by Alexa Aston
“Where is your room?” Sir Ancel asked.
“Across the hall. I shared it with my mother.”
“Do you think you can see it, or would you rather wait?”
“I can. With you here. I don’t think I could go inside alone.”
He took her hand, his fingers warm as they held firmly to hers.
Margery led him across the hall and opened the door. She took a deep breath and stepped inside. Holding the candle high, she glanced around the room. It looked much as the solar did. The chest containing the few clothes she and her mother owned had been split apart. Nothing remained. It made her especially thankful that her mother insisted that she take the few pieces of jewelry with her. She realized the casket the jewels had been in was missing and wondered if the woman who’d belittled her mother had been the one to take it. Margery would never forget the sound of the woman’s grating voice and hoped, one day, she would be able to confront this serf and claim justice for her mother.
She looked at Sir Ancel, a deep scowl on his face. “It looks as if you have only the clothes on your back, my lady. And stained ones, at that.”
Margery glanced down to the kirtle Sarah had given her. The dried blood from the dying man who had clutched her covered the front. It would never come clean.
“My own clothes are underneath this,” she told him. “So I do have something to wear.”
“We should have had you remove this hours ago,” he said. “May I?”
She set the candle on the floor and allowed him to untie the borrowed cloak, which he tossed onto the mattress before he pulled the bloody kirtle from her. An odd quickening inside caused her breathing to become erratic.
He wadded up the kirtle. “You’ll need to burn this.” He looked down at her questioningly. “These are your clothes?”
Margery glanced down at her attire. “Aye, my lord.”
The knight shook his head. “These aren’t the clothes of a lady.”
She shrugged. “Lord Umfrey was tight with his coin. I made my clothes from the material that I could afford.”
He took her chin in his hand. A rush of warmth raced through her. “Then the first thing we do tomorrow is find something more suited for your position. I’ll send someone back to Billericay.”
“That’s not necessary, my lord, when so much needs to be done here. I can scrub floors in what I’m wearing now. In fact, I’ll keep this kirtle in order to work in it.” She reached out to claim it but he dropped it to the floor.
His hand slid away from her chin till it cupped her cheek. “You won’t be scrubbing floors, my lady. We’ll find servants to do that for you. Is there a village nearby? Mayhap you could accompany me as I hire servants to repair the inside of the keep.”
Margery gazed at him wide-eyed, butterflies exploding in her stomach at his touch. “But I have always scrubbed the floors, my lord. Tended the garden. Cooked all the meals.”
“You cooked all of the meals,” he said, his voice low and neutral in tone. But she heard something within it.
“Aye, though Sarah always helped with the cooking. ’Twas what was expected of me.”
“Highfield doesn’t have a cook?”
“Nay, my lord.”
His callused thumb tenderly stroked her cheek. “Then we will also hire a cook, as well as servants. And I’ll need to see if any of the serfs still remain on the estate. I would appreciate you accompanying me. You will know their names. They might be more willing to talk to me if you are present.”
“All right.” She barely got the words out. All she could think about was his touch.
His hand fell away.
“But this will all cost money, my lord. Quite a bit, I’m afraid. I haven’t a clue where Lord Umfrey kept his. Unless . . .” Her voice trailed off as she remembered the large chest she’d discovered inside the hidden passage. It had only been a few feet inside and would have been convenient for the nobleman to access it from the solar.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I think I may know where Lord Umfrey kept his coin. Do you remember I told you I hid in a secret passageway?”
“Aye. You said you entered it from the solar.”
Her excitement grew. “I found a chest inside. It was locked but I’m almost certain that it contained Lord Umfrey’s monies. I can show you.”
*
Ancel followed Lady Margery back down the stairs and across the great hall again. They went up a different staircase and entered the solar once more.
It upset him how she’d been made to dress and how Lord Umfrey and his sons had treated her. Instead of being a valued family member, Vivers had used her for manual labor, no better than a slave. And it sounded as if his elder son had thought to use Margery in an even more vile way.
He hadn’t realized he touched her until he became aware of her warm skin beneath his fingers. Ancel had longed to stroke the porcelain skin. Run his fingers through her rich brown locks. Even place his lips on hers.
No woman had ever affected him this way.
Was this how it started?
Ancel had a shining example of how love and marriage worked. His parents seemed more deeply in love with each passing year. He’d watched his cousins, Elysande and Avelyn, fall in love with good men. Growing up, he’d admired Cousin Raynor almost as much as his own father and Raynor had one of the strongest marriages Ancel had ever seen.
Even his own beloved twin, Alys, had wed a few years ago and now had children of her own. Even before they could speak when they were young, Ancel knew Alys’ heart. When she fell in love with Kit, Ancel sensed in his bones how utterly happy Alys was with Kit. The connection they had assured him how much love she felt for her husband.
Could he be as lucky as others in his family and find that kind of deep love and friendship with a woman?
With Margery?
When the king suggested that Ancel might marry Margery, he’d brushed off Richard’s spontaneous remarks. But now? The idea appealed to him.
For now, he would protect these new, odd feelings and continue to learn more about her as he accomplished what needed to be done at Highfield.
Margery went to a spot and knelt. “There was a tapestry covering it before but it’s gone now.” She touched the stone wall and began pushing against it. Suddenly, the stone moved back and she nudged it further.
“You have to crouch to enter,” she warned him and frowned. “You are so large, I’m not sure you’ll even fit, my lord.”
Raising the candle in front of her, she bent and ducked inside. Ancel followed her, understanding why she’d said what she had. The passageway was narrow and would restrict movement.
“Here it is,” she said.
He looked and saw the locked chest she’d described.
“I hadn’t seen it before. I had nothing to light my path. Later, when I had a candle, I was on the other side and never returned this way. I only came back to this door after the candle had burned out to unbar the door in case I needed to use it again.”
Ancel couldn’t imagine her feeling her way along somewhere she’d never been before, frightened and alone in the dark as bloodthirsty rebels murdered everyone Margery knew.
“I’m sure you are right and this is where Lord Umfrey hid his wealth. We can return later with a hammer and break the lock. I’d also like to explore this hidden passageway. Without my armor.”
He backed out of the passage and stepped into the solar. Margery followed, the candle almost at its end.
“We should return downstairs,” he told her. “I want to see how the men are doing with the burial plots and if the hunters have returned with game for us to eat.”
They went back to the great hall. Margery excused herself to right the kitchen.
“Have the soldiers bring whatever they caught to me so I can begin to prepare something for the men to dine upon. In the meantime, I’ll straighten this mess and see if I can locate more candles. If not, I will have to make some tomorrow.”
“After we go to the village and find servants to help you,” he reminded her, enjoying seeing the blush stain her cheeks as she remembered their trip to the village. “I’ll send the game to you as soon as it arrives.”
Ancel went outside and, after removing his armor, pitched in to help finish digging the graves for the dead, only stopping to send the soldiers who brought back game to the great hall.
One told him, “My name is Bartram, my lord. I am a fighting man but I know my way around meat. I would be happy to help Lady Margery. I can skin a few of the deer and the rabbits and help cut the meat up and get it on to roast or boil.”
“That would be much appreciated, Bartram.”
By the time the last body had been placed in the ground, Ancel was covered in dirt and sweat. He went with the others to wash at the troughs, scrubbing away as much grime as he could. It had grown late, the day passing from light to dusk and finally dark by the time the men adjourned to the great hall. The smell of roasting meat caused his mouth to water.
Bartram came to him. “The rabbit stew is ready, Sir Ancel. The deer will take longer. I can sit with it and turn the spit. We can partake of the venison in the morning.”
“It will be good to have food in our bellies for we will have a long day ahead of us,” Ancel told the soldier.
He watched as Margery doled out stew to the men. Many had brought their own bowls, so they didn’t run short. She apologized for not having her spices in order to season it properly but Ancel noted she’d added onions to the broth. He thought it tasted heavenly.
The men bedded down in the great hall once they’d had their fill. Ancel found Margery. She looked tired.
“Would you like me to escort you to the solar?” he asked.
“Why?” A puzzled look crossed her face.
“I thought it would be uncomfortable for you to sleep in the bedchamber you shared with your mother.”
“Oh. That is very thoughtful of you, Sir Ancel. It would distress me to be in my old room, though it will seem quite odd sleeping in the solar.”
“I also didn’t think it appropriate for you to bed down among the men.”
She nodded. “Then I suppose I should go upstairs.”
He escorted her up the staircase and stopped at the door.
Margery looked up. “I cannot thank you enough, Sir Ancel. You have my enduring gratitude.” She placed her palms against his chest and leaned on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Her warm lips against his skin stirred something deep within him.
Cupping her face, he said, “Call me Ancel.” Then he bent and pressed his mouth softly against hers for a brief moment.
“Goodnight, Margery.”
Chapter 9
Margery awoke, unsure of her surroundings and then remembered the events of yesterday. Her fingertips went to her lips and she relived the moment when Sir Ancel’s lips had brushed against hers.
She had never been kissed. Never come close to being kissed. It had ended before she’d even known it began.
But something more than a kiss had occurred between them. Of that Margery was certain.
She rose and pushed aside the jumbled thoughts that began flooding her mind. She had no time to think about the kiss now. She only wished she could have focused on it last night but once she’d scrunched up her cloak and placed her head against it, she’d fallen swiftly into a dreamless sleep. The past two days had been the most trying and eventful of her life and there was plenty of hard work ahead in order to restore a semblance of order to Highfield. Margery didn’t have the luxury of lying abed and thinking sweet thoughts of a handsome knight and his kiss.
It frustrated her that even the chamber pot had been stolen from the solar. She made her way to the garderobe, holding her breath while in the tight space. Hurrying away, she went downstairs and slipped through the snoring bodies in the great hall until she reached the kitchen. Surprisingly, Bartram had beaten her there. The soldier sat by a lone candle.
“Good morning, my lady,” he greeted in a soft voice. “You’re up and about early.”
“I usually am. I was used to baking bread before mass began each morning,” she shared.
One eyebrow shot up. “You were, were you? Hmm.”
He made no judgment aloud but Margery knew her words surprised the soldier.
“All the milled flour is gone,” she explained, “so I thought I would see what else was available to feed the soldiers.”
“The venison I’ve prepared will be enough for the men out there,” Bartram said. “I spoke with Sir Ancel. He told me that the two of you would go to the nearby village today and try to replenish the stores.”
“We need so many things,” she said ruefully. “The rebels ransacked the keep and took most anything not nailed down.”
“I found barrels of ale,” he said, “but no wine.”
She shrugged. “We can do without that. But I want to purchase as many chickens as I can, for their eggs and to eat the birds, as well. Sheep, too. And then we need flour for bread and tallow for making candles. And most certainly spices. I cannot cook without them. Nothing would be edible without spices.”
He chuckled. “Your list seems to grow longer and longer, my lady.”
“Good morning.”
Margery turned in the direction of the familiar voice. “Good morning, my lord.” Catching sight of Ancel had her heart pumping madly. His dark, thick hair was rumpled from sleep. She longed to run her fingers through it and tame it. Though the light was dim, she could see the bristles from his unshaven face and found them quite attractive.
“Does Father Martyn say mass each morning?” he asked.
“Aye.”
“Then I will be sure the soldiers are roused. After breaking our fast, I want to explore the castle’s defenses and set the men to repairing things. Once I’ve done that, I would like to escort you to the village. Is it far?”
“Kirkby lies a league or so west of Highfield but I’ve never been to it before.”
“I see.” His mouth set in a hard line.
Margery hated seeing him upset on her behalf, especially since her mistreatment lay in the past. “But I look forward to going there, my lord. I know we have many supplies to purchase.”
“What we can’t find there, we can send to Billericay if need be. Or even London,” he added.
The rest of the morning passed quickly for Margery. The soldiers rose and attended mass, which seemed shorter than usual to her. The morning meal was a success, thanks to Bartram’s handling of the spit. Though the meat could have used some salt, nevertheless it was tender and soon gone. Ancel put Bartram in charge of the hunting party that had gone out yesterday and told them to bring back as much meat as they could again. He also encouraged Bartram to continue with preparing the food until a cook could be found.
Good to his word, Ancel reappeared after a few hours, an ax in hand.
“The men are hard at work under Sir Folcard’s supervision. Right now, I want to return to the chest and see what Lord Umfrey kept inside it.”
He escorted her to the solar and Margery once again touched the wall until she felt it spring back. This time, Ancel went inside and dragged the heavy chest from the passageway. Using the ax, he slammed it against the lock until it broke. Removing it, he lifted the lid.
As Margery expected, Sir Umfrey’s gold had been hidden inside, along with many pieces of jewelry. It saddened her that her stepfather had never thought to gift her mother with a single bauble in all their years of marriage. A fresh wave of grief washed over her, knowing she would never see or speak to her beloved mother again.
“With this, we can easily replace whatever you feel is needed at Highfield and can hire enough workers to tend to the fields.” He removed several coins and slipped them into a pouch that he’d withdrawn from under his gypon. “As well as hire servants to clean and a cook.”
Margery shook her head. “I can do the cooking, especially with Bartram’s help, my lord. But it would be nice to have a few se
rvants to help with the rest.”
Ancel’s hand went to her face and brushed back a stray wisp of hair. “You are a lady, Margery. A noblewoman. Though Lord Umfrey never treated you as such, you are nonetheless deserving. You may help manage the chores but you will never have to do intense labor again—and that includes cooking. ’Tis the hardest work of all. Besides, Bartram is a soldier. Not a cook. He’s more valuable to me on the wall walk than in the kitchen.”
She forced herself to breathe as his hand lingered. “Whatever you think is best, my lord.”
His hand slid to her neck as his thumb brushed slowly against her bottom lip. “Ancel. Remember? At least when we are alone.”
“Ancel.” The word came out a whisper. She longed for his lips to touch hers once again but, without warning, his hand fell to his side.
He closed the chest and pushed it back into its hiding place. “When we return, mayhap even after the evening meal tonight, I want you to show me the whole of this secret passage. Where it goes. Where it ends.”
“All right,” she agreed reluctantly, not favoring being in the small space again.
Ancel led her to the stables and the stall where Storm resided. She watched as he saddled the horse and walked alongside the beast as he led Storm outside.
“I will teach you to ride soon, Margery. But for now, you can ride with me.” He placed her on Storm’s back and climbed behind her. His arms encircled her and she leaned back, a feeling of contentment filling her.
June was near its end and the weather was glorious, sunny with a slight breeze. The ride to Kirkby didn’t take long, thanks to the giant strides of the warhorse they rode. Ancel lifted her from Storm and asked her about everything she needed. Margery ran through her list, naming all the goods and livestock she thought would be required to get Highfield up and running so they could feed the soldiers.
“What about parchment and ink?” Ancel asked. “I must keep the king informed of the progress at Highfield and I would also like to write to my parents at Kinwick and let them know I am safe despite the recent uprisings.”
