Blaze Wyndham

by Bertrice Small

  Several days later the sisters waved farewell to each other from their coaches as the vehicles turned away in different directions. Shortly afterward the Earl of Langford’s carriage rolled through the villages of Wyeton and Michaelschurch and down the hill road to where RiversEdge stood.

  “God’s foot!” Blaze said without thinking and using the king’s favorite oath. “It is good to be home again!”

  Anthony could not help but smile at her. “It is good to be home,” he agreed.

  Lady Dorothy Wyndham flew from the house to greet them, barely waiting for Blaze to climb from the coach so she might hug her. “Oh, my dear Blaze, how good it is to have you home again! RiversEdge has not been the same without you, but oh, I understood why you left! Still, memories are not easily escaped from, especially happy ones. I know that my brother would be glad you have come home.”

  “As I know, Mother, that he would be equally happy to learn that Blaze has become my wife. We were married at Greenwich by Cardinal Wolsey five days ago,” said Anthony quietly.

  “What?” His mother was astounded.

  “In the king’s own royal chapel, and the bride was given away by Henry Tudor himself,” Anthony finished.

  Dorothy Wyndham burst into tears.

  “God have mercy, Doro, are you that disappointed to have me as your daughter-in-law?” Blaze asked.

  “Oh, Blaze,” the good lady sobbed, “nothing could make me happier! Nothing!” she declared, and hugged the younger woman once again. “Now I know that this family shall not die out.”

  “Dearest Doro, there is something that you must know,” Blaze began, but she was interrupted by her husband.

  “Later, my angel,” Tony said lightly, but she saw the warning in his eyes. “Let us go inside the house, for it is chilly outside here.”

  They entered into the house, and Dorothy Wyndham brought them to the Great Hall, where the fireplaces were burning brightly. Blaze’s eye scanned the hall, and then lightened as she saw her daughter.

  “Doro! That cannot be Nyssa!” she exclaimed.

  Dorothy Wyndham nodded.

  “She has grown tremendously. I cannot believe it! Oh, she looks so like her father!”

  At that moment the little girl in her dark velvet skirts saw them, and detaching herself from her companion, raced directly across the Great Hall. “Papa!” she cried as, ignoring Blaze, she dashed into Anthony’s arms. “Papa is home!” she said as he swept her up into his arms. “What did you bring me, Papa? What?”

  “I have brought you your mother, Nyssa,” said Anthony. “Is that not a fine present?”

  Nyssa Wyndham turned in his arms and stared down her small aristocratic nose at Blaze. There was absolutely no recognition in the violet-blue eyes which were so like her mother’s. Then she turned back to Tony, saying, “I do not like her. Send her away, Papa. I like Henriette better. I want Henriette to be my mama!”

  Blaze felt as if she had been hit hard, and mutely she turned questioningly to Doro.

  Her mother-in-law patted her arm. “You have been away so long, Blaze,” she said by way of explanation. “Little children forget quickly. In a few days all will be well between you.”

  “Why does she call Anthony Papa?” Blaze asked.

  “From the moment he and I came to Ashby to get you, and you were not there, Nyssa insisted upon calling him Papa. Nothing any of us said could sway her,” Doro replied apologetically. “She does not remember Edmund now, and means no disrespect.”

  Blaze nodded.

  “I want Henriette! I want Henriette!” sang Nyssa infuriatingly.

  “Who is this Henriette who has usurped my position?” demanded Blaze. “Where are my daughter’s nursemaids, Maisie and Polly?”

  Maisie and her assistant hurried forward, bobbing curtsies. “Welcome home, m’lady,” they chorused.

  “Take Lady Nyssa,” Blaze ordered them.

  “No!” shrieked Nyssa. “No! No! No! I want, my maaaamaaaa!”

  “I am your mama, Nyssa Wyndham,” said Blaze, taking her child from her husband’s arms.

  “No! Henriette is my mama! I want Henriette!” She squirmed wildly in Blaze’s arms, seeking to evade her mother’s grasp.

  Blaze passed the screaming child to Maisie, but Nyssa kicked out, catching the poor servant in the shoulder with her little foot, and causing the woman to howl with her hurt. Instinctively Blaze sat down, and turning her unruly child over her knee, lifted her little skirts and paddled her bottom several strokes. Nyssa roared her outrage, for she was more angry than hurt. Blaze knew now that in leaving her child she had done her a great disservice. The little girl was totally out of control, for it was obvious from the horrified faces about them that no one had ever dared to discipline Lady Nyssa Wyndham.

  Before anyone might speak, Blaze made her position quite clear to them all. Setting her daughter on her feet in front of her, she said furiously, “Nyssa Catherine Wyndham, be silent!”

  Surprised at the harsh tone directed at her, the little girl grew quiet, and glowered up at the pretty lady who had just spanked her. Her eyes were wet with her tears, but their angry glare was mutinous.

  “Now, Nyssa Catherine Wyndham, you will listen to me. I am your mother, and I have been at court serving the king. I have come home now, and I expect you to behave properly not only to those who are your equals, but to those who serve you as well. You are to apologize to poor Maisie, whom you have injured in your bad temper. Then you are to go to your room, where you will be served bread and milk for your supper. You are to say your rosary three times, and tomorrow you will come to me and apologize for your dreadful behavior. I will then give you a final penance. Now, say ‘Yes, Mama,’ and then give your good nights to your father and Grandmama Doro.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “Where is your curtsy, Nyssa?” Blaze said severely, and thought of her own mother.

  Scowling, Nyssa curtsied to her, and then bidding Anthony and Doro lavishly affectionate good nights, she departed the Great Hall clutching at her nursemaid’s hand and casting a last scornful look at her mother as they exited the room.

  “I have returned just in time,” said Blaze quietly.

  “No one has been able to do anything with her,” Doro explained, “for she has a fearful temper.”

  “Bliss was like that,” Blaze said.

  “Then,” continued Doro, “Henriette arrived, and she seems to be able to control her better than anyone else. Frankly we have let her, for it is better than constantly fighting with the child. Nyssa can disrupt the entire household when she chooses.”

  “She will not do it ever again,” said Blaze ominously. “Who, Doro, is this Henriette?”

  “I am, madam.” A slender and extremely sweet-faced young girl stepped forward and curtsied politely to Blaze and Anthony.

  “This is Mistress Henriette Wyndham,” explained Doro. “She is the only child of Richard’s younger brother, Henry, whose wife was a Frenchwoman. Henriette is now orphaned, and it was her father’s dying wish that she come to us for protection. She arrived from France the day after you left, Anthony.”

  “You are most welcome to RiversEdge, Cousin Henriette,” said the earl. “I hope that you will be happy with us.”

  “Ohh, how could I not be happy in such a beautiful place!” exclaimed Henriette, clasping her two hands together in rapture as she beamed ingenuously at Tony. “Ohh, thank you, my lord, for taking me in! Had your mother not had such a generous heart, I do not know where I would have gone.”

  “I am surprised that your father did not make proper plans for you, Mademoiselle Henriette,” said Blaze curiously.

  “Alas!” sighed the young girl. “My papa left many debts. Had he not warned me to secrete my mother’s jewelry in my skirt hem, I should not have even had the means for my servant, Cecile, and myself to travel here to England.” Her amber-colored eyes grew teary. “I was forced to sell almost everything, madam, for our passage.”

  “Poor child!” sympathiz
ed Doro. “Then she had to buy a cart and horse in order to get here from the coast. They were three days without food when they finally arrived!” She turned to Blaze. “Henry was the younger son. Their father wanted him to go into the church, but he would not, and was disowned. Richard was nonetheless fond of him, and occasionally would hear from him. He married a Frenchwoman who was some upper servant attached to the French court. When Richard and I went to The Field of the Cloth of Gold in France with the court several years ago, we saw them. She died shortly afterward, and Henriette tells me that he died this past summer.”

  “It was plague,” the young girl said. “The boil beneath his arm would not burst, and they always die when that happens. They would not let me bury him, but took his body away in the death cart.”

  “Poor child!” Doro said once again.

  “How old are you, Mademoiselle Henriette?” Blaze asked.

  “Seventeen, madam,” came the soft reply.

  “We shall have to find you a husband,” said Blaze sweetly. “As you are the same age as my little sister Delight, I shall invite Delight to RiversEdge so you may have a companion,” Blaze finished.

  “You are so kind, madame la comtesse,” replied Henriette, but her golden-amber eyes were looking to Anthony, who was now speaking with his mother.

  Blaze’s eyes narrowed as she studied the girl. She had a little oval face, very French in appearance. There was not the slightest evidence that she was a Wyndham. Her features were sharp, a slender nose, a narrow little mouth. Her hair was but shoulder-length, a mass of soft dark curls. She played the innocent, and yet Blaze thought there was something a little too calculated, a bit too knowing about the girl. Still, she could hardly toss a relation of her husband’s, even one she suspected was not quite the innocent she claimed to be, out into a friendless world. Aye! A suitable husband, and the sooner the better!

  Later, as she and Doro sat before a fireplace in the smaller family hall, her mother-in-law said, “You do not really mean to invite Delight to RiversEdge. Finding that Tony has finally married will but break her heart once more.”

  “Delight is seventeen, Doro. It is time that she grew up. Anthony rejected her three years ago, and yet she moons her life away dreaming that one day he will come to Ashby and carry her off on his white horse. Bliss and I have discussed it. It is time for Delight to face life as it really is, and not how she would have it. I shall send a messenger to my parents tomorrow telling them of my marriage to your son, of our new relation, and then I shall invite Delight to RiversEdge. If she can but see Tony and me as husband. and wife, then perhaps she will finally admit to herself that he is lost to her. Only then will my parents be able to find her a husband, for they have not been able to bear the thought of forcing her to some marriage or other. Delight has always been the odd one out in our little group. Although nearer in age to the twins and me, she really has no one, for we married young and went off, leaving her with nobody to talk to. Larke and Linnette are a full four years Delight’s junior, and extremely clannish. Perhaps having Mademoiselle Henriette for a companion will also help to cheer her.”

  “You may be right,” agreed Dorothy Wyndham, “and Henriette needs a friend her age. I do not like that servant of hers. There is something unwholesome about the woman, but of course I cannot send her away. She is old and she is all the poor child has left from her past.”

  “You are certain that she is Henry Wyndham’s child?” Blaze queried.

  “Aye, Henriette was with her parents at The Field of the Cloth of Gold, a little girl, only just eleven that June first. I could not forget that funny little French face. Only her hair is dark like the Wyndhams’, but then her mother’s hair was dark too. Henriette’s mother was one of the French queen’s personal serving women, some nobleman’s by-blow by a shopkeeper’s daughter, Henry told us. She was a quiet woman. I do not think I spoke more than twice to her. My French is not very good, and Henriette’s mother spoke no English.”

  “Yet Henriette’s English is quite good,” Blaze noted. “Almost accentless, I might add.”

  “I commented on that when she arrived, and she told me that her father insisted that she be bilingual. I think Henry meant her for a decent marriage if he could but find the means to dower her. Her mother had some little bits of jewelry, gifts I suppose from her mistress, that the girl used to make her way here to us, but there was nothing else.”

  “How did Henry Wyndham live?” Blaze asked curiously.

  Doro smiled. “Mostly by his wits, his charm, and his sword, Richard told me. It broke my father-in-law’s heart, for he had intended that Henry be a bishop one day, but there was too much of the world in Henry, and he had no intention of giving it up. Richard’s father finally disowned him in hopes of bringing him to his senses. Instead, Henry went to France.”

  Blaze nodded. “Well,” she said, “we shall have to find someone suitable for Henriette to wed. Edmund dowered my sisters generously, and so I will certainly see that Tony dowers Henriette as well. I would see her gone as quickly as possible.”

  “Blaze!” Dorothy Wyndham was surprised by her daughter-in-law’s hard attitude.

  “Doro, I have lived at the court of Henry Tudor for almost a year. It is a very sophisticated court, and I have met all sorts of people. Mademoiselle Henriette is not quite the innocent she pretends to be. Perhaps you do not see it, for you are a good and loving lady, and certainly Tony does not see it, for he is a man, and the girl simpers and fawns on him, inflaming his masculine ego. I, however, see it. She has already exercised an influence on my daughter that I do not approve of, and so I would have her gone as quickly as possible. There is nothing wrong in that. I wish her no harm. I just wish her gone from my house.”

  “I cannot fault you for that, Blaze,” replied Doro. “Perhaps the girl is a bit more knowledgeable than she would have us know, but mayhap she feared our rejection if we did not think her the helpless innocent. I cannot blame her for that. She really did not know us well enough to be certain. Let us give her the benefit of the doubt for poor Henry’s sake.”

  “Very well, Doro, but at the same time let us seek for a man to marry her,” said Blaze.

  “What of your marriage to Tony?” asked Doro. “I did not know when Tony left for court that he intended to wed with you. I am most vexed that you married at Greenwich instead of coming home where I and your family might share in the happy event.” The older woman smiled at Blaze to show her that she was not really angry, simply disappointed.

  Blaze took a deep breath. “There is something that you should know, Doro,” she said. “I would not feel right keeping it from you,” and she went on to explain to Edmund’s sister how the king, using Nyssa, had blackmailed her into his bed. How she had, nonetheless, grown fond of him, for he was really a lonely man. How, just as Henry was trying to decide how to get rid of her, for his affections were straying in the direction of Mistress Anne Boleyn, Anthony had arrived at court and explained to Henry that he had promised the dying Edmund that he would take his widow for his wife to protect both her and the children.

  “So he told the king that, did he?” said Doro.

  “Aye, and so the king insisted we be married, thus solving his problem, and allowing Tony to keep his promise to Edmund,” finished Blaze, who had not noticed the tone of Dorothy Wyndham’s voice.

  “So you are married,” said Doro quietly, “but do you love my son, Blaze?”

  Blaze shook her head. “Do not think badly of me, Doro. I still love Edmund. I think I always will, but I would be a good and faithful wife to Tony, I swear it! I am trying very hard to overcome my rancor toward him.”

  Doro patted her daughter-in-law’s hand. “Do not worry, my dear,” she said. “You have only done what you had to do, and I know you will try to make Tony happy. He loves you.”

  “Oh, no, Doro, he certainly does not love me. He married me because he loved Edmund, and he promised him that he would do so. Anthony is an honorable man, but love has nothing to do w
ith our marriage.”

  Dorothy Wyndham held her tongue. She knew that her son loved Blaze with all his heart. Loved her enough to tell the king that outrageous and incredible lie about a deathbed promise that she knew never existed. Yet Blaze suspected it not, and before Doro said anything to her about it, she would talk with her son. As for Tony, he did not realize that Blaze had only gone to Henry Tudor’s bed in order to protect her child from being taken away. That knowledge was also not hers to impart, and so she must remain silent there also. She approved of Blaze’s decision not to cohabit with her husband for three months so that when an heir was born for Langford there could be no mistaking his parentage. Three months was time enough for her son and new daughter-in-law to settle their differences, and possibly to even learn to love each other a little.

  Blaze settled back into RiversEdge, and after a week it was as if she had never been gone. The household ran smoothly, and Tony spent most of his days out riding the estate lands with his bailiff, making certain that his people were settling in for the coming winter, that roofs and chimneys were in good repair, that the granary was safe from pillaging rodents. There seemed to be more deer this year than he had ever seen, and so Tony gave the head of each family belonging to his estates the right to take one deer. It was an incredible gift, and if he was thanked once, he was thanked a thousand times as he rode through his villages.

  “Long life, and many sons to yer lordship,” the goodwives called after him, and he grinned to himself. There was little chance of any sons, let alone many sons, until that damned three-month waiting period Blaze had ordained was over. That her decision was an intelligent and correct one did not console him.

  Lady Nyssa Catherine Wyndham came to accept her mother’s presence, although she was not an easy child under any circumstances. With Blaze’s return, however, discipline reentered Nyssa’s life. She did not like it, but she was wise enough not to show her displeasure in front of her mother, who did not hesitate to administer her an immediate sharp slap for her transgressions. Her first penance involved embroidery of a linen napkin to be used by Father Martin in the communion service. Her first efforts were met with disdain by her mother, who, ripping out the sloppy stitches, told her to do it over again. Nyssa glowered at Blaze angrily.