A Promise of Tomorrow

by Aston, Alexa

  Chapter Seventeen

  Marielle awoke to hushed voices. She opened her eyes, trying to place where she was. The stable. That was it.

  She’d come down after the midday meal and helped Lyssa feed apples to all the horses. The girl prattled on happily about this one and that. She’d finally taken leave of Marielle and begun following around the head stableman. Marielle, who’d been a little queasy earlier, was seized by a rush of dizziness. She opened an unused stall and sat upon the hay in it. She supposed she had fallen asleep.

  She didn’t sit up, though. As wrong as it was, she’d always learned a great deal from eavesdropping upon the nuns at the convent. Besides, she wouldn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable by making her presence known now.

  “He is being an ass, Garrett. You know that.”

  “I know, sweetheart. It’s just Ash being Ash, though. He always wants to cut his own path. He has never done it any other way.”

  “Well, he has avoided her like the plague itself these last few days. If I were Marielle, I would want to know what is afoot.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with her. In fact, he even told me if it were another time and place, he would wed her.”

  “Then why will he not act upon this? Surely, he must love her. Our Ashby has never wanted to marry before. He turns a score and ten next year. It’s past time he settled down.”

  “You know why. It’s been a sticking point between us for several years now. Ashby fitz Waryn is a stubborn man, Madeleine. I cannot change him. I can only hope he will come to his senses in France, being apart from her.”

  “You cannot be serious, Garrett. You’re sending him to France again?”

  “It’s what he wants, my love. In a way, I understand why.”

  “You know Marielle will be brokenhearted. I will not see her hurt or unhappy, Garrett. She has become like a sister to me.”

  “Then we will keep her entertained until Ash figures out on his own that he cannot live without her. Until then, we must make the best of it. Now come, let us go back before a nice fire. I am chilled to the bone. You must be, too.”

  Marielle heard a giggle and then a heavy silence, followed by a few whimpers. She felt her cheeks heat, knowing what must be taking place between the pair. Though they’d been married over four years, Lord and Lady Montayne still acted as newlyweds. Marielle was especially glad she’d kept quiet for it would have been embarrassing to catch her hosts while at love play.

  “Come, love.”

  She heard their steps receding and knew they’d left the stables. Hearing their conversation helped her understand that she’d done nothing wrong. She’d wondered during the past week what she could have done to drive Ashby away from her. He rarely spoke to her and yet she would catch his eyes upon her from across the room several times a day. She, too, found whenever he was in the same room with her that she was aware of him wherever he was.

  So he did want to marry her. And yet he was returning to France, presumably on business again for Garrett. But why? She remembered how ill he’d been on the crossing they’d undertaken. How he kissed the ground once they’d left the ship. He’d sworn that he would never be caught upon the English Channel again—yet he was leaving Stanbury to do so once more.

  It was because of her. What was so wrong about her that he must leave England?

  Marielle sensed something so strong between them that it frightened her and excited her at the same time. Garrett also referred to some problem between the two of them, one that had gone on for years. What could be so bitter between the two? On the surface, they seemed the closest of friends. Ashby always spoke fondly of Garrett, as if they were blood brothers. Despite that, something stood between them that prevented Ashby from ever marrying.

  What could it be? It wasn’t something Marielle could ask Madeleine about or her new friend would realize Marielle had overheard them. Should she approach Ashby before he left for France?

  What if he never came back?

  *

  “Ashby? A word?”

  It was Edith. She motioned him into Garrett’s study and closed the door.

  “Have a seat.” He did so and she took one across from him.

  “You have been a member of this family since you came to Stanbury as a small boy,” Edith began.

  “Yes, my lady. You have always treated me as a son.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek with affection, knowing how she’d given a mother’s love to him without reservation.

  “You also are an outrageous flirt.” She patted her cheek where he’d kissed her and smiled at him.

  “So what is this about? Am I to guess?”

  She shifted in her chair. “Because we are close, I feel I can say these things to you. I like Marielle. I like her a great deal, Ashby. We have taken to each other as you and I did all those many years ago.”

  Edith looked at him intently. “I have seen the looks that pass between you. They are as heated as any Garrett has shot in Madeleine’s direction. You need to marry her, Ashby, and be quick about it.”

  “No.”

  Edith cocked her head, studying him. “No? Why not? She is a lovely girl, full of wit and grace. You will have absolutely stunning children though I fear you would need to keep any daughters locked up, knowing there are men like you running about in the world.”

  “No,” he repeated firmly.

  Her color rose. He’d rarely seen Edith angry. Even when he and Garrett caused some mischief that led to problems, she had always been level-headed, never raising her voice at them.

  “Give me a reason. And it better be a good one, young man.”

  Ashby knew he could trust this woman with the truth. “I have nothing to offer her, Edith. She was married to a count in France. I have no title. Monteville lands stretched as far as the eye could see. The chateau she lived in would put most in England to shame. I can give her neither a grand home nor support her in the style she knows.”

  Edith burst out laughing. “Surely, you jest. I thought you knew women, Ashby. They have fallen at your feet since you were ten and two. I would have expected you to know more about what women want by now.”

  “What do they want, Edith? Absolutely nothing that I can give them. Why do you think I have never seriously pursued a woman in the past? I have only my name to give them. Nothing more.”

  She frowned at him, but then her face softened. “Women want love, Ashby. They want respect. They want to be the most important person in the world to their man and they want him to be the same in return. Money, land—none of it makes a bit of difference.”

  “It does to me,” he said angrily and rose to his feet.

  Edith stood and faced him. “I would not have thought you such a prideful man. Arrogant. Conceited. Even foolish. To throw away love for such vanity? I thought you would have known better.”

  She crossed the room and opened the door. “You will regret your choice, Ashby. I only pray you will come to your senses before it’s too late.”

  The minute she left, he went to his room and began to pack. He wouldn’t stay at Stanbury a moment longer. His spirits were lower than they’d ever been. He’d moped about the estate without being able to think clearly for a week now. Twice, he’d ridden to the village to seek solace in the willing widow’s arms, only to turn back before he arrived. He would leave immediately. Surely distance and time would conquer this lingering depression.

  He ran into Madeleine as he descended the stairs. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I am off to London and France after that. Have you anything you wish me to take to your mother?”

  She went white at his words. “Now? What about—”

  “Where is Garrett? I have need to speak to him before I leave.”

  “He was in the bailey about an hour ago. Ashby, I wish—”

  “Wish me Godspeed, Madeleine.” He brought his arms about her and gave her a long embrace. “I must go,” he whispered. “It’s the only way.”

  He released her and hurried dow
n the stairs. Garrett was with Lyssa and Cynric in the great hall. The minute Garrett saw him, bag in hand, he stood and met him.

  “I’m leaving now, Garrett. I do not want to delay. Do you have any changes to what we discussed?”

  “No.” Garrett’s face was troubled. “I only need to get you a pouch from my study. On all matters, you have my full authority. You speak for me. Tell the children goodbye. I’ll only be a moment.”

  Garrett strode from the room. Ashby made quick farewells, promising Lyssa he’d return soon, not knowing if he ever would. He went to the stables and saddled Lightning then mounted up and rode him to the keep in order to claim what Garrett would give him.

  Instead, it was Marielle that greeted him, her face without emotion. He slowed his horse as he reached her.

  She looked up at him in the saddle, wordlessly handing him Garrett’s pouch. They looked into each other’s eyes and Ashby hoped he betrayed none of the longing he had for her at this moment.

  “I see you were leaving again without a proper goodbye.”

  Immediately, he thought of that last time—and the passionate kiss between them. The kiss that haunted him by day and kept him sleepless at night. That was before Jean-Paul died. A moment of doubt flashed through his mind.

  Had she murdered Jean-Paul to come to him?

  Yet he remembered her fear of Marc and laid his brief doubts to rest.

  “I will look in on your parents if you wish. Let them know where you are and that you are safe.”

  She nodded, her face resigned to his departure. “I will not trouble you now, seeing you are in a great hurry. Cadena knows the town of my birth. She will tell you how to reach my parents.”

  Marielle turned and walked away. Ashby longed to call out to her but knew it would only prolong the inevitable. He must have the courage to leave now, before more heartache occurred. He wheeled Lightning and cantered through the bailey.

  As he rode out from Stanbury, Ashby knew his life would never be the same.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Two days have seemed liked two years,” Marielle complained to Madeleine.

  “I know what you mean. When Garrett is gone, even for a day, I miss him terribly. I always try to stay busy to keep myself from moping about.”

  Marielle stroked the cat in her lap, its silky fur warm to her touch. She and Madeleine sat beside the fire in the solar. November was three-quarters gone and the day outside was cold and overcast.

  Cynric let out a little moan and Madeleine went to where he lay napping. She stroked her son’s head and smiled down at the boy. Marielle envied Madeleine in that moment. Her hostess had everything Marielle wanted—a husband who doted on her and children to love.

  All Marielle had now was Luke, the cat. He’d taken to following her about the last two days. Ever since Ashby left for France.

  Madeleine returned to her seat by the fire. She reached across and rubbed Luke under his chin. The cat purred contentedly.

  “Luke knows when anyone is out of sorts,” Madeleine explained. “When I broke my leg, he often sat on the bed snuggled next to me. When I was carrying Cynric, I was violently ill every morning for three months. The little furball always kept me good company.”

  Marielle looked expectantly at Madeleine. “Does he keep you company now?” She was thinking how Madeleine revealed she may be again with child.

  “Yes. He does after we sup at night. It’s when the queasiness descends upon me this time around. I have been able to slip away without anyone noticing. Luke shows up and gives me comfort while I lose most of my supper. Fortunately after that, I feel fine. He goes off to Lyssa’s bed and curls up, awaiting her arrival.”

  “Does Garrett know yet?”

  “I have decided I will tell him tonight. I’m certain now. It’s been six weeks since my monthly flow last came.” She smiled contentedly. “He will be so pleased.”

  Madeleine shifted in her chair and looked at Marielle. “But enough about me. How are you doing since Ashby ran off? It’s a child’s way, not a man’s. He has surprised me. For the first time since I’ve known him, I am disappointed in him.”

  Marielle sighed. “I know I must shake off this gloom but I cannot help it. I have no claim on him but, all the same, he has claimed my heart.”

  She brushed aside a falling tear. “I love him, Madeleine. I have never loved any man before. I cannot understand why he left. He seems to have feelings for me. I am free to return those feelings now that my husband is gone and yet Ashby has gone off with no indication if or when he will return.”

  Marielle quelled her rising doubts. She worried that she’d misread Ashby’s attentions. She’d been left alone in a strange land, having to depend upon the kindness of strangers. If he did not return, she would be forced to face a future without him and move on to the convent and a life of boredom and regret for what might have been.

  She pushed her fears aside and watched Madeleine carefully. Several times in the last two days, her friend seemed on the verge of confiding in her and yet, each time, she hesitated.

  Madeleine stared off, as if she were far away from Stanbury. When she focused on Marielle again, it was obvious she’d come to some sort of decision.

  “Ashby appears to be very self-assured. That is far from the truth.”

  Marielle sat up, thankful that Madeleine had seen fit to speak to her honestly. “Why do you say that?”

  Her friend absently twisted a finger around a lock of hair. “Ashby comes from a family of four. Ashland, the eldest, inherited when their father, Walter, passed on. Walter was great friends with Garrett’s father, Ryker. The two men fought hard and drank harder. They were very heavy-handed men who abused their wives.

  “His mother, Beatrice, died when Ashby was only three, in childbirth with his sister Faylinn. His mother is only a vague image in his mind, so you see, he grew up not witnessing a good marriage to begin with, either at home or here at Stanbury with Ryker and Edith.”

  Marielle began forming a picture of the young Ashby. He would have been raised knowing he would not inherit. He would have been protective of his younger sister. She knew Ashby came to Stanbury to foster when he was very young. He would have been out of sorts but Edith nurtured him as her own child.

  “As a third son, he was promised to the Church, but Ashby refused to go along with that even from an early age.” Madeleine chuckled. “Can you see him as Father Ashby, listening to confessions and comforting the sick?”

  “I fear he would have flirted outrageously with all the women in his parish,” Marielle said.

  “But then attendance at mass might have improved,” added Madeleine. “With his blond hair and angelic looks, he would be so pleasant to gaze upon.”

  They both laughed at the thought of Ashby in a priest’s robes, committed to the pious life.

  Madeleine grew serious. “He has spoken very little to me of his home life before Stanbury. He considers this to be his home. Unfortunately, that’s part of the problem, as well.”

  Madeleine now touched upon what Marielle had overheard that day in the stables.

  “Garrett loves Ashby as his own flesh and blood. He has offered Ashby his own manor house so many times over the past few years that I have lost count. Beneath his carefree ways, Ashby is a proud, stubborn man. He feels with no title, no lands of his own, and no home to call his own that he would not be a husband worthy to any woman.”

  Marielle was stunned. “Surely, you jest? Many men are in his position. They marry with no qualms. Why, we could remain at Stanbury in a small cottage as other knights do. It’s absurd for him to think women only want a grand home and a man with a fancy title.”

  Her friend shook her head sadly. “That’s exactly what he does think. He believes he has nothing to offer you except his strong sense of honor. He is a man of his word. It dominates his world. Now you have come along. He is totally smitten with you. He told Garrett he would marry you under other circumstances.”

  Madeleine took
her hand. “Don’t you see, Marielle? He met a French comtesse, with a grand chateau and lands that extended as far as the eye could behold. One with jewels and servants that waited on her every need. He may love you but he would never want you to lower yourself from the position you held to join together with him.”

  She pushed Luke from her lap and stood. “It’s absurd! I come from very simple stock. My father was a tradesman. My life in the convent was one of deprivation, not privilege. And my marriage was the most unhappy time of my life. Jean-Paul let me do nothing but weave tapestries and sit and look pretty for his guests.”

  She looked at Madeleine earnestly. “All those . . . things . . . they were not important to me. If I had Ashby’s love and his babe in my arms, nothing else would matter.”

  Marielle began to cry. Madeleine came and placed her arms around her friend.

  “I know, dearest friend. But Ashby does not think he deserves Garrett’s offer of a manor house. He feels it’s something that must be earned.”

  “So the fool would rather go to France and have both of us wallow in misery than swallow his pride?”

  Madeleine laughed. “That about sums it up.” She brushed the tears from Marielle’s cheek. “Oh, Marielle, I know he will come to his senses. He loves you, he truly does. We simply will wait him out. Be patient. He is a good man and well worth that wait.”

  *

  Ashby cantered along the road, Monteville land on both sides of him. He had no interest in calling upon Marc de la Tresse, the man who now was Comte of Monteville and owner of everything in sight. Ashby wished he could find a way to punish such a wicked, despicable man. At least Marielle was safe, far from de la Tresse’s grasp.

  He made his way along to Chateau Branais. He would stop there first and find out from the Bouchards where Marielle’s parents lived. He didn’t know if the new comte had sent word to them about her disappearance or even checked to see if she’d fled to their care. Ashby wanted to assure them of their daughter’s safety.

  He also wondered if de la Tresse blamed Cadena and Robert for Marielle having gone missing. As far as he could ascertain, they were the only people Marielle had contact with in the area. Jean-Paul never allowed her to travel with him. She had lived almost as a cloistered nun within the walls of Monteville.