He sat there watching me, his bright blue eyes following my every move as I dressed her wound, and untied the rope, and did up my bundle again. I lifted it onto my back, and bent to pick the trembling Alys up in my arms.
“Mm,” he said. “Very self-contained, aren’t we? I’d offer to help, but I expect I’d get bitten. By one of you, at least.”
I could not gesture. I tried to let him know, with a jerk of my head and a scowl, that I wished he would leave me to make my way home alone.
“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” he said softly, and I did not like the look in his eyes at all. “I don’t think my nephew would like that. Leave his little protégée all alone in the woods, with so much to carry? Oh no, that won’t do. I shall at least escort you safely home. It will be well worth it, to see the look on Hugh’s face.” He put two fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle. Within a minute, silent men bearing bows appeared from four different directions. Their clothing was gray and green and brown, the color of the woodlands.
“I’ll go on foot with the young—lady,” said Lord Richard, and again the pause between the last two words was exquisitely timed. “Make your way to Harrowfield. Take the horses and go openly by road. Inform Lord Hugh, if you should happen to run into him, that there’s been a slight accident to one of his household. Nothing to worry about. I will speak to the man who loosed this arrow later.”
They vanished to carry out his bidding, and I was left with no choice but to head for home in his company. He made no offer to take my bundle, though he eyed it with interest.
It’s odd, how some things stay clear in the memory and others fade. I can still remember everything Richard said to me that day, on the long walk home. I can still hear every carefully chosen word, every nuance of his soft voice, every subtle change in the insinuating tone. I can feel the weight of the little dog in my arms, and the blood on my hands, and the spiky bundle of starwort on my back. I shiver to recall the touch of Lord Richard’s creeping hands on my arms, or my shoulders, or around my waist as he made pretense of helping me over the rough ground. I loathed him. I despised him. But he was Red’s uncle, and Lady Anne’s brother. I might wish to spit in his slyly smiling face. But I tightened my mouth and looked straight ahead, and set my feet for home.
“I’m surprised my nephew let you out alone,” he observed as we came down the gully by the stream. “I thought he would know how to protect his investment a little better than that. And what an investment you’ve proved to be, my dear. Amazing what a bit of good food can do for a girl’s figure.” I glanced at him sharply, and intercepted a look that went up and down my body, up and down, as if imagining what lay beneath the demure, homespun gown. My insides went cold. “You’ve filled out nicely, young woman. Very nicely indeed.” I tried not to listen, but there was no way to shut him out. We reached the place where the stream ran into the river.
“Hugh’s a foolish man, to let you wander off on your own. Very foolish. Doesn’t he realize you could be taken advantage of? Too trusting, our Hugh. That’s his problem.” His arm snaked around my shoulders and I jerked away.
“Ah!” he murmured. “She has a temper! So much the better. The lad must have got a lot more than he bargained for when he brought you back. Two-and-twenty, and still as full of ridiculous ideals as he was ten years ago. I fear for the boy. I really do. When will he grow up? Even young Simon had a better hold on reality. And yet—our Hugh is not really so very high-minded, is he? I saw that glint in his eye, when he showed you off to me. Probably thought all his wildest fancies had come true, when he found you. What man doesn’t dream sometimes of having an untamed Irish woman, slippery as an eel and hot as hellfire under that milk-white skin, with wicked green eyes and hair that tangles around her body like coils of black silk? An education for him, was it? I did hear he came home with some teeth marks on him. How did my nephew suit you, young Jenny? Perform up to your expectations, did he?”
I could not stop the rush of blood to my face, the shame and outrage his words caused me. Why, oh why had I come out alone? Why must I listen? And please, let none of it be true, what he said. Let it not be so.
“Oh, I see,” he said slowly, eyeing my blushing face closely. “Still playing the innocent, are we? Or near enough. He’s saving you up. But for what? I can’t imagine. Our boy may be pure as snow on the surface, but there’s a red-blooded man below that cool exterior, my dear. He may not have had you yet, but he will, don’t doubt it. Ask some of the village girls, they’ll have plenty of tales for you. He’ll have you, all right. Especially now you have more flesh on your bones. Delicious flesh, if I may take the liberty. And I may. Oh, yes.” He laughed, and the trees seemed to shiver at the sound. Alys hid her face against my breast. My arms ached with her weight.
“A long way home, isn’t it?” observed Lord Richard. “Such a long way, for little feet. Why don’t we sit down awhile? Get to know one another? Put the dog down, dear. You’d like to get to know me a little better, wouldn’t you?” His voice was like honey, like syrup, with a generous dash of nightshade thrown in. I wanted to kick him where it hurt most. If not for Alys, I would have done it, would have spat in his face. But I straightened my back, and held my head high, and walked on, trying to move the dog to a better position. I am the daughter of the forest. For such a small thing, she seemed very heavy.
Richard stalked a pace behind me, and now he changed his tune slightly. We came onto the path under the willows. The sun had passed its midpoint, and the light was golden on the bare branches. It was still a beautiful day.
“I suppose that is the only reason he brought you here,” he said as if musing to himself. “I can’t think of another. Can you?” He rubbed his well-manicured hands together. “You may think it strange that I am not more shocked. For he is to marry his cousin, you know. My own daughter. But a man has to sow his wild oats, even a buttoned-up idealist like Hugh must have his bit of fun. And it places him in a much better position, when at length he does marry. Gives him an edge, so to speak. How else can he train his new wife in the delicate, the delicious skills of the marriage bed? No, I think our Hugh will be quite well seasoned by summer. I can thank you for that, my dear, among others. And I may say, Elaine is ready for it. What a good thing you can’t talk, poppet. It makes this whole episode just so much more—titillating. Don’t you think?”
How could he speak thus of his own daughter? Had the man no shame? My ears burned to hear him, and I wished I could put Alys down and run. I clenched my teeth. If my brothers were here, they would make you pay for speaking to me thus. They would show you what it is to be a real man. And oh, I longed for them to be there.
“Now I wonder,” he went on, “what other reason he might have, to keep you in his household so long. For it doesn’t do him any good, you know, no good at all. Tongues are wagging. Powerful tongues. His mother hates it. I hate it. Stay here long enough, and you’ll do him real damage. You know what they say? Want to hear?”
I wished I could not hear. Wished I were deaf as well as dumb.
“They’re saying you cast a spell on him,” he said, chuckling. “That you’re a sorceress, and that you cast your net over their likely lad and drew him in, despite himself. Even his best friends are saying it. That he’s bound to you, and can deny you nothing. And you a woman of Erin, kin to the folk that killed his own brother. What do you think of that, Jenny? But of course it’s not really Jenny, is it? I wonder who chose such an unsuitable name for you. Really you’re a Maeve, or a Colleen, or maybe a Deirdre. A wild Irish name. Jenny is no name for a little sorceress from the west. You can cast your net over me any time, young Maeve. I have a few things I could teach you. You should try me some time. I might be helpful to you, you know. A person to turn to, if things ever get—rough.” Then he was taking me by both arms, and moving his face close to mine, so that I was forced to look into his. He had the family eyes, bright periwinkle blue like his sister’s. Like Simon’s. The tip of his tongue came out and ran over his l
ips, and I read the desire on his face.
My hands clenched involuntarily and Alys yelped. Then I stamped, hard, on Lord Richard’s foot with the heel of my winter boot, and he let go with an oath. I could not run, but we were close to a little bridge that joined this path to the main cart track, and I strode away as fast as I could, not looking over my shoulder. And then there was a sound of horses coming, and voices down the track and, as I emerged from under the willows, a group of riders came into view, moving at speed. They wheeled and halted, and then several things happened very quickly, with scarce a word spoken. Several men dismounted at once. A grim-faced Red gestured to the others. One took Alys from my arms, swearing mildly as she snapped at his fingers. The bundle was removed from my back and tossed up to Ben, who caught it, wincing. Then I found myself lifted like a sack of vegetables and deposited on Red’s horse, and he vaulted up behind me. I doubt if a man could have counted from one to ten, in the time this took.
“Uncle.” Red’s voice was neutral. His hands, though, were so tight on the reins that his knuckles showed white. “You did not let us know of this visit. I’m afraid we were unable to provide you with an appropriate—welcome.” It seemed he, too, was a master of the meaningful pause. “Rest assured that such an oversight will never occur again.”
“Hm.” Richard was limping visibly. “You’re rattled, boy. Understandable enough. Thought you’d lost your little friend, didn’t you? Dog had a slight mishap. Nothing serious. But you need to watch the girl. Let her wander too far, and you might find information gets to the wrong ears. Can’t be too careful.”
“My men will find you a suitable mount,” said Red as if he hadn’t heard a word. “I will ride ahead and bid my mother prepare for your arrival. No doubt she will be pleased to see you.” At that he gave the horse a sharp kick and we were off at a brisk canter. I had no doubt the men would take their time in finding just the right horse for the visitor.
It was a fast ride home. Fast and uncomfortable. Red waited for nobody, urging the horse to a fierce gallop as we neared the poplar avenue. I would have fallen off but for the grip of his arm around my waist, holding me hard against him as he controlled the horse with his knees, his other hand tight on the reins. He rode straight up to the front steps of the house and dismounted immediately, lifting me down beside him. As was usual in this most well ordered of households, a groom appeared from nowhere to lead the horse away. I found myself marched indoors and straight upstairs to Margery’s and John’s quarters. Red knocked, opened the door and thrust me into the arms of an astonished Margery.
“Stay here,” he said. “And don’t move until I come back. That’s an order.” Then I heard him striding back downstairs, calling for Lady Anne.
“What is it? What’s happened? John? Is John all right?” A frown of worry appeared on Margery’s tranquil brow. I nodded reassurance. John, I supposed, was still up in the west paddock, busy plowing. Margery led me over to the fire, sat me down, put a cup of mead into my hand. I found I was shaking, and my feelings were so confused I could not rightly have explained them, even if I had words.
Johnny was in his cradle, but awake. I saw his tiny hands flailing in the air and heard his voice trying out small sounds one after another. She bent to pick him up, her hand cupped gently around his bald head. She laid him against her shoulder and sat down opposite me.
“Drink it,” she said. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re white as a sheet, and Red doesn’t look much better. I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.”
At that point the door slammed open and shut again, and Red took two strides across the room and lifted me out of my chair, his big hands tight on my shoulders. I had never heard him raise his voice since we came to Harrowfield. Now he was shouting.
“How dare you!” He shook me, hard. “How dare you disobey me thus! You gave me your word! Does it take something like this to show you how stupid you are? What were you thinking of?”
Johnny began to wail, and Margery said to Red, rather severely, “You’re hurting her.”
Red swore, and let go, and turned his back, both hands on the mantel shelf. I touched the places where he had held me. I would have bruises again. I had never seen him so angry. Not even when he argued with his mother the night Johnny was born.
“Sorry,” he said under his breath. “I’m sorry. But what on earth possessed you to go out alone like that? I thought I explained. I thought you knew the risks. By God, if—did he touch you? Did he hurt you?” He was pacing up and down now, looking back to examine my face, staring searchingly into my eyes. Today, his own were the blue of shadows on deep ice.
I shook my head. I would not cry. I would not think of what Lord Richard had said. What other reason could he have for keeping you? I would put it out of my mind. They say you put a spell on him. He can deny you nothing. I would forget it. It was nonsense. I would not cry. I blinked and sniffed, and a single treacherous tear escaped and rolled down my cheek. Practical as ever, Red fished around in his pocket and drew out a square of linen. As his hand came close to my face, I could not stop myself flinching back, and my arms came around my body defensively. Red looked as though I had struck him. He turned away, his hand momentarily shielding his eyes as if he did not want me to read his expression. It’s true, I thought. I am a burden. I should never have come here. I have made trouble in this family, and created discord in a peaceful household. He should never have brought me here. And he knows is it.
“What did he say to you?” Red had his back to me, and he spoke so quietly I could hardly hear him. The intensity of his tone scared me, and I could only look at the floor, or the wall, or anywhere but at him. This was one question I would never be able to answer.
“Will somebody please tell me what’s going on here?” asked Margery mildly, looking from me to Red and back again, Johnny was quiet now, hiccuping gently against her shoulder. “What did she do that was so terrible, Red? What could Jenny possibly do to make you manhandle her, and yell at her, and make her cry? I thought we were men and women here, not angry children. I hope you will never behave like this again in my house.” Red was staring at her. It seemed to me that there were lines around his mouth that had not been there before.
“I’m sorry, Margery,” he said bleakly. “It was unfair of me. If there’s any fault here, it’s mine. But this is the only place that is safe for her, while my uncle is here. I don’t have long; I must be downstairs when he arrives. Now, Jenny,” he said, turning toward me, and I could see he was still angry, very angry, but keeping his voice in check with a strong effort of will. “I must know why you went off so far by yourself. I need to know why you broke your promise.”
My shoulders were aching. My feet were sore with walking, and my arms numb from carrying Alys for so long. My hand was bleeding where she had bitten me. His uncle was a beast; and right now, I didn’t think much of the nephew either. I kept my hands quite still by my sides. Red clenched one fist and smashed it into his other hand, swearing under his breath.
“Damn it, Jenny, tell me!”
“I think I know,” Margery put in, glancing at me anxiously. “Jenny has been asking for a new supply of the plant she uses, the one we call spindlebush, from which she fashions her weaving. She has exhausted the stocks she brought with her. I’m afraid I refused to help, hoping she would give up her dreadful task. But I know your strong will, Jenny. I suppose you set out in search of this bush yourself.”
Red’s eyes narrowed. “You were told to watch over her,” he said, and the chill in his voice turned Margery pale. “She must have been gone since early morning. Why didn’t you send after her? Why did I receive no message until Richard’s men were sighted on the road?”
“I’m sorry,” Margery said. She did not tell him I had lied to her. It was probably the first time I had lied in my life.
“Great God, can I trust no one?” Red was pacing up and down again.
I wished he would go away and leave me to my misery.
; “Jenny, why didn’t you ask me?” he said finally. “I know where your plant grows, I know every corner of this valley. I can cut this herb for you any time you like, bring it to your door if that is your wish. There is no need for you to venture out beyond the safety of these walls. And you will not do it in future. You understand? You will not.”
I had to answer this as best I could. You—cut the plant—no. No good. I. I cut, spin, weave, sew. Only I.
“Then, I will take you there,” he said, his voice back on a more even note again, though he held both hands clenched tight behind his back. “Take you, and watch you cut the stems, and bring you home again. Don’t go out again without me. Now I’m going downstairs. Margery, I want you to keep her here. You will both be excused from supper. My mother owes me a favor.” He made to leave, but turned back in the doorway. “I’ve a man tending to the dog,” he said. “One of my stablehands is skilled at these things. She will be well cared for.” With that he was gone.
“Well,” said Margery. She moved to lay the baby, now sleeping, back in his cradle, and to put a kettle on the fire. “Stirred him up, didn’t you?” And she said no more on the matter, but as the afternoon passed and we brewed peppermint tea, and I helped her wind wool and bake flat cakes on the fire, I often caught her eyes on me, shrewdly appraising, and I wondered what she was thinking.
This time Richard stayed longer than any of us wanted, except perhaps Lady Anne. His presence had a subtle but undeniable influence on the household. Where servants would treat Red and his mother with a respect that showed itself in a wish to please, a service that was always more than mere duty required, the respect they showed Lord Richard was born out of fear. Not that he ever showed outright anger or put his dissatisfaction into plain words. It was, rather, something in his expression, his raised brow or sly half smile. It was in the way he would take a goblet from a serving girl, and touch her hand with his own in doing so. It was in his tone of voice as he gave a groom an order or dismissed one of his own men with an arrogant gesture. I thought he despised us all; believed himself somehow elevated above us. None was immune from his slighting references, his throwaway insults, not even the inner circle of this household. But, as I have said, he was a subtle man. He knew how to wound in a way that perhaps none but his victim could fully understand.
Daughter of the Forest Page 35
