by Amy Mullen
"I do not know. Why Turstin, there is plenty of space for a dinner outdoors in the orchard near the stock pond."
"Do you not trust I can care for you, milady? Trust in me, for there is nothing I would not do to see you are well and happy."
"I just cannot…"
"I know you fear what lies out in the world beyond the walls of your home, but ‘tis no way to live. Please, spend the day with me."
"I will," she said finally. "I will see to it."
"You have brightened my day," he said in a low voice as he lifted her hand to his lips. He brushed her soft, warm skin with his lips and abruptly left to find Nicholas.
It did not take long. Nicholas had been told that Turstin had returned early and had been looking for him. Turstin heard Nicholas’ footsteps behind him before he could take more than five steps away from Isabel.
"You have returned early."
"Aye," Turstin said, barely able to hide his irritation. This man was everywhere he went.
"Do you have troubles at Renoir?"
"Nay, just delay. I fear I was rather eager to get on with the restorations and greatly underestimated the time it would take. The mason I hired has been delayed yet again, trying to finish up a rather large renovation in London. Without him, the wall cannot go up correctly. I thought more stone would be available, but the quarries are running behind. My men are working so well there is naught for me to do this day. I thought I might return and spend the day with Isabel."
Nicholas’ cheeks puffed for a moment, and then he let out a long, slow breath through his mouth. "I see. She seems to like you, so I have no objections."
"She seems to like me?" Turstin repeated with a chuckle. "And if she did not? Would you play the doting relative and slice me from navel to nose in protest, should I demand what the king has given me so freely?"
"’Tis not what I meant. I hope your demeanor with Isabel is much better than it is with the rest of us. I do not understand you."
"You do not have to. I have already expressed my wishes for a day beyond the walls. Isabel has agreed, and Gemma has given her blessing. We are taking Matthew and his wife with us, as well as a few men. Do you wish to have a say?"
"Nay," Nicholas said. He remained calm but Turstin could tell he was upsetting the elder knight, and it pleased him.
"There is something else. The girl, Constance from Tenwick, was quite upset a few moments ago. She was crying and filthy. I swear she said she had been lost or stuck in a tunnel. Your wife asked me to relay the information to you."
Nicholas’ head snapped up. "Tunnel? Are you sure she said 'tunnel'?"
"I thought that was what she said. She came up behind me as I was walking through the arch to go into the inner bailey, but from where she came, I cannot say."
"There can only be one place. She would have to have been near the north wall, by the gate. The tunnel leaving Blackstone has been closed for a long time. She has to have been mistaken."
"Is that the only tunnel?" Turstin asked. He already knew, of course, as it had been on the map of Blackstone they had found in the chest. How open would Nicholas be?
"No, there is one from the nursery to the north wall and tunnels that run along the north and east walls. The first is sealed, and the others are wide open; one could hardly be lost or stuck in them. I will have to see to it."
"I will assist you," Turstin said. He was curious about these tunnels. The images in his mind played out a delightful yet dreary scene of a young Gemma escaping in the night to see Nicholas, an event which had broken his Uncle Phillip’s heart.
"No need."
"I insist."
"Very well," Nicholas said over his shoulder as he marched through the outer bailey toward the north wall.
Turstin caught up and said nothing as they walked. The outer bailey was a hive of activity, yet Nicholas seemed to notice little of it. Blackstone was large, and Turstin took note of all of it. Renoir was small, but he was going to change that. To have such a home…
Nicholas stopped at the tower near the front gate and took a torch from the wall. They then entered a large tunnel, one Turstin had seen before. It ran along the north wall. Its purpose was unknown to him, but it seemed an obvious and safe passage to the gate from the northwest tower of the outer curtain wall.
The light from the torch cast eerie shadows along the stone wall as they walked. Nicholas came to a stop so quickly that Turstin nearly ran him over. Before them were stones and broken bits of mortar lying in the path. Someone had broken through and had torn down half of the stone wall erected to close off that end of the tunnel.
Nicholas stepped over the stones and peered into the passageway. The steep steps went down along the wall and then made a sharp turn to go below the moat. They could see only the top steps and a bit of the far wall from the light of the torch. Neither made a move to traverse it further.
"I will send someone out to be sure the entrance outside the walls is still closed. A large boulder was used and has since been overgrown, so no one can find it unless they know exactly where it is. I am not worried, but it seems Constance has gotten herself into a bit of an adventure."
"I cannot fathom it. Why would she pry open this tunnel? ‘Tis a tunnel with a dead end. How would she know of it?" Turstin forgot his irritation with Nicholas for a moment as he pondered Constance’s actions. There was something off with the girl, and it worried him.
"’Tis possible Isabel has told her the story of the hidden passageways within Blackstone. Mayhap the girl was curious."
"I find it hard to believe she could pry these rocks loose on her own."
"Aye, I agree. I can think of no one who would help her. That boy Ronan has come with her from Tenwick, but his job is to protect her, not help her get into trouble."
Turstin kicked at a rock with his toe. "The mortar has crumbled. ‘Twas poorly made and needs to be replaced."
"I will have my men reseal it at once," Nicholas said with an edge in his voice. "This was sealed off with all due haste. ‘Tis time for more secure measures to be taken, even if I have to find a way to destroy it."
"If it runs under the moat you might dig down and flood it."
"I tried that. The passageway is well-built. I could not break the stone. Unless I drained the entire moat first, I could not find a way to do it. I will think of something."
Turstin stepped back and studied the entrance to the tunnel. The past was never as far away as he would like it to be. This made the story too real, and his anger rose again. Had Phillip not been so besotted with Gemma, he might still have a family in one place. He might have known more of his homeland of England. Mayhap things would have been different.
But they were not different. Hastily, he stepped away from the tunnel and Nicholas. He had Renoir now, but was it the same? Better? Worse?
It was time to go. Turstin hoped Isabel would be ready soon, and Slash would be rested enough for the ride. He needed to get out of Blackstone before his hatred baited his tongue into saying something that might turn Isabel from him.
She had become everything—a woman worth forgetting the past for. He thought of her as a young girl and the fear she must have felt, no matter who was at fault. Her sister had been ripped from her when she had no one else to care for her. The tightness in his chest told him this was more important than wondering what might have been.
She was here; she was real, and he was pleased. Their life together would be interesting. They got along splendidly. What else did he need to know?
Chapter Ten
Isabel’s thoughts were torn in two directions. She rode beside Turstin, with Adela and Matthew behind them, and tried to relax and enjoy the beautiful day. Her excitement at a day with Turstin was dimmed by the odd behavior Constance had been exhibiting.
"’Tis obvious I will not get your attention until we talk about Constance," Turstin said.
"I am so sorry. I do not understand her anymore. She was always a bit different than me, but I cannot imag
ine why she was digging around in the tunnels of Blackstone. Even worse, I have no idea why she would want to."
"She is not curious in nature?" Turstin asked as he guided his now rested destrier around a thick briar patch.
The woods were cool and damp, a refreshing change from the heat of the sun when riding out in the open. Isabel drew in a deep breath to relax her nerves.
"She has always been so proper. Granted, she kept odd hours at Tenwick, but she did not sleep all day like she does now. She avoided any activity that would leave her dirty. You might say she preferred to be indoors."
"Then digging around in hidden tunnels is unlike her."
"Aye, you could most definitely say that." Isabel shook her head slightly. Behind her, Adela and Matthew chatted openly, obviously happy to be free of duties for a while.
"And do Nicholas’s men-at-arms sleep on the job?"
"Pardon?" Isabel said, her eyes widening.
"They have not noticed her odd behavior?"
"They have. I am certain they would report to Nicholas at once should something else happen."
Turstin grunted. She glanced over at him. His forehead was creased, and he wore a frown she did not understand.
"However," she continued as the trees thinned and the horses found better footing, "I feel guilty leaving her and spending the day with you."
"How did she know about the tunnel? I would guess your family does not speak of it often."
"Nay, we do not," Isabel said. "I have told her about the tunnels, though."
"Indeed?"
"Aye, I told her the story of how Nicholas and Gemma met. I find that romantic. ‘Twas as if they were destined to be one."
"You believe in destiny?"
"Of course," Isabel said. "At least for them. I once asked Gemma if she believed in love, and she said it was for other people. ‘Twas interesting to see how wrong she was. They are happy."
This time Turstin snorted, and Isabel jumped at the sound. "The perfect little love story. How lovely for them."
"You dislike them. I am confused. Do you know them from somewhere? I cannot say I have ever seen you before."
"Nay, I did not meet them before now. I have heard enough."
"Enough? Enough about what?"
"How she led poor Phillip Bigod around in circles for years. She denied his hand, and her father let her. All the while she was flirting with Nicholas in the woods at night, caring not for the heartache she caused."
The trees ended, and a long field appeared before them. Had they gone toward London, they would have come to the village under Blackstone’s protection. This land was open, and Isabel had no idea who controlled it. A small village appeared in the distance. Turstin slowed his horse as they followed a hedgerow and a small stream as they continued north. Isabel tried to enjoy the countryside, but Turstin’s words made her angry.
"Gemma never cared for Phillip. I know my sister well. If he approached her about marriage, she was clear about her intentions. Father did not make her marry Phillip, so mayhap he thought it a bad match. Nay, I know my sister. She never would have said anything to give him false hopes."
"I do not see any Bigod as hopelessly besotted with a woman he could not have. Phillip could have moved on to another."
"But he did not," Isabel insisted. Why was he being so stubborn, and why did he care so much? The Bigods were long gone. How would he know anything about the family?
"We’ll stop here," Turstin said. The stream had narrowed. Sheltered by a small copse of trees was an idyllic spot near the water. An inn was a short ride away. "Matthew, could you ride to the inn and ask for a few skins of wine?"
"I will," Matthew said. Turstin tossed him a small pouch. Adela rode with her husband across the field toward the inn, but the soldiers with them stayed where they were.
"Why do you care so much?" Isabel risked angering him, but she did not care.
"I care about injustice."
"But you are so angry over people you do not know and a story you do not understand."
"Did it occur to you, sweet Isabel, that you may be one-sided in your thoughts? You would stand by your sister no matter what actually happened."
"’Tis not true," Isabel said, jumping down from Rose. She led the horse to the stream and wrapped the reins around a small branch so the horse might have a drink. Behind her she heard Turstin’s feet hit the ground and his footsteps as he neared her. Her spine straightened, and she was overwhelmed with confusion. He had seemed overly formal with her family, but she did not dream his feelings ran so deep.
"Isabel, my dear. Please turn around," he said. He was near and her stomach rolled, much as it always did when he was so close. Slowly, she faced him, unsure of what to feel or what he would do next. "You do not have to understand why I feel as I do, but you will one day see."
"However do you hope for a happy union between us when you feel as you do?" she asked, feeling as if she could cry on the spot.
"We can be happy. We like each other, do we not? I enjoy spending time with you, and I trust you feel the same? I have not noticed any resistance on your part to the time we spend together."
"I like you, Turstin, very much," Isabel said. "But how could you ever grow to love me if you despise the family from which I come?"
"I see," Turstin said. He motioned to a log behind them. "Sit."
She obeyed, but only because her legs had begun to shake. ‘Twas as if a new side of Turstin had emerged, and everything was upside down.
"I hope I have not misled you," he said as he sat heavily beside her. He adjusted his sword so he could sit facing her. "I have found you to be most delightful. You are beautiful and intelligent, and I have yet to find anything about you I do not like. You are easy to speak with, and you always have something interesting to say. I think we shall have a great life together."
"I feel the same," she said in a small, tired voice.
"But love is not something I see room for in my life. We can have a family and spend our lives raising our children together, but I am not sure I can love."
"What?" she asked. This was even more confusing than a conversation with Constance.
"I wish I could make you understand. I had no family to rely on. I only had my father. When he died, ‘twas the most painful experience of my life. I do not wish to feel that again."
"But children need love. You will not love our children?"
"That is different. I am most sure I will love them."
"But I am not worth loving, then?"
"This has nothing to do with you. I told you that from the beginning, when we first met at Tenwick, remember? My troubles are my own, and they are not of your making."
Isabel fell silent. She had nothing to say which would help. Her heart was breaking as she had already begun to fall in love with him. A life with that love, without him returning those feelings, seemed bleak and desolate.
"Do not frown so," Turstin said, lifting her chin gently with his fingers. "I am quite fond of you. I will protect you and cherish you as the mother of my children. I will never harm you nor expect more from you than you can give. Can that not be enough?"
Isabel nodded. There was nothing else she could say, and she would not allow him for one moment to know the pain he had just caused. "I want you to try harder with my family. If you want us to live in peace, I must know you do not hate them."
"I do not hate them," he said. "Now that I have Renoir, I am at peace with some of my past."
"But they have nothing to do with your past," Isabel said.
"I wish I could explain, but I cannot. Not yet, anyway."
"I wish to dispense with the mystery," Isabel said as she saw Matthew and Adela approaching. "Be out with it."
"When the time is right. When the time is right," he said. "Let us enjoy the rest of our day, shall we?"
****
As they returned to Blackstone, Turstin breathed a sigh of relief. Isabel had stayed mute about the conversation they had had earlier. It
pained him to see the disappointment on her face. Many maidens dreamed of a husband and a deep abiding love, but he did not know how to love her like that. His interactions with Nicholas earlier in the day had reminded him of why his life had been such a mess. Turstin had protected his heart thus far and would continue to do so. He must honor his disgraced family, even if he was no longer sure what had actually happened all those years ago. Right or wrong, however, it had driven him well thus far, and he saw no reason to let it go.
Isabel’s silence was short-lived. The moment Blackstone appeared in the distance, she spoke calmly and evenly.
"Have you given any more thought to my request? About removing the tower in which Gemma was once held?"
He had been straight with her thus far and had already upset her, so he saw no need to hold back. "I have considered it, and I do not want to do it."
"Oh," Isabel said. He could hear the disappointment in her voice, and it tugged at his heart, but he had to remain firm.
"We have too much to do to Renoir so we may move there the day we wed. I wish to keep Renoir as it was, other than expanding the castle grounds by building the new outer curtain wall. I hope you understand."
"I did not know you were so dark, Turstin."
"Dark?"
"Aye, you live in the darkness—the darkness of the past."
"And you do not?"
Isabel fell into silence again. Today had not gone as he had hoped. It was his own fault, but he did not want her to hold on to false hopes. Yet inside he felt an ache he did not understand. He had hurt her, and it did not feel good. Honesty had always been important to him, but now, he was not so sure it was the right choice on this day.
They rode through the gate, and Isabel trotted ahead to the stables without as much as a glance in his direction. It was as if an icy wall had formed between them, and she had nothing left to say to him.
So much for having at least one ally within the walls of Blackstone. For a moment he regretted his choice to have Oswin stay at Renoir. The work needed to be done and soon, so he would have to fend for himself in Isabel’s home without a friendly face.
