Harlequin Historical February 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Virginia Heath

  * * *

  After a few more days of travel they finally arrived at her childhood home—the splendid Castle de Clancey. Isabel had felt little more than numbness after they had docked at Southampton harbour, but this…this was different. Her response surprised her, catching her off guard as she tried and failed to swallow the lump that had suddenly lodged in her throat.

  Dear God, but she felt close to tears.

  Pieces of her memory were now brought together as one to form the idyll that she saw as they approached the castle. It was everything she remembered it to be. Castle de Clancey was perched on a hill hugged by its rugged curtain walls, four grey towers at each corner standing tall, a large keep at the centre of the inner bailey and the wide expanse of watery moat.

  The village dwellings were studded around the outside of the castle walls with the demesne land and wooded forest beyond. Isabel noticed her family’s banner with the colours of red, black and grey swaying in the breeze atop each tower and she swallowed hard. She turned and met Will’s eyes as he gave her a single nod with a ghost of a smile, which she returned as they made their way down the hill.

  Their small entourage made their way through the village to the entrance of the gatehouse. Isabel could hear the gasps as people stopped and stared at her, no doubt wondering whether she was whom they suspected her to be. Uncomfortable at being so conspicuous, Isabel sat with her spine straight, a benign smile pasted on her lips.

  Her heart pounded in her chest as the drawbridge came down for them and, before long, they had trudged into the inner bailey. Her eyes darted around, taking in the familiar surroundings, from the garden and the separate building that housed the great hall to the woman who seemed to have rushed out from the castle keep.

  Isabel recognised her immediately and jumped down from the wagon to stride towards her, stopping in front of her and sketching a formal curtsy. They stared at each other for a long moment as Isabel’s eyes filled with tears.

  ‘My lady mother.’

  The smaller woman stepped forward and looked at her with a curious intensity before enveloping her in her arms. ‘Oh, Daughter…oh, Isabel, it is really you!’ she cried between tears. ‘Thank the saints that you are finally home!’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Will walked with the rest of their party behind Isabel as she was swept into the heart of the great hall, a large hammer-beamed chamber that was handsomely yet simply decorated with wide tapestries decorating every space of the stone walls, metal sconces around the edge of the room and a dais at the far end. Here, kitchen maids were busy laying out pewter jugs of ale and goblets as well as trenchers of cold meats, cheese, bread rolls and harvested apples.

  ‘Allow your lady mother and me to welcome you, Lady Isabel.’ A man whom Will had noticed in the courtyard when they arrived smiled as he spoke. He then proceeded to take Isabel’s hand, bowing over it. ‘Please make yourself comfortable, my dear, and partake in a small repast. You and your party must all be in need of sustenance.’

  Will realised he must have been staring at the tall, thin man when he turned and met his eyes, handing him a goblet.

  ‘You must be Sir William Geraint.’

  ‘I am and who may you be, sir?’

  ‘Sir Geoffrey Fitzwalter, at your service.’ The man inclined his head. ‘You esteem us by finding Lady Isabel and accompanying her back here, where she belongs.’

  Us? What the devil was this man talking about?

  Will suddenly remembered a cousin by marriage whom Rolleston had mentioned. He had stayed on to help with matters after the death of Isabel’s father and apparently continued to stay on, making himself indispensable to her mother, it seemed.

  The man looked at least a decade older than Will, with receding hair, a long face and inscrutable eyes. His smile was slightly off kilter, especially when he addressed Isabel, making Will uneasy. Which brought him to another point. Where the hell was Rolleston? Had he fled or was he hiding somewhere within the castle walls?

  Until this and other concerns were satisfactorily resolved, Will could not leave Isabel unprotected here. They had not travelled this far for Will to allow anything to happen to her now.

  ‘I was honoured to bring my lady back to her mother and to protect her.’ He flicked his gaze to Isabel, who was holding her mother’s hands, and felt his chest tighten.

  He had deliberately kept his distance ever since they had left Southampton, knowing it was the best way to eventually ease himself out of Isabel’s life. His efforts had been a necessity to safeguard their bruised hearts and yet it had still been incredibly painful.

  By God, she was lovely. She was dressed in a dark green woollen kirtle over a cream tunic with a scallop-edged neckline. Her long hair was cascading in long, flowing waves to the small of her back, with intricate braids looped together at the back and pinned to a sheer veil, as was the fashion in Aquitaine.

  ‘Sir William, I hope that your sojourn with us here will be a long duration?’ Her mother tilted her head to speak to him, still holding her daughter’s hands in her own. Will noted that despite the difference in height, the two were remarkably alike in appearance.

  ‘You’re too gracious, my lady. I shall stay for a short duration, if that meets with your approval?’

  ‘We would have you stay longer, sir, for words cannot convey what you have done in…in bringing my daughter home.’

  ‘My lady.’ He sketched a bow.

  He registered Isabel’s brow rise, even though she didn’t voice her surprise. She had not expected this sudden change of his plans, but then she had been so preoccupied with being reunited with her mother that mayhap she didn’t feel as he did, the sense of foreboding he’d had since arriving in Somersetshire. Will could not dispense with the feeling that Isabel might not be safe here in her own ancestral home and he couldn’t leave until he felt certain that she was.

  * * *

  Will didn’t see much of Isabel again until the evening banquet in celebration of her return. In that time Will had familiarised himself with the castle’s stronghold and asked its sergeant and others about Rolleston. No one, however, had seen the man for a sennight. He questioned Fitzwalter as well, who also denied knowing the man’s whereabouts, but assured Will that he would get the silver promised to him. That was not the reason Will had asked, but the man did not need to know that. There was something untrustworthy about Fitzwalter, compounded by the fact that Will sensed he was lying about Rolleston. For now, though, all he could do was watch and wait.

  One thing for certain was that the guards at the castle seemed to have cast their loyalty with Fitzwalter, unless they were his own personal guards to begin with. Either way, it was a precarious situation. The man had presumed the role of Lord in the absence of Isabel’s father.

  Will took a swig of ale as he watched Fitzwalter on the dais where he stood next to Isabel, fawning and being damned attentive. They were even sharing the same trencher of food, with the best cuts of choice meats selected by Fitzwalter himself. The man’s ambition was clear, yet Will was not in a position to do anything about it except warn Isabel about his suspicions, such as they were.

  He stabbed a small piece of mutton in herby mint sauce with a knife and proceeded to chew it without registering the taste. He seemed to be the only person in the hall who was not enjoying the convivial, festive atmosphere. Even Perdu was happily tucking into a bone.

  Will sighed deeply and looked away from the revelry, peering around the hall instead. He noticed the tapestries that decorated every surface of the stone wall properly for the first time. The rich, opulent colours and stitchwork were magnificent by any measure, but it was the depiction of the ecclesiastical setting that was intriguing. What was strange wasn’t that each tapestry told a different biblical story, but that each seemed to include a de Clancey family member. As though they had been there in the Holy Land at that very time.

&nb
sp; Will snapped his head around as a troupe of musicians started to play. Fitzwalter accompanied Isabel down the dais and they began to dance to rapturous applause.

  He ground his teeth together and shot up to join the circle of dancers, unable to contain himself any longer. More followed to join the group, but Will took no chances. He strode with purpose to stand beside Isabel, claiming her hand as they started the rather sedate dance, very different from the exuberant estampie that they had danced an age ago in Aquitaine.

  ‘Is anything wrong, Will?’ Isabel whispered when they partnered together.

  ‘No, my lady. Should there be?’ He noticed her stiffen as she always did when he addressed her formally. Yet it was the necessary reminder of their difference in station.

  ‘Well, that is a relief,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘Although it doesn’t explain your irascible mood.’

  ‘Take no heed of me, Isabel. I have a lot on my mind.’

  ‘What is the matter? You have been in a sullen mood ever since we arrived.’

  ‘It’s nothing.’

  He reached for her, placing one hand around her waist while clasping her hand above their heads as they moved in a circular movement to the music. It was the first time that they had talked to one another properly since they had left Southampton. And also, the first time that Will was holding her this close again. It felt wonderful, despite the fact that it was not a good idea.

  Yet Will couldn’t resist. Being this close, holding her, the scent of her, the feel of touching her hand quickened his pulse. She looked resplendent in a deep magenta velvet dress with long fluted sleeves and square neckline that offset the silver and ruby pendant that she wore for the first time. Oh, yes, Isabel looked every bit the noblewoman that she was.

  His eyes locked on to hers briefly before she swept past him, moving to his side. They were filled with an intensity that matched his own longing. In fact, it was fortuitous that it had been broken by the movements of the dance. No good would ever come of such feelings.

  By the time they partnered each other once more, Will had got hold of his wayward feelings, masking them. He knew that the only way to truly get over Isabel was to leave here as soon as he could. Yet he could not do that until he felt assured of her safety.

  He turned to her. ‘Tell me how you’re faring?’

  They parted and joined the main group, stepping up on their toes and down again, taking a step back before coming back together.

  ‘To own the truth, I’m finding it all a little overwhelming.’

  ‘I can imagine. And what of your reunion with your mother?’

  ‘That, too.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘However, given time, I hope we shall become close.’

  ‘I’m certain you shall, Isabel.’

  ‘My thanks for everything you have done for me…but you need not stay here. It’s clear that you do not wish to.’

  ‘Are you wanting to be rid me, my lady?’ He took her hand again, moving through the alternate couples.

  ‘I don’t believe I said words to that effect.’

  ‘If you must know, I need to be certain of your safety.’

  She smiled at him then, shaking her head. ‘Really, do you think that’s necessary with so many guards and knights in the garrison here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She frowned. ‘What is troubling you?’

  ‘I don’t know, Isabel, but something doesn’t feel right here and my instincts have never let me down before.’ He watched as she became a little pale.

  She flicked her gaze to meet his. ‘So that’s why you agreed to stay a little longer?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nothing, only that I now understand the brooding.’

  ‘This is serious, Isabel,’ he hissed. ‘Your safety must be ensured before I can even think of leaving.’

  ‘I think you’re putting too much on all of this, but do as you wish. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to.’

  ‘Until I know you’re safe.’

  Her brows furrowed. ‘What is this about?’

  ‘I don’t know yet, but, when I do—’ He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes fixed on the tapestries over Isabel’s shoulder. ‘Hell’s teeth,’ he muttered under his breath.

  Isabel turned, darting her eyes around before meeting his gaze, her forehead creased in confusion. ‘What is it? What have you seen?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He tried, but failed to keep the excitement out of his voice.

  Thank God they joined the main group then, holding hands in a long line of dancers gliding together from one side to the other. This allowed for him to school his features into an expression that was hopefully a little nonchalant.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ She threw him a sideways glance. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me.’

  ‘Keep your voice down, my lady,’ he whispered from the corner of his mouth.

  ‘Only if you tell me.’

  ‘Very well,’ he said as the dance came to an end. ‘But not now. Meet me here before sunrise, when everyone is still abed.’ He led her back to the dais and bowed over her hand before walking away without waiting for her answer, knowing it was nothing but a mistake to involve her. This was hardly a good way to protect Isabel.

  * * *

  Will stepped out of the shadows as he noted Isabel’s tentative steps into the hall, carrying a torch and wearing the simple woollen grey cloak he had bought for her in Southampton. The hall was not altogether empty, with a few retainers and hearth knights asleep on pallets, and not exactly a place for a lady, but Will had promised to explain himself.

  ‘You came.’

  He raised a brow. ‘You doubted I would?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure, but I’m glad you did.’

  He had to stop himself from reaching for her. It was impossible, without an excuse such as the dance they had shared last night.

  She blinked. ‘So, what was it you wanted to say in such secrecy?’

  How to proceed? How much to reveal and yet how much to withhold?

  ‘It’s to do with everything that happened in Aquitaine…and in La Rochelle.’

  ‘I had wondered. Pray, continue.’

  ‘You see, when the Templar, Phillipe de Sens, destroyed the vellum, I thought that would be the end of it.’

  ‘As did I.’

  ‘Precisely. There would be no reason to continue with something when there was never any hope in finding what the vellum alluded to, regardless of what I promised the dying Templar.’

  She watched him for a moment before speaking. ‘What did he say before he died, Will?’

  He grimaced, looking away. ‘Many things.’

  ‘More than you told me at the time?’

  ‘You were distraught Isabel, and there seemed little point in telling you all of it. However, I did tell you the main part of what he said.’

  ‘I see.’ She exhaled in obvious chagrin. ‘Did he explain why, for instance, he burnt the vellum?’

  ‘No, that I do not know. However, I believe he must have been worried that it might have found itself in the wrong hands, with Rolleston’s men looking for it. Mayhap that was one reason why he did what he did.’

  ‘He put his faith in you, however. That if you found whatever the vellum alluded to, you would hand it over to the Templars.’

  ‘De Sens had little choice, Isabel. He made me make a solemn promise, as you know.’

  She looked as though she finally understood what he was trying to convey. ‘He told you, didn’t he? He told you what he believed the vellum alluded to.’

  ‘Yes.’ He nodded and sighed. ‘Remember when we first met him, he said that it could not be measured by any earthly value.’

  ‘Yes, I remember.’

 
‘By the time he was drawing his last breath, he knew exactly what that was, Isabel. An important sacred relic, stolen from the Templars over a century ago and brought to France from the Holy Land.’

  ‘Sacred relic? I don’t understand…and stolen by whom?’ Her eyes widened suddenly. ‘Oh…oh, heavens above…you believe that it was one of my de Clancey ancestors, don’t you?’

  He gave her a grim look. ‘Yes, my lady. I believe it was.’

  ‘It can’t be. This is all so unbelievable.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I’m afraid that it is true, especially now.’

  ‘What do you mean, especially now? You know something, don’t you?’ When he didn’t disagree, she narrowed her eyes. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘This may be dangerous, Isabel.’

  ‘As well I know. What are we going to do?’

  ‘You, Isabel, shall do nothing other than what you have been doing since your return, while I shall wait until I hear from Hugh.’ He frowned, suddenly unsure if his old friend would acknowledge his missive.

  It had more than a year since Will had heard from Hugh de Villiers, after his friend had used his prominent position to help quash his banishment. The fault in severing their ties, however, had lain with Will and he hoped he could remedy that now that he was back in England. Yet he was requiring his urgent assistance the moment he stepped foot in the kingdom. Not exactly an ideal start.

  ‘Lord Tallany? What he has to do with any of this?’

  ‘Nothing. I solicited his help and counsel with the anticipation of finding Rolleston here, which is why I had initially written to him.’

  ‘But Rolleston is not here.’

  ‘Apparently not, which is even more worrying.’

  ‘You do not trust Geoffrey’s… Sir Geoffrey’s word.’

  Good God! Geoffrey?

  ‘No, I don’t and you’d do well to be more wary of him.’

  ‘But he has given me no cause to—’

  ‘Trust me on this, Isabel. Please.’ He hadn’t meant to interrupt her, but he had to labour this point.