by Lee Scott
By this time Anne was sobbing hysterically. “I promise. But you must do the same. He might kill you.”
“At this time I do not think it would favor him to strike against me. Sir Luke is here now and will aid in my defense.” Gillian added flatly, “At least for the sake of his father.”
Rising from her bath, Gillian said, “Have Alice bring me some fresh linen to wrap my foot. It pains me, and I have much to do this day. I refuse to let this setback get the best of me. I am determined to make a good show.”
Gillian set forth to check on the running of the manor. She supervised the changing of the reeds in the great hall along with the scattering of fresh rosemary to freshen the room. The smell of sweat and filthy feet were blown gently from the room with the breeze passing over the herbs.
A sumptuous feast was planned, and Gillian set the cook to provide a wide variety of foods. She had had little joy fixing food for Sir Oliver. His pleasure ran with quantity not flavor and praise was in short supply.
Gillian knew a banquet would be one way to display the wealth of the manor and surrounding lands. She had need of demonstrating the fortune she would be bringing to a marriage. Resigned to banishing her uncle from Fairhaven through marriage seemed the logical plan. Any hope for her own personal happiness was dead. She had to secure the safety of an alliance with a man strong enough to defend both their holdings. If Luke was anything like his father she could live a content life and Fairhaven would stay safe.
Gillian bustled about managing chores that had failed to be completed in her absence or those that might display the worthy points of the land. Any time she believed she might encounter her uncle, she stepped into an alcove to hide. As foolish as it seemed, Gillian feared that if her uncle were to find her now, she might be beaten again. She couldn’t risk the possibility. Seeing his angry features when she arrived had convinced her he could not be trusted. She knew she would only be safe once Luke took her to his father. Perhaps some day she might be able to return to her land.
Many servants greeted her warmly and kept her from view when necessary. It was a necessity that would be short lived if only the betrothal came to pass.
Later that day, the evening meal was served. Sir Luke and Lady Gillian shared a trencher while Oliver and Katherine shared another. Gillian had allowed that customary seating arrangements were not followed and allowed the lord’s leman to occupy a seat well above her station. Since Lady Gillian still occupied a place more prominent, a confrontation was avoided. However, the conflict between the two ladies was etched into each face. Gillian was more capable of masking her discontent. Lady Katherine, on the other hand, happily engaged in the awkwardness of the situation. The stress of maintaining outward control was taking its toll. Gillian found she was not hungry and feared she might not keep down any of the evening meal even if she tried to eat.
Several times during the evening, Luke reached out reassuringly to Gillian. It was the best consolation he could offer. Noticing Gillian’s loss of appetite, Luke said, “You must keep up your strength, Miss Blakeley,” Luke said. “We will have a long journey ahead of us. And it appears you have many struggles ahead while you remain here.” He sent a glance in Katherine’s direction.
“I understand,” she said. Her hands fidgeted in her lap. “I just don’t seem to be hungry enough to force anything down.”
Luke studied her face. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her eyes looked tired. A frown creased his forehead as he thought about the treatment that she had to withstand from her uncle and his leman. He realized how difficult her life must be.
Luke now understood why Gillian had resisted her return so vigorously. And he felt guilty for being responsible for it. In his own defense, Luke realized his father might be the only security she would ever find. Perhaps it was a good thing, he concluded that she was found. But this only added more fuel to the fire burning within his heart. If he had his choice, Lady Gillian would be his bride. He could easily take care of the pompous Oliver, and gladly too.
Luke was careful not to stare in Gillian’s direction too much during the evening. But when he did, he found it almost impossible to turn away. Gillian wore an emerald green gown that emphasized the gentle swell of her breasts without overstating them. While others were talking or preoccupied with the meal, Luke’s eyes roaming up and down Gillian’s perfect form. And her beautiful gown exposed a tiny waist that widened slightly to rounded feminine hips. What her garment hinted at caught his breath.
Gillian returned his smile with that of her own but always turned away. And while she answered a question from one of the servants that Luke noticed what was distressing her. The low scoop neckline in the back of her gown exposed a fading purple bruise that came into view when her head turned, flipping her auburn curls over her shoulder. It was a straight thick bruise that would not be caused by a rock but more likely a whip or reed.
It was hard not to clench his teeth in anger at the beating that Gillian had suffered. Luke silently promised that he would get to the bottom of this intrigue. He owed it to himself, his father, and most importantly, Gillian.
Oliver finally rose from the table and walked around behind Lady Gillian. “Sir Luke, I believe we should retire to the library to conduct the business at hand,” Oliver announced.
His hand dug painfully into his niece’s shoulder. She flinched as his fingers nipped into her flesh. Luke saw the pain flash briefly in her face with her uncle’s contact, and he leaped up immediately to confront Oliver. Oliver tactfully moved away. It was obvious he had not anticipated Luke’s response.
With a forced calmness, Luke said, “Very well. I believe Lady Gillian should be in attendance. After all it is her life we will be discussing.”
Between sudden clenched teeth, Oliver said, “She is a stupid chit, unable to discern what is best for herself. I believe we should leave her out of it.”
Luke retaliated in cold calculated tones. He said, “It was the wish of my father. He is aware of the abilities of the Lady Gillian as chatelaine of Fairhaven Manor, her expertise is known far and wide. He admires her greatly and has every intention of honoring her wishes.” It wouldn’t have been a lie if his father were present to witness the ill treatment of his future bride. Honor was a way of life for his family, and cruelty to one a knight had sworn to protect would never be tolerated. In this he was certain. And in this very important matter, his father had trusted his judgment.
Gillian’s eyes lowered and her expression remained unreadable, but Luke had noticed a softening of her features.
“Very well then! We will all attend,” Oliver said. He extended his hand to his leman.
Gillian’s small hand, resting on Luke’s forearm, flinched with his invitation to Katherine. Forward progress halted. “I do not wish to have my private affairs broadcast to those to whom they do not concern,” Gillian declared. Her body stiffened as though expecting some physical reprisal.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Katherine is like family, and I would like her to be present,” Oliver answered.
“You may feel as such, but I do not. She is not my family, and I would not have a stranger influencing my future. She has no claim, no interest, and as far as I can see, no regard for my welfare. I will not have her. You must have my consent to make this match. I will offer no such thing if she is allowed in the negotiations.”
“I care not for what you would have or not have,” Oliver barked. He started toward Gillian with a hateful gleam in his eyes, but was stopped short by Luke who had sidestepped in front of Gillian. “But as I said before, my father and I do care. The Lady has requested that an unaffiliated person be excluded from the discussion, and I can see no reason why this request should not be honored.”
“I see no reason why this should be so. Katherine will say nothing. I must protest,” Oliver argued.
“If that is your desire, Sir, so be it. Our discussions have come to an end.” Luke started toward the door with Gillian still on his arm. “I will inform my fa
ther you were not a willing participant. I’m sure the Lady and I can discuss this matter without assistance.”
“Wait!” Oliver fumed. “It is of little import. Let us continue as planned.” Oliver shot Gillian a hateful look that assured retribution. Gillian flinched against its promise but remained steady in her unyielding gaze. She asked, “Katherine, I am sure you can find something else to occupy your time?” She required no response.
Katherine’s eyes flashed during the exchange. She had been spoken of as if she were not present and the affront angered her. Since Gillian’s return, Luke had watched the leman be socially trounced on every occasion. This deliberate exclusion would be the latest in a string of humbling encounters with the invincible Miss Blakeley.
Gathering what little dignity she still possessed was a formidable task but Katherine pulled herself together and walked with her head held high to the door. Relieved of all responsibilities around the manor and disliked by most servants, she had few options open except to retire to her room.
As the rest of the party entered the library, Gillian’s steward positioned himself at the desk, prepared to transcribe all arrangements. Oliver sat on one side of the desk and Luke, acting for his father, sat opposite. Gillian was relegated to a position outside the circle where she could hear but not interfere.
Luke began. “My Father, Phillip Arthur Thornburgh pledges his protection and the protection afforded by his family to the Lady Gillian Blakeley, daughter of Albert Blakeley of Fairhaven Manor. With this protection Lady Gillian will be granted the lands of Longmore if a son is born from the marriage, and a dowager cottage at Longmore if there is no offspring at the passing of Phillip.” Luke paused. It was the first time he had considered the consequences of a union between Gillian and his father. He looked over at her. Her gaze remained fixed on her folded hands tucked neatly on her lap.
“Upon Phillip’s death, if it should precede hers, an annual sum of 150 pounds will be paid for expenses. Phillip also pledges to protect any lands brought to the marriage by the Lady Gillian.”
It was now Oliver’s turn to recite the properties and monies brought to the union. “The Lady Gillian Blakely brings to the marriage, Fairhaven Manor, a sum of 5,000 pounds, and an annual sum of 1,000 pounds, ten horses, five oxen, 100 sheep, and 23 chickens, no 22 chickens. She also brings a manor house in Westbrook bringing an annual sum of 1,130 pounds.”
Oliver stopped and glowered at Gillian. She was the focus of all his hate and insecurities. “It is fortunate that you have a sizeable dowry, niece. It is a certainty you will bring nothing else of worth to the marriage. Lucky for us Gillian, that your intended husband is not present to behold his witless wife. Certainly his son can see that no woman possesses half a brain. They are only good for bedding. What say you Sir Luke?” Oliver’s sick laugh faded as it made a solitary noise.
Angered beyond words, Luke rose. Rage colored his cheeks. His eyes narrowed menacingly and his lips thinned to a dangerous slash. His clenched hands slammed down on the desktop, sending a lantern to jump. “It would not be wise for you or me to disparage my future mother, Sir,” Luke warned.
Tears pooled in Gillian’s eyes, but once again she fought them back. Her anger at being belittled grew. “Marriages, Uncle are built on mutual benefit. If Sir Phillip had been interested in me alone, I would be the first to admit he would select some other suitable match. I am nearly half his age and no doubt will provide little diversion for him. Since we are all agreed on this subject, Uncle, I pray continue with the accounting so we can be done.”
“I have all but finished, niece,” Oliver said. His lips curled in a smirk.
The steward looked to Gillian and then back to Oliver. He remained silent since it was not his place to offer suggestions.
But Gillian knew better. “Of course,” she added, “that is not the end of it, Sir Luke. I’m sure there is some oversight.”
“I believe that is the end of it, Gillian,” Oliver said in a threatening manner.
I am referring to the lands near Ramsgate. Perhaps we should go by the accountings in the ledger Mr. Fulburne keeps. I believe the accounting will be accurate since Mr. Fulburne and I work closely together and have an understanding of the estate values. It is always difficult in these situations to recall everything by memory. Mr. Fulburne, would you please list the entire assets?”
Luke smiled. Gillian had managed to outfox Oliver. During the reading of the extensive holdings, Oliver continued to send hateful looks to Gillian. Clearly, she had been open and honest in the bargain even when her uncle’s cruelty had cut her low. Her strength would do great credit to his father.
Now finished, Mr. Fulburne said, “It will be a matter of a day or two before I can get the copies completed. The seals will be set on the documents and the banns will be read at that time. I bid you farewell.”
“Sir Simon will accompany you to your home, Mr. Fulburne.”
“I thank you sir,” he said to Luke in appreciation for being accorded an escort. He then rose and left the room.
When the arrangements had been set, Oliver grabbed Gillian and removed her to a corner. Luke watched. He had no intention of letting his future mother be intimidated by this poor excuse of a man.
Chapter Six
Two days had passed since the Betrothal papers had been started. Gillian had little opportunity to be in Luke Thornburgh’s company. He had been practicing his warrior’s arts, showing his squire the intricacies of battle.
Gillian prepared her belongings to be packed for her journey. She set about to mending and sewing clothes for her presentation to her groom. Her wedding dress, sewn from Royal blue satin was fitted and neatly packed in a special trunk. She had spent many hours sewing and her eyes were tired and her legs in need of exercise.
“I shall journey to the village this morning,” Gillian informed Alice. “I wish to check on the smith’s apprentice and I have heard that Millicent’s babe is soon due. I should check on her progress. I do need to get out of the manor today, or I shall go mad.”
“Very well, my lady, I will inform Giles and he will arrange for an escort,” Alice said.
“It is true that I no longer can escape an escort but this is not as I would have it. I shall be in the storage room collecting herbs and then off to the village. Please inform Giles of my intentions.”
“Aye, My Lady,” Alice said. She curtsied and hurried away.
Within half an hour, Gillian was prepared to make her way to the village with a meager basket of herbs and supplies. After such harsh treatment by her uncle she was wary of angering him further. She was, however, determined to at least bring some extra measure to the villeins that made her life possible.
Bernard and Mathias waited in the bailey for Gillian to appear. They were deep in conversation and never lost a word as she emerged. The two were recent hires of her Uncle and she had little knowledge of them.
Giles held to the reins of Buttercup, the beautiful mare Luke had brought with him. Her stomach flip flopped with the reminder of him. She prayed Giles would not see the hot flush, flooding every inch of her skin.
“Good day, Sir Giles,” Gillian bid her friend. “And who is this with you? The fair Buttercup?”
“Aye, My Lady,” Giles replied with a smile. “Sir Luke insisted that whenever you travel on horseback you are to take Buttercup. He said she will be your horse as soon as the betrothal parchments are signed, and that you should think of her as yours.”
The utter delight of the beautiful animal was witnessed in Gillian’s smile. She approached Buttercup and placed her hand on the animal’s soft muzzle. The horse rewarded her with a whinny. Gillian chuckled.
“You have found me out, have you not? You know I always bring a treat to my horse.” Gillian whispered. In her hand she pulled out one large carrot, broken into bite size chunks. “Well, there you are then. Enjoy your treat sweet Buttercup.”
Giles smiled at Gillian’s good-hearted nature. She had always shown a particular ki
ndness to animals in her care and her treat for Buttercup was just one expression of it. Any horse selected for the day would have been the recipient, but Gillian seemed particularly pleased to have Buttercup placed in her keeping. Dog sniffed at his new companion.
The horse was a generous gift, indeed. Its golden color and pale tail and mane were particularly pleasing to the eye. Gillian had spoken of the horse after her arrival at the manor with the highest admiration of its spirit and beauty.
Within moments of consuming half of the treats Gillian had procured, Giles had helped her mount and she was guiding the animal toward the village. Buttercup responded to the lightest touch and seemed eager to please. Leaning over, Gillian hugged the animal’s delicate neck and spoke soothing words. She felt better atop Buttercup than she had in days past.
Bernard and Mathias spurred their horses to follow. Their conversation lilted through the air, but Gillian was not eavesdropping and cared not to know of what they spoke. Mindful that she was to remain with her escort, Gillian trotted along so as not to interrupt their conversation.
She treasured the times that she spent conversing with Anne and would not interrupt their exchange if it were in her power to prevent it. They would have ample time to speak with one another this day. She planned on visiting Anne. It may be one of the last opportunities she might have with her dear and trusted friend.
Her first stop was Anne’s and she dismounted, and after tying up Buttercup, she hurried into the embrace of her friend. “Please tell me you will be able to spend the day with me, Anne,” Gillian said. Tears of joy welled up in her eyes. “I had promised myself I would not get weepy, and here I stand, totally unresolved. Please forgive me for my overeager reaction.”
Anne’s eyes were already misty and could not say anything at all. The hug they shared was words enough.
“I don’t think I shall be able to bear not seeing you, Anne,” Gillian cried. “Whatever will I do?”