My Lady Faye

by Sarah Hegger

  “Where you been, Mam?” Arthur took her face between his hands and turned her to face him.

  “I went to fetch your brother home.”

  “Simon.” Little Arthur beamed at her.

  “Aye, Simon.” Holding him tight to her, she greeted her mother and Nurse in turn.

  “Merciful Heavens!” Nurse clapped her hands to her chubby cheeks. “You are shorn.”

  “I think it looks splendid.” Her mother touched Faye’s short hair. “I am tempted to do something like it. What with this warm weather we are having, it must be marvelously cool.”

  Beatrice waddled out of the keep, larger than Faye had ever seen a gravid woman look. Hovering at her back came Garrett and then her father with Simon and Henry. Her family. Tears pricked as Faye took them all in. The people she loved most in the world, gathered around her in love. All except Gregory. There would be life without Gregory. And there would be joy, again. There had to be. Not today, though, and probably not for a goodly number of days to follow. She jammed a happy smile on her face. “I am glad to be home.”

  Lady Mary narrowed her blue eyes. “Later,” she said as she led the way into the keep. “We will speak later.”

  * * * *

  Faye donned her best bliaut of finest rose samite as she joined Anglesea in the hall. A long bath in lavender water, followed by a goodly dose of Nurse fussing had pushed back the dread knot in her stomach.

  She stopped outside the hall and smoothed the frown from her face with her fingers. It did no good to wear your anguish on your face. In the hall, the evening meal surged forward in a joyous celebration of homecoming. People packed the hall until it heaved with activity.

  “Well met, my lady.” Faces turned to her, smiling and happy to see her.

  She wove through the trestle tables, answering their questions, responding to their good wishes. All the time, her heart missing. Miles away with a man who was no longer hers. Faye sat with a smile pasted to her face, and pretended. Eating only when Nurse watched her, she pushed food across her trencher.

  Simon dashed from person to person, reliving each moment of his adventure. The tale grew wilder and more daring each time he retold it. Little Arthur dozed in her arms. She should take him upstairs to his cot, but it had been too long since she’d held his sleeping weight nestled against her. It didn’t hurt as much when she held one of the boys.

  She left the telling of her tale to William. Her brother had a flare for these things and she could not, yet, speak of it.

  Ivy slipped onto the bench beside her. The girl grew more beautiful each day. She had filled out in the time she had lived at Anglesea and the haunted look no longer lurked in the depths of her moss-green eyes. “Nurse and I have placed Ruth with an old crofter’s widow,” Ivy said. “It will be a long time before she is able to be amongst people.”

  “Will she recover?”

  Ivy shrugged. “That is up to her.” Ivy would know, having suffered something similar. Faye had new respect for the girl sitting beside her. She knew Ivy’s story, most of them did, but the image of Ruth brought it rushing back to her.

  “Is Tom here this evening?” She couldn’t dwell on the sadness, or she might never stop.

  Ivy’s pale cheeks tinged with soft color. “Nay, he has a cow calving and he likes to be there when they do.”

  “He is a good man,” Faye said.

  Ivy giggled and Faye gaped at her. She had never heard the like coming from the other woman.

  Ivy caught her staring and choked off the sound. “How do you fare?”

  Faye opened her mouth with her prepared answer. There would be no more staring out of casements and sighing. One of these days, if she tried hard enough, she believed there would come a time when it wasn’t such an effort. She made the mistake of looking at Ivy before she answered. The woman’s stare was uncanny in its ability to see what lurked beneath. “It is done.”

  “Is it?” Ivy turned to survey the rest of the hall. “Because you have decided it is so?”

  That surprised a bitter laugh out of Faye. Decided? Nay. There had been no deciding in this matter for her. She had made her peace with God and Gregory lived. That would have to be enough. “Gregory will return to the Abbey.” Merely saying the words twisted inside her like a dull blade.

  “He said so?” Ivy gave her a loaded glance. “William said you left before you spoke to him.”

  Faye glared at the back of her brother’s head. William had loose lips. “Gregory nearly died.”

  “Indeed.”

  What was it about Ivy that made a body want to confess? She would have made an excellent priest had she been a man. “I promised God if he survived, I would not stand between Gregory and his calling again.”

  Up went one of Ivy’s dark brows.

  Faye squirmed and Little Arthur murmured a sleepy protest. She stroked his back to settle him. Ivy needn’t make it sound foolish. Ivy had no idea how much her decision cost her. “As I finished my prayer, the monk announced Gregory was awake. It was a miracle.” Let Ivy chew on that before she looked doubtful.

  Ivy made a soft noise of disbelief in the back of her throat. “Miracle or not, I would have said his calling is a matter for God and Gregory to decide.”

  “You were not there.” Anger surged through Faye. Who was this girl to pass judgment on this?

  “Forgive me.” Ivy’s face softened into a smile. “I meant no disrespect.”

  Faye’s ire died as fast as it had flared. “Nay, the fault is mine. I have not yet made peace with this and I must if I am to continue to have any sort of happiness in my life.”

  “Aye.” Ivy fiddled with the edge of the table. “I am a simple woman, Lady Faye. I was born to a family who could barely afford to feed the mouths they had. When I was fourteen, my father gave me to Rudd to do with what he would.”

  Faye nodded. Rudd was the animal who had used Ivy as a whore. Tom had killed him and Faye was glad of it.

  “Happiness, in my experience, is in short supply and when seen, should be reached for and held as close as you can.”

  The woman spoke in ridiculous, irritating riddles that made no sense to anyone. And who was Ivy to be handing out advice as if she lived if herself. “Like you do with Tom?”

  Ivy started and then threw back her head and laughed. “Well said, my lady.”

  Ivy’s laughter tugged her in. Good Lord, she had grown sharp tongued. It was not like her.

  “What are you two laughing about?” Beatrice lowered her bulk to the seat on Faye’s other side.

  “Our own foolishness.” Ivy helped Beatrice to settle. There must be more than one babe in that enormous belly of Beatrice’s.

  “Oh, aye.” Beatrice pressed her fists into the small of her back. “I could do with a good laugh about now.”

  Ivy’s smile disappeared. “You are not well?”

  “It is my back.” Beatrice shifted her weight. “It has been paining me all day. It goes and then it comes back, but it seems to grow stronger as the day passes. I was not able to eat a thing.”

  Faye tensed and looked to Ivy.

  Ivy met her stare. “All day?”

  “Not every minute.” Beatrice screwed up her face. “Merely on and off throughout the day.”

  Excitement tingled through Faye. See, there was life within her. She had been just the same with her boys. “You should have said something earlier.”

  “Why?” Beatrice stuck her bottom lip out and glowered. “I am as big as a cow, and I am not surprised my poor back is complaining.”

  “Sweet Bea.” Faye could not keep the grin from her face. “Unless I am very much mistaken, you are having your baby.”

  * * * *

  Exhaustion dragged at her legs as Faye entered her chamber. It was a happy sort of tired.

  Beatrice had delivered her child with very little difficulty. Not that the curses spilling from her sister’s lips gave indication of the ease of delivery. Good Lo
rd, but Garrett had taught her sister some interesting words. Faye might try some out for herself one of these days. A little boy. Or rather, a large and lusty boy. Beatrice and Garrett were still battling over a name, while Beatrice worked her way through an enormous breakfast.

  Beyond the casement, dawn stretched her arms in a blush of pink and orange and gilded the sea. Dark still framed the cliff marking the western edge of Anglesea demesne. Right there, the thin needle of the spire of the Abbey would appear as the day strengthened. Would Gregory return there or would he choose to remain at the monastery where he healed?

  Sadness welled up and threatened the joy of the night’s events. Faye pushed it aside.

  No more my Lady Faye.

  Chapter 26

  Heartache, Faye discovered, bore a remarkable similarity to tooth ache. It nagged away at the back of your mind until you nearly screamed to let it out. She kept busy. With a new baby in the keep, there seemed to be always something to do and not enough hands to do it.

  Faye tied the apron over her gown and wrapped a kerchief around her hair. Not her best look, but who cared in any case.

  “Ergh!” She annoyed herself with those little vipers of self-pity that crept into her mind.

  Garrett and Beatrice had finally settled on the name Richard for their child. It was a fine name, strong and noble.

  William had acquiesced to Sir Arthur’s assertion that it was time to marry. The search commenced for a suitable bride. The wily brain of her father already worked on turning William’s marriage to the family’s advantage. His entreaties to Roger had fallen on deaf ears. Roger flatly refused to marry, while Henry kept his head low in case their father’s scrutiny turned to him. With nothing helpful to offer regarding arranged marriages, Faye stayed out of the bride discussions. Secretly, she agreed with Roger. A person should be allowed to find their own mate. Some did, they just didn’t get to keep that mate.

  Dear Lord, there she went again. Nurse would accuse her of having her lip dragging along the ground. A fortnight, fourteen days and fourteen long and near sleepless nights. She ate because Mother and Nurse would be on her like a pair of hornets if she did not. She went through the motions of speaking and smiling. Her boys were a blessing, a reason to rise in the morning and make her way through the day.

  Verily, it was not all bad. Widowhood differed from being a wife, albeit an estranged one. People treated her differently, particularly the men of the keep. They no longer skirted her as if she carried a dread disease. These days they sought her out. Nobody expected her to mourn Calder and she didn’t have it in her anyway. Widows enjoyed a freedom not accorded maidens and matrons. What a pity. She feared she would be old and wizened before she got around to enjoying her liberty.

  Faye pushed her shoulders back and entered the hall. No time for moping when she needed to oversee the removal and beating of the tapestries. Mother said they were fine for another month, but the telltale glimmer of webs meant spiders and she could not abide spiders. Spiders reminded her of the inn and the night Gregory…

  A group of men enjoyed a respite from arms training at a trestle. Faye returned their greetings with a polite smile and closed on them. Anglesea had a surfeit of strong, fine looking men. Household knights, visiting vassals, even knights from her uncles were often in their hall. “I have need of some assistance.”

  They shot to their feet as if their braies were on fire. A young knight with a naughty twinkle in his eye squared up to her. “Anything, my lady.”

  She barely suppressed the flinch as he called her my lady. What else was he going to call her? She could hardly insist no one ever call her my lady ever again. Pitiful. Her huddle of champions would not be happy when she had them up a ladder and taking down those tapestries. “I need to have those tapestries aired.”

  To a man their faces dropped as they turned to study the tapestries.

  “You have but to ask.” The twinkler gave her a roguish smile. “If it is within my power, it is yours.” Aye, and that wink promised a lot more.

  “Woman!”

  Faye froze, her stare stuck on the tapestry image of her father astride his destrier. Her mind had snapped. It was the only explanation, because that sounded exactly like—

  She turned. “Gregory?”

  He looked wonderful. A trifle pale and thinner, but she drank in the details. Dressed in hose and a surcoat he stood inside the screen’s entrance and glowered at her.

  “Good morrow the hall.” The rotund figure of the Father Abbott from St. Margaret’s trotted into view.

  A deep bass chorus of male responses came from her group of champions.

  “Gregory?” The words emptied out of her mind like water from a leaky bucket.

  Gregory’s grave, beautiful face was stiff with…anger? “I thought I would find you here.”

  “He insisted on coming.” The Abbot tutted his disapproval. “And he should not be traveling yet.”

  “Gregory?” Dear God, was she going to keep saying his name until she made herself scream? “What are you doing here?”

  Gregory glowered at her.

  “You may well ask.” The Abbot tucked his hands into his sleeves. “We tried to stop him.”

  Gregory stalked toward her, his brows lowered in a thunderous scowl. “You left.”

  “Aye, well I—”

  “You what?” He stopped right in front of her.

  Her traitorous mind stuck on how marvelous he looked. All other men paled in comparison. His shoulders so broad, he stood strong and tall with his jaw set in stone glaring at her. She wanted to touch him, to reassure herself he was really here. “I left you to return to your calling.”

  “I heard.” The depth of his anger pierced her happy bubble. Gregory wasn’t merely angry, he was furious. “Father Patrick gave me your message.”

  Father Patrick must have been the monk from the infirmary. “I believed it the right thing to do.”

  Gregory snorted. Snorted? Her supreme sacrifice of wrenching out her heart and stamping on it, walking about as if she were only half-alive and Gregory snorted.

  “Enough!” Gregory motioned the Abbot over with a curt jab of his hand. “Do it now.”

  She was asleep and this a dream. It was the only explanation that made sense. Faye pinched her thigh. Nay. Gregory was still there, with the Abbot beside him and her thigh now sported a bruise.

  “Do you not think you should ask first?” The Abbot frowned at Gregory.

  “Nay.” Gregory jabbed a finger at the men behind her. “They can stand as witness.”

  “Witness to what?”

  “Our marriage.”

  She had definitely lost her mind. They would come to lock her away in one of the turret rooms and bring her food cut up in bite-sized pieces.

  The Abbot shook his head in disapproval. “Sir Arthur should be here.”

  “You are right.” Gregory glanced at the witnesses. “You.” He selected the rogue. “Go and fetch him and get the rest of the family while you are about it. Let us see this thing done right.”

  “Stop.” Faye grabbed for the man’s arm. Her head whirled so badly she needed everything to halt so she could catch up.

  “Now.” Gregory growled.

  The man swallowed and slid out of her grasp. He left the hall at a run.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice seemed to come from a distance. “I cannot marry you.”

  “I told you she would say that.” Gregory glared at the Abbot.

  The Abbot nodded and took her limp hand in his. “And why is that, my child?”

  “He belongs to you.” The blood drained from her head and she clung to the Abbot before she fainted. The idea had lost none of its sting.

  “Because you made a bargain with God?”

  The compassion in the Abbot’s face near undid her. “Aye.”

  Gregory growled and shook his head. It was easier to keep her gaze on the Abbot.

  “My child.”
He squeezed her hand. “I do not believe our Lord makes those sorts of bargains.”

  “But Gregory recovered. It was a miracle.”

  “Indeed it was.” The Abbot smiled. “But possibly more thanks to the miracle of God creating such a fine, strong man and giving him the best reason in the world to live.”

  “I gave him back to God.” Faye floundered under the Abbot’s steady, sure gaze.

  “So we understand, and I must warn you he has much to say on the subject.” The Abbot jerked his head toward Gregory.

  “What in the name of God is happening here?” Sir Arthur’s bellow bounced off the walls. He saw the Abbot and flushed. “Begging your pardon, Father Abbot.”

  “Bless you, Sir Arthur.” The Abbot went pink.

  Sir Arthur’s gaze swung to Gregory and a huge smile lit his craggy face. “You took your time.”

  “I had a hole in my back.” Gregory grinned back.

  Sir Arthur made a rude noise. “That wouldn’t have stopped me.”

  “Hush now, Arthur.” Lady Mary held her hands to Gregory. She stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. “We are prodigious glad to see you.”

  Clearly, Faye was the only one still in possession of her wits and it behooved her to take command of this situation. “I have no idea what is happening.” It came out as more of a wail. So much for taking command.

  “Marriage.” Gregory put the Abbot gentle aside. “Yours and mine. Right here and right now.”

  “I—”

  “Before Calder rises from the dead and snatches another member of your family. Before another rogue band of outlaws holds you to ransom. Before the seas boil up and swallow Anglesea whole, you and I will be married.”

  “You did not ask me.”

  The Abbot raised his gaze to the roof, the picture of righteous innocence. “I said you should ask.”

  “If I ask,” Gregory spoke to the Abbot, but watched her, “she might start mumbling inanities about miracles and bargains with God.”

  Faye never mumbled and she, for certain, never mumbled anything inane. She opened her mouth to set him straight.

  “I have your permission.” Gregory glared at Sir Arthur and it was not a question.