‘With your permission, I’d be honoured to do your bidding, Isabel,’ Will said, picking off the top of the flowering purple herb. ‘I’ll accompany Hugh, taking the casket, Fitzwalter and the rest of the prisoners to the Earl of Pembroke. It shall be his decision on what is to be done with them, including consigning this to the Templars.’
‘Thank you.’ She nodded in agreement before lifting her head. ‘You have my gratitude, Will. When…’ She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘When would you depart?’
‘As soon as may be, my lady.’
‘I see.’ There seemed little more to say, yet so much more she wanted to.
They walked through the garden, along the path around the corner of the chapel. ‘You’re not coming back, are you?’
‘Isabel…’ He left her name hanging in the air, imbued with something akin to painful longing.
Dear lord, this was difficult.
‘Come back, Will.’ She exhaled a shaky breath. ‘When this is all over, come back to me.’
He stilled her, grasping her elbow. ‘I would want for nothing more, but you know that can’t happen.’
‘I begin to understand it less and less.’ She lifted her head up to meet his gaze. ‘Why should we not be together if we both wish it?’
‘Do not ask this of me.’ Her back was against the stone wall with his hands placed either side, enclosing her. ‘Christ, Isabel. I’m no different to all the poor bastards, apparently, sired by your father and many men like him. I’m not fit to stand by you.’
‘Would you listen to yourself!’ she hissed in frustration. ‘I don’t care which side of the coverlet you were sired on, Will. Can you not see your own worth? Because from where I stand, it’s far more than my father’s, who cared little about anyone other than himself.’
‘Oh, Isabel.’ He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her skin. ‘I would do anything for you, but this…us… Much as I want it, with all my heart, it cannot be.’
‘Does my love not count for anything?’
‘It counts for more than you’ll ever know and it shall stay with me until I breathe my last. But it is not enough,’ he whispered softly, tilting her head up. ‘Matters of the heart cannot supersede matters to do with duty and obligation. This is the world we dwell in.’
‘We can change that.’
‘No, sweetheart.’ He kissed her fingers. ‘I wish… I wish I could be the man to deserve you, but I’m not.’
An ache formed in her throat, making it impossible to say anything.
How dare he!
How dare he believe he was not good enough for her, as though he was beneath her.
‘You are a noble lady, Isabel. The chatelaine of this castle,’ he continued. ‘When I see you, I see someone strong, resilient, capable and, above all, kind-hearted. It has been my privilege to know you…to love you. And it’s precisely because of my love for you that I must let you go. My honour demands it.’
Well…what could she say to that?
Beg him to stay? Her conscience would never permit her to do that. Yet she felt like shaking him out of this narrow mindset. After everything they had both been through, they deserved happiness, did they not? Despite the difference in rank between them? Isabel didn’t care about that anyway. She had grown up among ordinary people—she understood them and the problems they faced better than most noble ladies. But Will did not see it that way and mayhap he never would. She realised something then…something she had overlooked until now.
She did not need William Geraint to survive. She had proven that she was more than capable to do that on her own. Isabel had survived the ambush when she had been all but a little girl. She had survived her family’s abandonment, survived living in a convent and in St Jean de Cole. She had survived the journey back to England and would learn to survive this…losing Will. She would survive it even though it would take time. Even though she’d be heartsick. She knew all about difficulties in enduring and overcoming hurt. It seemed that she would have to do it again.
‘Well then’ she said finally, her head held high. ‘There’s nothing left to say.’
* * *
‘You have been quiet for hours, Will. Is there something that you wish to confer with me about?’ Hugh threw his friend a worried gaze as he rode alongside him.
It had been a long while since they had left Castle de Clancey. A long while since Isabel had stood on the steps of the castle keep beside her mother, looking dignified and gracious with her back straight and her gaze passive as she bid him farewell. Will knew he would never see her again and that image of her would be etched in his head for all time, along with many others that were all too painful to ponder on.
‘No. It has been a tiring few weeks. That’s all.’
‘Either you’re a good liar Will, or you’re getting too old for such campaigns.’
‘Perhaps I am.’
‘Come now, you and I always shared everything, even our woes.’
‘Did we?’ Will’s jaw was set so hard, it almost hurt. ‘Forgive me, but I seem to have forgotten.’
He knew he was being churlish, especially as Hugh had come out of his way to help with the matter of Fitzwalter, but Will felt like lashing out at someone. Someone close at hand.
‘Haven’t you punished yourself enough, my friend?’ Hugh muttered softly.
That got his attention.
He whipped his head around. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You know precisely what I mean, Will. You have not only punished yourself for what happened at Portchester, but everyone around you. Me, your family… Tell me, is it now the turn of Lady Isabel?’
‘You know nothing about it.’
‘Do I not? I believe I have eyes and ears and from what I saw at Castle de Clancey, I could see how deeply you both care about one another.’
‘You do not understand.’
‘Believe me, I do.’ Hugh’s voice was low, but filled with barely concealed bitterness. ‘Or rather, I have been trying to for the past few years.’
‘What happened at Portchester…’
‘Always befalls men like us, Will. It’s something we all have to live with. You were betrayed by another and yet you’re the one riddled with guilt. You do your men a disservice by shouldering all the blame. Those men died in honour, protecting their King, as was their duty.’
‘Yet King John believed so vehemently that the fault lay with me that he had me banished, for heaven’s sake.’
Hugh shook his head. ‘God rest his soul, but John was always quick to cast blame on others, rather than look closer to his circle of mercenaries. You know this and, even if it were true, which it never was, you exonerated yourself with the information you provided Marshal at the battle in Lincoln, without which we could have lost to the Barons and Prince Louis.’ He threw him a glance. ‘This isn’t about that anyway and you know it.’
Hell’s teeth!
‘What I know is that this is not a welcome topic of conversation.’
‘That may be so. But if this is about wanting something—or rather, someone—whom you believe you should not have… It’s not true.’
‘You don’t comprehend. My mother—’
‘She has told me everything, Will.’
‘Apologies, then you do understand.’ Will focused his attention putting his horse through its paces as he galloped ahead. Hugh soon caught up with him. ‘We cannot belong to one another, Isabel and I. You must see that.’
‘What I see is someone who is, and has been, unhappy for some years now.’ Hugh sighed. ‘Besides, if you’ve given her your heart in exchange for hers, then it seems to me that some part of her does belong to you.’
‘It is not as simple as that.’
Hugh pulled the reins, bringing his horse to a halt, forcing Will to do the same. ‘Life is perilous as it is, with danger
and hardship at every turn. You know as well as I—as well as any soldier—how precarious life can be. One moment we’re here and the next…’ He clicked his fingers. ‘It’s extinguished. If you have a chance at happiness, even fleetingly, then grasp it with both hands, my friend.’
‘I would not dishonour Isabel. I’d be no better than Geoffrey Fitzwalter in his greed—taking something that cannot belong to me.’
‘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.’
Harlequin Historical February 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Page 70
