Follow Your Heart

by Ruth Kaufman

  The sight of Joanna hunched over the bucket, clutching the counter beside it as if it provided her last link to sanity, and the sounds of her retching made Adrian sick, too. He felt worse than after one of his visions. He felt more sullied now then he had each time he left Lady Anne.

  Yet his past, who he’d been with before meeting Joanna, shouldn’t matter to either of them. Especially when his relationship with Lady Anne had been a means to an end, not an affair of the heart or even of passion. Why did it matter? Because it mattered to Joanna. Because he hadn’t brought the issue up before. He’d insisted on their agreement so he wouldn’t need to tell her anything he didn’t want to or couldn’t.

  He wished he felt worthy of his wife.

  Adrian yearned to comfort her, but she’d asked him not to touch her. He clenched his fists behind his back, watching as she wiped her face.

  He’d told the truth, but he couldn’t tell her that he had left out a major part of the story. Something even more important than his happiness or hers.

  Yes, he’d had sex with Lady Anne to earn back his house. But another, more far-reaching goal had made him agree to the liaison.

  His overlord, the Earl of Warwick, had asked Adrian to spy on Lady Anne’s son. Adrian agreed for three reasons: the income Warwick offered, the rightness of the cause and because Warwick agreed to use his influence to help restore the Bedford name to its former standing. After years of struggling on his own, Adrian had been willing to accept some aid.

  Lady Anne’s son, Lord Berkeley, remained a close advisor of the king’s. Warwick and several other Yorkist supporters believed Lord Berkeley kept extensive notes, perhaps even a journal, of his meetings with Henry and his council. Those notes could prove invaluable in assessing the king’s strategy. Adrian’s job was to find them and share his discoveries with Warwick.

  With his goal of wanting his family home back, he had reason to approach Lady Anne and spend time with her. With his intimate knowledge of the manor’s layout, who better to search?

  Whenever Lady Anne dozed, he ventured through his house seeking Berkeley’s papers. Avoiding her servants was difficult at first, but over time he learned their routines. He’d looked through every drawer and rifled through every stack of documents without finding anything of use. Since he’d stopped his weekly visits to Lady Anne, so must his spying come to an end.

  He’d never regain his home, nor complete his service to his overlord. But his regret at that didn’t compare to his misery over hurting Joanna.

  Joanna believed the worst, but he couldn’t allay her fears by telling her about being a spy. The outcome of the civil war between King Henry’s Lancastrians and the Yorkists could depend on him. He couldn’t compromise the fate of his country or those who’d placed their trust in him. Even for Joanna.

  Her curls were a mess, her face ashen. Adrian wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms, but he knew that wouldn’t ease her suffering. Only time could do that. Time he didn’t have.

  “I’m sorry I’ve upset you,” he said. “But all that is in the past.”

  Joanna stumbled toward the door. “I must go to my shop.”

  “I’ll go with you,” he said.

  “No.”

  “Let me—”

  “Go away. Just go away,” she whispered.

  Then she crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

  Chapter 13

  “The bleeding has finally stopped,” the physician stated. The balding man in dark robes shook his head. “You should’ve called for the midwife instead of me. Send for her now. If not for the emergency, I wouldn’t have tended to her. I’m sorry. She lost the child.”

  He gathered the pile of rags stained with Joanna’s blood and dropped them in a basket.

  Adrian choked. “Child? Oh, God. No. I didn’t even know she was pregnant.” He stared at his wife, motionless on the bed. She looked dead. He took her chilled hand in his. “This is all my fault.”

  “Did you hit her?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Many men beat their wives.” The physician picked up his satchel. “If you didn’t, then you aren’t the cause. Did she fall?”

  “Not that I saw or know of,” Adrian replied.

  “Did she take something to rid herself of the baby?”

  “What?”

  “Oft times women who don’t want the child for one reason or another drink concoctions of savin or tansy with willow leaves to induce miscarriage,” the physician explained. “At any rate, women often lose their babes early on. Godspeed. I’ll show myself out.”

  The physician left Adrian alone in his misery.

  He wished he could suffer in Joanna’s stead. His fault, no matter what the physician said. Shock from his abhorrent tale had caused Joanna to lose their baby.

  Joanna had seemed quieter than usual last night, but he hadn’t suspected she was upset or had known he was at Lady Anne’s. Then everything turned upside down. Adrian thought the discussion about Lady Anne was as bad as things could get. Joanna’s anguish became his as he unveiled the truth. Never before had he cared so much about how someone else felt.

  When she’d collapsed, he’d reacted instantly, catching her just before her head hit the floor. His heart still hammered from the jolt of seeing drops of bright, red blood and realizing they came from Joanna. The moments of indecision when he couldn’t decide if he should stay with her or run to fetch the physician haunted him. He hadn’t thought to send for the midwife. Panic during the physician’s examination continued to race through his veins.

  He cursed himself. His marriage to Joanna had been a mistake. The emotional suffering he’d caused his new wife was bad enough. Leaving her on their wedding night, ignoring her for days at a time because of his visions. Now she’d miscarried. All because of him.

  He had killed their child. His heir. How could Joanna ever forgive him? How could he forgive himself? At that moment, watching his beautiful, still wife, all he wanted was for Joanna to get well. If there was a way to make up with her, he’d find it.

  Adrian arranged another blanket over her. Taking care not to disturb her, he eased onto the bed and stretched out beside her. Except for helping Joanna with her clients and the guild, he had failed her. The only thing he could offer now was his warmth and comfort.

  Time crept by as he worried about Joanna and the mess he’d made. Would he ever sleep again?

  Joanna woke in a haze. Her heart pounded and nausea from a horrible nightmare threatened to overwhelm her. In her dream, Adrian had told her Lady Anne had been his mistress. Then she’d taken ill and lost their baby. The dream had been so real she remembered the terrible cramping and the raspy sound of the physician’s voice.

  Thank God it was only a dream.

  She tried to get out of bed but couldn’t. Why did she ache all over? Why was Margery dozing on a chair in the corner?

  “Margery?” Her voice cracked. Her tongue was so dry she could barely lick her lips.

  Margery started and stood. “Joanna, how do you feel?”

  “Awful. Like a kiln fell on me. What happened?”

  Something must really be wrong to make Margery oblivious to her own appearance. Her hair was tousled, her gown was wrinkled and even bore a brownish stain near her waist.

  “Joanna, let me get Adrian.”

  She turned to go, but Joanna reached out to clasp Margery’s skirts. Her hand brushed the fabric but lacked the strength to hold on.

  “No. I don’t want to see him,” she said. “You tell me.”

  Tears filled Margery’s eyes as she held Joanna’s hand. “You had a miscarriage.”

  Joanna retched, but there was nothing left. She collapsed on the bed, shocked and aching. A miscarriage. If part of her dream was real, did that mean the rest was true? Had Adrian told her he’d slept with Lady Anne?

  She couldn’t bring herself to tell Margery, not yet. “How could that be? I didn’t even know I was pregnant.”

  “I talked with the mi
dwife who came after the physician left. Adrian fetched them, and sent for me. She said some women have no symptoms of pregnancy at first, and that early miscarriages are common. You must rest for a few days, then you should be fine.”

  Joanna turned her head away from the concern in Margery’s gaze. How could she ever be fine? Her marriage was a sham. Adrian had promised to be there for her, but he had betrayed her, then disappeared. Despite their argument, he should be at her bedside, sharing the loss of their child. His precious heir.

  What irony. She’d been on her way to helping Adrian achieve his dream and they hadn’t even known. Now that dream was shattered along with her hopes of a real marriage.

  “Please, let me get Adrian,” Margery said.

  “No.” Joanna sank deeper into the pillows. “Perhaps someday I’ll feel able to tell you what he was really doing at Lady Anne’s. Ours is a marriage of convenience. He cares nothing for me.”

  Her eyes burned with tears and she closed them.

  “Joanna, that’s not true. He stayed beside you all night, holding your hand. I just convinced him to leave to change his clothes and get something to eat. I thought he might make himself ill.”

  A hot tear trickled down Joanna’s cheek and into her ear. It itched, but she couldn’t summon energy to wipe it away. She desperately wanted to believe Adrian cared for her, but she knew better.

  “He feels guilty. Nothing more,” she said.

  “By the stars, Joanna, what happened?”

  “Please, I’d like to be alone now,” Joanna whispered.

  Margery looked at her for a long moment, then left.

  As soon as the door closed, pent-up tears burst forth. She needed Adrian, but couldn’t face him yet.

  More hot tears dripped down her cheeks. Her life was a disaster. She’d lost her baby. Her brother threatened her tenuous security with a forged will. She could no longer trust her husband. As if that wasn’t enough, enforced bed rest would delay completing her windows, which would lead to more trouble with the guild and her clients.

  Not that she felt strong enough to get up anyway. Why fight it? She was a failure.

  There was no reason to ever get out of bed again.

  Two days after the miscarriage, Adrian paced outside Joanna’s door. She still hadn’t asked to see him. He could’ve forced his way in, but kept hoping she’d change her mind. He needed to talk with her, to tell her how sorry he was. To see for himself how she fared. The only chance he had to be with her was after she fell asleep, when Margery took pity on him and allowed him to sit by his wife’s side.

  For once he wished he could control his visions, so he could see if she’d be well. If she would ever forgive him. If they’d ever enjoy making love again.

  Margery came out of the room and closed the door. “She sleeps.”

  “Did she eat?”

  Margery shook her head. “Maybe tomorrow. Adrian, you look awful. Have you eaten? Have you slept?”

  “That doesn’t matter. Did she ask for me?”

  “I am sorry, but no.”

  “Did you tell her I waited here?”

  “Yes. Several times,” she said.

  That hurt.

  “Please tell me what happened.” Margery put her hand on his arm. “I can’t bear watching you both suffer so. I can’t try to help if I don’t know what went wrong.”

  “Go get some rest,” he said. “I’ll stay with her until you return. She can’t turn me away if she doesn’t know I’m there.”

  “The midwife said she can get out of bed tomorrow if she feels up to it. I hope she will, but I doubt it. Godspeed, Adrian. Until morning.”

  She clasped his hand between hers, then left.

  Adrian went into the room and resumed his position on the bed. Joanna’s corpse-like stillness scared him. Carefully, he reached for her hand. It felt icy and small in his. He hoped in her sleep she sensed his presence and concern. He needed to touch her, do something to make her well.

  He needed her forgiveness even more.

  “Here. I brought your favorite,” Margery said.

  She handed Joanna a cup of hippocras, but Joanna pushed the drink away. Nothing appealed to her except sleep. And staying in bed, though the midwife had permitted her to resume her activities two days ago.

  Margery took a drink. “This is quite refreshing.” She set the cup aside.

  Joanna dreaded the conversation she knew would follow the confession she was about to make. But unless she dragged Margery from the tiny bedroom, Margery would have her say. The price she’d have to pay for the comfort of confiding in her half-sister and receiving her advice.

  “Adrian had been having a liaison with Lady Anne.”

  Margery’s jaw dropped.

  “Though he swears it stopped after we agreed to marry.” The effort of admitting the truth drained her. The hurt lingered.

  “Did you expect Adrian would come to your bed a virgin?” Margery asked softly. “An incredibly handsome, virile man such as he?” Margery didn’t wait for a response, but continued, “Do you think he was taking advantage of Lady Anne?”

  “No, based on what he told me, if anything it was the other way around. Lady Anne insisted upon it if he wanted her to leave him Bedford Manor when she dies.” She shared everything else Adrian had said.

  “If you believe she wanted him, then they weren’t any different than thousands of other people who become lovers out of wedlock,” Margery said. “In fact, they weren’t lovers in the truest sense of the word,” she mused. She picked up Joanna’s comb. “Now that he’s abandoned his bargain with Lady Anne, how will he get his home back?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t care.” Joanna put her arm over her face to block the bright morning sun.

  “You do care. Your anger is speaking,” Margery said. “Don’t you see? Adrian must care for you far more than you’re willing to acknowledge.” She took a section of Joanna’s hair from the pillow and began to untangle it. “He sacrificed his dream, one you said he’s pursued his entire life, to marry you. He didn’t violate your vows. Surely that has to ease your misery. Would you have given up your dream, making your father’s workshop thrive, to marry him?”

  Margery and her romantic ideals.

  “Why are you taking his side?” Joanna closed her eyes again as Margery carefully tended to her curls. The slow brushing soothed her, easing the tension of their conversation.

  “Everyone has faults, Joanna. Despite his mistakes, Adrian is a good man. He proves that every day.”

  But Margery didn’t know of their impersonal bargain.

  “Could you forgive him if you were me?” Joanna asked.

  “No.” Margery stood and looked down at her. “I already forgave him because I am not you. Joanna, I love you. But your rigid views of right and wrong won’t warm you on a cold night. Nor do they bode well for the rest of your marriage,” she cautioned. “Don’t make a mistake by blaming Adrian. He obviously felt he had no other choice than to…visit Lady Anne. He didn’t know he’d marry in the near future. It’s not as though he’s still sleeping with her or desires any other woman. Despite the cost to his future, he broke off their arrangement after he met you.”

  Tears welled in Joanna’s eyes and dripped down her cheeks. She’d been so busy feeling sorry for herself she hadn’t even tried to look at the situation from Adrian’s point of view. What if Margery was right?

  More than grief, more than mistrust, one emotion seared hottest. Jealousy. How could she admit she was jealous, and jealous of a crone Adrian had sworn meant nothing to him, when feelings fell far outside their agreement?

  “He thinks you blame him for the miscarriage, too.”

  “I did, at first,” Joanna admitted. “But no one else agreed with me. The midwife sees no reason why I can’t have another child.” Joanna sighed. “Well, except for the fact that I may never sleep with my husband again.

  She pushed herself into a sitting position. Margery hurried over to plump the pillows behind
her.

  “A joke! That’s a step in the right direction,” Margery encouraged. “Joanna, your situation is grim. But you’ll heal. To my view, the only question you have to ask yourself is this: do you believe Adrian told the truth about not touching Lady Anne once you agreed to marry him?” She paused to let her words sink in. “If so, then you must forgive him.”

  Chapter 14

  Adrian’s heart thumped in his chest. His knees didn’t want to support his weight. He hadn’t been this nervous since his first battle.

  After six endless days of waiting, Joanna had finally asked to see him.

  He walked into the room. For the first time since the miscarriage, Joanna was dressed and sitting on the bed. She was still pale, and he knew she must’ve lost weight from not eating much. But what hit him hardest was that the light seemed to have drained from her eyes. Like one of her windows looked on a rainy day…lifeless. Another person, a cold and spiritless one, inhabited Joanna’s weakened body. He ached for what she’d lost and couldn’t fathom how to help her get it back.

  For a few moments, they simply looked at each other, Joanna stiff and silent on the bed and he awkward and uncertain just inside the door. He itched to hold her, but feared she’d turn him away.

  “How do you feel?” he began.

  “Better,” she said, without moving.

  “Is there anything I can get, anything I can do for you?”

  “No.”

  Adrian tamped down his urge to go to her, to shake the life back into her. He sensed it was up to him to bring her back, that if he couldn’t do or say the right things she’d be lost to him forever. If he could revive her, maybe then he could begin to redeem himself in her eyes. Begin to salvage their marriage, which he wanted more than he’d thought possible.

  “Joanna, I am so, so sorry.” He couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound maudlin.

  “Margery tells me you stayed by my side every night. She says you haven’t been able to eat either.” Her voice lacked its customary lilt.