His stomach turned as he realized he must complete his confession to her about the rest. He was no better and she needed to see him in that light before they could move on.
“Marguerite, I have used you, too. I plotted and bribed you to gain your consent. How is that any different than the others in your life?”
“You love me.”
He looked at her, feeling the overwhelming guilt within him. “I am using you as a man does a woman, as a husband does a wife. ’Tis still taking something of value from you.”
“And giving me love in return, Orrick. You have no idea of how important that is. You grew to manhood in a family that loved and accepted you. You had friends and even teachers and mentors who loved you. I had none of those things. My father does not realize and never will, that I would have done anything he asked of me if he’d loved me first. But there was no softness of heart or affection for me.”
He began to tell her that she was wrong, when she stopped him with a finger to his lips.
“There are certain ways in which men and women deal with each other in this world, Orrick. You know the laws of God and of men. I knew that I was valued for what I could bring to a man in marriage, or what I would bring when it was accomplished.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around hers, bringing her closer to him. “The difference with you, with us, is that instead of being diminished or my value lessening by turning over lands and wealth to you, I am made more. I have the chance to use all I have learned and all that I know and all that I feel in our marriage. If I had not your love to rely on, I would have been destroyed by what I learned of Henry. Instead, I find it has strengthened me and allowed me to see him for what he is and what I was.”
“Now I think it is you who has been thinking too much,” he said. Kissing her forehead, he whispered, “So what comes now? The king has called you?”
She hesitated, but then shook her head. “Aye, the message came at dinner.”
“I would go with you. You are my wife and I should be at your side as you are at mine.”
“I will not sleep with him, Orrick. Please trust me?”
“When do you go to him?”
Again a hesitation in her reply. “At midnight. Alone.”
He leaned back and waited for her to meet his eyes. Tears filled hers and began to spill over. “I trust your actions, ladywife. ’Tis the king I do not trust, so I would be at your side.”
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. François stood outside bringing a request from Godfrey to come to speak to him as soon as possible. Although he did not want to leave her side, he knew he must.
“Godfrey calls. He asks to speak to me now, but I can send word that I will meet him in the morning. What say you?”
“I am tired, Orrick, and would like to rest a while. If you would like to speak to him, go. He seemed anxious to see you when I spoke to him earlier today.”
He went to her and kissed her. “I will return before you go to him. Wait for me.”
She would not meet his gaze, but only nodded her assent. Leaving François before the door, he walked off to find the monk, knowing that she’d lied to him.
A few hours later, after holding a long conversation with Godfrey, he made his way to the corridor leading to the rooms where Henry stayed. Just before the final turn in the hallway, there was an alcove that was perfect for his purposes. Anyone going to the king must pass him.
He knew she would go alone, believing that she could manage the king. He knew that she did not want to give herself to Henry again. But he also knew that she would do anything to protect the love and the life she’d come to know with him. And if that meant believing more of the king’s lies, she would do it.
As her husband, he meant to stop it.
Hours passed and he waited. Once the tide of visitors to the king slowed, no one but a few servants entered this wing of the castle. ’Twould seem that Henry was trying to be as discreet as he could in bringing Marguerite to him.
Then the soft pit-pat of a woman’s gait echoed quietly down the hall and Orrick peeked from his hiding place. Her head was bent and she wore the plain cloak of a servant, but he would have recognized her anywhere. Marguerite continued past the curtained alcove, around the corner and on toward Henry’s room.
Orrick paused, the pain in his heart growing. He’d been correct—she’d lied. She planned on seeing this through herself. Well, he would have to feel sorry for himself later. No, he needed to allow her the time and the room to make this mistake on her own. Orrick only hoped that when Henry proved himself unworthy of her yet again, she would know that she could return to him.
He was stepping out of the alcove when she came back around the corner and saw him. Since she’d passed only moments ago, she could not have reached the king’s chambers yet. Puzzled, he frowned at her.
“What are you doing here, Orrick?”
“I knew you lied about when he expected you and I knew you would go to him alone and unprotected,” he said. “I just thought to be here when you returned, in case you needed me then.
“Why are you back so soon?” He held his breath until she spoke.
“I did not want to face him alone.”
He gazed into her eyes and neither one spoke. The love in her expression and the shame made his throat tighten. Then, with a gasp, she began crying and walked into his embrace. He held her within his arms, rocking back and forth, while she cried. Not wanting to draw attention, he pulled her into the curtained alcove, sat on the stone bench there and tugged her onto his lap. After a few minutes, she quieted and leaned against his chest.
“I do not want to go to him, Orrick. I want to go home with you and be your wife only,” she whispered, her breaths hitching as she cried.
“Marguerite,” he whispered back, kissing her forehead. “All will be well. Fear not.”
“I cannot ignore his summons, Orrick. He will punish you if he thinks you kept me from him this night. I have seen him do it before.”
He wiped the tears that fell onto her cheeks and then kissed her mouth. “I will stand at your side. Come, dry your tears and do not let him know of your fears. He will play on them if he thinks he can.”
Orrick helped her to stand and she used the edge of her sleeves to dry her eyes and face. He pushed the curtain aside and they stepped into the corridor.
“And if he…if he wants…”
“He is king and can do whatever he pleases, Marguerite. But I will do all in my power to stand in the way of his desires if it is you he wants.” He held out his hand to her and, without hesitating, she placed hers in it. “Come, let us go to the king.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“You did not come alone, lady.”
The king’s words chilled her soul, but she felt Orrick squeeze her hand, giving her the support she needed. When she stepped forward, he did and when she released his hand, she felt him at her back.
“My husband thought it his place to escort me, Your Grace.”
She saw Henry’s eyes narrow as he examined both of them. “You are somehow different, sweet. Not just your appearance, but something about you. I cannot point to it though.”
“I am not the person who shared your bed, Your Grace. The king’s whore no longer exists.”
He hissed at her words. “’Twas never like that between us, Marguerite. I was never unkind to you and never mistreated you. Did I make you feel like a whore?”
“But, Your Grace, when I wanted more, you threw me aside like one who asked for too many shillings for her services. Was that kind?”
Henry stalked around the room and then threw himself on a couch. “’Twas badly done of me. What would you have now to return to my bed?”
“I would be wife.”
He sat up and glared at them. Orrick shifted behind her.
“I have a wife and need not a new one.”
“And I a husband and want not another in his place.”
He
nry stood now and approached them. “This is not the picture you painted with your letters. Each one was worse than the one before. I thought this marriage would be good for you, but I began to doubt my wisdom when the letters arrived.”
“Your Grace,” she began, pausing to look at Orrick, “when I wrote those letters, I was terribly unhappy and angry at what I saw as punishment by you. I wanted to return to your side, never knowing all that transpired while I was away from you last year.”
“You know of your sister?” A fleeting wave of guilt passed over his ruddy features as Henry asked. Nodding at Orrick. “Does he know of that time?”
“He knows I gave birth to a daughter.”
“What say you to that, my lord?” Henry called out.
“’Tis a fact, Sire, that cannot be changed,” Orrick said softly. “I know of the child and of the arrangements made for her upbringing. And soon, God willing, we will have a child to fill the empty place in my lady’s heart and life left by her daughter’s absence.”
Tears threatened at his declaration. Even knowing how badly she fared with her first, even knowing of her sins, he wanted her to bear his children. Henry huffed and turned away, walking to a table and pouring himself a cup of wine.
“I must admit, Marguerite, when I began receiving those letters last month, I…”
“Last month? But Your Grace, I began sending those to you shortly after my marriage, and stopped…more than a month ago.”
The timing was not right. The letters had been delayed by a few months. Her uncle most likely discarded the ones sent to him since he supported anything her father told him to support. But her friend Johanna? Why would she seek to bring her back to court now? “Who gave these to you, Your Grace?”
“That woman who was companion to you. Joan?”
“Johanna. I did not think on it until just now. Your new…mistress is Lady Adelaide?”
Henry looked completely ill at ease at her question and she laughed. “My lord Orrick has encouraged my new manners. And, Henry, I know about the others who have shared your bed and your heart.”
“Lady Adelaide has gained some favor with me.” He answered her in an aggrieved voice as though his honor and not hers had been insulted.
“They are cousins and Adelaide sought to have Johanna sent home just before I left. This is Johanna’s way of undermining Adelaide’s power.” She explained it more for Orrick’s benefit and then realized that Henry gaped at her explanation. “If I return to you, Adelaide’s place is in danger and she cannot affect Johanna.”
“I do not like being played!” he shouted. “I will have them both removed. They will learn—”
“Nothing. They will learn to be more devious than before and you will never see their machinations.”
Henry startled. “You would have me do nothing while these plots are hatched around me?”
“They are their own worst enemies, Your Grace. They will cause their own downfall in time.” As she had been.
He looked to Orrick. “These women could teach the men a thing or two about how to get things done.”
But Marguerite was still puzzled. She knew now how the letters came so late to Henry but not why he chose to act. “Your Grace, why did you seek to intervene now? You made it clear by your choice of husband for me, his distance from your court and your lack of contact that I was gone from your life. Why summon me back to you now?”
Henry drank deeply from his cup and then sat down, motioning for her to sit next to him. She looked to Orrick first before following the king to the couch. Once seated, he placed the cup on the table and took her hand. No sparks shot through her as their skin touched. No desire pulsed through her as he pulled her close. Amazed that there was no response within her to the touch of a hand that used to bring her to ecstasy, she allowed him to hold it.
“I know you will not believe this, but I did love you. But the love of a king is not the same as others and I could not give you all that you hungered for. Or should I say, all that your father plotted for.”
Marguerite looked to Orrick and he nodded. ’Twould seem that Henry had recognized her father’s actions for what they were—a bid for power.
“When you said you carried my babe, I knew it was time to send you away. I did not want you back in your father’s control, so I sought the counsel of those I trust and they recommended yonder lord of Silloth as a possible husband for you.”
Now it was her turn and Orrick’s to be surprised.
“I did not want you harmed, so I made the arrangements for your marriage, and when the time came for you to return, it was accomplished.” He laughed at what must have been the shocked expression on her face. “Not what you expected to hear?”
“No, Your Grace,” she said, shaking her head.
“Come now, surely after all we’ve shared you can call me Henry.”
“I am surprised…Henry.”
“When I received your letters, I feared I had made a mistake in judgment regarding you, Orrick. I summoned you both so that I could decide whether or not to take her from you for your mistreatment of the gift I gave you.”
Her husband looked past her and directly at the king as though the words meant something more to him than they seemed. A message seemed to pass between the two men in that moment. She would ask Orrick about it later.
“And now, Henry? What happens now?”
She braced herself for his answer, for he was still king and what he ordered would happen regardless of her change of heart or her husband’s objections.
“This new Marguerite is indeed even more intriguing than the old one and I confess that there is no lack of desire on my part for you. However, I do not wish to fight to the death with your lord husband, as he will probably demand it as the price for your honor,” he said.
Henry stood and waved Orrick to her side as he filled two more cups with wine. “And I have been warned recently that if I again break God’s commandment concerning adultery, my soul is in danger of eternal damnation and I will burn in hell.” He handed a goblet to each of them. “So, instead of taking you to my bed as I had planned to do, I will offer wishes for the health of your firstborn, Lord Orrick, and urge you both back to Silloth to await his or her birth.”
They stopped before the wine touched their mouths and stared at him as one. “What mean you by those words?” she finally asked. She held her breath for none knew her suspicions yet. Her courses should have been on her during the journey here, but as yet, no symptoms heralded their approach.
Henry walked over to her and outlined with one finger the cut of her gown under the cloak she wore. “The skin on your breasts changes to a most attractive shade of pink when you are enceinte, sweet. It did it the first time and it changes so now. I saw it in the hall tonight when you curtsied to me.”
Her hands went to her breasts as his words made them tingle. Could it be that she carried a child for Orrick? She looked at him and saw that he was more startled by the king’s words than she. Then he smiled and everything was good.
She threw her arms around him and screeched her surprise and her happiness. Orrick pulled her to her feet and answered with a kiss that took her breath away. When he touched his mouth to hers again, the king interrupted.
“I think you should seek your chambers now.”
“Aye, Your Grace,” she said, curtsying to him as Orrick bowed.
Henry took her by the shoulders and did kiss her then, on the mouth, but it lasted for only a moment. The suspicious glint in his eyes made her think it a last test on his part.
Orrick took her hand and they walked to the door of the chamber. Just as they were about to pull the door open, Henry called to him. She waited for their private discussion to end, and the laugh that brought it to a close was another surprise. Orrick took her hand and led her back to their room. She had a celebration of her own in mind for the husband she had missed so badly.
“What made Henry laugh?” she asked as they made their way through the maze of corri
dors.
“He asked me what I would have done if he said he wanted you to stay the night with him.”
“And what did you say that made him laugh?”
“I told him that I never doubted him since I think him to be a good man and a better king than one who needs to steal a man’s wife. He said he’d heard almost those exact words and laughed.”
With only another turn and not many yards left to reach their room, Orrick picked her up in his arms and kissed her as he carried her. If François was surprised by the sight, he did not show it, only opening the door and pulling it closed behind them.
“I know that a jug of wine and an old friend is no substitute for a warm and willing woman, but ’tis all I have to offer, Henry.”
Henry accepted the cup and sat at the table waiting for Godfrey to join him. He lifted a small bag of silver and gold coins and tossed them across to the man who had guarded his back too many times to count.
“Is it difficult always being right?” he asked. “Will you be humble as befits a man of God or will you lord it over me for years to come?”
“That depends on how many coins are in this,” Godfrey said as he picked up the sack and weighed it in his hand. “If your gift is generous, I may just forget about this time.”
“Bah! You will not forget it. And sometimes I wonder if your information on the queen’s whereabouts all those years ago was a blessing or a curse.”
It had been Godfrey of Poitiers, a knight in the household of Eleanor, duchess of Aquitaine, who had served as intermediary in the marriage negotiations between the House of Anjou and the just-annulled Queen of France. His efforts and his gift for secrecy and discretion won Henry FitzEmpress the queen and all of her lands to add to his own. In his fight against Stephen and the years-long wait for the English throne, that wealth had made the difference.
And in spite of all that transpired between the king and queen and princes, and in spite of his decision to take vows to serve God, Godfrey remained his true friend and the one Henry could count on when all others failed him.
“Would you say no if you could go back and change it?” Godfrey asked. “That is the truest test.”
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