Infamous

by Virginia Henley

  She became aware that her uncle John was watching her and her eyes glittered green through her tears. You are the one who told de Bohun I accepted the proposal, and you don’t even have the decency to look guilty about your lie!

  Jory wanted to rush over and fly at him. Though frustration almost choked her, she knew she would have to wait until she and her guardian were private before she could protest.

  Everyone crowded round, congratulating the groom, wishing the misty-eyed bride happiness, and asking the date of the wedding.

  “The wedding hasn’t been settled yet,” she protested firmly, but everyone took that to mean the date had not been settled.

  “Lady Marjory cannot delay the nuptials too long, under the circumstances,” Humphrey declared.

  “What circumstances?” Jory demanded.

  He looked down at her uncertainly. “War,” he murmured.

  Dear God, how can someone so young be sent to war? Her own plight receded as she considered Humphrey’s. She heard the echo of Guy de Beauchamp’s words: War is bloody, brutal; the enemy is vicious. Jory’s anger flared anew, bringing color back to her cheeks. War is the reason I never knew my father!

  Her brother enfolded her in his powerful arms and she pressed her face against his heart. “Lynx, I don’t want you to go to war.”

  He tightened his embrace. “It’s my duty, Minx. It won’t be my first war; nor will it be my last,” he said cheerfully.

  She looked up at him aghast. “How can you be so nonchalant?”

  “You are too emotional and vulnerable tonight, Jory. You must believe with all your heart that I will return. How can I believe myself invincible, if you have doubts?”

  “I swear to you I have no doubts about you,” she assured him passionately. “My doubts are for myself,” she whispered.

  I cannot fill his ears with my woes; he has enough on his plate. She swallowed her despair and gave him a radiant smile.

  She saw that Humphrey was being toasted by his brother, and she quickly sought out Joanna. “How soon will we be leaving?”

  “We are sleeping at Westminster, Jory. I think tonight will be an opportune time to tell Gilbert my news. He will tell Father, and tomorrow I shall be the center of attention. If I ask the pair of them for the moon, they will likely give it to me.”

  Face it, Jory…there is no escape tonight…no escape ever. She felt forlorn and helpless. Then suddenly she lost patience with herself. Stop wallowing in self-pity, for God’s sake!

  She pasted a smile on her face, accepted the wine she was offered, and silently prayed for the evening to end. When it was at last time to leave she bade Humphrey good night and took her uncle’s arm. “We need to talk,” she said through clenched teeth.

  The palace steward gave them directions to the chamber that had been plenished for Lady Marjory, and they walked side by side in total silence until they were inside and the door was closed.

  Jory withdrew her arm and set her hands to her hips. “I did not consent to marry Humphrey de Bohun!”

  John spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “De Bohun offered to deed Midhurst Castle in Sussex to Humphrey and thus to the firstborn child of your union. Lynx said: It is an excellent match. We will inform Lady Marjory of your offer, and feel confident she will happily assent to the union. The de Bohuns obviously took it for granted that you had accepted their offer.”

  “You will have to disabuse them of their assumption when you receive the offer from Warwick!”

  “And when will that be, my dear?”

  “I sent Guy a letter warning him that de Bohun had made an offer for me.”

  “And what was his reply, Jory?”

  She bit her lip and did not answer.

  “Exactly,” John said quietly.

  Why did you not answer my cry for help, Guy?

  “You promised you’d consider getting to know Humphrey.”

  “Consider! Do you know the meaning of that word? It means that I will think about it! Instead, the de Bohuns consider me Humphrey’s bride, King Edward considers me Humphrey’s bride, and even my own family considers me Humphrey’s bride.”

  “Jory, my dear, you have every right to be angry. But not at the people who love you. Your anger should be directed at Warwick. You are not the first woman to suffer at his hands.”

  “Stop! I will not listen while you catalog his infamy.” She laughed, but there was little mirth in it. “Uncle, I am quite aware you think I am making a fool of myself. Indulge me.”

  “Lynx and I have always indulged you, Marjory.”

  She suddenly felt very spoiled and demanding.

  “Jory, I’ll make a bargain with you. If Warwick does not offer for you in the next week, you will let the engagement stand. Shortly, we go to France to fight a war. I want you safely settled as a wife. I don’t want you to be left a lonely spinster. Humphrey isn’t the villain here, Jory. Cast me in the role if you must, but not Humphrey de Bohun. He is an earnest young knight who does not deserve to be treated shabbily.”

  A feeling of guilt assailed her. For the first time, she noticed that her uncle looked tired. Jory took a calming breath. “May I sleep on the matter and give you my decision tomorrow?”

  “Of course, my dear. I have always found it impossible to refuse aught that you ask of me.”

  Yes, I have always gotten my own way. Until now. The thought added to her guilt. “Good night, Uncle.”

  Jory lay abed, wide-awake. Her mind went over everything since the moment she had laid eyes on Guy de Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick. Her heart ached for him and her body lusted for him. After many hours of tantalizing herself, she could taste him and smell him. Yet her longing was tinged with an anguished poignancy. Deep down in her soul she feared that she had been rejected. He did not love her…His offer would never come.

  Just before dawn she fell into an exhausted sleep and a man dressed in armor came to her. When he removed his helm and his tawny mane of hair fell to his shoulders, she thought it was Lynx. Then she realized it was her father, Lincoln de Warenne.

  “My own sweet Jory.” He gently stroked her hair. “Silver-gilt tresses.” He smiled into her eyes. “You have made me very happy tonight. The de Bohun family will cherish you as a daughter.”

  “But, Father, the Earl of Warwick proposed to me.”

  “Dearest Jory, do you really wish to marry a man rumored to have caused the death of, not one, but two wives?”

  “Are the rumors true, Father?” she pleaded.

  The vision of the man in armor began to fade.

  “Don’t go. Please don’t leave me!”

  Jory awoke with a start. The first shadowy light of dawn was stealing into the chamber and for a moment she was disoriented. Slowly, she remembered where she was and details of her dream. Her father wanted her to wed Humphrey and was against Warwick.

  Did my mind create the dream or did Father really come to me? Jory was unsure. Many people believed in visions and portents.

  She drew up her legs, wrapped her arms about them, and rested her head on her knees. Portents aside, it was time to face facts. Warwick would not offer for her. His silence told her louder than any words that he had rejected her. Damn him to hellfire!

  What John had said was the truth. Humphrey de Bohun was not the villain. He was an earnest young knight who did not deserve her shabby treatment.

  Warwick has blinded me to all other males. She knew she must eradicate him from her mind and resolved to do so, starting today. Slowly, she slipped the emerald ring from her finger and put it away. She would not even attempt to disroot him from her heart—the infamous earl with the lethal French charm was there to stay.

  Jory dressed and made her way to her guardian’s chamber. “I’ve come to tell you I am ready to get to know Humphrey de Bohun.”

  “Jory, my dearest, you are doing the sensible thing.”

  Sensible, yes. “If we clash I will tell you outright that I will not marry him. Otherwise I’ll be amenable to the matc
h.”

  John nodded in agreement. “Fair enough, Jory.”

  She wanted to scream that life was decidedly unfair, but the new Jory held her tongue. She would behave in a mature manner and, in truth, she already felt older and wiser. She had learned the hard way that when a man made passionate promises and then betrayed you, it left you feeling jaded and brittle.

  Westminster’s Great Hall was abuzz with the news of the expected royal babe. A grandchild for the king and, if the gods smiled on Joanna, she would produce a son and heir for Gloucester. Not only Gilbert, but Edward too exuded male pride today.

  Jory greeted Lynx, who was conversing with John de Bohun and his sons. She curtsied to the Earl of Hereford, who stayed her with his hand. “My dear Lady Marjory, there is no need of formality with me.” He grinned at Lynx. “We’re all family here.”

  Jory spoke to her brother. “When do you leave for Hedingham?”

  “Well, Minx, we have a tentative plan that centers on your joining us. The Earl of Hereford has invited us to view his Castle of Midhurst in Sussex before we return to Hedingham.”

  “I see,” Jory said calmly.

  Humphrey bowed formally and took her hand to his lips. “I hope you will consent to join us, Lady Marjory.”

  “I shall take leave of Joanna and return tomorrow.” They all look relieved that I am ready to follow wherever they lead, Jory thought cynically. I feel like a bloody pawn in a chess game.

  At Clerkenwell, Joanna and her ladies-in-waiting gathered to bid Lady Marjory farewell.

  “I asked Gilbert if we could stay here for a month rather than rushing off to Gloucester. I don’t relish meeting all those de Clares who think their bloodlines make them superior to Plantagenets. He agreed, so I shall come dance at your wedding.”

  “I warrant both the de Warennes and the de Bohuns will rush the nuptials so they can get on with the more important things in life, such as their disgusting wars.”

  “Are you afraid, Jory?” Joanna searched her face.

  “Of war, yes; of Humphrey de Bohun, no.” She was lying of course. Jory had never felt more vulnerable in her life.

  Outside, a baggage cart piled with Jory’s belongings stood waiting with a de Warenne escort. She mounted her black palfrey and gazed at Zephyr, who had been placed on a leading rein. I’ll never be able to ride her again without thinking of Warwick.

  The de Warenne escort asked, “Are you ready, my lady?”

  Jory stiffened her back and raised her chin. “Quite ready.”

  Marjory was quite taken with Midhurst Castle when she saw it had a moat and a round tower that gave it a romantic air.

  “Midhurst always has guests to entertain when we are in residence,” the constable said. “You’ll be an invaluable asset, Lady Marjory. The royal family is often at Winchester Castle and the visiting nobles invariably drop in here. We get more than our share of the baronage, too, whenever they travel to the coast.”

  “I can smell the sea!” Jory exclaimed.

  “You can see it from atop the Round Tower,” Humphrey told her. He helped her dismount and spoke quietly so the others would not hear. “This is the castle that Father will deed to me upon our marriage, and I will pass it on to our firstborn child.”

  “It is quite lovely.” If you mean to bribe me, it is working!

  When they entered the hall, Jory was surprised at how shabby the furnishings were, until she remembered it was a household of men.

  John de Bohun waved an all-encompassing arm. “All needs refurbishing. It sadly lacks a woman’s touch. I hope you’re willing to take on the task. Portsmouth will provide anything you fancy. Spare no expense. Same goes for our castle in Hereford.”

  Jory, who already felt affection for the fatherly de Bohun, lost her heart to him in that moment. “You indulge me, my lord.”

  “It’s been a long time since the de Bohuns have had the luxury of indulging a lady. I forgot how good it feels.”

  At sunset, Humphrey came to find Jory. “Would you like to go up to the tower roof, Marjory? I think you’ll enjoy the view.”

  She had been about to change her gown for dinner, but was eager to ascend the tower and view the landscape. As they climbed the circular stone steps, Humphrey held a protective arm behind her as if he expected her to fall. I wish he wouldn’t do that—I’m agile as a bloody monkey. To prove it she ran lightly up the steps and waited for him to catch up. Together they walked to the crenellated wall and Jory caught her breath as the setting sun turned the water of the moat to molten gold.

  Humphrey pointed across the lush landscape. “There is the coast and the town of Portsmouth. You can see a blue ribbon of sea and beyond is the Isle of Wight.”

  “Your castle is lovely. I have taken a great fancy to it.”

  “Marjory, I never did actually ask you to marry me—it was taken for granted and more or less arranged by the two earls. So I’m asking you now. Will you marry me?”

  Humphrey looked so painfully anxious, she wanted to put him out of his misery. Though she was not in love with him, the marriage had begun to appeal. She would not just be taking on Humphrey, but also his family and this castle. The de Bohuns made no secret that they wanted her. There was not a hint of rejection from any of them and it warmed her heart.

  “Yes, Humphrey. I will be honored to marry you.” She smiled at him in the fading light, and she knew he would kiss her.

  His movements were slow, gentle and, to Jory, the kiss seemed a long time coming. Humphrey’s lips brushed hers tentatively, softly, touching her as if he were afraid she would break. The kiss in no way offended her. In fact, she decided it was a nice kiss. Her pulses however did not begin to race. Don’t start to compare him—don’t you dare compare him to that infamous swine!

  The date was set for three weeks hence because, in one month’s time, King Edward wanted John de Warenne to gather his army and lead it to France to wrest Gascony from King Philip’s clutches.

  The de Warennes bade the constable and his sons farewell. It was agreed that the de Bohuns would arrive at Hedingham the day before the wedding celebration. Jory was relieved that there had been no time for her and Humphrey to linger over their good-byes. They had shared a gentle kiss and a rather awkward embrace before he lifted her into her saddle.

  Sylvia sent invitations only to those in the closest counties, since most nobles were occupied readying their men-at-arms. She did however invite the king and queen; Joanna and Gilbert; her father, Roger Bigod; and the bride’s godmother, Lady Marjory de Bruce.

  A messenger arrived with Joanna’s acceptance and the following day a letter came from Queen Eleanor advising that King Edward was on his way to Flanders. The queen however accepted the invitation and would bring a few of her ladies. Sylvia was in a flutter of excitement and Jory sought escape at the stables.

  She intended to saddle her horse to take a ride when she caught sight of Zephyr. Memories came flooding back to her, bringing anger with them. The little horse was a constant reminder. She went to the white palfrey’s stall and gently rubbed her nose. “Beautiful Zephyr. It’s not your fault but, under the circumstances, I really cannot keep you. You are a gift I cannot accept and I must return you.” I want nothing from him!

  Jory was about to summon one of Lynx’s men and ask him to return the palfrey to Flamstead when she thought better of it. All the de Warenne men were busy shoeing their warhorses or mending armor, and she could not in good conscience take a man from his duties to do her bidding. She saddled Zephyr then put a bridle and leading rein on her own horse. She led them both outside and mounted Zephyr. “I shall return you myself. Flamstead is only a few miles away in the next county and it will give me a chance to ride you one last time, my beauty.”

  The lands she rode across in Essex belonged to the de Warennes and when she crossed into Hertfordshire some harvesters directed her to Flamstead. She knew she had arrived when she saw the horse pastures. The guard gave her no trouble entering the bailey, and she wondered if
it was because she was a female, or because she arrived with two horses. Jory headed toward the stables and when she saw a groom currying a large gray, she dismounted.

  “Good day, sir. I am Marjory de Warenne. Most likely you recognize this lovely palfrey that was bred here at Flamstead. She was a gift from the Earl of Warwick that I am returning.” He’s staring at me like a lunatic. Does the man have no tongue in his head? “Would you help me put my saddle on my own mount?”

  “Certainly, my lady.” The groom immediately did her bidding.

  Two men emerged from the stables and Jory caught her breath in panic. You bastard! I thought you were in Warwickshire!

  Guy de Beauchamp’s heart lurched, and then he narrowed his eyes at the vision before him. She was more exquisitely lovely than he even remembered and her hair, like a silver-gilt cloud, caressed her shoulders. You aging fool, don’t let the little bitch wound you again. He spoke to the steward who stood beside him. “Fetch the lady some ale, Mr. Burke—she has a taste for it.”

  He watched her chin lift and knew she was angry. It gave him satisfaction that she had to look up at him.

  “I didn’t expect you to be here. Since you are, I can return your gift in person. In the circumstances I cannot keep it.”

  The insult to his pride was massive. Returning the beautiful white palfrey that he had bred himself was like flinging it in his teeth, as if the animal were tainted, like him.

  “I got your note that de Bohun had offered for you.” The thought of her marrying another filled him with black fury, yet his face remained impassive, his voice indifferent.

  Her green eyes glittered with defiance. “Humphrey de Bohun is an honorable young noble, unlike others of my acquaintance.”

  Warwick could mask his indifference no longer. “A gullible young fool you found easy to manipulate, I warrant.”

  “What the devil does that mean?” she challenged.