Her Darkest Knight

by Amy Mullen

  Next, he had to see Nicholas. Turstin was not looking forward to it, but he had to admit he needed help, and there were only so many who could be of assistance. He alit from his destrier and handed the reins to Matthew without a word.

  Turstin found Nicholas near the archery butts with his son Miles. The moment Nicholas saw Turstin coming, he told Miles to run off and ready for supper. The boy obeyed after offering a small wave to Turstin. He tore off across the bailey as only a boy with the energy of his age could do.

  "What can I do for you?" Nicholas asked as Turstin neared.

  "Why do you assume I need something?" Turstin asked.

  "Because you have made it clear you care not for me, so I know this is not a social call to report on how your day went."

  "Fair enough," Turstin said. "Aye, I need help. I only ask for Isabel’s comfort."

  "What is it?" Nicholas asked. "Is she well?"

  "She is fine. I hoped to have Renoir ready for our wedding night so we might start our marriage in our home. I have overestimated the job. I need assistance. I can pay whatever you need if you have people who might be spared long enough to help."

  Nicholas was silent for so long Turstin feared he would say no. He could find help elsewhere, but it would be harder. At least here he knew Nicholas and Gemma would care enough for Isabel to make sure things were done right.

  "What do you need?" Nicholas asked. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and scratched the back of his neck.

  "I need help to finish furnishing the solar. The dais and the trestle tables are well underway, but we have nothing for our private quarters. Bed, chests, linens, I need them all. Can you spare the help I might need? I have hired a few women from London, but they cannot do it all on their own. The kitchens are running, but I have no cook. I only have someone temporarily. More people are coming with my next shipment of supplies, but it will not be done in time. I wish to wed as soon as the banns have been cried, which gives us little time for the amount that must be done."

  "I have wood, but I do not have stone," Nicholas said.

  "My order is placed with the quarry. The outer wall will take time and is not the main concern. The current wall is sound. Stone is not the problem."

  "I can send my carpenter and his sons. There are a few chambermaids who are skilled with the needle, but I do not know the extent of their skills. Gemma would know. You can use them, if you wish, so long as they are treated well. If you need linen, it is easy enough to find."

  "I am grateful," Turstin said. Swallowing his pride was not as hard as he thought it might be, though he knew he was now in Nicholas’s debt. "I might also make use of your candle maker, and I have no issues with coin to pay for the goods."

  "I’ll see to it," Nicholas said. "Is that all?"

  "Aye."

  "It is settled then. I shall see you at supper," Nicholas said as he headed toward the great hall.

  Turstin gulped and held up his hand. "Nicholas."

  The other man stopped and faced him. "Aye?"

  "Thank you," Turstin said.

  "That must have hurt," Nicholas said with a chuckle. "Thankfully, I would never rub it in. I am not the hothead I was in my youth."

  Chapter Eleven

  Isabel ate in silence. She replied to questions with as few words as possible and asked to be excused as soon as she was done. Turstin stared at her but did not address her. She ignored him completely.

  Her heart was aching in a way she had never known possible. Isabel’s fears about being outside the walls now seemed silly. She should have been worried about her heart instead.

  She took the stairs to the solar two at a time and raced to the privacy and security of her chambers. Then she excused her chambermaid and fell upon her bed. So much had changed in such a short time, and now life did not seem to be unfolding as she thought it would just a week ago.

  Turstin did not have her heart yet. Or at least she did not think so, but she knew it was only a matter of time before she was more in love with him than he would ever be with her. Did he not know how hurtful his words had been? How could he say he would never love her?

  "Isabel, you have to tell me what is going on." It was Gemma.

  Isabel groaned and rolled over on her stomach. For the first time in her life, the last thing she wanted to do was talk to her sister. She was embarrassed. Turstin did not think her worthy of love. It stung. Even worse, there was nothing she could do to stop herself from falling in love with him. How could he just stop any emotions from forming when she could not?

  "I do not wish to talk."

  "Did you have a bad time with Turstin?" Gemma asked.

  "You could say so," Isabel mumbled into her coverlet.

  "Sit up now," Gemma said. "I do not have much time. I need to help Hesse get the children to bed, and you must go see Constance. She has been a mess all day and would not speak to me of any of it."

  "I never should have left today. I should have stayed with her," Isabel said with a catch in her throat.

  "What happened to you?" Gemma asked, sitting on Isabel’s bed.

  Isabel rolled over and sat up, a tear falling from her green eyes. "If I tell you, will you leave me be?"

  "Of course," Gemma said. "I won’t like it, but I will."

  "He said he will never love me. Can you imagine? I know married people often do not know love, but to push it aside without even finding out if it is possible? How can he say something like that to me?"

  Gemma clasped her hands in her lap and stared down at them for a moment. Isabel sat mute.

  "He has no say in the matter," Gemma finally said.

  "It does not matter. The damage is already done."

  "He already has your heart?" Gemma asked in a gentle voice.

  "I do not know what I feel," Isabel said with a shrug.

  "Put a smile back on your face," Gemma said. "He has no idea what he is talking about. You see, we do not choose who we love or if we love or not. We just do."

  "He does not seem to think so."

  "He does not know of what he speaks. Believe me, I know."

  "What do you mean?" Isabel said, her interest renewed.

  "I vowed never to marry. I vowed never to love. When Nicholas was sent by the king, I married him for the sake of my family but swore I would never love him."

  "But you did, I mean, you do."

  "Aye, because one cannot control the heart. Turstin may be trying to protect himself from some past hurt, but that does not mean he knows he will never love you. I think he is already well on his way. He simply does not know it yet."

  "I do not know if I care either way now. I will just have to accept it for what it is. We get along well. That might be enough."

  "It might be," Gemma said, "but ‘tis far too early to tell. Do not harden your heart just yet, dear sister. Not yet. Give it and him time."

  "I shall try. ‘Tis not even his declaration of not being able to love that bothers me most. I asked him to remove the tower you were held in. He said he would think about it, but he told me today he would not. He wants to keep Renoir as it is for some reason. ‘Tis one thing he could do to make my transition there easier, and he does not care."

  "Oh Isabel, please do not let that come between you," Gemma said, reaching out for Isabel’s hand. "I told you I do not care about Renoir, and I want you to feel the same. Remember—stone and wood. That is all it is."

  "I shall have to sleep on it," Isabel said.

  "Good." Gemma squeezed her hand and then let it go. She stood then bent to plant a kiss on Isabel’s forehead. "You sleep. But first, see Constance. She left the dais soon after you and went to her chambers. Mayhap you can get her to speak about what is bothering her. If she does not show some signs of normalcy, I will send her back to Tenwick. I cannot risk something befalling her or someone else while she is here."

  "I understand," Isabel said as her sister left the room and headed for the nursery. Isabel waited until the swish of her sister’s skirt and the
pad of her slipper-clad feet faded away before making her way in the other direction to the small quarters now occupied by her friend.

  She stepped gingerly into the arched doorway and stopped when she heard voices. Hushed whispers and a muffled sob came from the dark room. Isabel took a few steps backward, out into the passageway. Indecision clouded her mind. Should she go in? Who was in there? Was Constance in trouble, and if she was not, who did she know well enough to sit with in the dark in her personal chambers?

  Taking a few more steps, Isabel stood at the top of the stairs that went down the great hall. She still did not know what to do. Constance had been acting erratically since she had come to Blackstone, and now Isabel feared she had spent so much time thinking about her own upcoming marriage she had missed the distress her friend was in.

  Before a choice had to be made, angry footsteps came down the passageway, and a tall form rushed past her and down the steps, ignoring her as he brushed past.

  Ronan! He had been with Constance in her dark room. There was nowhere else he could have been. The guest chambers were at the end of the passageway, and there was nowhere else to go.

  This should have been a quick visit, but now Isabel straightened her shoulders and stiffened her resolve. She would not leave Constance on this night until she learned the truth about what Constance had been doing and what was bothering her so much. There had to be an explanation for her odd behavior, and it was time to find out what was happening.

  Isabel tiptoed to Constance’s door once more. She peeped in to see her friend lighting a candle. "Constance, how are you?" she asked.

  Constance jumped as her hand flew up to her chest. "Oh! You frightened me."

  Isabel watched her friend scurry to the hearth. Constance picked up an iron rod and poked away at the logs. "’Tis dark in here. I meant to sleep but could not. I was going to come find you before you were abed."

  "I see," Isabel said. "Can I visit with you here instead?"

  "Oh, of course," Constance said. "I am tired but I would love a chat. Mayhap I can clear my mind so I might sleep."

  Isabel stepped quickly to the bed and sat down, inviting her friend to sit next to her. Once she did, Isabel could see the dark circles under her eyes and the moisture still clinging to her eyelashes as if she had just had a good cry.

  "Was Ronan just here? Did he upset you?"

  Constance froze for a moment before she replied. She dipped her head down so Isabel could not see her face. "Aye, he was checking on my well-being, ‘tis all."

  "Is there a reason he should be concerned? Will he report to your father?"

  "Nay, I do not think so. He just advised me to use more caution. He said I was foolish today, and he would see me home, if he felt I was in danger. His duty, after all, is to my father."

  "I was told you were in the tunnel. Whatever were you thinking?" Isabel said.

  "I knew you would be upset. Is Gemma terribly angry? She came to see if I was well, but she did not say much. If she was mad, she did not show it. I did not know what to say to her."

  "She is probably wondering what you were doing, as am I. That tunnel had been sealed off. I told you about it, but I never thought you would want to see it for yourself."

  Constance shrugged. "I was overly curious. The story is so romantic, the one you told me. Gemma slipping away in the night to meet Nicholas."

  "I could understand you wanting to see it, but to pry the rocks from the entrance and go within? That does not sound like something you would do."

  "I know." Constance stared down at her fingers. "I pressed against a stone and ‘twas loose. I asked Ronan to find me a stick, and the stones fell away easily, once I pried at the mortar. Half of it just fell around my feet."

  "So you went in?"

  "Aye. I asked Ronan for a torch, but he had left, or he was ignoring me. I stepped within, and I tumbled down the steps. When I landed, a stone had rolled after me and pinned my foot against the lower step."

  "Oh!" Isabel said, her eyes widening.

  "’Tis fine now," Constance said as she slowly lifted the skirt of her kirtle. "’Tis only a few bruises. Gemma assured me ‘twas not broken."

  Isabel stared down at the large, irregularly shaped purple blotch on her friend’s calf. "Does it hurt?"

  "’Tis a little sore. I can walk, so that would mean I am fine," Constance said as she dropped the skirt and finally met Isabel’s gaze. "Right?"

  "I suppose," Isabel said. She did not believe the story her friend had just told her. Isabel had never known Constance to want to dirty a finger, let alone dash headlong into a tunnel that had been sealed for ten years. "I wish you would tell me what is really going on. I am your friend. You can trust me. Gemma will send you home if she fears you are not well or are in some type of danger. I do not want that to happen. I hope you will be here to see my marriage begin before you go back to Tenwick."

  "She cannot send me back. Oh please, Isabel, do not let her send me home just yet."

  The frantic tone in Constance’s voice alarmed Isabel.

  "Why, there could be potential matches who would come to see you wed. My father will be here. Mayhap he will find a husband for me."

  "But you were in no hurry to marry," Isabel said. The girl was not making any sense. "You rejected three, remember? And I fear that is a lot of pressure to put on just one day."

  "I was hasty," Constance said. "I should have accepted one of them. I thought mayhap the king would offer a better match."

  "Constance." Isabel took her friend’s hand. “The king does not make a match unless he needs to. He cannot possibly arrange marriages for all the young ladies of England and Normandy. He would have time for nothing else. ‘Tis up to your father, unless the king sends word otherwise."

  "I must not be as important as you, then. The king has sent your husband and has ignored me."

  "It does not mean anything. It does not make me special."

  "Oh, but you are special, aren’t you?" Constance said with an arrogant tone Isabel had heard before but had never been directed at her. "You and the handsome Turstin, wed at the king’s command."

  "King Henry…"

  "I know, I know," Constance said as she stood and crossed the room. She spun around and then leaned up against the wall and stared at Isabel. "You have already told me. What I don’t understand is why you still want to marry him. He will hurt you, Isabel."

  "How do you know this?" Anger rose in Isabel as she clenched her fists at her sides. "What do you know of Turstin that I do not know?"

  "He wants Renoir, not you. He would marry anyone for Renoir."

  "Of course he does. Who would not want such a gift from the king?"

  "Once he has secured the contract on your wedding day, he will cast you aside."

  "That is a terrible thing to say!" Isabel exclaimed, her voice loud. A tremor of doubt coursed through her. He had told her he would not love her. Constance seemed sure he would hurt her. Everything was upside down.

  "He will."

  "How do you know this?"

  "I know. I know more about men than you do."

  Isabel’s shoulders began to shake as her friend stared at her. She willed the tears not to come. Not only had Turstin told her not to expect too much from him, her friend was acting as if she were someone else entirely.

  "Do not cry," Constance said, her voice softer now. "’Tis not your fault. You are a simple girl, and you cannot help what you do not know."

  "Simple. I am simple?" Isabel said, her voice barely audible.

  "In a good way. You will make someone a wonderful wife. Turstin is not good enough for you, and your life will be the stuff of nightmares. You must get out of your betrothal."

  Isabel stood abruptly and glared at Constance. "You keep saying that, but you have yet to offer me one good reason. You call me simple, and that may be, but what about you? You sleep all day. You do not eat. You are out at night digging in long-forgotten tunnels. What is happening? What are you not telling me?"


  "I am tired now. I wish to rest. Please leave me be, Isabel," Constance said.

  "Of course." Isabel glanced one last time at her friend and then hurried to her own bed. She would not sleep, but she could be alone. Right now, all she wanted was to be alone.

  ****

  Turstin stood atop the outer curtain wall overlooking the River Thames. Those silent, pitch-black waters ran still. He could not see all the way across as the sun had set to the west, and the light from the moon was dimmed by low, billowing clouds. The world around him hummed with the sounds he had grown accustomed to.

  Today had been a mistake. He had hurt Isabel, and he had lied. To love Isabel was not that far out of the question. She carried herself with a quiet dignity he found utterly appealing. Her beauty haunted him as he tried to sleep each night, yet she seemed oblivious to the effect she had on him. Isabel was smart and carried a hope for everything to end well for everyone. His problem was he did not want to love her, but he did not know if he could stop it.

  The pain in her eyes had been like a stab in the heart. For now, though, he would let it stand. The conflict in his mind stood between them. His family had suffered because of hers. He did not hold her accountable, but she was still the sister of Gemma de Vere.

  Memories of his uncle Phillip were dim. The man had been quiet and did whatever his father asked of him. Hugh Bigod, Turstin’s grandfather, had been harsh, but Turstin had always assumed this was his way of controlling his family. Phillip was like him, but that was all Turstin could remember. When Turstin had left for Normandy with his father, it would be the last time he saw anyone in his family. News had traveled quickly, and when Turstin was fourteen, he had heard the stories.

  What he did not understand was how his uncle could pine for a woman for as long as he did. It could not have happened, unless Gemma had given him reason to believe she would one day wed him. Yet the Gemma he now knew was a straightforward and kind woman. Nicholas had taken Turstin’s grumpy moods in stride and did not seek to delay the marriage. He, too, was not as Turstin had imagined after hearing the story from across the sea.