Leona laughed. “You two! You're so alike sometimes it scares me. Not that I'm averse to a little marzipan, mind you. I could round off a good luncheon with that.”
They both smiled fondly at her.
When luncheon was over, Francis went to his chambers, where Yves had arranged for his clothes chest and saddle-pack to be brought. He opened the saddle-pack, drawing out the roll of documents, one with a seal attached.
“I should take these down to Father.”
He went to his father's study, a small room at the end of the second floor. “Father?”
“Come in, Son. Just checking the accounts before Yves comes in. Or he'll be casting his hawk's eye over them and see my mistakes. Good to have him back.”
Francis laughed. “Good. Father? I had the documents verified. Here they are.”
“Oh. Wonderful. Thank you, Son. If we could just keep them in this drawer here? Perfect. Next time old Malviers comes up with some creative story about his cattle straying, he'll get a surprise.” He chuckled.
Francis, remembering Yves and his suggestion about Malviers and the cattle, laughed. “Quite so.”
He felt reluctant to leave and lingered in the doorway, wanting to speak to his father.
“What is it, Son?” his father asked.
“Father? I wanted to tell you something. But I'm not sure how to start.”
“You're in love with the Lady Claudine?” his father inquired.
Francis stared at him. “H...how did you guess it?”
His father chuckled. “I was in love too, once.”
Francis nodded. “I know, Father. I see the love between you and Mother so much more clearly.”
“Well,” Conn ran a hand through his hair, the same reddish paleness as his son's own. “If you feel halfway the same to how I feel about your mother, it couldn't be better.” he gave a contented sigh.
This close, Francis could see the signs of his father's age – the carved wrinkles at the corner of his eyes from squinting into bright sunshine, the etched lines on his brow. There was gray in his hair and the skin of his cheek was looser than it might have once been. However, the softness in his eyes and his tenderness when he spoke of Leona was moving.
“I hope so,” he said.
His father chuckled. “I know so. Now. What's so worrying?”
Conn closed his eyes a moment. Where to begin? Her health. Her status. Her uncle. He sighed and lowered his saddle-weary body onto the cushioned stool across the desk from him.
“It's her health, mainly,” he confessed. “Mayhap Maman is right – a time in the country might help her. I wish she could have it.”
“You can always suggest it,” his father said gently. “It can't hurt.”
He chuckled. “I suppose.”
“Well, then. What else is it?”
“It's...” he sighed. “Her family, mainly. Her uncle. I don't...I don't like the way she's so disheartened by what he says.”
“What he says? About her?”
Francis nodded. “Maybe I'm being fanciful. Maybe he simply wishes to protect her – he is her uncle, after all. Even so, it feels to me as if he seeks to demean her. Make her believe she's helpless without him.”
His father sighed. “I don't know, Son. It could be. I mean, stranger things have happened. Mayhap the man just knows no other life than caring for his niece. He would want her to stay with him forever, then.”
Francis raised a brow. “It could be that simple,” he agreed. All the same, it didn't ring entirely true. Something suggested to Francis that Claudine had not been under her uncle's care her whole life. Moreover, he seemed sinister somehow. Not in a way anyone could put a finger on, mind you, but...he shook his head. “I'm just being imaginative.”
His father smiled. “Who's to say where these ideas come from? Myself, I'm not one to dismiss imagination. If I was, I'd probably be dead by now. Imagining you hear a horseman following you can sometimes save your life.”
Francis laughed. “Maybe you're right. Maybe I shouldn't ignore that feeling.”
“Mayhap,” his father agreed, nodding slowly. “In any case. What I'll do is find out about this Duc du Pavot. If anyone knows about the nobility, it'll be Yves. Speaking of whom, where is he, the scoundrel? Yves?”
“Sir?” a voice echoed from the hallway.
Conn laughed. “Come in here,” he called. “Go ahead and check my books. They're ready for it.”
Yves raised a brow, his thin, clever face amused. “Well, sir. That sounds promising.”
“Promising? You rascal,” Conn chuckled. “Well, we'll see. Any mistakes you spot you can take the difference out of the savings chest.”
Francis blinked at the risky offer.
Yves only smiled. “That helps me a great deal if you've noted down too much. I don't see how it helps me at all if you've written down too little.”
They all laughed. Francis said his farewells and the laughter followed him out. It eased his soul, still plagued with so much worry. With so many questions too.
Is Claudine safe? Would I see her again? What would her uncle do? None of those questions had easy answers. In fact, Francis wondered if they had answers at all. The thought made him feel abruptly sad and he headed up the darkening hallway to his rooms.
A SUDDEN ILLNESS
Claudine looked moodily out of the window onto the estate. She was in the turret room at the palace, sewing. Around her, she could hear the chatter and the laughter of the other young women who shared the space with her – all of them a friendly group now – but she couldn't share in their easy banter, their bright laughs.
None of this makes sense anymore.
Francis had left. He had taken a part of her with him. She knew it was a strange way to feel – he had been so briefly in her life – but he had brought such light and joy to it. Her world seemed darker without him in it.
“Milady?”
Claudine looked up blankly to see Bernadette standing before her, a gentle frown on her brow.
“Yes?”
“Would you like to retire now?”
Claudine nodded. “Yes, Bernadette.”
She stretched, realizing that she had been sitting bent over her embroidery work for the entire afternoon. She hadn't moved for about three hours. Her neck and back pained her and her eyes were starting to squint.
“You're finished for the day?” Fabienne, one of the ladies, asked softly. More friendly than the rest, Claudine trusted her. She had never been cruel as they had often been toward her.
Claudine nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, I think I am almost done myself.” Fabienne stifled a yawn. “I've been looking down at threads for far too long. I'll take a walk. Anyone else ready to stop?”
“Yes!”
“I'll join you in a minute...just finishing this dragon!”
As the group all nodded their assent and stood, packing away their tapestry work in neat baskets, Claudine followed Bernadette out of the hall.Bernadette whispered to her. “Be not so sad.”
Claudine sighed and slipped into the bedchamber ahead of her, and sat down wearily on the bed. “I can't help it, Bernadette. It's all so...empty now. I don't know how to feel better.”
Bernadette sighed. “I'm so sorry, my dear. Mayhap a ride in the countryside would cheer you?”
Claudine frowned. It had been a while since she had attempted a ride – even walking down the stairs to the stables made her joints ache and her heart thump. “If you think I could?” she asked. Oddly, as the day wore on her health seemed to improve somewhat. It had slumped sharply since a day after she met Francis and now, it seemed, it was improving. Odd.
“I don't know, milady,” Bernadette said. “Only you could know. We could go and sit on the terrace awhile, if you prefer?”
Claudine nodded. “I would like that. The afternoon sun is so pleasant.”
“Mm.” Bernadette nodded. “We should make sure to wear hats.”
Claudine smiled. Trust Bernadette to think of something l
ike that. She always thought carefully, planning what one would need to be comfortable. “Yes.”
They donned head-dresses. Claudine wore a flowing satin scarf over a starched frame that held it out like two shimmering wings on either side of her face. Bernadette wore a similar one, only more modest.
They headed out into the sunshine together.
“Out for sun gazing, eh?”
Claudine jumped. She hadn't expected to hear her uncle just then. She didn't know why, but, just like her illness, her discomfort whenever Uncle appeared had increased too. She shrugged crossly, knowing it was ridiculous. Why feel afraid of Uncle Luke? He might be insensitive sometimes, but he was her provider.
“Uh, yes, Uncle. A good afternoon for it, I think?” she said conversationally.
“Mm,” he nodded. He pursed his lips. “I am glad to see you looking so restored, my niece. It makes a change after the toll on your health of all that activity last week.”
“Activity?” Claudine frowned. Had he seen Francis leave her rooms? He sounded judgmental when he said that. Like he was implying something deviant.
“I referred to the ball you attended,” he said smoothly. “And the number of times you watched the sword-skills practice in the yard. You seemed particularly interested last week.”
“Oh.” Claudine felt suddenly shy.
“You seemed intensely eager to follow the progress of our young nobles.” He raised a brow. “I was surprised.”
Claudine blushed. “Well, Uncle. It seems sensible to take an interest in the force that could preserve one's life one day. These men do train for war as well, I suppose.”
He huffed a sigh. “Well, your life is delicate, my dear. It takes much to preserve it. And I'm not sure involvement with a swordsman would do the trick.”
Claudine bristled. It wasn't just his barb about her health – or her lack of it, rather – though that hurt. Was he suggesting that she was looking for partners by watching the fighting? She colored at the thought that she had been doing just that.
“No, Uncle,” she murmured softly.
“Exactly, my dear. I sometimes wonder if it would tax your health too much to marry at all.”
Claudine's brow shot up. Why was he saying this?
Bernadette, beside her ,went tense. “I think I trust the words of Father Jeremy in that respect,” she said quietly. “He is a physician. And he made no such predictions.”
Claudine saw her uncle's eyes widen and then narrow.
“Your maid, it seems, interrupts us,” he said thinly.
Claudine stared at him as if he'd slapped her. “Uncle, Bernadette is my companion. And I'm sure Bernadette didn't mean...”
“No matter,” he said, smiling gently. He was suddenly the sweet, protective uncle she had always known. “I should hurry along. I have an audience to attend at four of the clock. Enjoy the sunshine, Claudine.”
Claudine swallowed.
“Thank you, Uncle,” she said.
He smiled fondly and carried on down the hallway.
When he had gone, Claudine and Bernadette looked at each other.
“Well. I didn't like that talk much,” Bernadette said. Her gentle face wore a puzzled frown, mouth turned down in worry. “Why is he going on about marriage.”
Claudine shook her head. “Oh, Bernadette. Uncle meant no harm by what he said. He cares for me.”
She tried to make light of it, but she couldn't help feeling uneasy. She was right. Uncle had been unkind in what he said.
“Be that as it may,” Bernadette said ominously.
Claudine looked out over the edge of the terrace, looking down into the courtyard where, only a few days prior, Francis was. She felt wistful and sad, but at the same time she felt a gentle pleasure in the memory.
I so enjoyed watching him. The way he moved so gracefully, almost like a dancer, but savage. With that fast strike and lively motion and those big shoulders rippling under his tight linen tunic.
What am I thinking? Why is my poor body tingling all over at these thoughts?
It was the strangest thing.
“Thinking about something?” Bernadette asked gently.
Claudine smiled. “Oh, nothing, Bernadette.” Then she paused. “Well, actually...”
“Mm?” Bernadette frowned. “What is it, milady?”
Claudine saw Bernadette's brown eyes instantly focus; always tender and mindful of her. She smiled.
“Well, I feel a bit silly asking you this, but...” she trailed off, cheeks burning.
“No, milady,” Bernadette protested gently. “No need to feel silly to ask me. Tell me anything.”
Claudine felt bolder.
“What is...what does it mean, when men and women wed? I understand the spiritual aspect, at least as much as anyone does. But the physical implications...” she blushed, throat closing with extreme embarrassment. She couldn't say any more no matter how much she wanted to. She felt deliciously shocked at her own question, sordid and wonderful at once, as it was.
Bernadette raised a brow. Then she smiled. “Well! I'm right glad you asked that, milady. It's all well and good to take an interest in such things. It means you're healthy.”
Claudine felt her cheeks flame, but she smiled. “Oh, Bernadette! Really!” she chided her, face hot with embarrassment.
Bernadette nodded firmly. “I mean it, milady. All young people wish to know these things. There's no shame in it. When it's between two as wish it, I believe it's a glorious thing.”
Claudine felt her heart thump faster. It was such a shocking thing to discuss!
“Really?” she asked softly, despite herself.
Bernadette nodded. “Indeed, milady. A fine thing. A healthy thing. What I know of it is garnered second-hand, of course...” she looked down at her hands, the first show of shyness she'd made all afternoon so far. “But I am told by my acquaintances that it is worthy of all the minstrels' singing.”
Claudine smiled. She let her heart expand with the pleasurable thought of that. The minstrels didn't say much about it, other than that such an experience was glorious and not exceeded by anything else in life. It sounded good.
And to do such things with Francis...
She blushed. Her body pulsed with longing. Her heart skipped. She didn't know what these things were, but somehow her body knew. She felt the longing in the strangest parts of her and she colored with wonderment thinking of that.
“Well, milady,” Bernadette sighed. “I suppose we can't know much about it until we're wed.” She sounded wistful about it.
Claudine nodded, wanting to laugh at her friend's longing. Then she felt sad. “Bernadette?”
“Yes, my dear?”
She licked her lips nervously. “Uncle thinks I can't marry, does he not? That I can't...do the acts that make a child, or bear one.” She looked at her hands, voice trembling. She felt quite bold, quite shocked, at having to ask such a thing. However, she had to know.
Bernadette frowned. “It's nonsense,” she assured her. “Absolutely nonsense. I have it on good authority from your physician that you would be capable of such a thing. Truly.”
“Really?” Claudine felt her heart lift with hope. “Did he say that?” She stared at Bernadette, eyes wide.
Bernadette nodded. “Yes, he did. He said you were frail but strong. And he saw no reason why you should not one day bear a child of your own. You would have to be more careful, of course...regard your health more closely than other women of your age might find necessary. But you would realize that.”
Claudine stared at her friend. Her heart was thumping. Her uncle's dire predictions and threats – for that was what they seemed to her, threats – relaxed their hold on her heart somewhat.
“You have no need to doubt yourself,” Bernadette continued gently. “You're a bright, beautiful young lady with so many capabilities. Don't let anyone say different.”
Claudine felt her heart fill with appreciation for her friend. Impulsively, she reached across to he
r. Their hands clasped firmly.
“Oh, Bernadette,” she sighed. “I'm so grateful for you.”
Bernadette gripped her hand firmly in return.
“As I am for you,” she said. “You're the only person I can talk to as we do. I'm blessed to have been taken into your household.”
Claudine felt a little indignant. “You're my friend, Bernadette. My best friend. Don't think of yourself as anything less.”
Bernadette smiled. “Thank you, milady. I think I should watch myself around your uncle, mind. Whatever he thinks, he doesn't share your fond views.”
Claudine blew her cheeks out in a sigh. “You're right, I think,” she said. She frowned. “I'm sure he would do nothing to change us. You're my companion and I'll not brook any alterations of that fact.”
Bernadette smiled fondly. “Thank you, milady.”
They sat out in the sun contentedly a while. Claudine felt more at peace than she had earlier – with Bernadette's gentle but firm assurance that she could expect similar things in her future to any other woman, she felt hopeful.
Maybe Francis and I could be wed one day. It is not impossible. As the daughter of a duke, I am above him, but why should there not be some exception made?
She smiled. Stretching languidly, she turned to Bernadette.
“All this sunshine's making me sleepy. Shall we go indoors?”
Bernadette nodded. “Me too. Yes. We should retire – it is likely time for a drink of cordial and a rest. What say you, milady?”
Claudine nodded. “I say yes to that, Bernadette.”
Her companion smiled and stood and Claudine joined her.
In her bedroom, Claudine sat down on the bed. They followed the same routine as ever. Bernadette would pour a goblet of berry cordial for each of them and they would sit and talk about peaceable, pleasant things. Then Claudine would take a nap until an hour before dinner. It was a pleasant time. It was also the best way to take the powder the physician had given to her to take – it was ground up and dissolved in her cordial. That made it tasteless and easy to take.
“Right, milady,” Bernadette said, passing her the silver drinking cup and sitting down facing her, smilingly. “I don't know about you, but that sunshine restored me greatly.”
Adventures of a Highlander Page 51
