‘How can it be, if it’s freely given?’ Hugh leant forward, patting his horse.
‘What of duty, then, or familial obligation?’
‘What of it?’ Hugh frowned before shaking his head. ‘I shall say this just on this one occasion, since I wouldn’t want your head to become any bigger than it need be, but...you are both honourable and brave, William Geraint. You have always done your duty by this kingdom, your men and your family. I have always been proud to stand beside you...in every situation.’
Will was so surprised by this admission that he was momentarily speechless, but Hugh was not done.
‘And you should never doubt a connection of the heart. It may be frowned on, with the belief that it weakens a man, but I speak from experience when I say that it is, in truth, the opposite.’
‘I do not care about the accepted rule on courtly love. That is not what I fear.’
‘Then what?’ Hugh raised a brow. ‘What are you so afraid of?’
Will blinked, not knowing the answer. What was he afraid of? He didn’t know. Could it be that the circumstances of his birth meant that Isabel de Clancey was out of his reach? Was that really the reason?
‘Can you not see your own worth? Because from where I stand, it’s far more than my father’s.’
Hugh filled the silence. ‘Whatever it may be, it should not determine how you live your life. You should not care about any of it, Will.’
A slow smile quirked at the corners of his lips. ‘When did you become so wise?’
‘When I had the love of a good woman.’ Hugh’s smile turned wistful as he met his friend’s eyes. ‘You deserve her, Will...and I believe she deserves you.’
Could this be true? Will wasn’t certain whether this was even feasible.
He had been so determined, so adamant that there could be no future with Isabel, that he hadn’t stopped to consider it. He hadn’t contemplated his chances. If it was even remotely possible for him to grasp happiness, however fleetingly, as Hugh had put it, then surely, he must pursue that.
He had to find the courage to fight for that...
A steely glint flashed across his blue eyes. He turned to his friend and nodded. Yes, he would. He would fight for her if need be.
* * *
Will looked around the small yet intimate chamber within Caversham Castle, which was more a family manor than a true defensive stronghold. These were the private rooms of the most powerful magnate in the kingdom—William Marshal, Lord Protector and Earl of Pembroke.
Will knew he should feel privileged to have secured a private meeting with the older man, but also felt the stirrings of apprehension. It was Marshal’s decision as Lord Protector whom Isabel de Clancey could marry. Will’s whole future hinged on the success of this discussion and that was before he could even put it to Isabel.
‘Ah...good. Sir William Geraint, please take a seat.’ The older man limped slightly into the chamber with his hands behind his back, taking a seat behind a wooden coffer. ‘I hope your journey from the Tower was agreeable after incarcerating the prisoners from Castle de Clancey.’
‘Thank you, my lord, it was.’
The man might look like a benevolent grandsire, but Will was not so easily fooled. Marshal was a consummate politician—as shrewd and canny as anyone in the kingdom. Actually, even more so, since Will couldn’t think of a single man in his seventieth year being able to take charge at the Battle of Lincoln, as Marshal had the previous year. No wonder there were few men whom Will admired and respected as much. Still, that did not mean that this meeting would go well for him.
‘Good. The situation has resolved to a satisfactory conclusion, then.’
Not quite...
‘It has, my lord.’
‘Yet I believe you did not come here to discuss that matter. Would you care for some repast?’ He ambled to the side table, already prepared with a jug, a few matching goblets and platefuls of sweetmeats and delicate pastries. ‘Tell me, Sir William, is this unexpected visit to do with your due of silver from the Templars, which I have been informed shall be restored to you...or the Lady de Clancey?’
‘Thank you, my lord,’ he muttered as the older man pressed the goblet in his hand. ‘And, no, I have not come about the Templar silver.’
‘Ah... I see.’ Marshal sat opposite him, sipping wine as he studied him over the rim of his goblet, making Will feel self-conscious, but he continued to hold his tongue. Eventually, Marshal sighed and broke the silence.
‘I understand, Sir William. More than you know. And I have often thought that it is unfair that the sins of a father are often passed to their sons to bear. My own father had forsaken me to King Stephen, who threatened to have me executed, you know, when I was just a small child. A father who had claimed to be able to forge better sons from his hammer and anvil was not one whom I could depend on and so I learnt from a young age that I had to make my own way in the world, as I’m certain you did, especially...in your circumstances.’
God’s breath! How the devil did Marshal know all this about him?
And he was not done talking. ‘I, too, was an ambitious, landless, errant knight like you, Sir William.’
This was not going well at all. ‘Allow me to explain, my lord—’
Marshal held up his hand to silence Will’s interruption. Damn it, he would not leave until the man listened to him.
‘If I could just put my case to you.’
‘There is no need as I have already made my decision.’
Made his decision before Will even had a chance to explain?
Marshal continued. ‘I’m not long for this world, Sir William, and the young King Henry is all but a boy. Once I’m gone, he’ll be pulled in every direction by men who would use him for their own gain. I cannot allow it,’ he muttered, taking another sip of wine. ‘Not after everything this kingdom has been through to finally heal from all the self-inflicted wounds of these bitter battles between ourselves. I need to surround the Boy King with men I can trust and believe would serve him implicitly.’
Will couldn’t believe his ears. Had the old man implied what he thought he had? ‘Men like...me?’
Marshal tilted his head as he regarded him. ‘You would never break your allegiance with the young Henry, despite his father’s past transgressions in his dealings with you, so, yes, I believe you would serve England well, as you always have done, William.’
Will was speechless. ‘Do you mean to tell me that you give me leave to court Lady Isabel?’
‘With my blessing.’
It was all he could wish for, yet Will didn’t want Isabel to be forced into anything against her wishes. She had been through much and endured a lot in her lifetime. It had to be her choice whether to accept him or not. She might want more time to enjoy being chatelaine or even possibly decline him after all. Either way, he would accept whatever she decided.
Besides, Will was under no false impression. He was being given Isabel’s hand for his fealty to the young King, which he would be happy to swear to, but he needed some sureties.
He gave his head a little shake. ‘I’m honoured, my lord, but after the trials that Isabel de Clancey has been through in her life, this can only happen if she’ll have me.’
‘Yes.’ There was suddenly a twinkle in the old man’s eyes. ‘I knew I had the right measure of you. Go. And, William? My own dear lady wife is also fair and named Isabel. Good luck with your endeavours.’
Will’s lips twitched as he bowed. ‘My lord.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
It had been over a sennight since Will had left Castle de Clancey, but it felt far longer. In that time Isabel had made sure that she was kept busy with her new role, engaging herself in everything to do with the castle.
She liaised with the steward, met the sergeant of the garrison, and worked with the household staff to make sure of the smooth
running of the castle. She engaged traders and villagers in the hope of learning more about these people—her people.
It surprised her how much her previous experiences had prepared her, in a strange way, for this role. Will had been right about that—she was more capable than she’d ever dared believe. Yes, it had been going rather well, except...except for the fact that her heart was splintering into tiny little pieces. Isabel tried to push all vestiges of William Geraint out of her head, but some days it was more arduous and painful than others.
This was one such day...
After a warming bath, she sat by the hearth in her chamber, laboriously combing through her long hair, with Perdu at her feet.
It was useless, though. Will would not be coming back.
There was sudden knock on the wooden door before it opened slowly. Isabel stood to greet her mother with a ready smile. ‘Please, come in, my lady mother.’
‘I hope I’m not disturbing you.’
‘Not at all. Can I get you some refreshment? Some wine?’
‘No, thank you, my dear. Sit, sit... It was just you didn’t seem to partake in eating much earlier so I wanted to see how you were faring.’ Her mother took her silver metal comb from her fingers and continued to comb her hair.
‘I’m perfectly well and perfectly happy.’
‘Good, good...’
‘You seem distracted, Mother.’
‘Am I?’ She smoothed down the length of Isabel’s hair with her fingers, so comforting and soothing—a mother’s touch. ‘It’s just that I wanted to tell you once again how happy you’ve made me to have you back home when I... I believed you were lost to me, for all those years.’
Above all her duties, Isabel spent as much of her time as possible in the company of her mother, to become better acquainted with her after all this time apart. Isabel had told her about her life in St Jean de Cole and in return her mother filled in all the missing details about her brothers and what life had been like at Castle de Clancey. Which had, sadly, not been good.
Her mother inhaled before continuing to speak. Her hand shook as she reached out to cradle her daughter’s cheek. ‘We have both suffered so much pain, Isabel, but I hope that we can move forward together. I hope we can put the past behind us.’
‘Yes,’ Isabel whispered as her mother kissed her forehead. ‘I would like that.’
‘And I hope in time you’ll realise how much it means to me to be reunited with you. How much peace and happiness you’ve afforded me at this time of my life.’
‘I do and must tell you that I feel the same.’
‘I’m glad. My only wish is for you to be truly happy, Isabel.’
‘But I am.’
‘I hope so, because that very same happiness can sometimes be much closer than you know. You just have to open your eyes, look outside and find it.’ Her mother smiled as she moved away. ‘And when you do, grasp it with both hands.’
Frowning in confusion, Isabel meandered to the small square window that her mother had nodded to and opened the wooden shutters. What had she meant? She turned back around to ask, but her mother had left her chamber.
Strange...
The cool air whipped through the window, reminding her that it wouldn’t be long until the arrival of winter, slipping into Advent...with the joys of Christmas and Twelfth Night ready to be savoured. She inhaled the cold air into her chest.
Dusk was settling like a slumbering blanket over the vista. Though not yet. No, it hung to the daylight, causing a vivid splendour in the night sky. It was that moment in between, when night and day kissed only briefly before going their separate ways. There was something enchanting about the twilight hour, casting an alluring spell that made her wistful for things she could not have.
Isabel shuddered and was about to close the shutter again when something caught her eye in the inner bailey. There were clusters of light creating a pattern on the ground below. How odd...
What on earth could it be?
Her brows furrowed before she made the decision to investigate further. Fetching her woollen cloak that Will had bought for her in Southampton, she dashed out of her chamber with Perdu in tow. She grabbed a torch from a nearby sconce to light the way down the stone spiral staircase from the solar and hurried down. Stepping out on to the ground outside the inner bailey, Isabel rubbed her hands together, blowing hot air into them, and blinked in surprise. Small metal dishes with flat tallow candles lit a patterned path on the ground from the inner bailey through the arch and beyond. And there was more... Beside the trail of little lights was a scattering of...but, no, it couldn’t be! She bent down and picked a few up, rubbing the feathery petals between her fingers before bringing them to her nose.
Hyssop petals? What in God’s name did this mean?
Isabel rushed along, following the trail lit by the dispersed dishes of tallow candles, stopping only to collect more of the strewn hyssop petals. She continued along, bemused at the absurdity of it all, her cloak folded out to help collect the purple mass of hyssop, its scent perfuming the cool air. She vaguely registered that the castle was uncharacteristically quiet, without a soul in sight. That in itself should have alarmed her, but her interest was piqued far too much to stop now. With her heart pounding, she hurried along, wandering through every winding path into the outer bailey, around the castle. Eventually she reached the last few lit dishes, which came to an abrupt halt outside the entrance of the chapel.
Just then, a man stepped out from the shadow of the arched porch. A ripple of awareness ran through her.
Will?
She rubbed her eyes. Could it be?
Her stomach flipped over itself as she realised that it was indeed William Geraint looking ever so handsome in a dark blue tunic and dark braes and hose beneath a leather gambeson. He smiled, inclining his head as she approached him.
‘Will?’ she said in a shaky voice. ‘What...what are you doing here?’
‘Good evening, my lady.’ His midnight-blue eyes glittered at her with such warmth that her breath stuck in her throat. ‘I came to the realisation—albeit a little late—that despite your excellent progress acquiring important defensive moves, there may still be much to learn. So, I have come to offer my services.’
Her lips twitched despite herself. ‘I see.’
‘Indeed, and I also came to ask something else.’ He dragged his fingers through his hair. He seemed a little nervous. ‘You see, after bringing you back home, I felt a little lost...’
Lost?
Was it an accident that Will had used a sentiment describing her situation when he had first met her?
‘I’m sorry for that. Have you resolved the situation?’
‘Not quite.’ His lips quirked. ‘You see, I decided that I wanted desperately to come home.’
Her heart thumped even harder in her chest. ‘Home?’
‘To you, Isabel,’ he whispered softly, moving towards her. ‘I belong anywhere you do. If...if you’ll have me.’
Her knees felt weak, making standing a little difficult.
‘What has brought about this change?’
‘A realisation that, without you, my life is worth nothing.’ He expelled a long breath. ‘And I’m tired, Isabel. I’m tired of withholding happiness that could so easily be ours, if we would just allow it.’
She shook her head. ‘I cannot believe this.’
‘Nevertheless, it is the truth, sweetheart.’
‘Is it?’ she muttered, still tugging at the ends of her cloak containing the hyssop petals.
‘Utterly and completely.’ He edged closer still. ‘You complete me, Isabel de Clancey.’
She gasped, unable to say anything for a moment, but she needed to. Words were needed here. ‘As do you, William Geraint,’ she murmured before a crease formed across her forehead. ‘But is it enough?’
‘It
’s certainly a foundation to build our future on.’ He took a deep breath before continuing. ‘I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife, Isabel? I would pledge my life to you. And do everything I can to be the man worthy to stand beside you, protect you and love you.’
This felt so dreamlike, so unreal.
Was she, in fact, dreaming?
Before she could answer him, Isabel heard hushed voices from within the chapel. ‘Tell me, are there people in there?’
‘It’s of no matter, my love. This is a choice for you to make. If you decide to decline my offer, then we shall go in and attend mass as normal.’
‘Do you believe that I would decline you?’ She raised her brows as a slow smile spread across her face.
‘This is your choice, Isabel,’ he said again, evidently far more nervous than she had anticipated. ‘If you require more time to consider my offer, then I’ll wait. I realise that I have sprung this on you, yet I had hoped my surprise may be welcome. No matter, we’ll just explain that—’
Holding the edges of her cloak in one hand, she put her finger to his lips to silence him. ‘I do not need more time.’ Her teeth sunk into her lower lips. ‘Besides, since our family and friends are assembled here, we should really oblige them.’
‘What are you saying? Do you mean that you...you accept me?’
‘Yes.’ She chuckled softly. ‘Of course, I do.’
His shoulders sagged in apparent relief. ‘Thank God, because I forgot to mention that I brought my whole family with me and they are currently waiting in the chapel. Along with Hugh, Eleanor and my young godson, William.’
She laughed. ‘What would you have done if I had refused you?’
‘Ah, well, I would have showered you with verses and sonnets professing my undying love.’ He winked. ‘Failing that, I would have wept at your feet.’
‘It’s just as well we have been spared that.’
‘True, I’m not sure how I could provide the necessary verse to secure your hand.’
Her Banished Knight's Redemption--The follow-up to award-winning story the Rebel Heiress and the Knight Page 23
