by Merry Farmer
“Excuse me, good lady,” a round man in a fine tunic sidled up to her. “I couldn’t help but notice your stunning and beautiful presence at the council session.” She turned her head and met his eyes. He jangled a small purse of coins next to the bulge in his chausses. “Perhaps we could become better acquainted?”
She huffed out a growl and pushed away from the inn and the disgusting man. Her face burned with the heat of fury and humiliation. But she wasn’t done yet.
She switched directions, taking the road that would lead out of the city walls towards the forest. She had one more idea, one more chance to snatch the power and influence she wanted along with a hearty helping of revenge.
Chapter Eight
Kedleridge Manor was quiet without its master. By the end of a week spent there as a guest Madeline was itching for something to do. At the convent every moment of her time had been scheduled. At Kedleridge she was restless.
“Has there been any word from Jack?” she asked Simon as the kitchen maid Alice cleared away her breakfast with a yawn.
“None, my lady,” he shook his head. “Though with the Earl’s departure yesterday I can only imagine he will be home soon.”
“I suppose,” she sighed, reading through Simon’s stoic exterior to see his concern for Jack and for her.
“If you’d like I could send a messenger to Derby to determine the cause of his delay.”
“No, no that’s alright. Thank you, Simon.” She stood from the table but had nothing to do but glance absently around the room.
“It is a fine morning, my lady, and the orchard will not be in full bloom much longer. You may want to walk there while you can.”
She swallowed at his statement. While you can. It was folly to assume that she would stay there forever, that Kedleridge would be her new home. “You’re right.” She drew in a deciding breath. “I will.” She gave him a smile as she crossed past him and headed outside.
She wandered around the side of the house and over to the spreading orchard that Jack loved so much. The trees were still mostly white but green leaves were now showing through. She smiled and took in a deep breath, closing her eyes. She imagined Jack wandering up and down these rows. She could see him smiling and laughing as if he was with her.
The memory of his body pressed to hers, the taste of his mouth, his hand caressing her most intimate places, both warmed and jolted her. She snapped her eyes open, wishing Jack would hurry home and settle things.
Her path took her through the orchard to the back end of the property and a small, square field where the grass was clipped short. The area was bordered on all sides by wild fields and a few scattered oaks. She smiled when she saw five rows of bee hives in the square. This must be Jack’s apiary. She took a few steps closer to the hives. A bee buzzed close and she jumped with a shriek that turned into a laugh and ran through the hedge at the side of the apiary to avoid being stung.
Her laughter vanished when she saw the row of crosses on the other side of the hedge. A hand rushed to her heart. One large cross stood alongside five small ones. The crosses were wooden and weathered. She approached with cautious reverence. The large cross was carved with the name “Constance McFarland” and the dates 1159 - 1190. She blinked. The mound of earth in front of the cross was thick with grass but it was still a mound. The smaller cross next to Constance’s bore the single date 1190 as well, but its mound was so tiny that it brought a lump to her throat. The name “Daniel” was carved in tiny letters above the date. Taking in a breath she glanced at the other crosses. “Rebecca, 1188”, “Isaac, 1183”, “Nathaniel, 1180”, and finally “Simon, 1176”.
She backed away, throat constricting and tears coming to her eyes. Five tiny crosses, each with only one date. She couldn’t imagine it. Babies died, but to carry that hope for so long only to have it dashed five times? How could anyone bear it? She turned and rushed back into the orchard, heading for the house, hands folded and raised to her mouth as she said a series of quick prayers for each of the crosses. But praying didn’t ease the tightness in her throat. She couldn’t forget the name on the last, oldest cross.
As she brushed out of the orchard and into the yard by the side of the manor house she glanced up and saw Simon at work, directing a young man with a bucket of pitch up a ladder to the roof. Her heart squeezed in her chest at the sight of his stern, blank face. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she approached him.
He blinked when he saw her and his shoulders dropped. “Carry on, Clive,” he told the young man climbing up the ladder and left his position to walk across the yard to her. “My lady, are you well?”
“I’ve just been walking,” she spoke, voice hoarse, glancing over her shoulder. “In the … in the apiary.” His whole body went rigid. Jack had told her that Simon never so much as hinted that he was human, but in an instant his defenses dropped away and she saw a man scarred by loss. “Didn’t any of them live?”
For a moment she thought he would turn and run. Instead he forced his face to steady into a mask. “One,” he answered.
One. She drew in a slow, painful breath. Only one. “Where is he? Or is it a she?”
He took his time answering. “Roderick is in the forest.”
“Oh,” her heart sank. “With Ethan?”
A flash of surprise cut through his blank expression before settling again. “I suppose Lady Aubrey told you.”
“She told me about Ethan and his gang. I don’t think she knows Roderick is your son. Does Jack know?”
He opened his mouth to speak but cleared his throat instead. “Excuse me, my lady.” He turned and walked into the house.
Madeline watched him go, puzzled and wishing there was something she could do for him.
“He don’t like to talk about his son, my lady,” the man fixing the roof, Clive, called down to her. “Turned out bad, he did. Very bad.”
“I see.” She nodded.
“Broke his mother’s heart, it did, and killed her,” Clive continued. “Well, that an’ her last little ‘un. I never seen Simon so upset. Loved his Constance, like no man ever loved before.”
“I … I had no idea.” Madeline swallowed the lump in her throat.
Stunned, she turned to wander down the path to the main road. Jack had only ever spoken of the joys of Kedleridge, never of the sorrows. She took in a breath and glanced across the tiny village towards the orchard. No one was idle. Everyone had a task, a goal. Everyone had a life. If they had troubles they dealt with them through work and purpose. Pride in Jack’s people coursed through her. After one week it felt as though she had lived there her whole life and knew all its secrets.
The sound of galloping hooves echoed towards her as a rider crested the hill. Jack’s ginger hair stood out in the sunlight. A smile of relief spread through her and she ran to greet him.
Jack had never been so happy to be home and so full of dread at the same time. He felt years older, heavy and sick, as his horse galloped down the hill into Kedleridge. His heart seemed to grow too big for his chest at the sight of Madeline rushing towards him even as it twisted with shame. She was too smart not to guess everything he’d almost done with Lydia the second she looked in his eyes.
“Jack! I was so worried about you!” She held out her arms as if to hug him as he pulled his horse to a stop in front of the manor and dismounted. “I thought you were planning to come straight home.”
He fiddled with his horse’s reins, glanced around for the stable boy who had a sixth sense for when to show up and take his horse. He sought comfort in the sight of his orchard, then turned to meet Simon’s eyes as he stepped out of the manor. Simon nodded. Jack dropped his gaze and finally dragged it up to meet Madeline’s. There was nothing but joy and welcoming and deep, innocent love in her eyes.
The semblance of control he had talked himself into burst apart. “God I missed you!” he groaned, grabbing her and tugging her into his arms. He hugged her as if his life depended on it. It did.
“Are you
alright, Jack?” her voice was muffled as he squeezed her.
Not hardly. “I had a lot of moppin’ up to do after the nobs left,” he sidestepped her question, letting her go. “An’ Crispin left for his tour of the shire yesterday. Aubrey wants you to come stay with her at the castle, by the way. Probably best seein’ as I got to raise an army to clean up the Derbywood.” He’d intended his words to be lighthearted, but considering his gut felt like stone he sounded more like Simon than anything.
“You’re going to invade the Derbywood?” Madeline blinked. She glanced to Simon with a worried frown.
Simon stared right back at her. Jack arched an eyebrow at the exchange. “Yeah,” he answered with a shrug. She still had an arm around his waist. It wasn’t right for her to be so close considering what he’d almost let happen in Derby. He stepped towards Simon as an excuse to edge away from her. “Sorry to ditch you again like this, mate.”
“My lord” Simon nodded, his answer betraying nothing about what he thought.
Their eyes met. Jack coughed and looked away. Clever Simon knew he’d done something even if Madeline didn’t.
“Right. How ‘bout a quick bite to eat?” He tried hard to smile and only just managed it.
“Yes, my lord.” Simon nodded and crossed past him towards the kitchen.
“So tell me about the council.” Madeline took his arm and walked with him into the house.
He raised his brow at the forward gesture. It reminded him a little too much of Lydia. “I’m not gonna lie to you, MP. It was a disaster.”
He sat at the long table and told her as much as he dared about the fiasco. She listened with tender attention, her eyes glittering with concern and sympathy as he explained how hard he’d tried to act the noble and how things had fallen apart. She was hopeful that the king’s ransom would be collected in time to deliver to Pennington and after further explanation agreed that taking an army into the Derbywood to rout Ethan was a good idea. He said nothing at all about her father.
When Alice brought him stew and bread he stuffed his face and listened as she recounted her long, dull week of simple country pleasures at Kedleridge. He knew which week he would rather have had.
“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested as he was finishing. “There’s something I want to show you out by the apiary.”
A weary smile touched his lips. “Oy, mind if we ride instead? Only I don’t think I’m up for a long walk.”
She considered, her beautiful face flushing. “Yes, I think that would work.”
He sent Simon to ready the horses and by the time they stepped back out into the afternoon sunshine Simon was walking up from the stable with them.
“Thanks, mate.” Jack nodded, still not quite able to meet his man’s eyes.
He looked away, up to the hills and farms beyond the village. A flicker of movement on the crest of the hill caught his eye. A lone figure crouched near a cluster of bushes. As soon as Jack stepped forward the figure darted behind the shrubs. “Oy! That’s not … that’s Tom!” The surge of joy at the sight of his brother bowled him over.
Simon turned to follow Jack’s gaze, eyes darkening. “My lord?”
“Tom’s up there,” Jack continued to shout, walking faster towards the hill. “Tom. My brother! Oy! Tom! Where does he think he’s going?”
“Maybe he’s come to see you?” Madeline suggested.
Tom reemerged on the other side of the shrub, mounted. He looked back down to the village again before turning and starting off.
“Oy! Come back!” Jack’s heart sank. He whirled around and ran to mount his horse. “Come on, Simon! Mount up! We’ve got to catch him!”
“My lord,” Simon argued, “As much as I am flattered to be considered, I do not have time -”
“I need you.” He met the man’s eyes with more pleading than he wanted to think about.
Simon pursed his lips and stared up at the hill and Tom’s retreating form. It was a quick glance to Madeline that decided him. He let out a breath and rushed to mount the second horse.
“Good man.” Jack nodded to him, a trace of a smile coming back to his eyes. He turned to Madeline. “Sorry about the walk. We can go later?”
“No problem,” she smiled. “Bring Tom home for tea.”
Tom and Madeline at home with him for tea. The idea filled him with hope where he thought there was none left. He nodded to her with a broad grin and kicked his horse forward, Simon right behind him.
They galloped along the road that lead out of the village and up to the hills past the orchard and the outlying farms. He couldn’t help but feel the stirrings of pride as he glanced back over his shoulder at Kedleridge from a distance. He liked the place, he really did. Tom would like it to. Forget Ethan and that mess, he would catch Tom and force him to come home with him. Fool that it made him, he missed his brother.
“Over there, my lord.” Simon pulled his horse to a halt at the crest of the hill. From that vantage point he could look down into the valley that separated Kedleridge from the outlying hills of Windale. He sat higher in his saddle and pointed across a slope further along the road. Jack reined in his horse beside his steward and followed the line of his eyes. He spotted Tom galloping hard towards the forest.
Jack kicked his mount into a gallop shouting, “Oy! Tom! Wait up!” as if his brother could hear him. Simon surged after him.
They raced on but Tom only seemed to pick up his pace when he saw that he was being chased. The fleeting thought crossed Jack’s mind that he should stop and think about what he was doing. Tom pushed forward over the hills, turning a few corners in an attempt to lose them.
The chase took them all the way into the cool, dim forest. Like day to night, the dark branches of the trees closed in around them. Jack pulled on the reins to slow down, the old creeping feeling of anxiety coming back. Simon darted ahead, then pulled his own horse to a stop, turning to meet his master as he rode up to his side, glancing up at the branches and leaves.
“Have you changed your mind, my lord?” he asked, out of breath and face shining from the exhilaration of the chase.
Jack shook his head. His eyes searched the shadows, scanning every tree and dark corner that he could find. “No, I haven’t changed my mind.” He forced himself to relax and meet Simon’s eyes. His steward was watching him with very little outward emotion but his eyes were sparkling and shrewd. “I wanna talk to my brother,” he went on with a firmer tone, shifting in his saddle to sit up straighter in unconscious imitation of Simon. “Be careful though. I’ve seen some spooky things in these woods.”
“Yes, my lord,” Simon nodded, turning his horse and walking after his master as they rode deeper into the forest.
Tom ducked to avoid a low branch as he pulled his horse to a stop beside the communal corral at the edge of the forest camp. He dismounted and spun, panting, to search back the way he’d come. Jack and his man were just barely discernable as flickers of movement through the trees.
He was an idiot for going to his brother’s manor, an idiot for being concerned about a man who had forgotten all about him. But when that woman Lydia had sidled back into the forest after the Council of Nobles laughing over how big a fool Jack had made of himself he couldn’t help but worry. Worry had lead to fear and fear had lead him to leave the forest to check on Jack. He’d just wanted to make sure his brother was alright. He’d never thought the pillock would chase after him.
“What are you doing skulking around with the horses?” Roderick’s question was as pointed as the long dagger he carried. “Looking for a date?”
“Shut up, Roderick,” he snapped, pulse thudding. He glanced over his shoulder to where he thought Jack and his man were then marched past Roderick, hoping to distract the creepy bugger.
His plan backfired.
“What’s over there that you don’t want me to see?” Roderick started towards the road.
“Nothing.”
“I doubt that.” He picked up his pace. Tom followed. He pani
cked the moment Roderick saw the movement, saw Jack and his man. Before he could do anything Roderick gave a shrill whistle.
Half a dozen of his thug friends stepped out from behind trees or dropped what they were doing nearby. “What’s up?” one of them asked, a troublemaker with a crooked nose named Connor. Tom’s panic shot through the roof.
“Intruders in the forest.” Roderick told him.
“They’re nobody,” Tom fumbled. If Connor was involved someone might get killed. “Just leave them be.”
Roderick ignored him. “Take them prisoner,” he ordered Connor.
“No, don’t!” Tom jumped after them, but they were too quick. “Jack!”
Roderick lashed out, slicing his shoulder with the knife to stop him. Tom jumped to defend himself but he was unarmed, helpless.
“Let them do their work, Tanner,” he smirked.
“They don’t mean any harm,” he panted, checking his wound. It was nothing more than a scratch.
He couldn’t say the same for what he heard from the road. A series of shouts was followed by a volley of thumps. A horse whinnied. Jack shouted something that was cut short.
Tom glared at Roderick before turning and sprinting towards the conflict. Roderick followed. They reached the side of the road as one of Roderick’s friends wrenched Jack to his knees and kicked him in the gut. Jack spilled to the ground, his face freshly bloodied. His man didn’t look much better.
Roderick pulled up short at the sight of Jack’s man, his face going pale and splotchy.
The steward’s eyes narrowed at Roderick. “I should have known.”
“Tie their hands,” Roderick directed the thugs with frantic energy. “And gag them. Now! We’ll hand them over to Ethan. He’ll reward me for this little gift.”
“What the hell?” Jack managed half a curse before one of the thugs shoved a handkerchief in his mouth. Another produced a rope and yanked his arms to his back to tie them. Jack shouted in pain through the gag and Tom thought he might be sick. He could do nothing. He might as well have been the one bound and gagged.