by Ida Curtis
Chetwynd noticed that Isabel seemed reluctant to leave her friend, and he wondered if she would be a good traveler. He hoped giving her information would ease her mind. “We’ll stop at other monasteries and manors along the way. Hopefully, we won’t have to camp under the stars too often.”
“Camping out will be an adventure,” she replied, hoping to assure him that she would not be a problem.
Lord Chetwynd’s eyebrows rose as though he doubted she would find it pleasant; then he left her side to ride at the head of the caravan. He quickly moved out of sight, but Jerome, his cheerful squire, stayed in view and flashed Isabel a smile from time to time. She suspected he had been instructed to keep an eye on her. When she finally smiled back at him, he became bolder and moved to ride beside her as Chetwynd had done earlier.
“You sit a horse well, my lady,” he said, speaking with a boldness that was surely not appropriate for a squire.
Eager to fit into the group, Isabel couldn’t help but feel pleased at his praise. “Thank you. Your name is Jerome, is it not?”
The young squire eyes widened at her words. “Yes, my lady. How would you know that?”
“Lord Chetwynd told me your name at supper the first night you were at Narbonne.”
“There’s none the equal of Lord Chetwynd. I’m fortunate to serve him. He uses my given name.”
Isabel wasn’t sure how other squires were addressed, but Jerome clearly felt honored by Lord Chetwynd’s favor.
They hadn’t traveled far before Isabel was beyond familiar territory. The caravan moved quickly, and she didn’t have much time to enjoy the scenery. Although she was a skilled rider, she was not used to spending long hours in the saddle.
As Isabel began to feel the effects of bouncing about on her horse, she worried about Marianna. She glanced back to see how her maid was managing, and saw that she was conversing merrily with the other serving women. Marianna had clearly made friends quickly, and Isabel was envious. Her position as Lord Chetwynd’s wife placed her above the rest, and she knew it would take her longer to be accepted. They had no way of knowing that her best friend and companion for the past ten years had been the wife of a tenant farmer.
But Isabel did not ride alone. Jerome continued to stay close and acted as a self-appointed guide. The lad chattered away about the sights they would see on the journey and the abbey where they would spend the night. Isabel had become accustomed to his constant prattle, and she suddenly realized it had stopped abruptly. Chetwynd’s second-in-command, an older soldier she had been introduced to earlier, was approaching them.
Ingram’s face was deeply wrinkled, and he scowled at Jerome. The young lad was quick to take his leave, riding ahead to join his master.
“I hope Jerome hasn’t been a bother, Lady Isabel.”
“Not at all. He’s a good companion.”
“Lord Chetwynd wishes to know if you need a rest.” Ingram spoke in a manner that suggested he didn’t like the idea of a delay.
“Tell Lord Chetwynd I’m fine. There is no need to rest on my account.”
Isabel was eager to prove she would not be a burden. The last thing she wanted to do was slow the progress when she knew everyone was eager to reach home.
Her words had the desired effect, as Ingram’s face relaxed. “It’s not much further to the monastery, my lady.” A kindly smile deepened the lines around his eyes as he added, “You will find traveling easier as the week progresses.”
Isabel nodded, praying fervently that he spoke the truth. Her backside was sore, and only Ingram’s approval kept her from regretting the fact she had refused his offer of a rest. As the day stretched on, Isabel began to believe Ingram had been optimistic when he said it was not much further to the monastery. Even Jerome’s cheery company could not distract her from a growing number of aches and pains.
When the twin towers of the abbey chapel finally came into view, rising above the trees in the distance, Isabel could have wept with relief. Her backside was now numb, and she worried about her ability to stay on her horse. Only the realization that they were approaching their destination distracted her from the fear that she would disgrace herself by falling to the ground.
Lord Chetwynd had disappeared by the time Isabel’s horse carried her through the gates of the abbey. A porter helped her dismount and took her horse to be stabled with the others. When Marianna appeared by her side, Isabel was clinging to a post, testing to see if her tingling legs would support her. Her maid had obviously found the journey easier to bear.
“Why aren’t you as lame as I am?” Isabel asked in a peevish tone.
“I rode astride, my lady. It’s the advantage of being a servant.”
“Of course. It took all my energy trying to balance. I’ll ride astride tomorrow.”
Marianna looked doubtful but didn’t argue. “Let us go directly to the guest house and have a wash, my lady,” she suggested, indicating she had been given directions to the room where they would sleep. “You’re to have your own bedchamber, and I’m to be with the other serving women.”
“Oh Marianna, don’t leave me,” Isabel said, close to weeping. In her weakened state she couldn’t bear the thought of being alone on her first night away from home. “Please stay with me.”
“You won’t be alone, my lady.” Marianna spoke the words shyly, with a slight smile.
Isabel tried to conceal the discomfort she felt at Marianna’s assumption that she would spend the first night of her marriage with her husband. Since she hadn’t confided the circumstances of their union, her maid’s assumption was natural. Isabel was sure Lord Chetwynd would make some arrangement so they had separate sleeping chambers, and then she could explain the situation to Marianna. At the moment, she was too tired to say anything further on the subject.
The room set aside for Isabel was located at the end of the guesthouse, affording maximum privacy for visiting nobles. Inside there was a wide bed, a washing stand, and a long bench along one wall. The rushes on the floor were sweet smelling. Isabel sat down on the bench, groaning a little as her sensitive muscles hit the hard wood. The good news was that feeling had returned to her limbs.
Marianna, still energetic, told her mistress to rest and then disappeared to retrieve some of their belongings. Leaning her head against the wall, Isabel stared at the bed meant for a married couple. If she shared the bed with anyone, it would be Marianna, she reminded herself.
Although Isabel closed her eyes and tried to rest, her body remained tense and her mind active. As the minutes passed, she became impatient for Marianna to return with information about their schedule. She wondered if there would be other guests.
When Marianna finally struggled through the doorway, she was juggling a basin of water for Isabel to freshen up and a bundle of clothes. Isabel jumped up to help and groaned again.
“More guests are arriving every minute, my lady,” Marianna said. “You will see for yourself at the worship service. Lord Chetwynd is closeted with the abbot. I was told they are old friends.”
Isabel tried not to feel resentful of Lord Chetwynd’s friendship with the abbot. This was all familiar territory for him, but everything was new to her. As she washed the travel dust off her face, she grew increasingly uneasy about how she would handle meeting the abbot, as well as the other guests.
“I’m very tired, Marianna. Perhaps I could just have a bit of supper in my chamber.”
“Oh come, my lady. You’ll feel better after a little walk. We can stroll around the cloister and have a look at the new arrivals.”
Not wishing to be a coward, Isabel sighed and pulled a cape around her shoulders. “How is it you are not exhausted, Marianna?”
“I’m too excited to be tired, my lady.”
As Marianna predicted, Isabel relaxed a bit as they strolled under an arcade that ran along an inner garden. Across the cloister, elaborately adorned lords and ladies chatted together, clearly renewing friendships. They paraded behind a group of brown-robed monks.
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The sight interested Isabel until she realized she should have changed into fresh clothing, as it was clear the other women had. Since the monks were already filing into the chapel, she knew it was too late to return to her room. She feared her casual attire would embarrass Lord Chetwynd.
“I should have changed my clothes,” she whispered to Marianna, gripping her arm.
“I’m so sorry, my lady. I didn’t think of it. It’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not. We’re both new to this. We’ll know next time.”
“Do you suppose noble ladies travel dressed in silks and velvets? The weight of the jewels must be an added burden for the horses.”
Isabel held her head a little higher. “I’m sure they travel in litters, Marianna. Let’s pretend we know what we’re doing.” She spoke with more spirit than she felt.
From the doorway of the church, Chetwynd spotted Isabel and Marianna walking behind the monks. Although he knew Isabel must be exhausted from her long day in the saddle, he noticed she held herself erect. According to Ingram, she had acquitted herself well during the journey, refusing to be coddled. When Lady Isabel first insisted on riding a horse, he had thought her willful and expected her to be sorry for her insistence. If she was suffering from her first day in the saddle, she didn’t show it.
Lord Chetwynd’s slight smile at their approach encouraged Isabel. He took her arm, and they made their way to the front pews where they joined other members of the gentry. After a brief prayer, Isabel peered about. The setting sun lit the western windows, and light filtered in, giving the otherwise dark interior a muted glow. A chorus of monks commenced chanting, and the service began. Accustomed to Father Ivo and the small manor chapel, Isabel was awed by the power of the more elaborate ceremony in the magnificent structure.
After the service, Isabel whispered to Chetwynd as he led her out the door. “Such a grand church, Lord Chetwynd. A moving service, don’t you think?”
Chetwynd nodded, amused by her enthusiasm, and led her to the line where guests waited to greet Abbot Adolphus. When it was their turn, he introduced her.
“Reverend Father, I wish to present my wife, Lady Isabel, the daughter of Lord Theodoric of Narbonne.”
There were murmurs of surprise from people around them in the line. By this simple introduction, made in a deep voice, Chetwynd announced to all assembled that he had wed.
Abbot Adolphus held out his hand to Isabel, and for a moment she froze. Then, remembering how she had seen the other women respond, Isabel took his hand and bowed over it. Her embarrassment at her awkwardness was dispelled when the abbot smiled at her.
Chetwynd hadn’t expected so many people he knew to be at the monastery. Watching his new wife, he felt her initial panic as though it were his own. He was surprised at how relieved he felt when Isabel relaxed enough to smile at the abbot.
“You have a long journey ahead of you, Lady Isabel. I hope your stay with us will be comfortable,” the abbot was saying. “I understand you are newly wed, and I wish you a fruitful union.”
Isabel’s face flushed at his words. Being careful to avoid Lord Chetwynd’s eyes, she answered the abbot. “Thank you for your good wishes, Father Adolphus.”
Lord Chetwynd drew her away to make room for others waiting to speak to the abbot. As they proceeded to the great hall, Isabel spoke quietly to her husband. “You seem to be well-known here, my lord.” People were still turning to stare at them as they passed.
“Yes,” he replied. Chetwynd hadn’t expected his marriage to cause such a stir. He told himself he should have known better. Gossip was a popular pastime among the nobility.
In the great hall, the guests were seated separately from the resident monks, and Chetwynd guided Isabel to a place among the lords and ladies. Aware of the continuing attention of several diners, Isabel was too nervous to eat much. One fashionably dressed woman kept staring at her and whispering to another guest. Isabel wondered if the fact that she had not changed her gown for dinner was the cause of all the attention.
Becoming impatient with the scrutiny, Isabel stared back at the woman. “I feel I should have taken more care with my dress, my lord. But that is no reason for people to stare in a rude manner.”
“It’s not necessary to wear finery when traveling. Don’t concern yourself,” he replied and followed her eyes. He groaned inwardly when he recognized Lady Pacilla.
“I suspect the lady in the purple gown does not agree with you. Do you know her?”
“Yes. That is Lady Pacilla. Her opinion is of no consequence,” Chetwynd answered. He knew that Isabel’s gown was not the cause of Lady Pacilla’s curiosity. A friend of the queen, she was no doubt eager for information about Isabel that she could pass on to as many people as possible.
Although Isabel longed to ask Lord Chetwynd how he knew the elegantly dressed woman, she held her tongue. Her eyes widened as it occurred to her that the lady might be Chetwynd’s lover. She dismissed the idea, as Lady Pacilla appeared curious but not upset. Perhaps she was a friend of Chetwynd’s lover.
Lady Pacilla stood up, arranged her purple gown to hang attractively, and headed in their direction. She moved along the tables, stopping a few times to greet people she knew. Finally, the smiling lady headed for Chetwynd. He stood to return her greeting, and after a brief, awkward moment, he turned to Isabel. Chetwynd introduced his wife, repeating the words he had used with the abbot.
Lady Pacilla’s expression made it clear that word of Chetwynd’s marriage hadn’t reached her ear. Her smile disappeared, and she stared at Isabel in silence. She did manage to recover her poise, but her smile did not return.
“Pardon my surprise, Lady Isabel. Our friends at court will be astonished to find Lord Chetwynd wed. Most of us were sure he would never marry.” She turned to Chetwynd as though she expected some explanation for his behavior.
Isabel decided Lady Pacilla, for all her finery, wasn’t much different from a few of the village women with whom she was acquainted. They, too, were always on the lookout for some tale to spread. When Chetwynd remained silent, Isabel decided to plunge into the waters of social discourse.
“I think Lord Chetwynd rather enjoys surprising people, Lady Pacilla. But that’s what makes him interesting, don’t you think? Imagine how dull it would be if there were no secrets to learn about a man.”
Shivering a bit at her own daring, Isabel smiled brightly. She hoped she hadn’t offended Chetwynd. Once she started to speak, the words flowed from her mouth of their own accord.
Although Lady Pacilla seemed at a loss for a reply, Chetwynd had found his voice. “Do give my best wishes to Lord Lassiter, Lady Pacilla. It was a long journey and Lady Isabel is tired. I must see she gets her rest. Please excuse us.”
Concluding with a bow, Chetwynd grasped Isabel’s arm, pulled her up from her seat, and led her from the hall. Once outside, he released his grip and walked ahead of her in silence.
Isabel rubbed her arm where he had held it. Hoping to head off angry words, she said, “I’m sorry I embarrassed you, Lord Chetwynd. I found Lady Pacilla’s manner provoking, but I should have held my tongue.”
“You didn’t embarrass me,” he uttered in a strangled voice. “You did just fine.”
It took a minute for Isabel to realize he was struggling to keep from laughing. Shocked, she stared at his twitching mouth and wondered if the man might have a sense of humor. If so, he had kept it well concealed.
“Then why did you drag me away from the table?” she asked.
“To tell the truth, I was afraid of what you might say next. Lady Pacilla is indeed a most provoking woman, and you did well to stand up to her. It’s the only way to deal with her.”
Chetwynd suspected Isabel was waiting for him to elaborate. The attention their marriage was attracting, as well as her reaction to it, made him realize he needed to confide in her. But he wasn’t sure how to begin. He told himself it could wait until he knew her a little better.
The silence between
them continued until they neared the guesthouse and Isabel spoke up. “Marianna tells me we are expected to share a room, my lord.”
“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. There were many things to do upon our arrival at the monastery, and I was caught off guard by the arrangement. I couldn’t think of a reason to request separate quarters. This is something new for me. Having a wife, that is.”
It made him nervous to even say the word, and he was glad they were still in the dark. He hesitated at the entrance to the bedchamber, and then added, “Next time I’ll be prepared, but I’m afraid we’ll have to share the room for tonight. I will walk around outside for a while to give you a chance to settle into bed.”
To ease his concern about the matter, she reassured him that she understood. “I am tired, my lord. I imagine I will be asleep when you come back, but I’ll leave a candle lit for you.” Chetwynd nodded. It had occurred to him that she might be upset at sharing the bedchamber, but once again she seemed to take the situation in stride. When he noticed her pause in the doorway, he spoke again. “Sleep well, Isabel. I will see you in the morning.”
The matter seemed easily settled. But although Chetwynd gave her plenty of time, Isabel was still awake when she heard her husband enter the room. Exhausted before she lay down, as soon as she did, she was wide-awake. The bed seemed much smaller than she recalled. To give Chetwynd plenty of room, she moved to the very edge of the bed.
When Isabel heard him moving about in the room, she pretended to be asleep. Thinking of how he had shed his clothes at the pond, she couldn’t help being curious about how much clothing he would remove. She listened as he undressed quietly, but with her back turned, she had to use her imagination about what garments he was discarding.
Chetwynd settled into bed with a quiet sigh, sounding like a man with a lot on his mind, Isabel thought. Even after a good length of time had passed, she could hear no deep breathing. She was sure he was having as much trouble sleeping as she was. Instead of relaxing, the tension kept building inside her. Without realizing it, her whole body had gone rigid, and suddenly there was a gripping pain in her leg. Isabel was unable to keep from crying out and rising to a sitting position.