Her Baseborn Bridegroom

by Coldbreath, Alice

  “What is it?” she whispered over her shoulder at him.

  “The sea,” he answered.

  “Ohhhh,” breathed Linnet. “The ocean.” She gazed her fill as they carried on their way. The size of the party and a horse going lame meant the journey had taken a full three days rather than the two her brother-in-law had hoped for.

  By the time the castle was outlined in the distance, it was dark and all they could see was a looming shadow, which Linnet tried not to find menacing. The town below looked of a good size and Linnet guessed it would be bustling at daybreak. But for now, it remained quiet and still, a few twinkling lights at windows the only sign of life. The occasional spill of light and laughter sounded from taverns they passed on their way, but other than that all was quiet.

  A fortified gate and two portcullises led to the castle courtyard, where their summons was duly produced and shown to the waiting guards. Their horses were taken to stable and they were shown into a vast stone entrance hall with a vaulted ceiling. Lighted torches burned in the sconces and the walls were lined with suits of armor, giving the eerie impression of a silent standing army.

  “Wait here,” said Mason, and disappeared through a shadowy studded doorway followed by his father and brother. None of them gave a backward glance.

  Linnet pulled her cloak tightly about her, feeling grateful when Cuthbert leant into her side. She passed an arm around him and hugged him close.

  “Tired?” she asked him quietly. “I’m sure we will soon be shown to our beds for the night.”

  Footsteps echoed in the distance, and Linnet drew a shaky breath, imagining the worst case scenario, which would be her aunt and uncle demanding she share their quarters in the castle. Perish the thought! To her surprised relief, Mason returned with a bunch of complete strangers, along with some more armed guards.

  Mason looked grim in the torchlight. “Linnet, you are to accompany Lady Margaret Doverdale,” he said tersely.

  “Where will you be?” she asked, at once noticing the distance he kept between them.

  “In my own quarters.”

  “Oh.”

  He gestured towards a tall, severe woman dressed rather like a nun with a heavy white wimple. Her dress however was orange and decorated with gold thread. She gave a grimace, which Linnet supposed was to pass for a smile and then gestured with very long, white hands for Linnet to come to her.

  “Gertrude, Cuthbert, you are with me,” said Linnet loudly.

  Lady Doverdale halted. “We have only one bedchamber for you in our quarters,” she said crisply. “Your servants will need to join the castle servants below stairs.”

  Linnet drew herself up to her full height. “Pardon me,” she said firmly. “But my page will sleep in a truckle bed at the foot of my bed and my maid will share with me.”

  Lady Doverdale stood very still, and she and Linnet gazed at one another in silence for a moment, neither blinking, before she inclined her head in slow assent. “Very well, Lady Linnet, if that is your wish.”

  “My name is Lady Vawdrey,” Linnet answered her sweetly. “And thank you Lady Doverdale for your hospitality.”

  Lady Doverdale’s eyebrows rose and she turned on her heel, leading the way to her family’s quarters which were in the east wing.

  Mason crossed the floor to Linnet and briefly took her hand, which he kissed almost as an afterthought. “Lock your door,” he said quietly. “And make sure you are accompanied at all times.”

  He hesitated as if he would say something further but then seemed to change his mind and turned away from her to walk in the opposite direction. Two of the guards split off and accompanied him. Linnet watched until he was swallowed up in the shadows, and only then did she turn and follow Lady Doverdale. The other two guards followed on her heels.

  “Where are my husband’s quarters?” she asked brightly when she had caught up with Lady Doverdale. She was determined not to let the situation get the better of her.

  “That remains to be seen,” answered her hostess tartly.

  “I thought his family had permanent rooms at court,” Linnet said, frowning.

  Lady Doverdale shook her head. “I meant it remains to be seen if your marriage is legal and admissible.”

  When Gertrude gave a gasp, Linnet frowned again and gave a slight shake of her head. “As to that Lady Doverdale,” she said with a confidence she did not feel. “I am in absolutely no doubt as to the veracity of my wedding vows, and so I shall tell the King.”

  Lady Doverdale gave her a doubtful look, which Linnet answered with a smile. “Did you say it was the west wing?”

  “I did not,” snapped the older woman. “I said nothing as to where the Vawdrey’s quarters are.”

  “It is of no import,” yawned Linnet. “I will find out myself on the morrow.”

  “You are a most impudent young woman,” snapped Lady Doverdale. “And not at all what I was led to expect.”

  Linnet smiled. “I am quite sure,” she agreed drily. “I daresay my aunt has spread the tale I am some poor, timid invalid who may be bullied into anything. However, I am my own woman and in complete possession of my faculties, I assure you.”

  Cuthbert’s hand slipped into hers as their footsteps echoed down the flagstone corridors, and some ten minutes later they were ushered into a wood-paneled bedchamber with a large four-poster bed covered in a scarlet bedspread.

  “I will have fresh water and cloths fetched so you can wash after your journey,” said Lady Doverdale. “Your trunk will follow, so there are some nightgowns in the wardrobe for you to wear to bed tonight.”

  “Thank you,” answered Linnet, unfastening her cloak.

  “I will order a truckle bed brought in for your page in the morning,” sniffed Lady Doverdale as she backed out of the door with the briefest of curtsies.

  “Sour old trout,” mumbled Gertie. “What did she mean?”

  Linnet shushed her and nodded at Cuthbert, who flung himself in a chair before the fire, which still burned though it was low in the grate.

  “I’m so tired!” he groaned.

  Linnet opened the door on the other side of the room and found a dressing room with a large mahogany wardrobe.

  “Why, there’s plenty of room in there for another couple of beds,” said Gertrude, puffing out her cheeks. “Why’d she have to be so disobliging?”

  “Probably to intimidate me and make me feel all alone,” said Linnet. “We will get beds set up in here for you and Cuthbert tomorrow, but for tonight I hope it’s alright if we all share?”

  “Of course, milady!” Gertie assured her. “Truth be told I’d be ever so scared my first night in a strange place anyway. And that there bed is huge!”

  “It certainly is,” agreed Linnet.

  She crossed to the window and peeped under the heavy scarlet curtains but could not make anything out in the black-as-pitch night. A soft knock on the door was followed by a maid carrying two large jugs of warm water, which Gertie took from her with a word of thanks. After Linnet had secured the door with a large wrought-iron key, she dragged Cuthbert from his chair and they washed, changed into the plain white nightgowns, and huddled in the large scarlet bed.

  “I don’t like it here, miss,” said Gertie. “I mean, milady.”

  “It will look entirely different in the morning,” Linnet assured her. “We will see the sea and the town and the market with your lace.” She was quite sure that if Gertie were not here beside her she would be sobbing into the pillow herself.

  Cuthbert gave a soft snore.

  “Humph!” snorted Gertie. “That boy could sleep in a barn!”

  Linnet giggled. “This is a palace, Gertie,” she reminded her. “The King lives here!”

  “Great draughty place! What would my Diggory say about this, I’d like to know!”

  “Did you have chance to speak with him before we left?”

  “Just a snatched word or so.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Linnet, turning to peer at her in th
e dark.

  Gertie’s curly dark hair sprang up from the pillow as she lifted her head. “You got nothing to apologize for, milady!” she said, sounding shocked. “Think of all the tales I’ll have to tell in the servants’ hall when we gets back,” she said with satisfaction. “Starting with how you put Lady Snooty-whatsit in her place when she tried to say you wasn’t married!”

  Linnet smiled into the darkness. “I must keep my head held high, Gertie,” she whispered. “And my resolve firm.”

  “You and me both, miss! I mean, milady,” agreed her maid grimly. “We’ll soon let them know what’s what!”

  XX

  Mason was not surprised when he reached their quarters to find his brother Roland’s room empty. Cowardly young cur, he thought savagely.

  He was surprised to find how bleak his chambers looked with their bare stone and threadbare Vawdrey standard hanging in the corner. He had never been much of a one for home comforts, but he hadn’t realized how impersonal a space it was. His medals hung on the mount that had been presented to him by King Wymer, and were the only decoration about the place. He was almost glad he had not been able to bring Linnet here. There was little to cheer or welcome her into their family.

  Their father’s aged servant, Meldon, bought them water for washing and bread and cheese for a late supper. Oswald disappeared almost immediately into his own room, closing the door after a murmured “goodnight.” Their father had not accompanied them back but had set off down another corridor, perhaps in search of his youngest son. Mason didn’t care. He stripped down and washed and then threw himself on his bed to sleep. But sleep did not come. Instead he lay there thinking about Linnet. Godsdamnit. His brain would not allow him to contemplate what he would do if their marriage was not upheld. Every time his thoughts started down that path, they were abruptly cut off by a flash of anger. At least on the past two nights he had been able to sleep in the same bed as her. It felt strange, unnatural, not having her there curled into his side. He flung his arm over his head and wondered why it bothered him so much. He had been married little more than a month and a half! He rolled onto his side and sighed heavily. She had faults, he reminded himself. Not the least her topics of conversation when he was fully satiated. He frowned. The gods alone knew why Linnet thought that was the perfect time to bring up other men!

  He sat up with a frustrated groan. Scrubbing his face with his hand, he rolled out of bed and made his way back out into the private sitting room where Meldon had had their trunks delivered. He flung open his trunk and retrieved a large wad of illustrated pages he had tucked into the corner. The Tales of Sir Maurency of Jorde, illustrated by Lady Linnet Cadwallader. Making his way over to the fireplace, he added a few more logs, banking it up, and then settled back in his seat to read.

  And what he read horrified him. All of Linnet’s hopes and dreams wrapped up in an insipid tale of chivalry and romance. It was horrific! Trite, unrealistic, and idealized. He could not recognize a single value that he shared with the saintly Sir Maurency. This was what she had spent a decade dreaming about in her tower? Being rescued by some paragon of virtue? And instead she had gotten him. The Despoiler of Demoyne. Wymer’s most savage hound of war. He felt a coldness spread in the pit of his stomach. Sir Maurency would probably let her chatter about whatever the fuck she wanted after he had ploughed her. No, that wasn’t true. He wouldn’t have defiled that sweet little virgin in the first damn place! He bit his knuckle and glared at the golden-haired knight with his simpering expression of virtue. This was what Linnet wanted? Well, fuck.

  XXI

  Linnet first stirred when Gertie was climbing out of the bed at first light.

  “Go back to sleep,” her maid whispered. “’Tis only early.”

  “Where are you going?” blinked Linnet, rubbing her eyes.

  “To have a nose round the servants’ quarters and get any gossip about the Doverdales,” she hissed back, giving her mistress a wink.

  Linnet turned over, making Cuthbert grumble and kick out at her shin. He had wriggled around like a monkey in his sleep and had rambling, half-snatched conversations with himself. Linnet heartily pitied whoever his usual bedfellow was! She shuffled back into Gertie’s vacant warm spot and sighed as her eyelids drooped down. She could hear shuffling and bumping already which meant the castle was awakening. She felt a pang for her own home. What would everyone be doing there now? Her thoughts drifted to Mason. He was somewhere nearby at least, though she knew not where. When next her eyes drifted open, Gertie was pouring hot water from a jug into the bowl for her to wash. Cuthbert was nowhere in sight, but his pile of clothes was missing from the chair, so she guessed he was up and about. Linnet yawned and stretched.

  “You found your way then,” she commented as she dropped her feet over the side of the bed.

  “Oh-ho, yes,” huffed Gertie, plunging a washing cloth into the bowl. “You can trust a servant to find the lay of the land.”

  Linnet joined her, taking some leaves of soap which smelled of rose petals. “Mmm, these are lovely, Gertie.”

  “Only the best for the Doverdales,” sniffed Gertie who was clearly bursting with news. Before Linnet could question her further, her maid started combing her hair. “Wash up, milady,” she urged her. “They’ll be expecting you to join them at breakfast.”

  “They?” asked Linnet, rubbing the soap over her wet hands and face.

  “Lady Doverdale and her daughter, Lady Martindale.”

  “Oh, of course.” After a hurried wash and brush up, Gertie hurried about selecting her yellow stockings and her copper-patterned houppelande dress, which was Linnet’s least favorite. She hadn’t realized they had brought it and pulled a face. Still, if she wanted to hear Gertie’s news, she did not have time to change it. Instead the two of them pulled together, and she was soon dressed and presentable with a simple headband holding her linen veil in place over her hair, which was braided and pinned at the nape of her neck. Mason may not like veils, but to the world at large not wearing one meant you were unmarried. She did not want anyone to get that impression here.

  “Lady Doverdale is the dowager Countess of Doverdale,” explained Gertie. “Her husband, the Earl of Doverdale, died fifteen years ago and was an advisor to the former king. Their family is still influential at court so she has been made your guardian while the appeal is considered by the King. Lady Jevons is spitting mad about it, as she wanted you to be placed as Sir Jevons’s ward under their protection straight away.”

  Linnet felt a lurch of unease and touched Mason’s ring for reassurance. “Oh dear,” she muttered. “Maybe I should have been politer to Lady Doverdale last night!”

  “Oh no, miss!” Gertie corrected her. “According to the staff she’s a right old tartar and only respects those what stands up to her! If you had taken it meek like, she’d have ridden roughshod right over you for the next month.”

  “Month?”

  “That’s how long these appeals usually takes, apparently,” nodded Gertie wisely.

  “A month?” repeated Linnet in alarm. “Truly? I had no idea it would take that long!” Why, she had been married less than two months!

  “Yes miss, I mean, milady.”

  “What else?”

  “Well,” said Gertie, kneeling down to fasten Linnet’s shoes. “The court is buzzing, absolutely buzzing, about the scandal. How Sir Roland sided with the Jevonses against his own kin, saying he was done out of your dowry.”

  Linnet pressed her lips together in displeasure. That scoundrel Roland!

  “And―begging your pardon milady―but I’m only repeating the gossip . . . ”

  “Yes, never mind that,” Linnet assured her.

  Gertie bit her lip. “The rumor was . . . for years apparently . . . that you were hideously ugly, milady, like a toad in a dress.”

  Linnet gasped.

  Gertie rushed on “But now the Jevonses have been telling everyone that you’re on death’s door and terribly frail and a puff of wind could
carry you off. So now everyone feels sorry for you and thinks it’s a shame you’ve been treated so unhandsomely like.”

  Linnet’s fingers tapped against the arm of the chair in irritation. She swallowed the words that flew to her lips, not wanting to interrupt Gertie’s flow.

  “They said as how Roland understood you’d have to be treated gentle like, and that Mason is a great, hulking brute of a husband who beats you and treats you cruelly so as you’re terrified of him.”

  “What nonsense,” burst out Linnet.

  Gertie sucked in a breath. “I know, miss,” her eyes shone with excitement. “You should have seen how excited they all were when I told them whose maid I was! Why, I was treated like a queen! Chair by the fire, best cut of bacon, the works!”

  “Well, that’s very nice Gertie,” said Linnet, her head spinning. Toad in a dress, indeed! “But . . . ”

  The door opened and Cuthbert came dancing in, his mouth full of sugar biscuit. “The Doverdales are awaiting breakfast on you, milady,” he said, brushing the crumbs off his tunic.

  “Have you been down to the kitchens too?” asked Linnet with misgiving.

  A beatific smile spread across Cuthbert’s face. “They’m ever so nice down there, milady. Only fancy, they made me tell them that tale of you going to The Bear three times in a row.”

  Linnet groaned. The rumors about her at court were only going to get more lurid at this rate!

  Breakfast with Lady Doverdale was a strained affair. Her hostess was starchy and disapproving, and her daughter, Lady Martindale, was like a terrified little mouse, too meek to even lift her eyes from her plate. They were served pandemain bread and three fish dishes. None of the foods which Linnet favored were brought to table so she was forced to eat white bread and fruit and some watered-down wine. She did not like to ask for milk or oats in case this was considered invalid’s fare.

  “When do I get my audience with the King?” asked Linnet as the table was cleared away by their servants.