by Amy Mullen
"I think I shall nap," Constance said as she stood and wiped dirt from the back of her skirt. "’Tis most tiring worrying for your safety when you will not heed my warnings."
Silently, Isabel watched Constance march away. Within a minute she shook her head and stood, filling the basket up with the food her guest did not eat.
"’Twas not my first!" Isabel heard someone shout from beyond the trees of the orchard. It sounded like her nephew, Miles. Picking up her basket, she walked quickly in the direction of the archery butts to see how he faired.
"I do not remember another, but I will have to take you at your word," Matthew replied with a chuckle.
"Miles? What is going on?" Isabel asked, trying to shake the strange conversation with Constance from her mind.
"I sank the arrow in the center three times in a row. Matthew does not believe I have done so before, but I have," Miles said, his face a thunderstorm of emotion.
"You take your skills most seriously, do you not?"
"Aye. I will be a knight one day, even fiercer than Father," Miles declared, dropping his bow to the ground beside him. "Matthew wants to hold me back."
"I want nothing of the sort," Matthew said. "I want you to care less for boasting, Miles. Understand that once you think you are the best, you stop trying. You should always keep trying to be better."
"’Tis good advice," Isabel said with a nod. "I have no doubt Nicholas would not have asked Matthew to assist you with your skills if he did not think ‘twas best for you. Matthew is not so bad now, is he?"
Miles grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. "Nay, he is not so bad."
Isabel put the back of her hand to her lips to hide a smile. Though Matthew had always been close to the family, he was closer to Miles than any of them. Gemma had told her of their growing relationship.
Oliver de Teoni had been her father’s seneschal. He had continued his duties even as Nicholas married Gemma and became lord, and after Blaise de Vere had passed. He was older now, and many of his duties had been passed on to Matthew, even though Matthew refused any official position other than man-at-arms within Blackstone. Oliver spent most of his days keeping books for Nicholas, and Matthew did the rest. It was Matthew who was entrusted with guiding Miles in fighting skills before the young boy would be sent for fostering.
"And how are your lessons?" Isabel asked.
Miles rolled his eyes. "Father Darius is going mad, I tell you."
"Miles! He is a man of God. You must not speak of him in such a manner."
"I meant well," Miles replied. "I mean his lessons do not make sense. He has not been himself for a while now. His lessons were boring when I started them with him, but now he prattles on in circles."
"I have heard a new priest will come to help him. Mayhap things will make more sense then."
"Mayhap, but I am to be gone for fostering soon. ‘Twill not matter to me. Sydney and Emme will have to put up with those dreadful lessons once I am gone."
"You will have lessons wherever you go," Isabel reminded him.
"I do not see the point," Miles said, picking up his bow again. He stared defiantly at Isabel. His face was a mirror of his father, and his hair was as dark and thick. Miles was already tall for his age. Though his eyes were the color of Gemma’s, they narrowed with the same expression Isabel had seen on her brother-in-law’s face many times before.
"I would have loved such lessons as a boy," Matthew said, shifting his weight from one leg to another. "Enjoy the advantages of living at Blackstone and work hard."
"Ugh," Miles said. "Can we continue, then?"
"I’ll leave you," Isabel said, stepping forward to place a kiss on the top of Miles's head. "You will be a strong knight one day, I know it."
The boy blushed as she walked away. Mayhap she would find her nieces and help them with their sewing skills, something she had never truly mastered on her own until recently. It would keep her busy until supper when Turstin would be back. She had already begun to miss him.
Chapter Nine
The next few weeks passed quietly. Life at Blackstone hummed along much as Isabel remembered, and she easily fell into a routine of helping her sister during the day and spending time with Turstin in the evening. He went to Renoir each day, but Isabel stayed behind, thinking she would only be in the way. Though he was tired each night, he made time for her.
They strolled at night, talking about whatever came to mind. He was easy to talk with and was always charming. Isabel fell deeper and deeper under his spell. All around her, life went on and wedding plans were made, but none of that sank in. Instead, she daydreamed about the brown of his eyes and the warm touch of his hand when it held hers. The sparkle in his eyes mesmerized her, and she found she would do just about anything to see him smile.
The only distraction was Constance. Her behavior was erratic, and Isabel was worried for her welfare. The last few weeks had been so puzzling, Isabel thought it was time to seek the council of her older sister. She sought out Gemma the moment Turstin departed for Renoir so she might speak with her in private.
She found her sister braiding Emme’s hair. Gemma motioned for Isabel to help with Sydney’s hair. Isabel obliged by sitting behind her giggling niece.
"Is something bothering you?" Gemma asked.
"How did you know?"
"You are my sister. You have worried me for years. I know your every mood," Gemma said.
"’Tis Constance. I worry about her. She sleeps all day, and I have seen her sneak out into the night upon many occasions. Ronan, the soldier who came with her, seems to be most concerned with guarding her, yet he is nowhere to be found when she darts out into the darkness. I cannot imagine what she might be doing."
"That is most interesting," Gemma replied as she tied a ribbon in her daughter’s hair. "I already know this. Nicholas brought the same concern to me."
"He has seen her?"
"He has," Gemma said and tucked a few rebellious stray hairs into the braid she had completed. "Our men have reported as much. She has not attempted to leave the castle, nor would she be allowed to do so."
"Where is she going? What is she doing?" Isabel asked as she, too, finished with the braid on the precious head before her.
Gemma shook her head. "I do not know. Girls, please find Hesse, and go with her for your morning lessons. She should be down the hall." Both girls let out groans but did as they were asked.
Isabel watched them scamper down the passageway. "They are so full of life."
"They both remind me of you," Gemma said as she sat closer to Isabel. "You were always a handful. You were full of life and mischief, and you never stopped exploring."
Isabel patted her sister’s leg and studied the nursery. The chamber was large and welcoming. This had been her room when she was younger and now belonged to her sister’s children. It had not changed much, other than the updated furniture. Thankfully, the tunnel that ran from the back wall down to the outer curtain wall had been sealed off long ago.
"What should I do about Constance?"
"I do not know. If you fear she is putting herself in danger, we must send her home."
"We cannot do that," Isabel said, wringing her hands together in her lap. "She will be so disappointed if she cannot be here when I wed Turstin."
"Are you sure about that?" Gemma asked, her voice gentle.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I have seen her near him when you are not around. I have heard her question you about his true intentions. It makes me wonder where her loyalties lie and what she is truly about. Why does she want to stay with us if she spends so little time with you?"
"She has always been a bit strange," Isabel replied. "She keeps odd hours at Tenwick, as well. It seems natural for her, and no one noticed or cared."
"Does she not have a betrothal to worry about?"
"Nay, she has turned down three matches presented to her by her father. She wishes to go to London so she may meet the king."
&nbs
p; "So he may find her a match?"
"I am not sure," Isabel said and bit her lower lip. "I cannot figure her out. I am not sure what she is hoping for."
"Well, Henry may send a match to her, but I do not think he will. He has been closely involved with us, but ‘tis up to her father to find her a suitable husband. Henry only does so when he needs something."
"I know. I do not think Constance understands that, or she feels she is worth a hefty bride price. I do not rightly know."
"Henry is busy. He remains at Oxford. Nicholas said not to expect him any time soon. He may feel everything is well, now that you are to marry Turstin."
"So, what should I do about Constance?"
"It depends on what worries you the most. Do you wish her to leave? Do you worry about her intentions toward Turstin? Do you feel you want her here or not?"
"She does not seem too keen on Turstin. She has said she feels he is not good enough for me, and his unknown past should be a reason for concern."
"And how do you feel?"
"I feel I am a lucky girl. That is what I feel."
"Truly?" Gemma said. Her eyes sparkled as she locked eyes with her sister. "Do you care for him then?"
"Oh, aye. He is, well, wonderful."
Gemma stood. "Let us walk outdoors and talk more. I must see Leda about tonight’s meal, and I have to see to the latest batch of candles. Will you come?"
Isabel stood and followed her sister. They went out through the great hall and into the morning sun. With her right hand, Isabel shielded her eyes as they adjusted. Before she could focus, she ran headlong into someone and fell backward into the grass with a soft thud.
"My pardon, milady," a voice said as a hand reached out to help her up.
"Ronan?" Isabel said as she stood.
"Aye."
"Please accept my apology. I did not see you there."
"Nothing is amiss," he said with a curt nod before entering the hall behind her without another word.
Gemma’s frown creased her forehead as she stopped to wait for Isabel. They walked slowly toward the kitchen but stopped in the middle of the inner bailey. The day was moving along in earnest. Male laughter rang out; the ting of a hammer striking an anvil echoed off the far outer curtain wall, and men-at-arms walked their well-worn paths atop the castle walls. All seemed as it should be.
"Stop here. No one can hear us, Isabel. If you have a concern about Constance or Turstin, please let it be known now. ‘Tis hard to know when someone is listening beyond a wall or a door, but here we might see someone before they can hear us. Speak now. Do you want Constance to leave?"
"Nay, I thought so, but I fear I might never see her again, should I send her away."
"Then you will have to ignore her odd behavior and trust that Nicholas’ men will keep her safe when she ventures out at night. And of Turstin?"
"I was telling you the truth. I am not sure I could be happier, Gemma." Isabel lowered her voice to a whisper. "I think I am growing most fond of him. I am considering venturing off to Renoir with him each day just so I might be near him."
"That sounds like love to me," Gemma said.
"But he does not seem to warm to you and Nicholas. It hurts my heart so. I am still trying to figure out how to live at Renoir and be happy. He considered my request to remove the tower you were held in, but I do not know if that will be enough. I do not know what to make of him at times."
"Do not worry about us. He will either like us, or he won’t. It will be lovely to have you living so near, but once you wed, your devotions must lie with him. I will be here for you, but this is something you must work out on your own with him. I do not know why he remains cold toward the rest of us, but so long as he treats you with kindness, and hopefully love, I will be at peace."
"I feel there is much I do not know. I know little of him, and he does not say much of his past."
"Then worry about your future. That is all there is. The past is done."
"Will I ever be as wise as you, Gemma?"
The elder sister laughed. "Come, let us visit with Leda and be on with our day. I am not wise, my dear—I just have more years behind me. It is not some secret to achieve. It just comes with time."
****
Turstin returned to Blackstone after spending only a few hours at Renoir. As the day progressed, he had grown tired of watching the others work, for there was only so much he could do. Curiously, his mind had latched onto a moment he had shared with Isabel the night before, and he could not concentrate. The renovations were going slowly, and he did not want to sit around to wait. It was discouraging, as he feared they might have to remain at Blackstone after they were married, which was the last thing he wanted to do. He could barely stomach being there each evening, Isabel being the only bright spot in returning.
Isabel.
What a lovely surprise she had become. He began to think King Henry must practice some sort of magic to have matched him with a woman who intrigued and stirred him in ways he never knew existed. The light touch of her hand drove him to distraction, leaving him to plead with God to speed up time so they could be wed right away. She was a divine distraction, and he welcomed each aspect of the marriage they would share.
Like her sister, Isabel had simple tastes, yet she radiated elegance. Her kirtles were made from simple colors and were largely unadorned, yet they seemed to melt upon her lovely body, showing each and every curve she had been blessed with. If he were not careful, he would be reduced to a nervous boy of years past, when a wink from a beautiful woman would induce a kind of panic only a young boy could understand. She was quickly becoming his obsession, and he was firm in his belief she was the perfect woman for him.
As he rode into the outer bailey, he hummed quietly to himself. Slash had been eager to run, so he had let him have his way. The destrier was now sweaty and tired and needed a good rubdown. Though he normally insisted on doing this task on his own, he would leave it to one of the stable boys. He wanted to see Isabel.
With hurried steps he handed off his destrier and headed for the great hall. He stopped short as he passed the arch in the inner curtain wall to see Gemma and Isabel engaged in intense conversation in the bailey. Isabel appeared worried, and her sister was squeezing her hand.
"What are you doing here?"
Turstin whipped around to see Constance standing behind him. Her face was tear-streaked, her kirtle wrinkled and dirty.
"What has happened to you?" he asked loudly, forgetting the sisters for a moment.
"I got stuck in the tunnel."
"The tunnel?" Turstin’s mind whirled. The tunnels, according to Isabel, had been sealed off long ago.
"Aye," Constance said. She glanced over her shoulder nervously and then dashed toward the keep before he could say another word.
Turstin decided against following her. She was not his mess—he would tell Gemma, and then it would not be his problem. He could not understand why Isabel insisted that the girl stay, but his future wife had a big heart. That was all the explanation he needed.
Neither Gemma nor Isabel noticed Constance, nor did they notice Turstin until he walked toward them with purpose.
"Turstin!" Isabel exclaimed, the surprise in her voice evident. "What are you doing here? Is everything well at Renoir?"
"Aye, all is well. The quarry is slow and we have run out of stone, not that we could do much with it now, anyway. Our stonemason has been delayed yet again. My men are so adept, they have left me nothing to do. ‘Twill take much longer than I had hoped, I fear. I grew weary of doing odd jobs there, so I thought we might have a day together."
"I will leave you then," Gemma said in a flat voice.
"Before you do," Turstin said and then paused, "there is something you should know."
"Aye?"
Turstin tried to look anywhere but at the beautiful woman. She was so kind and so protective of her sister and her family. He was having a hard time reckoning this flesh and blood version of Gemma with the one he
always thought a wicked temptress who had destroyed his family.
"’Tis about the girl, Constance."
Isabel and Gemma stared at each other oddly, but both waited for him to speak.
"She came past a few moments ago. She was dirty and upset. She said she was stuck in the tunnel."
"But that cannot be!" Isabel said. "They were sealed off when, well…they have been closed off for a long time now, nearly ten years."
"That is all I know," he said.
"Would you tell Nicholas what you have told me?" Gemma asked.
Turstin sighed. "Of course."
"My thanks."
"Isabel." Turstin faced his betrothed. "I have decided to stay here today, but I thought we could have a day out."
"Out?" she said and visibly gulped.
"Aye. Out."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Ask the cook for a packed meal. We can ride north. I would like a day without worry or work so we might relax together. We can take Matthew and his wife, if the lord agrees, and a few men, if he can spare them."
"But I should see to Constance. She must be frightened. What was she doing in that dreadful tunnel?"
"Gemma will see to her. What do you say? A short trip with me? We can discuss Constance further then, if you wish."
"But…"
"You worry for Constance, and you do not think you should go."
Isabel lowered her eyes. "Aye."
"Your sister will see to it. Do you doubt Gemma will care for her?"
"Nay. Gemma would never leave her in such a state."
"So then, we are free to enjoy our day?" Turstin asked. His voice was quiet.
Isabel’s eyes lit up. "That sounds fun, but is it safe? I mean, those men in the woods…"
"Those men in the woods dare not tangle with one of the king’s knights. They ran away as if they knew their mistake before they emerged from the woods. My scouts tell me all has been quiet lately. We have nothing to fear."
"You should go," Gemma said.
Turstin shot a look of disdain in her direction, and Gemma backed away. "I have work to do. Isabel, you have my blessing to go," she said. "Nicholas will be with Miles today, as his new sword is almost done, and he is eager to show his son how to use it. Matthew is free to go if you wish. Take as many men as you need."
