By Arrangement

by Madeline Hunter

  Giving the stranger a more thorough examination, she strolled toward the garden.

  David walked slowly toward the house, and with each step the eerie internal silence grew more absorbing. Scattered thoughts scrambled through his mind, and odd emotions welled inside his chest. Emotions that he could not afford to either acknowledge or examine now.

  Nor could he afford to indulge himself in the usual fascination with the sound of Fortune's wheel turning yet again. He shook off the silence.

  The man waited and watched. He stood too tall and proud to make the worker's cloak an effective disguise, but David doubted that anyone else had paid much attention.

  He had expected this man eventually, but not today and not here. Oliver had received no report yet, for one thing. That must mean that he had come by way of a northern port, and not one along the southern or eastern coasts. A long detour, then, to ensure safety. It was the sort of refined and careful strategy that David could appreciate. He had come alone, too. Either he was very brave or very sure of himself. Probably both.

  He tied the horses' reins to a post near the stable building and then walked over to the man. The white head rose as high as his own. Deep brown eyes regarded him carefully.

  They did not greet each other but David suspected that the odd familiarity which he experienced was felt by the other, too.

  “How did you find me?” David asked.

  “Frans learned from its previous owner that you had acquired this property. I thought that you might bring your bride here. A beautiful girl, by the way. Worthy of her bloodline. Worthy of you.”

  He ignored the compliment, except to note that it was not one which a man like this would normally give a merchant. “Frans has a friendship with Lady Catherine? Is she one of yours? A watcher?”

  The man hesitated and David had his answer. No doubt Lady Catherine would do anything for a price.

  “You should have waited until my wife was not with me. I do not want her involved in any way.”

  “I could not wait forever. I am here at great risk to myself. If you had left her side for a few hours …”

  The man's voice drifted away and a full silence fell. It held for a long time. They faced each other, both knowing that whoever spoke first again would be at the disadvantage.

  David calmly let the moments throb past. He had much more experience in waiting than his guest. A lifetime of it, in fact.

  “Do you know who I am?” the man finally asked.

  “I know who you are. I assume that you seek what Frans sought, and since I told him I would not help, I wonder about the reason for this meeting.”

  The man reached into the front of his mantle and withdrew a folded piece of parchment. “This is one of yours. It was found amongst the papers of Jacques van Artevelde.”

  “Your man and I have already discussed my relationship with Jacques. My letters to him were matters of trade, nothing else.”

  “His relationship with you and others like you got him killed.”

  Jacques van Artevelde, the leader of Ghent's pro-English burghers, had become a friend. His death last year at the hands of a mob had been more than a political loss for David, and he resented this offhand reference to it.

  It went without saying that the Count of Flanders had been behind that mob's murder. Had this other man been involved, too?

  “We met for business and nothing more,” David said blandly.

  “Let us skip the games, Master David. As Frans explained, we know about you. Not everything, I'm sure. But enough. Besides, it was not the content of this letter that made him bring it to me. It was the seal.” His long fingers played with the parchment. “An unusual seal. Three entwined serpents. How did you come to use it?”

  “It was on a piece of jewelry that my mother owned. It was as useful a device as any other.”

  “This item of jewelry. Was it a ring? With a gray stone?”

  David let the silence pulse as he absorbed this astounding question and its unexpected implications.

  “Aye. A ring.”

  The man sighed audibly. He stepped closer and scrutinized David's face. “Aye, I can see it. The eyes, but not their color. His were brown. The mouth. Even your voice.”

  David met that piercing gaze with his own. “I, of course, have no way of knowing if you are right or if you lie. You want something from me. It is in your interest to claim a resemblance.”

  “I do not come here to trick you into treason.”

  “Merely meeting with you might be construed as treason. Your presence here compromises me. You should have given me a choice.”

  “It was essential that I see you. I had to know. Surely you understand that.”

  “I'm not sure that I do.”

  “Why did you never come to us?”

  “I had no need of you, and you none of me.”

  “We have need of you now.”

  David examined the man's serious, expectant expression. “You must want this very badly, to appeal to a stranger.”

  Shrewd eyes met David's own. “Aye, I want it badly. I want it for my country but I want it for myself, too. You are not such a stranger. I have made it my business to learn about you. Your accomplishments in trade will not satisfy you much longer. Already those small victories seem thin and shallow, do they not? Especially compared to the politics of monarchies.”

  David glanced away, knowing even as he did so that the reflex signaled a certain defeat.

  He gestured for the man to follow him into the house.

  Christiana huddled in her cloak on the bench under a tree in the garden. She was not at all pleased to be stuck out here while David held this secret meeting. She was even less pleased with the way he had dismissed her, and his tone when he ordered her obedience.

  That tall man's presence had obviously surprised him, and that explained some of it. Still, she doubted that this meeting had anything to do with trade or finance. The stranger was no merchant, despite his simple cloak and humble horse. He could no more hide his true status than he could hide his height. She had recognized him for what he was. Any time, any place, nobles knew each other when they met.

  They were talking a very long time. Her hands felt a little numb from the raw chill, and she wrapped them in the billows of her cloak.

  If David didn't come and get her soon, she was going to disobey him and go inside. It was one thing to be a dutiful wife, and quite another to sit out here and freeze like an idiot who didn't know when to come in from the cold.

  She stomped her feet and huddled smaller. She tried to distract herself by thinking about that strange invention David had shown her earlier. For someone who didn't like knights and war, David had a peculiar fascination with siege machines.

  Her eyes scanned the house, looking for some sign of movement. They were probably in the solar in front. From her vantage point she could see the rump of the stranger's horse tied by the side of the building.

  David had ordered her to stay outside. He hadn't said where.

  She got up and walked through the garden, heading to the sorry-looking animal. Not much of a horse for a nobleman. Perhaps it was someone down on his luck seeking a loan.

  A bag lay over the animal's hind quarters. Soothing him with her hands and voice, she eyed the loose flap.

  She really shouldn't. It was definitely none of her business.

  Asking for forgiveness, she lifted the flap and peered inside.

  The bag held clothes. Rich clothes. Expensive fabrics. Garments not at all in keeping with this horse and that worn cloak. The man had disguised himself to look poor.

  Voices startled her. She let the flap drop and hurried away.

  She had just turned the corner of the house when she heard David's voice.

  “We must not meet again in England.”

  That stopped her. She pressed against the stones of the house.

  “I leave tomorrow. Do not worry. I know your risk. I have no desire to jeopardize you,” the stranger said. He
spoke English, but the accent was unmistakable. This man, this nobleman, was French.

  “Frans is not to return to England until this is over. The man is careless, and his long stay last time was noticed. His woman friend is a complication that I will not accept. Sever ties with her,” David said.

  Frans van Horlst. A French noble. Dear saints!

  “He will leave with me tomorrow and not return. The lady will be out of it as well.”

  “There is one final condition. I will want documents from you. Witnessed.”

  Only the sound of her heart broke the silence that ensued.

  “You do not trust me,” the stranger finally said. “I suppose I can't blame you. How will I get these documents to you?”

  “You will not. I will come to you.”

  Her mind scrambled to make sense of these cryptic statements. Documents? Why was David meeting in secret with a French noble and discussing such things? Her heart heaved as one horrible possibility sprang to mind. But if that were the case, David would be providing the documents, and not the other way around.

  The sounds of a saddle creaking and a horse stomping reached her ears. She began easing away.

  “I look forward to knowing you better,” the stranger said. “In France, then.”

  The horse walked away. David would come looking for her now. She plunged away from the house and ran into the garden.

  CHAPTER 15

  AS SOON AS DAVID returned to his trade, Christiana presented herself at the house of Gilbert de Abyndon. No one seemed surprised at her going alone. She marveled at this and other new freedoms, so in contrast to the close supervision of Westminster. A childish exhilaration gripped her as she walked along the city streets, pausing occasionally to inspect the activities and wares in the tradesmen's windows.

  Margaret appeared both delighted and flustered to see her. Hesitation briefly clouded her pale, delicate face before a very mature resolve took its place. “Does your husband know that you are here?” she asked after she sent a servant for some wine.

  “He knows. It was his suggestion that I come. I am in need of a servant and he thought that you might be able to help me.”

  Margaret tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. “You know that they hate each other. Our husbands.”

  “I know. And it is always deep when kinsmen feel like that with each other. If my visit will cause trouble for you, I will leave.”

  Margaret sat on a cushioned window seat and patted the space beside her. Christiana joined her. “I will handle Gilbert. I recently learned that I am with child. I will tell him that I was feeling poorly and that your visit healed me.” She smiled conspiratorially. “This child has already changed much and will change more. He will be like clay in my hands now.”

  Christiana blinked at this bald admission of manipulation. Margaret appeared so frail and sweet, it was hard to believe that a steel rod of practicality held her upright in this marriage.

  She felt sorry that Margaret had a marriage in which only her breeding potential was valued. Then she reminded herself that was the likely reason for her own match.

  Over the next few hours they formed a bond. The next day Margaret sent a girl named Emma to enter service. Although the daughter of a merchant who had fallen on bad times, Emma proved to be a willing and excellent servant. She arrived daily at the house before dawn and helped Vittorio and Geva until Christiana called for her.

  Christiana learned about the fall in Emma's fortunes. Her father had been wealthy one day and poor the next because of one shipping disaster. She wondered if David's wealth tottered so precariously. He had suggested as much when he told her about the lands he had put in her name. Her consideration of this and of the household which she now directed led her to a decision. It was time to acquire a practical education, for the day might come when she had no servants. She set about learning how to cook from Vittorio and how to sew from the women. She learned from Geva how to be a housekeeper.

  She had visitors, too, those first few weeks. Morvan came several times to take her for rides and to reassure himself that she wasn't miserable. Isabele and Idonia came once so that Isabele could examine Christiana's new home. Margaret visited at least once a week and they formed a fast friendship.

  Toward the end of Lent, troops began arriving to muster for the King's French campaign. Most of the men lived in camps on the surrounding fields. During the days, they descended on the crowded city to pass the time while they awaited embarkation. David curtailed her freedom then, and told her not to leave the house alone.

  The Tuesday before Easter, she returned from a trip to the market with Vittorio to find Joan waiting for her. The King's purveyors had been busy the last weeks requisitioning food throughout the countryside to feed the army, and the stalls in London had been hawking depleted meats and produce at inflated prices. She began her conversation with Joan by complaining about this.

  Joan laughed. “You are sounding like some bootmaker's goodwife, Christiana. It is well that I have come. We will go to your chamber and I will teach your servant a new hairstyle which I learned. You can show me the things that your rich husband has bought you while I tell you the court gossip.”

  “How is Thomas Holland?” Christiana asked as she led Joan upstairs.

  “He has been sent to Southhampton to help with the ships there. Have you ever seen anything like it? There must be two hundred in harbor here alone, and they say it is the same in the Cinque Ports and up the east coast as well. And no one knows where Edward plans to land once he gets to the Continent.”

  Bordeaux, Christiana almost said. He goes to relieve Grossmont at Poitiers. The ships were merchant ships, requisitioned by the King. Overseas trade had stopped. But Joan would not want to hear about the hardships that would cause.

  “With Thomas gone, it has been lonely, but fortunately William Montagu has been very attentive, so I do not feel too dour,” Joan giggled. “In truth, it would be hard for any girl to feel sad at court right now. Westminster is bursting with knights and barons, all here without their ladies. The few females around are surrounded by men. It is delicious.”

  “If I were still there, it would not be delicious for me,” Christiana said, laughing. “I would die of thirst in that lake of male attention. Morvan would probably stand up at a banquet and issue a general warning and challenge.”

  “But he has no say now. You have to come and visit,” Joan cajoled as she began working Christiana's long hair into thin braids that she then looped around her head. “Before the fleet leaves, while it is still busy and gay.”

  “I am married, Joan. My place is here now.”

  “You can come for a few days, can't you? It really isn't as much fun without you. At least come for the Easter banquet. Bring David with you. He can keep the men away.”

  Christiana thought about the elaborate banquet and tournament held to celebrate Easter at court. It would be nice to attend as an adult rather than a child.

  That night she told David about Joan's invitation. They were sitting in the solar while she practiced the Saracen letters that he had taught her.

  “You must go if you want to,” he said.

  She stared down at the shallow box of sand in which she traced the letters with a stick. They had been married five weeks and David had never accompanied her to court, even when she attended a dinner.

  “Joan says that she will arrange for us to have a chamber for a few nights if we want,” she said. “You don't think the boys will mind if we are gone for Easter?”

  “The household can celebrate without us.”

  “We will go then?”

  “As it happens, I must be out of London then.”

  “And if not, you still would not come, would you?”

  “You had and have a life and place there, and I would not deny you that. But it is not my world. I will not be the upstart merchant who enters the King's court by hanging on to the hem of his wife's veil.”

  His frank admission that he would not
share that part of her life saddened her. She missed him when she was at Westminster. A part of her remained removed from the gaiety, thinking about him. Sometimes she would find herself turning to comment on some entertainment or jest and be a little startled not to find him beside her.

  She enjoyed those visits to the court, but she always returned to the city eager to see David and relate the gossip and news which she had learned. She realized that there could be no joy in anything unless she could share it with him in some way.

  She looked over at the man gazing thoughtfully into the hearth fire as his long body lounged in the wooden chair. She thought about how she filled her days with activities but how, through them all, a part of her was always waiting for something. Waiting for him, for the sound of his horse in the courtyard and his footsteps in the hall. She was always so happy to see him that sometimes, without thinking, she would run to him and he would laugh and sweep her up into a kiss. She thought about how his return to the house for dinner and again each evening filled her with comfort and relief as if, upon his leaving, she had taken a deep breath and only released it when he came back. He was the center of this household, its very heartbeat. His presence brought security and joy and excitement.

  “I need to speak with you about this trip, Christiana.”

  “Will it be a long one?” she asked, returning to her letters. She wondered how she would get through the nights without him.

  “It could be. Two weeks, maybe longer.”

  “Where do you go?”

  “West. Towards Salisbury. The King has received reports of corruption among royal purveyors in that shire. He has asked me to find out what I can before he orders an official investigation.”

  Another favor for Edward? The thing about secret trips for the King was that no one could ever check on them.

  “It is the first time that you have left since our marriage.”