by Amy Mullen
Now safely within the walls of her beloved Blackstone, she slid down from her horse and handed the reins to a stable boy. She took a deep breath and took just one step before she was attacked by her giggling nieces.
"Oh!" she cried as she wrapped her arms around them. "I cannot tell you how happy I am to see your beautiful faces."
"And of me?" a voice said. Isabel faced Miles, her nephew, who stood nearby with a playful smirk upon his lips. "I may not be here much longer. You had better prove I am your favorite nephew before I am off to be fostered."
She untwined her arms from her happy nieces and gave Miles a hug. "Fostered, you say? Are you going to be a knight like your father? Where are you going to go?"
"I will be a better knight than my father," Miles proclaimed as Nicholas came up behind them.
"Is that right, son?" Nicholas said as he put a firm hand on his son’s nape and gave him an affectionate squeeze.
"Indeed, father. You have always said ‘tis your finest wish that your children have a better life than you."
"’Twill be hard to beat, as life is good," Nicholas said with a laugh. "I am happy to hear you are ready to begin. Life as a page will be tough, but you will learn much, my son. I have yet to decide where you will go, but I am sure you will do well no matter where that will be."
"I have been practicing with Matthew, Father. He said I show much promise."
Isabel next found herself wrapped in the arms of her sister. Gemma squeezed her hard and then stepped back, looking her up and down.
"I know ‘tis only been but a short time since I have seen you, but you look so grown up."
Isabel blushed. Over Gemma’s head she saw Turstin, still atop his destrier, watching them. His eyes were narrow and his lips set in a firm, thin line. Ignoring his odd reaction to her reunion with her family, she set her gaze on Constance. The girl stood back, a wistful expression on her face.
With a graceful hand, she beckoned Constance to step forward. "Gemma, you remember Constance?"
"Of course." Gemma gave the girl a hug as well. "You are staying with us, then?"
"Aye, thank you so much for having me. I appreciate the warm welcome."
"I have a room made up for you. I fear ‘tis small. You could, however, stay with Isabel if you wish. ‘Tis up to you."
"I would appreciate my own room, if you do not mind, Isabel?"
A bit relieved, Isabel nodded. She enjoyed spending time with Constance, but the girl had strange sleep habits, and Isabel was grateful she would be in her own space. "I understand wanting privacy. I just hope you will have a grand time visiting with us."
"I shall fetch Adela to show you to your room. Your things will be brought up for you," Gemma said as she touched Constance’s shoulder. "Do you require anything?"
"Nay, just a short rest. I fear the ride here was a bit trying. I am feeling tired."
"Then a rest you shall have," Gemma replied. Nicholas approached and began to tell his wife about the ride home.
As the group dispersed, Isabel waited for Turstin to stable his horse. He came out into the sunshine, his gaze fixed on her face.
"Is there anything you need?" she asked.
"Nay. Your sister has already set me up with my quarters. I will be going to Renoir as soon as the noon meal is complete. I wish you to join me. I realize the ride this morning was a bit trying, but I am anxious to see how my men are doing and what will be needed to finish our future home."
"I do not know if I should go with you," Isabel said. Her stomach tightened. Renoir? They would live at Renoir. In the back of her mind, a memory sprung to the forefront. Renoir would go to the man she married, and Turstin was her betrothed. She had pushed that aside long ago, thinking she would worry about it when the time came. The time was upon her.
"Of course you should," he said. His voice was quiet and serene. "I understand it may have history you do not wish to recall, but ‘twill be your home, Isabel. It shall be restored, and we will reside there."
"I remember," she said, her voice catching in her throat as it constricted. A block of ice formed in her chest, and she could not think beyond the moment.
"Are you all right?" Turstin said, lifting her face up toward his with gentle pressure from a finger he placed beneath her chin.
"I need to see to my things," she said in a whisper. "May I please be on my way?"
"Aye," he said as his hand dropped. "I wish you to accompany me, Isabel. Please do your best to oblige."
Isabel pivoted on her heels so quickly she almost fell. She walked smartly toward the keep. The gravity of her betrothal settled on her shoulders as she sought out the wise counsel of her sister.
She was immensely grateful to be home.
****
Turstin watched Isabel walk away with a feeling of foreboding. His stay at Blackstone would not be without complications. It was easy to see how much she loved her family. Bile rose in his throat. How different his life would have been had it not been for the temptress, Gemma de Vere, and here he was watching them enjoy the bonds of family he never knew.
He had to keep his mind on the matter at hand: Renoir. The castle would be restored, built larger and more formidable. An order for more stone had been sent, but he had yet to secure a stonemason for the wall expansion that he planned. It could take years to complete, but the wait was worth it.
Oswin, his seneschal, was already there carrying out his orders to have the castle stripped and ready for his renovation orders. His men were smart and knew what he wanted, but he had to oversee the progress himself. The entire project would not be completed any time soon, but he would have part of the castle secure so they could live there as soon as they were wed.
Nicholas was another issue. This was the hard part. Had he met him otherwise, he would have had great respect for him. Now, he had to deal with someone he considered an enemy, stay under his roof, and ask him for help.
With fists clenched at his side, he marched across the bailey to where Nicholas was engaged in conversation with a few of his men-at-arms.
"A word, Nicholas," he said as he neared.
Nicholas dismissed his men and waited for Turstin to near.
"What say you?"
"I need men to accompany me to Renoir after noon. I will bring some of my own back with me, if you can accommodate them, but for the ride over, I will need men to travel with me. I wish to take Isabel along, and I fear she will not respond to the ride well, after what happened this morning."
"Aye, you can have whatever you need. Despite your obvious dislike of me and my family, I am duty bound to be the host you demand me to be. I can send men with you, and I can easily take in as many as you need while you stay."
"As easy as that?"
"Aye."
"You will do anything to make me appear to be the unreasonable one, I see."
"Pardon?" Nicholas said.
"It should be clear to you how I feel, and yet you do not thwart me."
"Treat Isabel well, and you have nothing to fear from me. I cannot pretend I am happy with this arrangement. ‘Twould be in your best interest to worry less of what I think and more of what Gemma thinks. She has always been Isabel’s protector, and I see no reason why that would change. Aye, it should be Gemma who gives you pause."
"I would never harm a woman, and Isabel is but an innocent in this. ‘Tis not up to me to decide who is guilty or not, that will be between each person and God. However, I know what I know, and in that sense, I am wary of this family. Mayhap the reason for my feelings will be clear to you all one day, and you will then understand."
"Quit with your riddles. What you need will be ready after noon as you asked. Do not force Isabel to go if she does not wish to. Otherwise, what you do with your time is up to you. I do expect you to contribute to the hunt while you and your men are here, and you can use whatever you wish here so long as you need. I will not fight you without good reason, but be warned, the elder de Vere daughter is the one you should worry about, not me."
&
nbsp; Chapter Six
Isabel hid in the corner of her room. She meant to find Gemma but needed to be alone until she could get her breathing under control. Hesse was the only one who knew of her episodes, and though her old nursemaid was but a short trip down the hall, Isabel could not get her legs to move. Squeezing her eyes shut, she thought of brighter days, of times when she was young, when the sunshine was all she needed to feel great. The days before her sister had disappeared were the last days she had ever felt secure.
But Gemma is here, she reminded herself as she slowed her breathing. Gemma is safe and well.
Taking shallow gulps of air, Isabel pushed against the wall as the dizziness subsided and the ringing in her ears ebbed. She dared not let anyone know something was wrong with her. If she was ill, she did not want to worry her sister. Over the years, the episodes had not come more or less often, only when she was troubled.
"Isabel, dear, are ye in there?" A voice sounded quietly but firmly from outside her quarters. Hesse!
"I am here," Isabel said, her voice raspy and stilted as the words came out like the tapping of rain on the roof.
"Where are ye?"
"Here." Isabel stood and then faltered as Hesse entered the room and spotted her kneeling in the corner.
"Oh dear, are ye well, my child?"
Isabel stood awkwardly and threw her arms around the older woman and held her until she could breathe freely. Hesse’s appearance was stark, but her heart was of gold.
"Are ye having a spell again?" Hesse asked, pushing Isabel back far enough so she could look into her eyes.
"I fear so," Isabel said. Her lip quivered as she gazed into the eyes of the woman who had always meant so much to her. "’Tis gone now."
"Whatever be the matter?"
"I am to wed, Hesse, and he is a handsome man."
"This has ye a-twitter?"
"Nay, ‘tis the terms of the marriage. Oh, Hesse," Isabel said in a wail, "we are to live at Renoir!" Isabel’s reserve fell aside, and she began to sob.
"Renoir indeed. We’ve always known Renoir would go to the man ye were to wed."
"I know," Isabel said as she sobbed. "I had always thought the man I would wed would have his own lands. He would get Renoir, but we would not live there. I tried not to think about it until I had to. Now ‘tis all but certain I shall be the lady of Renoir Castle."
"Then so be it. Ye will be fine. Ye are stronger than ye think, Isabel."
"But I am not," Isabel said in protest as she wiped her tears away with the cuff of her kirtle. "I am anything but strong. These men came through the woods, and ‘twas all I could do to not have a spell right there in front of everyone. I fear everything, and ‘tis not something I have found a way to control."
"Ye are strong enough," Hesse said. "Ye have to start living. Imagine yer father hearing ye talk like this. I know ye have reason to fear many things, but ye also have reason to be brave."
"I do not know, Hesse, I do not." Isabel shook her head wildly. The tie in her hair came loose, and her honey-colored tresses covered her face.
"I have to find Helena to help me bathe the girls. They were so tired the night before that they skipped it, and I fear I will never get the tangles out of their hair. Please, may I send Gemma to speak with ye? Trust in yer sister, and let her know how ye feel."
"Do not tell her of my spells, please!"
"Nay. I would not. That be up to ye."
Hesse ambled away as Isabel lifted her hands to her face to erase her tears. Though she felt better, she dreaded sharing her feelings with her sister, only because Gemma had always been so strong. Isabel hated to disappoint her.
Within minutes, Gemma came to Isabel, her face reflecting the concern in her voice. "Isabel? Are you all right?"
"I am. I am a bit overwhelmed at my betrothal, ‘tis all."
Gemma grabbed her sister’s hand. "Sit with me," she said, patting the bed with her hand. Once Isabel sat down, she gulped away the lump in her throat and spoke to her sister.
"You have always been so strong," Isabel said. "You have always taken what has befallen you with grace and dignity. I fear I am not the same as you. I am scared. Turstin seems a fine match, yet he is determined to restore Renoir. I cannot live there. I cannot face what that place has meant to our family."
Gemma bit her lip as she stared intently at her sister. "Isabel, what is this nonsense? I am not stronger than you. What happened to me is long in the past. The Bigod family is gone, and you have always known Renoir would go to your husband."
Dipping her head, Isabel squeezed her sister’s hand. "I always believed Renoir would be a bride’s gift but not a home. It would continue to be vacant as we lived elsewhere, or my future husband would grant the lands to one of his knights. Mayhap I thought the King would give it away to someone else by the time I wed. I lived in denial, I suppose. I fear Renoir and what it has meant to us all. I do not know how I can live there, knowing each second you were held there and our brother died there. How can I live with the ghosts of the past?"
"I knew it was a mistake when you accompanied us to Renoir all those years ago. I did not think it would traumatize you so, but you did not want to leave my side, and we had to see about securing the castle so it would be safe as it sat empty. I should have left you here."
"’Twas not that. I think I would fear it no matter what."
"But Isabel, ‘tis nothing more than stone and wood. The castle cannot hurt you. I do not know much of Turstin yet, but he is strong and was chosen by Henry for you. The king wishes this for our family, and you know we cannot change that."
"Aye, I know. I know all of that. I do not know how to be brave. I am afraid of things which most are not, and I have tried to overcome those feelings but have failed."
Gemma wrapped her arms around her sister. "Dear, sweet girl. You were always adventurous as a child. You wished nothing more than to be free to do as you pleased. You fought Father Darius on your lessons almost daily and wished to be a knight once, do you remember?"
Isabel pulled away a little and let out a small laugh. "Aye, I remember. It took Nicholas many a fortnight to convince me that Henry would not allow it."
"You were once brave. You can be so again. If I am not falling apart over the thought of you being within the walls of Renoir, you should not be either. You will make Renoir your home, and you will banish the Bigods from your memory."
"I do not know how. I am always afraid."
"I shall tell you a secret I learned when I was held. Courage is not the absence of fear. It is using the fear to do the right thing. No one, not even Nicholas, is free of fear. It keeps us safe, but it can push us in ways we do not understand. Being fearful does not mean you cannot be brave. Everyone has fear. Do not let it take over your life."
"It sounds so simple when you put it as such," Isabel said. "Yet I am petrified when outside the walls of a castle. Even within, I am wary of those I do not know."
"’Tis normal, I suppose," Gemma said as she stood and pulled Isabel up with her.
"Not for me. ‘Tis too much to bear at times."
"You will soon be married and a mother, too," Gemma put her hand up and pushed Isabel’s hair from her eyes. "You will find the strength inside you when you least expect to find it. Of this I am sure. Do you fear Turstin?"
"Nay, oh nay," Isabel said, shaking her head once more. "I find him quite interesting. He is something of a dream, do you not think? Fair hair and eyes the color of, why, I have never seen a color like it. He is so tall and I think smarter than most. He is powerful and quick. When his eyes fall upon me, I find myself blushing…"
"So you find him handsome?" Gemma asked.
"So much so," Isabel said. "My stomach flops when he nears, and I find myself wondering what life with him will be like."
"And you hope your dreams of him will match the man he really is?"
"How did you know?" Isabel asked.
"Because, dear sister, I dreamed too. I dreamed of what could have be
en when Nicholas was lost to me when I was but twelve. I missed everything about him and played a game in my mind of what would have been if he had never left."
"And is life with him as wonderful as you imagined?" Isabel asked.
"Better," Gemma said. "So much better."
"I have not had time for such dreams yet."
"But you do not have to dream. He is here and you will soon be wed. Dreaming is fine, but living is what we were made to do. Live, Isabel. Not all those who marry fall in love, but some do. Do not be afraid of it, if it comes. Promise me."
Isabel took a deep breath and said, "I will at least try. Beginning today, I will try."
****
Soon after eating, Turstin mounted Slash. Isabel had agreed to accompany him without argument, and the men Nicholas had promised were ready and waiting. He could find no fault with how Blackstone operated, and he found no fault with his bride-to-be as well. This was not the headache he had envisioned, but there was plenty of time for this family to reveal their true character.
He fiddled with his dagger and tapped the hilt of his sword as he glanced around. It was time to go. Turstin was anxious to be on with his life. Instead of a family home to return to, he had roamed with his father, doing the bidding of the king in Normandy. Now he yearned for roots and a family, things that had been ripped from his life when he was but a boy.
Turstin beckoned to Isabel, and they set off toward the gate. Twenty of Nicholas’ men were with them. The girl, Constance, had shown interest in seeing Renoir but had then begged off, choosing a nap instead. What a strange one she was, as was her father Lord Beret.
"Come," Turstin said to Isabel, "ride with me." She caught up easily as they left the drawbridge and rode west. "You must know the way."
"I have only been to Renoir once, milord," Isabel said. "’Twas when I was young. You should have Matthew lead if you do not know the way."
"Matthew!" Turstin shouted. One man moved forward.
"Milord?"
"Lead the way to Renoir, please. I fear I do not know the proper route. I sent my men along the river to find it, but I do not know this land."
