Beloved Abductor

by June Francis

  She put her hand to the buttery door and pushed it wide. Several barrels and a couple of sacks stood on the floor. On the shelves were numerous stoneware jars. Onions hung from the rafters, as well as herbs and a haunch of salted beef. There was even a large round cheese set on the table, and within just a few inches of it, turned away from her, was the source of the noise.

  ‘Thomas,’ breathed Felicia.

  She had some experience of men in their cups, and was glad that Edmund was with her. Together they approached the slumbering figure. Joan who had followed them, now wandered out towards the stables.

  Edmund shook Thomas’s shoulder roughly. There was barely a break in his snoring. ‘Wake up, man!’ he shouted in his ear, before shaking him hard again.

  Thomas groaned, muttering a curse under his breath.

  ‘That’s better,’ said Felicia grimly. ‘Again, Edmund.’

  After further prodding, Thomas, eventually, opened his eyes, lifted his head, and blinked into her scornful face.

  ‘M-Mistress Meriet?’ He groaned and pushed himself up from the table.

  ‘Go and duck your head in a pail of water, then come back here. I have much to say to you.’ Felicia leaned back against the table and folded her arms across her chest in a determined manner.

  With an amused gleam in his eyes, Edmund put a hand on Thomas’s arm and hauled him out of the buttery. They were back speedily. Thomas’s black hair glistened with droplets of water, and he slouched in front of her, running a hand nervously across the dark stubble on his chin, not meeting her eyes.

  ‘Are you going to remove me, Mistress?’ he muttered. ‘I can’t say I blame you if you do.’

  ‘You admit I have good reason, Thomas,’ she said sternly.

  When he lifted his head, his eyes were bleak, but he seemed to be in control of his wits. ‘Aye, Mistress,’ he mumbled. ‘But without Emma, things have been hard.’

  ‘Emma? What has happened to Emma? I have noticed the lack of her presence in the house.’

  ‘Dead, Mistress.’ Thomas coughed and cleared his throat. ‘Of the cough. More than ten deaths. Several babes have died, and naught seems to stop it. Now my Godric is sick.’

  ‘Oh no!’ she cried. ‘I am so sorry, Thomas! Emma will be sadly missed. No wonder you were trying to drown your sorrows. But it will not do, you know. I have need of you—as does your son. Where is he?’

  ‘With Beatrice in the village. Fair worried I am, Mistress.’

  ‘Then we must see what we can do.’ Felicia was aware of Edmund’s warm and reassuring hand on her shoulder, and she turned to him. ‘Can you ...?’ she began.

  ‘There’s no straightforward cure that I know of,’ he said, his brow knitting, ‘but I do have a recipe for a potion that will ease the cough. If you wish, we could try it on the children of the village.’

  Impulsively she covered his fingers with her own. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I cannot promise a cure, Felicia,‘ he warned, raising her hand to his lips. ‘Yet I shall do my best.’

  Felicia thanked him again, thinking she had not expected him to be so forthcoming. She was aware that Thomas glanced at Edmund furtively, and then she realised that he had the gold ring on her finger. ‘Is—Is this your new lord, Mistress?’ He sounded puzzled. ‘Your cousin did say we would be having one soon but I thought?’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘My cousin!’ Felicia’s head shot up, and Edmund’s hand tightened on hers. ‘You mean Philip Meriet was here?’

  ‘Aye, maybe three days ago.’ Thomas scratched his head. ‘I, perhaps, says it as I shouldn’t. Mistress—but he has an eye to your land. He asked me that many questions my head spun. Yet he did not seem to care about the state of the hall, but rather appeared pleased.’

  ‘He did not hurt anyone whilst here, Thomas?’ she asked.

  He shook his head and then stared at Edmund. ‘Barely here for more than a couple of hours, sir. Said he was late for a meeting, or he would have stayed longer, hoping to see Mistress Felicia.’

  Felicia paled, seeing in the words a threat. ‘Did he leave any men behind?’

  ‘Not that I’ve noticed, and I would have heard if there were any in the village.’

  ‘Any strangers in the woods?’ asked Edmund.

  Uncertainty flashed in Thomas’s eyes. ‘Only a pedlar, but he came and went the same day.’

  Edmund smiled reassuringly at Felicia. ‘He has gone,’ he said softly. ‘Your cousin’s words are meant to frighten you if you were to seek shelter here. ’

  ‘Most likely you are right.’ She returned his smile, comforted despite her distrust of Philip. ‘But now we have other matters to think on. Thomas, bring some of that cheese, dried fruit, barley and several onions—as well as the salted beef. Enough for four. Oh! And a flagon of cider.’

  ‘Aye, Mistress! Master!’

  He eagerly set to work. Edmund gave him a hand, so Felicia left them to it and set out for the house, wondering what had happened to Joan. At that moment she saw Dickon leaving the stables and realised he must have finished attending the horses. She waved to him and at that moment Joan appeared in the stable doorway. Felicia called to her but she did not appear to have heard her and Felicia’s heart sank at the expression on her face as she stared after Dickon. She wondered if something had happened between them.

  At that moment Thomas came out of the buttery, loaded with food; swinging from one finger was a flagon of cider. Felicia watched as Dickon stepped forward and deftly remove the container. She heard the musical tones of his voice as he spoke to the man, as next he took a bowl of dried fruit from beneath Thomas’s arm; then he began to help himself from the bowl, throwing words over his shoulder in Edmund’s direction, without even a glance at Joan. Again Felicia called to her cousin and this time it appeared Joan heard her because she began to walk slowly towards her.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Felicia, staring anxiously. ‘You look?’

  ‘Say no more,’ said Joan tight-lipped. ‘That lute player is no gentleman,’ she added contemptuously. ‘The sooner he and your husband leave here the better it will be.’

  ‘What??’ began Felicia.

  Joan gave her such a darkling look that the words died on Felicia’s lips. ‘I will fetch you some herbs.’ She turned and walked away.

  Felicia wasted no time, hurrying towards the house.

  *

  ‘Is supper almost ready?’ Dickon peered over Felicia’s shoulder into the cooking-pot. ‘It smells good.’

  ‘It is not nearly ready,’ said Felicia, finding it difficult to believe that he could have behaved in a manner that deserved the contempt she had heard in Joan’s voice earlier.

  ‘Then I must be patient. Perhaps a little music might make your chore a little easier.’ He smiled and went over to the table where he had left his lute.

  Felicia’s gaze shifted from Dickon to Edmund’s, who was cutting some of the salted beef into small chunks. What a strange match she had made! Never had she seen her father perform such mundane tasks, or any other lord, for that matter. Yet in so doing Edmund did not lose an ounce of his masculinity.

  He looked up and met her eyes. ‘Are you ready for the meat?’

  She nodded. ‘Aye, thank you.’

  He put down the knife and went over with the platter of beef, remembering what she had said about escorting him to the village. He thought she looked tired. Where was her cousin, Joan, when she needed her? He frowned. ‘If you wish, Thomas can take me to the village. It might be best if you rested for a while. How is your back?’

  She wiped her damp brow with the back of her hand, and pulled a face. ‘Aching—but it could be worse.’ She took the platter from him and swept the meat into the cooking-pot.

  ‘Joan could help you more. Where is she?’

  ‘She said that she would gather some herbs,’ said Felicia.

  ‘Surely she should have returned by now,’ said Edmund.

  Felicia sighed. ‘The suffering she experienced at my cousi
n’s hands was much greater than mine. You saw the condition she was in when we reached Meriet.’

  ‘Aye! And it seemed to me she was more furious about your escaping Philip than aught else,’ he said grimly.

  ‘No! That isn’t true!’ Felicia dropped the spoon on the table with a clatter, and lowered her voice. ‘How can you understand a maid’s feelings in such a situation? Or are you like so many men and think that women are a snare, put on earth and used by the devil to bring about the downfall of men?’

  ‘I do not think that but even so, she should be here, helping you.’

  ‘I know, but?’ She chewed on her lower lip. ‘I think something happened between her and Dickon in the stables that upset her.’

  Edmund frowned. ‘You do not know Dickon if you can believe that he would make advances to your cousin after what happened to her.’

  ‘I do not believe it and so am left to wonder what else he could have done that so disturbed her.’

  ‘I will ask him if you so wish,’ said Edmund, his eyes intent on her face.

  ‘No, it is of no matter,’ she said hastily. ‘She could have misread his intentions, due to the mood she’s in. With God’s help, time will heal her pain.’

  Edmund hesitated before speaking. ‘And what of my behaviour? I hope you do not think I forced you by strength of arms to wed me.’

  ‘Perhaps only in so much that you did take me in your arms and kissed me with such ardour that it would have been difficult for me to call a halt to your actions.’

  ‘But you did not protest,’ he murmured, his eyes glinting.

  Felicia experienced a tiny spurt of anger. ‘Would it have excited you if I had struggled?’ she hissed.

  ‘That would depend on whether you were acting the tease. You could struggle but be pretending that you didn’t want me to make love to you, whilst in truth you did but didn’t want to admit it openly. I deem I would have sensed if you were truly frightened of me.’

  Her heart began to race. ‘And in that case, would you have desisted?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And now that we are married, would you still desist or force me to accept your lovemaking?’

  He frowned. ‘Why are we having this conversation? It is natural for a virgin to be somewhat apprehensive of having her maidenhead breached, but I would woo you with gentle words and caresses,’ he said softly, stroking the side of her neck before pressing his lips against the spot.

  His touch caused a shiver of pleasure to ripple through her. ‘You must not,’ she murmured. ‘We are not alone.’

  ‘And if we were alone?’

  She did not answer. For at that moment Joan entered the hall like a whirlwind and hurried over to her. ‘Flissie, I have brought you some herbs. A storm is brewing outside and is it not a good thing that we reached here in time?’

  Edmund stared at Felicia and raised his eyebrows, before turning away and picking up the pitcher of cider. For a second she stared at his broad back before accepting the herbs from Joan’s hand and thanking her.

  The meal was good, and even Joan ate the food with relish. Dickon said that Felicia’s cooking even excelled Nell’s, a compliment she laughingly denied but which brought a frown to her cousin’s face. Felicia noticed Joan drink deeply of the cider, her blue eyes gazing at Dickon’s lively face. She wondered what she was thinking and wished she would not drink so much. Felicia knew the potency of the brew. Could she be dwelling on what had happened to her at Philip’s hands? Or maybe of what had happened in the stable. If anything? Maybe she should have asked Edmund to speak to Dickon about it?

  The meal was over and Edmund rose from the table and beckoned Thomas. ‘Take me now to see the children. Tell me what has so far been tried with your son?’

  ‘I have passed him nine times under and over the priest’s donkey—and he’s drunk some of the beast’s milk with three hairs from its back and three hairs from its belly infused in it.’ Thomas sighed. ‘Beatrice also made him some mouse tea but none of these seemed to have made any difference.’

  Edmund shook his head exasperatedly and muttered, ‘We shall try another way to improve your son’s condition.’ He picked up the saddlebag from the chest, and turned to Felicia. ‘I shall be as quick as I can.’

  ‘You must take all the time you need.’ She rose to her feet and accompanied him and Thomas to the door, watching them until they were out of sight among the trees. It was likely that, when Edmund returned, he would claim her as his wife. Her pulses leaped with trepidation and excitement and then suddenly she resented the powerful hold he had over her emotions.

  She returned to the hall and began to collect the platters. Tomorrow she would see about speaking to some of the women in the village about working in the house, but tonight she would manage without them. She glanced at Dickon and Joan. He was sitting on the settle, plucking the strings of his lute. As for her cousin, she was slumped at the table. Her chin rested on her hands and she appeared to be staring at a smudge of dirt high on one of the walls. Suddenly Felicia became aware of a sense of exasperation and helplessness as she stared at her cousin, and then she squared her shoulders.

  ‘Joan, I need your help,’ she said firmly.

  Joan pushed herself up from the table and stood swaying. She appeared to be struggling to focus her eyes on her cousin, whilst at the same time she hung grimly on to the table.

  Dickon cast a glance at her and then looked at Felicia. ‘I’ll help you.’

  She hesitated and then thanked him before addressing her cousin again. ‘You should not have drunk so much cider. Best you stay where you are.’ Joan flopped onto the bench and rested her head on her hands and closed her eyes.

  Felicia fetched pallets, linen and blankets from a chest. With Dickon’s help, they were placed in front of the fire to air. Only then did she consider that she could have difficulty in persuading Joan to sleep in the hall, even if she put a screen between her and Dickon. For a moment Felicia stood still, gnawing her lower lip, her arms filled with blankets and sheets, before shrugging and going up the ladder, leading to the bedchamber.

  ‘Do you need help?’ called Dickon.

  ‘I’ll manage,’ she shouted, even as she struggled to lift the trapdoor.

  He followed her up the ladder and pushed open the trapdoor. She thanked him and climbed inside the bedchamber with the bedcovers wedged beneath her chin.

  Dickon glanced down at Joan who appeared to have been wakened by the noise of the trapdoor being flung open. She was squinting up at them. ‘Do you need more help, Mistress Felicia?’ he asked. ‘Your cousin is awake.’

  ‘I can manage,’ said Felicia firmly.

  She heard him climbing down the ladder as she placed the bedding on the bed. She glanced around her and swallowed a sigh. The bedchamber was in need of a thorough clean. She went over to the window and flung wide the shutters. Cool air wafted in, bringing with it the smell of the fields. Then she set to making up the bed, spreading lavender-scented linen over the feather mattress. Her thoughts were in confusion because she was uncertain about what would happen that night.

  She had almost finished her task when she heard the sound of feet on the ladder. For a moment she imagined her heart would stop beating as she watched a head appear. Then her cousin heaved herself up into the bedchamber and fell on her knees. ‘So you are ... pre-preparing the marit ... al bed!’ She hiccupped. ‘Pardon!’ Somehow she managed to get to her feet and half-ran, half-fell across the room and flopped on the bed.

  Felicia bit back a rebuke as she stared down at her cousin. ‘Joan, what do you think you’re doing?’ she cried.

  ‘Shhh!’ Joan held up a finger and pressed it to her lips. ‘I don’t want them ... hearing us. Them men.’ She winked. ‘I’ve been thinking about ... your Edmund.’ She yawned, before pulling herself further onto the bed by grasping the coverlet. She blinked several times and smiled brightly at Felicia, who had moved forward and was just in time to prevent Joan from sliding off the other side of
the bed.

  ‘I don’t think I wish to hear what you have to say about Edmund while you are in this state. How did you manage to get up the ladder? What was Dickon thinking of to allow you to risk it?’ whispered Felicia, heaving her back on the bed. ‘You could have fallen.’

  ‘Oh, the minstrel’s gone! Don’t think he likes me, Flissie. He teased me earlier and wouldn’t help me collect eggs. They were smashed and he is to blame.’

  ‘What! How did they get smashed?’

  Joan did not reply. ‘He said he was going to che-check the horses.’ She gazed up at Felicia from drowned cornflower eyes and tears oozed down her cheeks. ‘He likes you. But he—he can’t have you. You’re Master Edmund’s. Clever fellow that husband of yours, Flissie. Have you thought that if he kills Philip, he will have his land as well as yours. You are Philip’s nearest kin and there are no male heirs. What a perfect jape to play on you—and Philip. Well, they do say most physicians are charlatans, don’t they? And you love him, don’t you, Flissie?’ Joan’s eyelids drooped and she said no more.

  Felicia stood, staring down at Joan, hurt and resentment mingled with a cold desolation. Could it be true? Was Edmund so cold-blooded a planner? She sank to her knees by the bed, resting her head on her folded arms. Her throat felt uncomfortably tight as she remembered the first time she had set eyes on him. How he had hated her and Philip! He had said later that to possess that which your enemy most wanted was the perfect revenge. And she had played into his hands by marrying him! By all the saints and the Virgin, what had she done? Joan’s words kept repeating themselves in her head, intermingled with images of Edmund’s face ... harsh, cold, gentle, angry, soft with tenderness, hot with desire. She wished she knew him better. Then she would know what to do. Time! She needed time! She should never have allowed him to rush her into marriage.