up!” Sarah exclaimed. “Makes you feel sorry for the horse, don’t it? Sir Richard’s comin’ up alongside the King. They’ll be off in a minute.”
“Good,” said Meg, without moving. Her refusal to take one final look at Richard was not caused by indifference. It would be like tearing her heart out of her body to watch him ride away and know that would be the last time she would ever see him.
The horns rang out. The sound of hooves and harness, baying hounds, men’s voices reached her through the open window.
“They’re away,” Sarah said.
Meg turned back to her task.
I am humbly honoured by the interest you have taken in me, and the kindness you have shown. I am also greatly indebted for your intercession on my behalf with regard to the estate at Bixholm.
“Shall I clear away, my lady?” asked Sarah.
“Please do. Oh, and Sarah, if you can find Captain Bennington, will you ask him to come and see me, please?”
“Aye.” Sarah lifted the tray and moved away. She paused in the doorway. “Do we have to go today, my lady?” she asked.
“I have to go today, Sarah. I’m sorry it has to be so, but I have my own special reasons. You need not accompany me.”
“Don’t never learn, do you, my lady? Where you go, I go too.” She flounced out of the room, closing the door behind her with a kick.
Meg gave a wry smile. Dear Sarah! What would she do without her? She dipped her pen into the ink and carried on with her letter.
Now that ownership of this has been restored to me, I feel I have a duty to return there immediately so that I may attend to those duties incumbent upon landowners. Furthermore I have recently felt a strong desire to return to a life more in keeping with that of my early years. Indeed I have a calling to immerse myself in charitable works. I implore Your Majesty to accept my most loyal and affectionate wishes.
I remain, with the profoundest veneration, Your Majesty’s most faithful subject and devoted servant. Meg.
She read the letter through and worried over it—could she have put it better? Would the King understand? Was she being too bold in writing at all? But what else could she do? She blessed the fact that she had received a good education at the nunnery, conscious that most women were incapable even of writing their own names. It would have to do. She folded it and tied it with a ribbon.
Sarah returned, escorting Captain Bennington. She stood back, with arms akimbo and a defiant air.
Meg greeted the Captain warmly. “I trust you are well?”
“In the best of health, thank you, my lady. Greatly heartened by the news of Sir Richard’s release and Thurton’s arrest.”
“Pleasing events indeed.” Meg smiled. “Perhaps you also know that ownership of Bixholm has reverted to me?”
“Another welcome piece of news,” he said.
“Since that is so, I wish to return there immediately.”
“Immediately?” he questioned.
“Yes. I wish to set out today, and I shall require protection on the journey. I hope that you will agree to accompany me, Captain, together with such other men as are required.”
“It will be my pleasure, my lady. But would it not be preferable to postpone your departure until tomorrow, when we could set out early in the morning—?”
“No. I have special reasons for leaving today.”
“Does Sir Richard know of your intention, my lady?”
“He does not, and I have no need to inform him. He is not my guardian,” she said. “I shall leave before the hunting party returns, travel as far as possible, then find accommodation for the night. Are you willing to accompany me?”
“Your wish is my command. How soon can you be ready?”
“There is little I need to take with me. Shall we say in half an hour?”
“Certainly.”
“Sarah will accompany me. Please have two good horses saddled for us.” Meg paused. “One more thing. I have written a letter to His Majesty—can you arrange to have it safely delivered?”
“It shall be done.” The Captain bowed and withdrew.
The journey to Bixholm was uneventful. In the late afternoon of the second day the two towers of the gatehouse came in sight. Meg heaved a sigh, recalling how Richard had brought her here, and her feelings then, her hopes and her fears. So much had happened. She reined in her horse and sat for a moment, looking over the spread of red-tiled roofs and the tall twisted chimneys. The summer had all but passed; soon it would be time to have fires constantly lit in the rooms—but how lonely it would be!
Would it have been better if she had never left Norwich? If she had never met Richard? She heaved a sigh. The wounds of her loss were fresh and raw. Perhaps, when she was an old, old lady, she would find some pleasure in looking back on this interlude. Now, only empty days lay before her. Her grand talk of opening the house in some charitable manner gave her no glow. She would do it, because she had to do something with her life, but she would never regain her joy in living.
“My lady—are you all right?”
Sarah brought her horse up alongside Meg. Captain Bennington and his men waited, some ahead, others a little behind.
“Yes, I’m all right. Just thinking.”
“I know. I am too,” sai
d Sarah.
They looked at each other. Meg reached out her hand and Sarah put hers into it. There was no need for words. They shared each other’s anguish.
“Let’s ride on,” said Meg.
A wild yell reached them from behind. Everyone was alerted. Captain Bennington wheeled his horse. Two horsemen were coming at breakneck speed. Surely no one would attack them so close to the castle! The Captain and half a dozen of his men spurred their horses forward, ready to meet whatever trouble was approaching.
Meg strained her eyes, unable to believe what she saw.
“Alan,” cried Sarah. She spurred her horse forward and galloped wildly to meet the riders.
“Richard,” Meg whispered.
Why had he come? She saw Sarah and Alan stop alongside each other. In moments they were off their mounts and clasping each other. Richard rode on. She studied his face as he came nearer, handsome as ever, set in serious lines. He reined in and walked his horse the last few yards.
“Forgive me,” he said.
A shaft of hope lifted her heart, but she said nothing. He dismounted, tossed the reins to one of the men and approached her on foot. Then he reached up both arms to her. “Please, Meg. I didn’t know.”
Those golden flecks seemed to dance in his deep brown eyes. How could she refuse the invitation that was in them, in his outstretched arms? Still she hesitated.
“Meg—I love you,” he pleaded.
She slipped from the saddle and he caught her and held her close, very tenderly. Emotion made tears well up and pour down her cheeks.
“Don’t cry, Meg. Please don’t cry—I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m so sorry for those dreadful things I said; I should have been more understanding.”
“I didn’t—didn’t—with the King,” she spluttered.
“I know. He told me. He’s very fond of you.”
“Did he send you to fetch me?” As the horrific thought came she began to struggle. “I won’t go back to him. Let me go—” She tried to get out of his arms, but he held her tighter.