by June Francis
‘I have followed this far,’ said a man gruffly. ‘You may take over now. But tell me, how goes the conflict?’
‘I have tired of it all. Matters were different when I first followed the Montfort’s star. I am glad of this new task. Perhaps I shall come out of it with some gold in my pocket for a change!’ This man’s voice was harsher than the other one. ‘But I am still to see this woman I am to watch. Where is she?’
Felicia leaned on the stone sill in an attempt to see the owners of the voices, only to dislodge a lump of mortar that bounced on the head of one of the men. He looked up and she noticed he was extremely handsome. For a moment their glances held, and then she slipped back down into the room, her face flushed.
‘That was fortunate!’ She caught the muffled sound of the first voice, and realised that the men were moving away.
‘Ay, chance is a strange lady,’ said the other. ‘Love passed me a dud coin. Perhaps now this gamble will pay off!’
Rubbing her sore elbows, she went and sat on the bed. Who was the owner of the second voice? Never had she seen a man so fair: his hair was the colour of newly-minted gold and he reminded her of someone. She returned to the window and peered out but could see no sign of the two men. She heard a door open on the other side of the courtyard and Edmund appeared. He seemed deep in thought as he crossed the courtyard, and did not seem to notice her. Suddenly she remembered Nell speaking of a man who had been a friend of Edmund and Dickon. A handsome man with hair as gold as a newly minted coin. But surely this other she had seen and Edmund and Dickon’s friend could not be the same person? Her elbows began to ache excruciatingly and she dropped down from the sill. She smoothed her skirts, dismissing the men from her mind, and wondered where Joan had gone. Perhaps she should go and look for her.
Felicia entered the hall. Outwardly she was composed, but inwardly she was still disturbed by what had just happened. Was the man with the golden hair one of Philip’s men? Had he come to spy on her? She remembered the expression on Joan’s face when she had asked if Philip had killed Edmund’s mother with her own hands. From there it was but a short step to remembering Philip’s threat to kill her. Would he think of sending some of his men to Chipbury? Maybe they had been there already and set it, too, alight. The thought numbed her.
‘Mistress Felicia!’
She lifted her head and saw Edmund coming towards her. Relief flooded her being and then she remembered that this was the first time they had been alone since the night she had run from the keep. She went to withdraw her outstretched hand, but already he had it in his grip.
‘What is it?’ He looked down into her face and held her hand more tightly. ‘You shall tell me now!’
She hesitated. ‘It is Joan. She left the chamber in a hurry, and I do not know where to find her.’
His expression lightened. ‘Do not worry. She is with Dickon. They were crossing the hall when I came in, but they did not see me.’
Felicia smiled. ‘That is good. She needs a man to show her kindness.’
Edmund nodded. ‘Would you like a stroll round the herbarium? It lacks an hour to supper, and I think you would find pleasure in the garden.’
‘That is just what I would like.’ Felicia flashed him a relieved smile as he pulled her hand through his arm.
‘I would also like you to meet my uncle Walter,’ said Edmund. ‘He wishes to make your acquaintance.’
‘You have spoken with him! Could he tell you anything concerning the Lord Edward? Or the whereabouts of the Montfort?’
Edmund began to tell Felicia what the abbot had said concerning the conflict. Eventually they came to the herbarium, having seen no sign of Joan or Dickon. Felicia glanced about her as they passed through a gate set between a hawthorn hedge. She drew a deep breath of air that was laden with fragrance. She recognised: pennyroyal, mint, thyme, fennel and many more herbs. Away down the garden she spotted a bed of lavender. ‘It is beautiful,’ she murmured, ‘and so peaceful.’ A flicker of sadness crossed her face, remembering.
‘What is it? And do not say it is nothing,’ teased Edmund.
‘I shall not do so, then.’ A smile replaced the sadness in her eyes. ‘I was thinking of the herb garden I had at Meriet, and how it was trampled down by my cousin and his men.’
‘But you will be safe at Chipbury?’ His tone demanded an answer. ‘You do not think Philip will come seeking you there?’
Was now the time to speak of her fears? ‘There is nowhere else I can go,’ she said eventually. ‘I have no other male kin—and perhaps my cousin is a devil and will find me wherever I go.’
‘If you were already wed, you would not need to fear him. He could not force you into doing anything,’ said Edmund. ‘All this talk about his being a devil! You said yourself that he bleeds, so he is a man! And it is as a man you fear him. But if you were wed, would that not alter matters?’
Felicia stilled. What was he suggesting?
‘A marriage of convenience is the usual way, is it not? I would suggest such—not for my gain, but for your protection.’ Edmund forced the words out, finding them more difficult to say than he would have believed.
Felicia’s heartbeat had quickened. He had taken her completely unawares. A slight breeze wafted a strand of hair across her face, and she eased it away with unsteady fingers. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I would offer you my name. I am Sir Gervaise’s bastard. I came here to my uncle to discover if I was heir to his lands and I am.’
‘What! Why did you not tell me you were Sir Gervaise’s bastard earlier? Or was it that you did not trust me, thinking still that I might be Philip’s whore and betray you?’ Her voice had risen and her eyes sparkled. ‘I trusted you, despite your abduction of me, but it seems you did not trust me,’ she said tartly, walking away from him.
He grabbed her arm and jerked her to a halt. ‘Trust me a little more, then,’ he said. ‘I told you no lies! I told you I was kin to Sir Gervaise.’ He watched the anger die in her face. ‘You say you hate and fear your cousin. It is for that reason that I am bold to suggest a way of escape. De Vert blood runs in my veins. In most men’s eyes that would make me your equal, despite my being a bastard. I need a wife! So what say you, Felicia Meriet? Will you wed me and confound that cousin of yours?’
Felicia put a hand to her head. She felt dizzy. The idea of marrying him filled her with a strange blend of excitement and trepidation. She needed time to think! She twisted in his grasp and raced down the garden, but she did not get far.
Edmund brought her to a swinging halt in front of a bed of poppies and spun her round. His eyes were hot and angry as they raked her face. ‘In God’s name, why do you run from me? I am not your cousin that I would force you into wedlock! Let us forget that I ever mentioned marriage to you. I shall escort you to Chipbury and leave you there, perhaps never to return, if you find my presence so distasteful. Come, I shall take you back to the lodging-house.’ He seized her hand and dragged her in the direction of the gate.
‘I do not want to go back yet.’ Felicia dug in her heels and attempted to free herself from his remorseless grip. ‘I have not finished looking at the plants.’ She glared at him. ‘I have never thought you the least bit like my cousin, except that you are both overbearing. You never give a maiden time to think—if you believe we think at all!’ She presented him with a view of her stormy profile.
He let go of her, and threw up his arms. ‘Think, then,’ he said in exasperated tones. ‘I swear I shall never understand women if I live to be a thousand years!’
‘That is unlikely!’ She plucked one of the poppies, twisting it between her fingers. He made it all sound so calculating, and while she knew that was how most marriages were arranged, she realised that she wanted more than a convenient arrangement from Edmund de Vert.
‘Well! Have you had time to consider my proposal?’ he muttered impatiently, scuffing up dust with the toe of his boot. ‘Do not say that you are indifferent to me or that we barely know each oth
er. I consider that we know each other better than many a couple that wed after being betrothed from the cradle.’ He came behind her and slid his arms about her waist, easing her back against his chest. As she stiffened, he kissed the side of her neck. ‘Do not pretend that you find my touch abhorrent, woman.’ He bit the lobe of her ear gently. ‘I would not believe you.’
She gave a gasp of outrage. ‘Do you not have any sense of-of...’
‘Decency?’ He laughed, squeezing her waist and kissing her flushed cheek. ‘You must know I want you. Last night I wanted you. Ever since I saw you in the tub, I cannot get you out of my mind.’
‘Are you sure it is a wife you want? You have called me a witch and a wanton!’ She attempted to pull away, but he turned her about ruthlessly and kissed her full on the mouth, forcing her stubborn lips apart. A delicious melting spread through her body, and she was trembling by the time they drew apart.
‘Well?’ he demanded, holding both her hands firmly. ‘Will you marry me?’
Felicia nodded wordlessly, unable to deny her own tumultuous feelings. ‘But who will wed us without my cousin’s consent? What about banns?’ she whispered.
Edmund frowned. ‘I don’t give a fig for your cousin’s consent! And I believe I can persuade my uncle to do the deed without banns.’ He tilted her chin and kissed her hard.
‘But...’she began, pulling herself out of his embrace and gazing up at him seriously, ‘why so soon?’ Suddenly she was frightened by the strength of the feelings he roused within her. ‘Could we not wait a little longer?’
‘Wait?’ His brow darkened. ‘Wait for what? You would wait for your cousin to return from the conflict, perhaps, and make you his?’
Felicia shook her head. She wanted Edmund, but what did she know of him, after all? She suddenly felt young and vulnerable.
Edmund sensed her indecision. ‘You do hate your cousin, don’t you?’ Felicia nodded. ‘Then see our marriage as a body-blow to him. You cannot fight him with a sword, but to find you wed to me will injure him just as much as if you stabbed him.’ He smiled.
Felicia’s lips curved in an answering smile. ‘Perhaps you are right.’
‘I am right!’ He grinned. ‘Let us go now and seek out Uncle Walter. Afterwards, we shall break the news to Dickon and Joan.’ He began to lead her down the path.
‘Joan!’ She came to an abrupt halt, and Edmund stopped, a question in his eyes. ‘Joan will not like it!’
‘Then she will just have to bear it,’ he said softly. ‘She has my sympathy, but you cannot let her rule our lives. Besides, she should be glad that you will be safe from Philip.’
‘I wish I could be sure of that but you know that she had convinced herself that the blame for what he did lies at my door.’ Felicia sighed, staring unseeingly at a bed of thyme.
‘Are you thinking that she might do something crazy to prevent us from marrying?’
She looked up at him. ‘You do understand.’
He nodded. ‘But that does not mean that I believe you should surrender to your cousin’s moods. Besides Dickon seems to have taken her in hand and he has a way with women. Perhaps it comes from having a sister.’
Dismay clouded Felicia’s brow. ‘Nell thinks that you and she ...’
‘Would marry? Is that what she told you?’ He gave an exasperated grunt.
‘No, she did not, but I thought ...’
‘Perhaps it would be better if you thought less. It was always Steven for Nell. She will shed no tears for me.’
‘Steven?’ For a moment she thought of the man she had seen earlier beneath her window. ‘Is he the lover as fair as an angel whom she told me about—the man her father would not let her marry?’
Edmund grinned suddenly. ‘Is that what Nell called him? He would not like that: he hated his handsome visage! Did she talk much about him?’
Felicia’s concern was assuaged. ‘No, but I think she still cares for him. It is a pity he does not know she is a widow. Nell said that he followed the Montfort. Have you ever heard from him?’
‘No. We had an almighty disagreement—he and I, and Dickon.’ He shrugged. ‘But it is no use our being concerned about that now. We can do nothing for either of them.’ He paused by a wooden bench set against the wall of a building. ‘My uncle is here inside the infirmary, so I will go and fetch him.’ He kissed her and vanished inside.
Her head was in a whirl. She wondered what would happen to Meriet if her cousin survived the conflict and fought in the courts over its possession. Or if he were to attempt to overset her marriage. Was she doing the right thing? How would Joan react to her news?
*
Joan stared down at the fish swimming like lazy shadows in the pond. Dickon watched her expressive face, guessing that her private grief had her in its hold, but he doubted she would give in to it in front of him.
Suddenly she glanced up at him. ‘Should we be here?’
He shrugged. ‘I used to come here often when I was a boy. Edmund and I used to try and catch the fish before the monks caught us.’
She moved away from the pond. ‘I wonder where Flissie is?’
‘Perhaps she is with Edmund,’ said Dickon, following her.
Joan’s eyes darkened and she hurried along the path.
They came to the gate at the far end of the garden. Dickon unlatched it, standing aside to allow Joan to go before him. But she just stood there, staring at him. ‘Philip took me in place of Flissie. He wanted her, just like you and your friend do. I have seen the way you look at her. And as for Master Edmund, he kisses and cuddles her, but I deem he will use her and toss her aside, as Philip did me.’
‘You’re wrong on two counts.’ Dickon’s voice was firm. ‘I have no designs on Felicia. As for Edmund, he is not a man for picking up folk and tossing them aside.’
‘But would you not agree that he wants her?’ Joan lowered her eyes and fiddled with a ring on her finger. ‘Philip would kill him if he knew he had laid a hand on Flissie. He is mad with jealousy.’
‘How will he get to know?’ Dickon asked matter-of-factly. ‘Unless the birds are his spies.’ He took her by the arm and urged her through the gate.
They did not speak again as they walked slowly between the banks of plants in the herbarium. Every now and again, Joan would pause and finger a leaf. Was it among plants that her cure lay? A garden was a restful place, although its healing often lay in hard work and helping others with its bounty. Maybe at Chipbury, with Felicia’s help, she would find peace of mind? both thought.
There came a murmur of voices, and both realised that they had reached the infirmary. Sitting outside on a bench in the late sun were Felicia, Edmund and the lord abbot. Felicia got to her feet, a mixture of relief and anxiety on her face. She came towards them and slipped a hand through Joan’s arm.
‘You are feeling better now?’ she whispered.
Joan nodded, watching Dickon as he made a reverence towards the abbot.
‘How are you, Richard? And how is the business?’ Walter’s face relaxed into a smile. ‘Could I interest you in some of the finest wool in the realm?’
‘Perhaps some time in the future, my lord abbot. Edmund has told you what we are about?’
Walter nodded. ‘And now he has fresh news for you. I will leave him to tell you.’
‘My lord abbot, I would make my cousin Joan known to you,’ said Felicia, swiftly pulling her forward, ‘and ask your prayers for us both.’
Joan made a reluctant reverence, but as she rose her eyes went almost involuntarily to the abbot’s face. She felt a tremor in her limbs at his look of warm understanding. He knew her sin, but he did not scorn or blame her as some churchmen would have done. She was reminded of her own father and how he had always been ready to comfort her after some misdemeanour, unlike her mother, who had despised her for being a girl. She kissed his ring fervently and for the moment she forgot about her grievances.
The abbot held up his hands in a blessing, then turned and went into the infi
rmary.
Dickon turned to Edmund. ‘What is this news that the abbot spoke of?’
Edmund opened his mouth to answer, then realised that Felicia was slanting him a warning look. Her eyes flicked briefly towards Joan. ‘Let us go on ahead of the women,’ he said. ‘I need to wash some of the dust from me, having had no chance before. I shall tell you on the way.’
Dickon nodded.
Felicia watched the two men walk away, their heads together as they talked. She felt a tug on her sleeve and turned to Joan who said, ‘I deem they have already forgotten us.’
Felicia smiled. ‘Most likely.’ She was relieved that her cousin’s bad mood seemed to have lifted. ‘What do you think of this garden? Is it not beautiful?’ She put her hand through Joan’s arm. ‘Perhaps, at Chipbury, we can see what can be done to the garden. It is two years since I have been there, and I know not its state, although Thomas, my bailiff, and his wife, Emma, have been entrusted with the care of the property.’
A smile of pure pleasure lit Joan’s face. ‘It will be good to be together again, just the two of us. You did say that the men will be going to Gloucester?’
Felicia agreed. ‘It is not so far from Chipbury.’
‘Do you think they will come back and see how we fare?’ Joan’s brow puckered, and for a moment there was an expression in her eyes that caused Felicia some concern. Then it vanished and Joan began to talk about the healing power of certain herbs.
Felicia wondered if Joan had really understood that Edmund and Dickon were going off to war and might possibly never return. She felt a lump in her throat, remembering the desolation she had felt when the news had come that her father and brother were dead. God willing, she would not have to suffer such sorrow again.
‘I wonder what there will be for supper,’ Joan murmured as they came to the gate. She paused, a hand on the wicket gate. ‘Before your arrival at Meriet, I often went hungry. I deem myself far too thin.’
‘Well, we can soon remedy that!’ Felicia chuckled. ‘If I remember one good thing about Chipbury, it is that Emma is a paragon of a cook who enjoyed nothing better than trying to fatten me up.’ She gave her cousin a push that sent her flying through the gateway. Joan began to run, laughing as she did so, with Felicia in hot pursuit. For a moment they were girls again.
