“Why would it matter if you enjoyed marital relations?” Gabe asked, baffled.
“Because, my dear boy, some doctors believed that an orgasm could bring on a miscarriage,” Phoebe explained, making Gabe blush. “After my last miscarriage, they put me on the maternity ward. You know, just to drive the stake deeper into my heart. I lay there, watching besotted new mothers nursing their babies. I just wanted to die,” she said with a sigh.
“I’m so sorry,” Quinn said and reached for Phoebe’s hand. “I can’t even begin to imagine how painful that must have been for you.”
Phoebe nodded. “There was a young woman in the next bed. Sheila, she was called. She said that she and her husband had been trying for seven years. She couldn’t get pregnant. Then her mother told her to go pray at the Lady’s Well at Holystone. She refused time and time again until she finally went. Had nothing left to lose, she said. Nine months later she gave birth to her first child. She went again, and had another baby shortly afterward. She swore it was a miracle.”
“So you went?” Gabe asked.
“I went. I got on my knees and I prayed to the Blessed Virgin, and to whatever pagan gods inhabited that mystic place long before Christianity, to give me a living baby. I swore I’d never ask for anything again if I had one child that survived.”
“And you had Gabe?” Quinn asked, stunned.
“Gabe was born less than a year later, healthy and strong. It was a miracle, in my book.”
“Why did you go back?” Gabe asked. He glanced away when Quinn gave him a loaded look, implying that he was being obtuse.
“I wanted another child. I was happy and busy with Gabe, but he was getting older, about to start school, and I began longing for another child. I wanted a daughter, you see.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work, Mum,” Gabe said.
“No, it didn’t. I prayed, but I wasn’t granted another miracle. Perhaps it was because I’d promised I wouldn’t ask again. Or perhaps because I was just too old by that point to get pregnant naturally. Nowadays, I would still be considered fertile, but in those days, a woman over thirty was considered to be ‘past her prime.’ We tried for several years, but I never got pregnant again. Still, I think my Gabe is a miracle, and I’ll say so to anyone who asks,” Phoebe concluded defiantly.
This was completely at odds with what Quinn knew of Phoebe’s religious beliefs, but she didn’t question Phoebe’s story. Perhaps Phoebe had grown disillusioned when she failed to conceive again. Quinn’s hand subconsciously went to her belly. A child was a miracle, and she was blessed to have conceived so easily.
“I’m sorry, Phoebe,” Quinn said. It wasn’t until she’d fallen pregnant herself that she’d really given any thought to what her mother and Phoebe must have gone through. Susan Allenby had been unable to conceive due to endometriosis, while Phoebe had conceived again and again only to lose her babies halfway through the pregnancy. Both Susan and Phoebe had managed to raise one child, but their paths to motherhood hadn’t been easy—unlike Sylvia, who got up the duff after one encounter and thrown her baby away.
Chapter 14
April 1461
Northumberland, England
Guy opened his eyes and promptly cursed his brother, using language that would make most men cringe. The wound in his arm had begun to blister and ooze, and the pain of the injury combined with the burn Hugh had inflicted hurt him in ways he couldn’t put into words. The slightest movement caused Guy to break out in a cold sweat and retch into the basin Nurse had thoughtfully left on the bed. He was, however, alive and at home, and for that he was extremely grateful.
He hoped Kate was still there. Her gentle touch and fervent prayers might not have saved him, but they had certainly helped, especially to lift his spirits, which had hit rock-bottom as he lay in the chapel ruin, staring up at the jagged bits of roof and dark heavens and believing it was the last thing he would ever see. And then he’d seen her, leaning over him, her hair brushing his face as she laid a hand on his head and blessed him.
Guy turned his head toward the door as he heard approaching footsteps. He hoped it was Kate, coming to check on him, but it was Hugh. He’d bathed and shaved, and his hair was neatly brushed. He was wearing a doublet of claret velvet, and William’s ruby ring, which he seemed to have forgotten to return to Eleanor to keep safe for Adam.
Hugh pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed. “You look better,” he said.
“May you roast in the fires of Hell until you hurt as much as I do,” Guy replied without heat.
“You’re welcome. Our sweet Angel of Mercy tells me your fever has broken and you’ve managed to eat something other than broth and bread. That’s excellent news indeed.”
“I can’t move my arm,” Guy complained.
“You have to give it time. The sword cut deep, almost to the bone. How’s your head?”
“It still hurts like the devil, and my vision blurs when I get tired, but I think it’s improving.”
“Praise the Lord,” Hugh said, crossing himself. “I really thought I’d lost you, Guy.”
The brothers grew silent as they remembered William, now safely buried in the cemetery of their parish church, St. Mary’s. There were half a dozen de Rosels buried inside the church, but the more recently deceased were in the cemetery, the church being too small to accommodate any more tombs in its crypt.
“How’s Eleanor? She hasn’t been to see me,” Guy said.
“She’s in a bad way, Guy. Adam is frightened. Thank Jesu for Nurse. She’s keeping him away from Eleanor by creating ‘important’ tasks for him to carry out. He’s been helping Walter clean our armor and accompanied him to the blacksmith’s to have your helmet beaten back into shape. It’s as good as new.”
“I keep expecting William to walk in and tell me that I’m a lay-about and we need to get in some sword practice,” Guy said wistfully. “I never got to say goodbye.”
“Guy, you’re a seasoned soldier, not a blushing maiden. You know what happens when men go into battle, and you know the odds of coming back unscathed. Lord Dancy lost three sons at Towton,” he added, looking gratified by Guy’s stunned reaction.
“Did he indeed? How do you know?” The Dancys had fought for Edward, so Hugh’s intimate knowledge of the family’s losses took Guy by surprise, but he assumed that Hugh had heard that bit of gossip from someone left on the battlefield to tend the wounded. Many had lost their fathers, brothers, and sons that day, and many families had lost more than one loved one.
“I know, because their sister is in the bedchamber down the passage, looking very fetching in one of Mother’s gowns.”
Guy stared at his brother as the words finally penetrated. “Sister Catherine is Lady Catherine Dancy?” he asked stupidly.
“She is indeed.”
“But she’s a nun,” Guy protested. “Why is she wearing Mother’s gown?”
“The good Lord has smiled upon us, Guy. We lost William, but we gained something in the bargain. Lady Catherine was a postulate at Holystone Priory, not a full-fledged nun. She told Nurse. She was due to take her vows next week, as it happens, but her bereaved sire summoned her home as soon as he learned of the loss of his sons, and there’s only one reason why a man needs his daughter,” Hugh said, grinning.
“To marry her off to his advantage.”
“Exactly.”
Guy shook his head in confusion. It ached unbearably and he needed to close his eyes since everything in sight began to dissolve into swirls of mist, including his brother, whose head now resembled a large gourd. “I don’t see what this has to do with us.”
“You will, little brother. You will.”
“Hugh, I…” Guy began, but didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence as the lady in question poked her head around the door.
“May I come in?” Kate asked. “I wanted to say goodbye.”
Sunlight from the window fell on her as she stood in the middle of the room. A golden haze surrounded her, probably
caused by Guy’s distorted vision, but to him she looked like an angel. Her glorious hair fell to her shoulders and framed her face, and her wide blue eyes held Guy’s gaze as he looked upon her.
“Your brother is taking me home,” Kate said as she approached the bed. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better. I know you must be in terrible pain, but the danger’s passed and Nurse will look after you until you’re well enough to rise from your bed.”
“Thank you, for everything,” Guy mumbled, suddenly afraid that he might embarrass himself by getting teary-eyed. He felt ashamed of his weakness, but he didn’t want her to go. Once Kate left, she’d be out of his reach, and the thought made him sick with longing. He’d never been in love, never even looked at a woman with any thought for the future, but he could imagine Kate by his side. She wished to be a nun; he knew that, and he would be prepared to never lay a finger on her if only she agreed to share her life with him. He would remain celibate, for he would never want another woman again if he couldn’t have her.
“Guy? Guy?” Kate called to him. “He’s exhausted. Perhaps we’d better leave him to rest.” She leaned over him and kissed him gently on the forehead. “May God bless you, Guy de Rosel,” she whispered. “And may he keep you safe.”
“And you,” was all Guy could manage. His head was splitting in two, and he could barely focus on Kate’s face, which was a shame because he wanted to store it in his memory forever.
“I’ll be back in a few days,” Hugh said as he rose to leave. “Nurse will look after you, brother. Get well.”
“Right,” Guy muttered as he closed his eyes to hide the tears that stung his pride.
Chapter 15
July 2014
Berwick-upon-Tweed, Northumberland
“That’s the last of it,” Gabe announced as he finished bagging and labeling the bits of cloth, hair, and leather he’d found in the grave. A long box, looking for all the world like a Christmas present, rested on the kitchen table, and contained the bones of the medieval warrior who was about to embark on his final journey.
“Think he’s even been to London?” Quinn asked as she eyed the box. It always amazed her that a living, breathing human being could be reduced to nothing but a box of bones.
“It’s possible,” Gabe replied. “It all depends on where his loyalties lay.”
“I never knew your family was titled.”
“Armand de Rosel, grandfather to William, Hugh, and Guy, was created the first Baron de Rosel. He would have received a Writ of Summons to attend Parliament, quite an honor in those days. The title passed to his son, Gilles de Rosel, and then to William. On William’s death, four-year-old Adam became the next Baron de Rosel. And he was also the last. The family was stripped of the title when Henry Tudor took the throne.”
“Fought for the wrong side, did they?” Quinn asked.
“They did. I know the history, but I can’t begin to imagine what it must have been like to live in a time when the balance of power continually shifted, and choosing the wrong side could mean not only the loss of your title and holdings, but possible execution. Imagine the uncertainty. Putting aside the ongoing struggle for the throne, Berwick changed hands more than a dozen times during the Middle Ages, going from being English to Scottish and back again.”
“Were there any Scots in your line?” Quinn asked.
“Not that I know of.” Gabe looked at the box of bones, his head tilted to the side in thought. “Other than the fact that our man was buried with Guy de Rosel’s sword, there’s nothing to indicate that he was actually an ancestor of mine. He could have been buried here for any number of reasons. It would seem that someone was trying to hide his body, so chances are he didn’t die in battle, or of natural causes.”
Quinn rested her palm on the box containing the mortal remains of the knight. “Whoever buried him clearly held him in great esteem and gave him the honors due to a warrior. I’d wager he wasn’t buried by his enemies.”
“No, probably not, but why bury him beneath the floorboards? A Christian burial was very important, and still is for people of the faith. Burying someone in unconsecrated ground was seen as either an insult or a punishment.”
“What did you do to deserve such a fate?” Quinn asked the silent bones.
“Hopefully, we’ll get some answers from Colin. Once we know what ultimately killed him, we’ll be able to start filling in the blanks.”
“Gabe, would you mind if I shared this discovery with Rhys? It could make for an interesting episode of Echoes. I know Rhys has several good leads for the second series, but he’d love this.”
“Quinn, you’re on maternity leave,” Gabe replied with an eloquent frown.
“I know, but I feel so restless,” she complained. “I’m not used to doing nothing.”
“You’re not doing nothing, you’re taking care of our baby and preparing for its birth.”
Quinn sighed. “My nesting instinct hasn’t kicked in yet. Right now, I just feel grumpy and listless. Besides, whether Rhys is interested in the story or not, we’re still digging into the past. It’s what we do, Gabe.”
“All right,” Gabe conceded. “You can discuss this with Rhys. As long as production is on summer hiatus, I guess he can’t do too much damage. Have you spoken to Sylvia?” Gabe asked carefully. Relations with Sylvia had been strained since Gabe called the police on Jude when he’d disappeared with Emma.
“I have, but the conversations were brief and confined to inquiries about my health and the well-being of the baby. She’s still upset about not being invited to our wedding. And about Jude, of course.”
“Has the prodigal son returned?”
“Yes, Jude has come back to Sylvia’s, but only temporarily. Seems he’s moving in with his girlfriend, Bridget.”
“Isn’t that the girl who colored Emma’s hair pink?” Gabe asked, his jaw tightening in that telltale fashion. He was still upset with Jude for taking Emma out without permission and not telling anyone where he was going. Thankfully, no harm had been done, but Gabe had been frantic, especially since Jude wouldn’t answer his mobile for hours.
“Yes, that’s her. Sylvia is rather in the dumps about it,” Quinn replied. “Jude is her baby.”
Gabe didn’t reply as he surveyed the hole in the floor. The kitchen had been practically demolished. A large chunk of the black-and-white tiled floor had been taken up to extract the remains and the plumbing was exposed. There was still no running water, and the leaky pipe would need to be replaced, if the plumber could be persuaded to return.
“Is your mum ready to come back home?” Quinn asked as she organized the labeled plastic bags on the table.
“Not yet. I don’t want her back in the house until the water is running and the floor has been retiled. I worry about her falling into the hole.”
“Gabe, this place is a money pit,” Quinn said carefully. She knew Gabe shared her sentiment, but it was still his ancestral home, and he might take offense at her description.
“I know.” Gabe sighed. “I know. And so does Mum.”
“Shall we get going?” Quinn asked, eager to return to London.
“There’s one more thing I need to do before we leave,” Gabe replied.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, fairly sure he’d had an idea regarding the remains. “I know that look.”
“I’m thinking I need to find the floor plan for the original house.”
“Do you think such a thing exists?”
“My family has been on this parcel of land since the Conquest,” Gabe replied. “The original structure must have been a fortress, but they expanded it over the centuries and eventually opted for comfort over safety. This house was built in the eighteenth century. Perhaps there are plans for the modern structure somewhere in Dad’s study.”
“Gabe, how is it possible that this house was constructed without the remains being unearthed?”
“That’s what I was wondering,” Gabe replied as he headed for the study, determin
ed to find the answer.
Chapter 16
April 1461
Belford, Northumberland
Kate breathed a sigh of relief when the twin roof peaks of the Grange finally came into view. She ached from being in the saddle all day, but Hugh didn’t seem similarly affected and talked easily as they made their way toward the house. His demeanor had changed, possibly because he was no longer worried about Guy. He seemed lighter somehow, and more gallant. Kate was grateful to him for bringing her home, but she worried about her father’s reaction to her Lancastrian escort. She didn’t think her father would turn Hugh away, but she wasn’t at all sure of the type of welcome he would receive, given recent events. Her stomach twisted with anxiety when Hugh dismounted and helped her down from her horse.
Isaiah came running out of the stables to take their horses and bowed to Kate from the waist. “Welcome back, Lady Catherine,” he said solemnly. “Your father will be much relieved to see ye home safe.”
“Thank you,” Kate said and turned to Hugh. “We’d best go inside.”
She gazed at the imposing façade of the Grange. It was built of gray stone and shaped like the letter E. The house had been commissioned by her grandfather, a man who had valued not only appearances but comfort and wasn’t satisfied with the wattle and daub structure his own father had built. The rooms were spacious and light, and were adorned with tapestries, handsome furniture, and silver candleholders. When Kate had reminisced about her home during her time at the priory, she had always imagined it bustling with activity, but at the moment the place looked almost deserted. Most of the shutters were closed against the light and the yard was unusually quiet.
The entrance hall was cool and dark. No one had bothered to light the sconces or lay the fires despite the nip in the air. Kate looked around in dismay. Where was everyone? She opened the door to the front parlor, but it was empty, as were the dining hall and all the other rooms on the ground floor. Even the servants didn’t seem to be about.
The Forsaken (Echoes from the Past Book 4) Page 9