With confusion surrounding Old Meg’s words only adding to her general sense of foreboding, Rhiannon went to the kitchens and reported to the cook.
Minutes later she knocked on the door to Lord Edward’s room.
“Enter,” the familiar voice called from within.
Slowly Rhiannon opened the door and stood in the doorway, holding a tray.
Lord Edward, who was in the process of packing, looked up at her and smiled.
She entered the room and the door closed behind her. “Your dinner, Lord Edward,” Rhiannon said nervously.
“Thank you. Please place it on the dresser,” he instructed.
Rhiannon did so and then stood awkwardly in the floor space.
Lord Edward looked at her but said nothing.
“I must apologise, my lord,” Rhiannon began involuntarily, “for my presumption of yester-night–” She hesitated, uncertain whether ‘presumption’ had been the best word to use. Lord Edward was staring at her but remained silent. “And in particular,” – she faltered, “for my state of undress in your bed.” Still there came no response from him. “It was very wrong of me to take the key and enter your quarters and I now feel remorseful and embarrassed–” Rhiannon couldn’t complete her statement. She looked down at the floor.
“This is an awkward situation indeed,” Lord Edward said gravely at last, “for which I can perceive but one remedy.”
Lord Edward walked over to the door and bolted it. He returned to the bedside and began to undress.
Rhiannon watched as Lord Edward removed first his tunic and then his shirt, to reveal a strong, broad chest. He took off his shoes and then undid and removed his hose.
Lord Edward stood before Rhiannon. Rhiannon swallowed nervously as she gazed upon him.
“Rhiannon, you look at me as though you had never seen a man before.”
“I haven’t, my lord,” she admitted.
He smiled at her. “Well, since we’re into confessions, here’s mine: I arrived home late last night, stumbled into bed in the darkness, thought it rather strange to find an obstruction in my way but was too tired to investigate. This morning I was called away unexpectedly. I was awoken early –still in darkness– and had no time to sense what was about me. I didn’t know you were in my bed – I saw nothing. You had no grounds for embarrassment.”
Rhiannon looked up, confused.
“And now the embarrassment is all mine,” Lord Edward continued, glancing downwards.
Rhiannon found it hard to avert her eyes from the place where he merely glanced, so powerfully were they drawn to it.
“But if you were to allow me to undress you, Rhiannon, the humiliation would be undone – we would, once more, be equals.”
Rhiannon took some time to register what Lord Edward had suggested. Sooner than she understood his meaning, he stood before her, undoing the laces of the bodice of her dress. She raised her arms as he lifted the skirts of her dress above her head. She couldn’t look at him as he proceeded to remove her chemise.
Moving so close to her that she could feel that part of his anatomy that had caused her so much intrigue against her own skin, Lord Edward lifted Rhiannon’s chin so she had to look him in the eye. “There,” he said softly, “now we are quite equal.”
Lord Edward kissed Rhiannon’s cheek and then her lips before smothering her neck in kisses. Rhiannon thought she might faint, so intense was the sensation of his soft lips upon her skin. Stooping, his lips slid down to her breasts. Rhiannon instinctively ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair. But further downward still went those lips, as Lord Edward fell to his knees, tracing a course to the tops of Rhiannon’s thighs.
“My lord, I cannot bear it,” Rhiannon pleaded.
“You would have me stop?” he asked, without looking up.
“The things you are doing – I can hardly stand…” Rhiannon said, unable to express herself more clearly.
Lord Edward raised his eyes and smiled up at her coyly, realising he had achieved his aim. Getting to his feet, he said, “Then you must lie with me.” Folding back the bedclothes and climbing in, Lord Edward reached to pull Rhiannon to his side.
* * *
In the morning, when sunlight streamed into Lord Edward’s room, Rhiannon was awoken by a nuzzling sensation at her neck and the order, “Again,” whispered in her ear. Her conviction that she was still dreaming was shattered only when Lord Edward’s features loomed above her, as he undertook to fulfil his desires. Rhiannon yielded herself up to his demands, eager also to enjoy once more their new-found sport.
Later, lying in Lord Edward’s arms, thinking she’d never felt so safe, Rhiannon thought to ask, “Why was your trip abandoned, my lord?”
“I received news on the road that the King has other plans for me.”
“Where were you going?”
“Mercia but that is of little consequence now.”
“What are you to do now?” Rhiannon asked.
“I am bound for France,” Lord Edward replied. “I leave tomorrow.”
Rhiannon panicked. “For how long?” she asked tentatively.
“A time, Rhiannon,” Edward said ominously.
“A long time?” Rhiannon ventured.
“A long time,” he confirmed.
Rhiannon was quiet, clinging to Lord Edward, knowing her hours to be numbered. After a while she asked softly, “What will become of me, my lord?”
He didn’t respond.
“Surely, once you are gone, I will be imprisoned? Nobody else believes me innocent. Maybe Meg,” she mused, “but nobody listens to her.”
“You are quite right,” Lord Edward replied archly.
“Then I am to be imprisoned,” Rhiannon said, and Lord Edward felt a tear spill onto his chest.
He kissed her head, saying, “Upon consideration, dangerous as you undoubtedly are, Rhiannon, I think it might be safest for us all if you came to France with me.”
* * *
At break of day the following morning, Rhiannon, barely awake, stood on the jetty below the castle, as the men finished loading Lord Edward’s ship. She wore a dress of cornflower blue, embroidered with patterns in white, silk thread. Her hair was fixed in an elegant knot at the base of her neck.
The girl looked out, across the still, hazy water, as it was gradually lit by the rising sun. She wouldn’t feel safe and she wouldn’t feel like her-true-self, until he was with her and they were aboard the ship.
“Rhiannon,” a voice whispered from below.
Rhiannon looked down to see the boy Alwyn, standing in a small fishing boat, moored to the jetty.
“I barely recognised you, Rhiannon,” he said. “Come now and slip away with me while the men are occupied.” Alwyn reached out his hand to her but was alarmed to find that her reaction was not joyful but uncertain.
“I cannot go with you,” Rhiannon whispered to Alwyn.
“But I have saved myself,” he replied desperately. “And I have risked my life to come here to reclaim you.”
“I must travel with this lord,” she told him plainly.
“You are his prisoner?” Alwyn asked.
“Yes,” Rhiannon replied, with no trace of hesitation or guilt, as she believed it to be the truth.
“Then I will follow you, to save you from his grasp,” Alwyn promised.
“No,” Rhiannon said firmly. “You cannot save me. I am bound to him.”
Alwyn had tears in his eyes.
“Go now,” urged Rhiannon, “flee this place and marry another. Go!”
Rhiannon heard footsteps approaching from behind. She turned to see Lord Edward in the distance, dressed in his finery, with a rich, green travelling cloak swathed over his tunic. Rhiannon’s keen sight enabled her to see that he had observed her and now smiled approval of her appearance in the dress he’d chosen for her.
“Intruder! Intruder!” came a shout from one of the men loading the ship. In an instant a group of guards surrounded Rhiannon and prevented Alwyn’s relu
ctant attempt to push his small boat away from the jetty.
Lord Edward appeared. “Has this man been harassing you, Rhiannon?” he asked.
“No my Lord. This is my good –but misguided– brother, Alwyn, who believed me to be going to France with you against my will. Please overlook his folly and allow him to return home unharmed. His wish was only to safeguard me.”
“You heard the lady, guards,” said Lord Edward. “See that this man is escorted from the castle but do him no harm.”
Rhiannon heard Alwyn whisper her name pleadingly but she couldn’t look at him.
“Are we ready to embark,” Lord Edward asked the ship’s crew.
“Yes, your lordship,” came the response.
“Come; we must away,” Lord Edward said, offering his hand to Rhiannon to help her aboard the boat but looking at her suspiciously.
Standing onboard the ship, once they’d cast away from the harbour and were sailing down the channel towards the open sea, out of earshot of the ship’s crew, Lord Edward asked Rhiannon, “Who was the blonde-haired man who spoke to you back there, Rhiannon? You told me you had no brother.”
“A common boy sent by my father, my lord. My father feared you were taking me against my will.”
“You lie, Rhiannon,” Lord Edward said. “Your words don’t explain his tears.”
Rhiannon hesitated.
“Am I to conclude from your general deceit that you are colluding with the rebels?” Lord Edward asked. “My rash agreement to send word of your departure to your family was a signal to them, perhaps? We can expect an ambush on our journey?”
“No my lord,” Rhiannon protested indignantly. “I am no criminal–”
“Then perhaps you are a witch, as the women of the court warned me,” he suggested madly. “And the young man with the piercing blue eyes and the flowing locks of hair is your familiar–”
“No, Lord Edward!” Rhiannon pleaded.
“And once we are out in the deep we will be shipwrecked – you have lured me to my watery grave.”
Rhiannon wept to hear him talk so outrageously. But she perceived that his words were born of his hurt at her deceit. “The man you saw is a Welsh farming boy but he is no rebel. He was my sweetheart before I came into the walled town.”
“He came to take you from me?” Lord Edward suggested.
“Yes,” Rhiannon confirmed.
“But you didn’t go with him.”
“I couldn’t,” she said.
“What did you tell him?”
“That I am your prisoner.”
“You lied to him too?” Edward mocked. “You didn’t tell him I was your lover. You lie to us all,” he said bitterly.
“No,” cried Rhiannon, “I spoke the truth; I am your prisoner.” She beat his unyielding chest with her fist and then fell against it. “I do feel guilty for abandoning Alwyn – I was promised to him. But I have to break my pledge because I find myself bound to you. It is you who casts a spell on me.”
Lord Edward enfolded Rhiannon in his arms. He kissed the black hair of her head, smiling at his folly.
Rhiannon reached her arms around Lord Edward and cried softly into his chest. Such a confusion of sorrow and joy was in her heart, at the loss of her old life and the discovery of this new, uncertain one, that she didn’t know how she should feel. All that was certain was her desire for him.
“It seems there is nothing for us to do,” Lord Edward said soothingly, “but accept our fate.”
Rhiannon looked up into his face to find him smiling down at her.
“I’m sorry I spoke harshly,” he said, “I’ll never doubt you again.”
They stood for a while, Rhiannon watching the waves roll gently beneath the boat. A large, pure-white seabird, bobbing on the water beside the hull, took sudden flight. As Rhiannon clung to Lord Edward, she began to feel her future was more secure.
“Look out there, Rhiannon,” he said, pointing out to sea. “We are soon to turn, to skirt around the coast, and before nightfall we shall be heading for the southern shores of England, bound for France.”
Rhiannon looked up and smiled at Edward.
He kissed her forehead and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. “And there, my beloved,” he concluded, looking at her intently with his dark, smiling eyes, “you shall become my lady-wife.”
* * * * *
BRAGGOT PARK
“Do not be alarmed, Eliza, that we have called you here to speak with us.”
“You have distinguished yourself in our service.”
“And for that reason it is you we now ask to undertake a role of great importance.”
Eliza kept her eyes fixed firmly on the floor as she listened to the words of her employers, Sir Harry Braggot and his lady-wife, Jane.
“You will be aware,” Sir Harry continued, “that I have an older brother, Sir Richard, who holds the family seat at Braggot Park. We would ask that you transfer your services to my brother’s household.”
“We are concerned, Eliza, that, following the death of his wife, Maria, his house grows–” Lady Jane hesitated as she searched for the best word to describe it, “–unruly.”
“We would have you enter my brother’s household in order that we may gain a better insight into the goings-on at Braggot Park,” Sir Harry elaborated.
“Please do not misunderstand us, Eliza; we are not asking you to spy on Richard. Our interest stems out of concern for his wellbeing and for the reputation of the family name,” Lady Jane was eager to add.
“Do you have any questions, Eliza?” Sir Harry asked.
“If I might be so bold, Sir, when Lady Jane says unruly–”
“You need not know the precise nature of our concerns, child,” Sir Harry explained. “Suffice to say, you’ll have heard, no doubt, rumour of plots to undermine our good Queen’s authority.” Sir Harry paused.
“Yes Sir,” Eliza said.
“We are aware that our brother’s name has been implicated–”
“There can be no question of wrong-doing on his part, Eliza,” Lady Jane stressed. “But we do fear that some unwholesome influence may have taken advantage of his good nature in his time of weakness.”
“Sir Richard still grieves the loss of his wife,” Sir Harry added.
“So it will help us, Eliza, if, during your stay at Braggot Hall, you are attentive to persons visiting Sir Richard.”
“Take note of names and frequency of calling, etc.,” Sir Harry instructed.
“We know you are a good girl, Eliza. We know you will help us to help Sir Richard in his time of need.”
“Does Sir Richard have no more family, my Lady?” Eliza enquired.
“He has one son – Lorenzo,” Sir Harry informed her. He said no more.
* * *
Eliza stood at the gates of Braggot Park, her small trunk, containing her few belongings, set beside her on the ground. The Braggots’ man had offered to stay with her until someone came to unlock the gate but Eliza had urged him to set off on his long journey homeward.
It was a cold day. The air was still but bitter. Eliza shuffled her feet and blew on her hands to warm them as she waited. She had pulled at the large bell ten minutes before but no one had appeared. Fearing her call had not been heard, she now rang the bell again.
“Alright, alright. Have you no patience?” a refined voice uttered as footsteps approached. Eliza, expecting a servant, was taken aback when, looking up, she beheld the darkest man she’d ever seen. His hair was jet black and his skin of foreign complexion.
He looked equally surprised to encounter Eliza and stared at her intently as he undid the locks of the gate, after saying only, “Forgive me,” to excuse his initial rudeness.
Eliza felt compelled to introduce herself. “I am Eliza, lady-in-waiting to your master’s sister-in-law, Lady Jane.”
“Not master – father,” the young man corrected, opening the gate to permit Eliza entry to the Park. “Lorenzo Braggot,” he continued formally, extending
his hand to Eliza, “master of my own fate.”
As Eliza took the offered hand, Lorenzo bowed to kiss the back of hers. Embarrassed by the gesture, Eliza explained, “I am not a noblewoman, Sir; I’m in your uncle’s service.”
“And I, Eliza, am not constrained by the pretensions of this land. My mother had Latin blood,” Lorenzo replied, with an elusive smile. He went to close the gate.
“My trunk,” Eliza said, still flustered, and she pointed to the chest, too heavy for her to move.
With ease Lorenzo lifted it through the gate, saying, “We’ll leave it here – a man will fetch it later. Follow me to the house,” he continued when he’d locked the gates. “You shan’t see my father today. I shall take you directly to the buttery.”
Following Lorenzo across the forecourt of Braggot Hall, Eliza had time to drink in his athletic legs, his shoulders broad in his doublet.
Turning and registering that Eliza was struggling to keep apace with him, Lorenzo said, “Forgive me. We are unused to the company of young ladies here at Braggot – apart from my cousin Harriet, whom, of course, you know – and she can outrun me in any race. Was your journey very tiring?” he asked, dropping back to walk alongside Eliza.
“Not so very tiring Sir,” she replied, preoccupied with his mention of Harriet, the young lady upon whom, along with her mother, Lady Jane, Eliza had been in attendance. Eliza pondered the nature of the cousins’ relationship, wondering whether there was an expectation that they would marry to strengthen the Braggot dynasty.
Lorenzo had led Eliza to the back of the Hall and now drew open the gates to a stabled yard. “You will find the door open,” he said, gesturing to the entrance to the building. “I will leave you to find your own way in; the kitchen staff expect you.”
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