Sir Bertran nodded. ‘Understood.’
Gawain strode back to Elise. Taking her hand, he pressed warm lips to the back of her fingers and released her. ‘Au revoir, Elise.’
Conscious of Sir Bertran hovering nearby, Elise replied formally, ‘Adieu, my lord.’
A pleat formed in Gawain’s brow. ‘Adieu? I much prefer the sound of au revoir.’ He was looking at her mouth and she felt her colour rise. ‘I shall be returning, you know.’
Cheeks aflame—Gawain really ought not to look at her in such a way in public—Elise dropped into a curtsy. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Aubin had brought out his horse and was already mounted. ‘Farewell, my lord.’
A long finger traced a line down her cheek. Spurs chinked as he turned and went for his horse.
Elise stood very still as the Count of Meaux and his squire clattered over the drawbridge and on to the road. A wide dust cloud trailed in their wake, rolling over the fields like a mist. When would they return? She had no idea.
Taking a deep breath, she smiled brightly at Sir Bertran. ‘You have much to teach me, sir, I am sure.’
Sir Bertran smiled. ‘You won’t be bored, madame.’
* * *
It wasn’t long before Elise’s friends arrived. She was in the hall with Sir Bertran as he outlined his plans for her induction into her role as lady of the manor when the rumble of cartwheels had her lifting her hand.
‘One moment, sir,’ she said, going to the door.
Vivienne and the babies were ensconced in the cart and hedged about by outriders. André pelted across the forecourt and Vivienne fell into his arms.
Elise’s vision misted. Blinking hard, she hurried over to the cart and reached for Pearl. Elise nuzzled Pearl’s cheek. Pearl cooed. Elise kissed Pearl’s nose. Pearl gurgled and waved her arms about, catching hold of a strand of Elise’s hair. She seemed to be trying to tug it out from under her veil.
‘No, you don’t.’ Elise twitched her hair free and kissed Pearl again. ‘I missed you, my love,’ she said, fiercely. Cuddling Pearl, she walked about the forecourt to allow Vivienne and André to exchange their news. They looked very intent. Doubtless André was talking about what had happened in the caves.
Elise wandered tactfully away, taking Pearl to the bench beneath the white roses so that Vivienne and André might speak privately. The sun moved slowly across the sky and at length she returned to her friends. They were still wrapped round each other.
Vivienne smiled at her, eyes sparkling.
‘Did you see Lord Gawain on the road?’ Elise asked.
‘Briefly. He didn’t stop to talk.’ Vivienne shifted away from André to take stock of the manor. Her jaw dropped. ‘Saints, Elise, we can live here?’
‘If you wish.’
In the hall it was immediately clear that Vivienne was thrilled to be brought to the manor. Bruno clutched to her breast, she rushed round touching everything—the polished trestle on the dais; the crimson wall hanging; the embroidered bedcovers in the bedchambers.
‘André and I won’t be bedding down in the hall—we are to have our own bedchamber?’ she asked, in hushed tones.
‘Certainly.’
Elise and Vivienne left André introducing the babies to Lady Avelina and went back upstairs to set up the babies’ cradles. There was an alcove in one of the bedchambers that would make a perfect nursery.
As Elise watched Vivienne’s excitement she felt a twinge of guilt. ‘Vivienne?’
‘Mmm?’ Vivienne moved to the window slit and peered out at the fields.
‘Would you prefer living here to life on the road?’ Elise asked.
‘Wouldn’t you?’
‘I...I am not sure.’ Elise nudged the leg of a wooden stool with her toe. ‘Until now I’ve never given it much thought. Singing is how I make my living and it never occurred to me that I had a choice.’
‘You didn’t before this.’ Vivienne gestured about her. ‘This changes everything.’
Elise sank on to the stool. ‘I suppose it does.’ She felt like pinching herself. ‘I haven’t had time to think.’
Vivienne squeezed her arm. ‘It’s not surprising. In your heart, you didn’t believe it would really happen. I can’t say I’m surprised.’
Elise frowned. ‘I don’t follow you.’
‘You’re not used to dealing with someone like Lord Gawain—an honourable man who values you highly.’
Elise remembered the heat in Gawain’s eyes as he had kissed her hand in the manor courtyard. ‘He values me, all right,’ she murmured. ‘As a bedfellow.’
Vivienne made a tutting sound. ‘Elise, at times you are quite ridiculous. Lord Gawain holds you in very high esteem. André has already told me what happened at Provins—how Lord Gawain dashed to your rescue the instant Baderon came to him for aid. It is so romantic, better than one of the ballads.’
‘It is no such thing,’ Elise spoke sharply. ‘André won’t have told you how Lady Rowena found Lord Gawain and me alone in a bedchamber. He had barely a stitch on. There was nothing romantic about that, I can assure you. It was mortifying.’ Particularly when Gawain dragged on his tunic and went off with Lady Rowena without as much as a backward glance.
‘Count Gawain wants you, of course.’ Vivienne shrugged. ‘That is natural. The man is in love with you.’
Elise felt herself go still. Sounds seemed louder than they had a moment ago. She could hear the rumble of Sir Bertran’s voice in the hall below. She could hear the crowing of a cockerel and the clang of the blacksmith’s hammer. The man is in love with you. If only it were true.
‘I blame your father,’ Vivienne was saying. ‘He treated you so poorly it has given you a dislike of men.’
‘I don’t dislike men!’
Vivienne narrowed her eyes at her. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Of course not. You know I like André and Baderon and...and I like Lord Gawain too.’
‘You love Lord Gawain, but you would die before you admit it. And you do seem to enjoy punishing men.’
‘What?’ Elise was aghast. ‘That’s not true!’
‘Isn’t it?’ Vivienne’s gaze was steady. ‘We could start with your first lover, poor Robert.’
‘Poor Robert? What about him?’
‘You broke his heart.’
‘I did nothing of the kind. Robert and I agreed we did not suit and we parted, and—’
‘There’s Sir Olier too,’ Vivienne went on softly. ‘You never let him close either. Even when you are Blanchefleur you keep men at arm’s length. Face it, Elise, you don’t trust men. That’s why you never let them close.’ She sighed. ‘It’s your father’s fault.’
‘Father loved my singing. It was Mother who put Morwenna and me in the convent.’
‘Maybe, but you idolised your father and you hoped he would fetch you out again. But Ronan Chantier was busy with his own life and he didn’t want the burden of looking after two young girls even if they were his daughters. So you sought him out and when you found him you used your voice to persuade him to let you stay.’
‘Father loved me for my voice. He didn’t love me,’ Elise agreed, quietly. Sad to say, she knew it was the truth. Her father had only allowed her to continue living with him because as a singer she was the perfect partner for a troubadour.
Vivienne squeezed her shoulder. ‘Gawain is not the same. He is a good man and he sees into your heart.’
Elise swallowed. ‘He did tell me he searched for me after I left.’
‘Lord Gawain loves you, Elise.’
‘He’s going to be married.’
‘He loves you.’
‘Even if he does, he would never say.’
Vivienne shook her head. ‘What a pair you make.’
Elise forced a smile. ‘I
wonder what he thinks of Blanchefleur.’
‘He doesn’t give a fig for Blanchefleur, though I am sure he admires her singing.’ Vivienne shook her head. ‘It is your misfortune that you left him at the turn of the year. Had you remained it is my belief he would have married you.’
Elise’s throat was too tight to speak.
‘Elise, he’s a good man. You’ve allowed him closer than the others because of Pearl. Don’t mess this up, try to trust him. Lord Gawain values you. And don’t look so worried, I’m sure he’ll be back.’
Chapter Fifteen
Shortly after sunrise, Elise rode out with Sir Bertran and a couple of men to learn the boundaries of her land. First she inspected the village and met the village priest. In the fields, scythes flashed—villagers were cutting hay for the manor horses.
Next Sir Bertran rode with her to a vineyard where the vines were weighed down with grapes. Whilst he talked, Elise couldn’t stop thinking about her conversation with Vivienne. She didn’t keep men at arm’s length! And she certainly didn’t punish them. For a start, Vivienne had misunderstood what had happened between her and Robert. They just hadn’t suited. And when Elise had left Gawain she’d done so not to punish him but because he belonged in another world to her. He...
‘Madame?’ Sir Bertran looked expectantly at her.
Lord, he’d been talking about the vines and was waiting for her to respond. Elise plucked a question out of the air. ‘We make our own wine, sir?’
‘Yes, madame. Our wine is very palatable, although we can’t compete with Count Henry in terms of quantity.’
They inspected some nearby woodland.
‘There is excellent hunting here, madame,’ Sir Bertran told her. ‘Plenty of game. We have deer and even boar. We set up nets to trap birds, and later in the year there will be hawking elsewhere on the estate.’
Elise tried to force herself to concentrate, but her mind was only half on what Sir Bertran was telling her. She hadn’t forgotten André’s promise to Gawain. André must go into Troyes and speak with Sir Raphael. By suppertime tomorrow, if he showed no signs of honouring his promise, she would have to remind him.
Fortunately, a reminder wasn’t necessary. After inspecting the manor fish pond, Elise and her escort turned homewards. At the crossroads, a faint haze over the Troyes road marked the passage of a party of riders leaving the manor. A red pennon streamed behind them.
Marking the gleam of a soldier’s helmet, Elise focused on the horses. She looked at Sir Bertran. ‘Sir, those riders—is André among them?’
Sir Bertran squinted at the riders. ‘Aye. Sergeant Gaston will be taking him to the castle barracks. I believe a conference has been arranged with Count Henry and Sir Raphael.’
‘Thank goodness,’ she murmured.
‘Madame?’
‘Lord Gawain will be pleased.’ She threw Sir Bertran a worried look. ‘I hope the Guardian Knights deal kindly with André.’
* * *
‘Lord Gawain, if you would wait here,’ the nun said. ‘I will send for Lady Una.’
‘My thanks.’
The nun closed the door behind her. Gawain was standing in an airy, high-ceilinged chamber—St Mary’s guest house. It was lit by old-fashioned Romanesque windows and though the furnishings were sparse, being simply a large wooden table and two benches, it resembled a small knight’s hall. A green curtain divided the chamber in two. Gawain guessed the sleeping area must lie behind it.
He didn’t have long to wait. He had barely had time to draw breath before the door opened and his aunt hurried in, skirts sweeping the floor.
‘Gawain?’ Lady Una held out her hands. A faint smile lifted the corners of her mouth.
As Gawain took her hands and kissed them, he was pleased to see that she was not wearing a novice’s habit. His heart lifted. ‘My lady, it is a pleasure to see you.’
‘It is?’
‘Can you doubt it? You always were my favourite aunt.’
Lady Una’s eyes twinkled. ‘As I recall, I am your only aunt.’
He grinned. ‘That helps, certainly.’ He held her at arm’s length. ‘You look well, my lady. Hardly a day older than when I last saw you.’
‘You’re too kind.’ His aunt’s smile faded. ‘What brings you to St Mary’s, my lord? Are matters awry at Meaux?’
‘Far from it.’ Releasing her hands, Gawain grimaced. ‘However, I have made a decision and you must be the first to hear of it. My lady, I intend to seek an audience with King Louis.’
‘Something is wrong. I knew the moment Sister Ella came to find me. What is it?’
‘My lady, I came to inform you—with much regret—that I cannot marry Lady Rowena.’
Lady Una drew herself up. ‘Gawain, I cannot have heard you correctly. What are you saying?’
‘I cannot marry Lady Rowena.’
Several wrinkles appeared on his aunt’s brow. ‘But...but you must! The King has agreed.’ She gripped Gawain’s arm. ‘Your uncle fought tirelessly for the match. Does that mean nothing to you?’
Gawain held her gaze. ‘It means more than I can say to know that Count Etienne promoted the match on my behalf.’
‘He loved you, Gawain.’ Lady Una’s eyes glittered with unshed tears. ‘We both loved you. It was just...’
‘I know.’ Gawain laid his hand on hers and sighed. ‘Lunette.’
‘She was our life.’ Lady Una stared at the floor, gave herself a slight shake and looked up. ‘Etienne found it hard to accept that she was truly gone and that you were blameless.’
‘It was an accident.’
She nodded. ‘Of course it was. And once Etienne had accepted it, he did his best to find you the perfect bride—the King’s goddaughter, no less. Will you throw that away?’
‘Madame, I am afraid that I must. I cannot marry Lady Rowena.’
The wrinkles deepened. The smile was quite gone. ‘Why not?’
‘There is someone else. I love her.’
‘Who is she?’
‘Her name is Elise Chantier. She—’
‘Chantier? You’re in love with a singer?’ Lady Una’s voice was laced with contempt. ‘Gawain, are you seriously telling me that you are spurning Lady Rowena de Sainte-Colombe for a singer?’
‘Elise is more than any singer. She is my life. And if she will have me, I will marry her.’
‘If? Of course she’ll marry you—you are a count and she is a singer.’ Lady Una stared at him. ‘You really haven’t asked her?’
‘Not yet. I am not free. I thought to speak first to you and the King.’
‘What of Rowena?’
‘Rowena has no more wish to marry me than I her.’
Lady Una’s mouth worked. ‘Her father swore she was eager for the match.’
‘That is not the case. My lady, we really are not suited. But that is not the issue. I love Elise.’ He paused. ‘I also love our daughter.’
His aunt put her hand to her throat. ‘Daughter?’
‘Her name is Pearl. You would love her, my lady. She is beautiful. Small and perfect.’
Lady Una’s expression softened. ‘A daughter,’ she murmured, in a choked voice. ‘Daughters are very precious.’ Sniffing slightly, she turned away.
‘My lady, I intend to acknowledge Pearl. I will do my best for her. I know you will be disappointed in me, and I regret that. But I cannot ignore my duty as a father.’
His aunt wiped her eyes on her sleeve. ‘No.’ She sniffed. ‘You love her. And you say you love this Elise Chantier too?’
‘With all my heart. My lady, there are difficulties in Troyes, which means I must meet with the King as soon as possible. Do I have your blessing?’
* * *
A day had slipped by with no word from André. There
had been no word on the second day either. Or the third. By sunset on the fourth day, Elise was sitting on the bench with Pearl beneath a froth of white roses. She was humming a lullaby, presenting a serene face to the world, trying to ignore the maelstrom of questions whirling through her mind.
What was happening in Troyes? Had Sir Raphael heeded Gawain’s request to listen sympathetically to André? Why hadn’t André sent a message back to the manor? He must know how worried Vivienne would be. Why the silence? Why?
Vivienne came round the corner of the keep with Bruno over her shoulder and Elise stopped humming. Vivienne’s eyes were shadowed, her mouth tight.
Elise waited until Vivienne was sitting next to her. ‘You’ve heard nothing?’
‘Not a word.’ Vivienne smothered a sob.
Elise kept her voice calm. ‘Very well, we shall wait until morning, and if we’ve still not heard from André, I shall ride into Troyes.’
‘You’ll go to the garrison?’
‘It’s the best place to start. Sir Raphael is Captain of the Guardian Knights. He and his men are based there. If I can’t find him, I shall insist on speaking to Count Henry.’
Vivienne stroked Bruno’s head. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. ‘This waiting is torture.’
Elise squeezed her hand. ‘I know. Vivienne, I am sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault. Elise, I should dearly like to come with you, but the babies make that difficult.’
Elise gave her a bright smile. ‘Don’t worry. I will make faster progress on my own.’
‘Thank you,’ Vivienne said, in a small voice. ‘Thank you a thousand times.’
* * *
At breakfast next morning, Elise took a place on the dais next to Sir Bertran and Lady Avelina.
‘Good morning, Sir Bertran. My lady.’
‘Good morning, madame.’
Lady Avelina offered her the bread basket and Elise took a chunk of bread.
‘My thanks. Has there been any news from Troyes?’
Sir Bertran’s good-natured face crinkled in puzzlement. ‘Madame?’
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