‘Isabella was not truly well the whole time she was carrying the babe. Her death was an accident. The physician thought that she had turned dizzy and fell down the steps leading to the sunken garden. I have grieved for her and now I have come home to begin a new life here in England. God saw fit to give us a beautiful daughter and I shall make a new life for her.’ The new lightness of mood after the contest had stayed with him and he had begun to make plans for the future. It was time to move on—to try and put the bitterness and his doubts behind him. ‘I am come to beg my mother if she will care for Madeline until I can provide a home worthy of Isabella’s daughter.’
‘You have come back to your family.’ His father was nodding and smiling. ‘I am glad of it, for I thought at one time that you might never return. You need not ask, my son. Both you and the child are welcome here until you are ready to move on.’
‘Thank you. I was sure it would be so. How is all my family, Father? Your steward told me that Mother has not been well?’
‘Catherine had a nasty chill that settled on her chest. It has pulled her down and I have been anxious for her sake. She is on the mend now and will be pleased to see you.’
‘I shall visit her at once.’
‘Stay and talk with me for a moment longer. Your sister is with her. Her women usually tend her at about this hour.’ The Marquis was thoughtful. ‘Your coming is opportune, Anton. Sarah has been with us for the birth of her child. Now that she is well, and the boy thrives, Lord Sheldon has asked that she join him at court. I would prefer not to escort her there, for I do not wish to leave your mother until I am certain she is truly recovered.’
Anton was silent for a moment. He had hoped to have some time with his family before visiting the court. It was possible that the King would have some task for him once he presented himself, and Anton was not sure that he wished to serve at court. He believed that he might prefer life as a country gentleman. However, his father had asked a favour of him and he would be churlish to refuse.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I shall be pleased to escort my sister to the court.’
‘I would not press you to wed again,’ his father said. ‘But I hope that in time you will find a lady who can make you happy, Anton. It might be that you’ll meet someone at court.’
‘I thought a kind, gentle lady—perhaps a country woman who would love and care for my daughter.’
‘Such a marriage would bring you comfort, but I am not certain it would bring happiness, my son.’
Anton made no answer. It was too difficult to explain the hurt and anger that lived inside him. He had decided that he would not look for love or passion in his next wife. However, as he left his father and went to find his mother and sister, the picture of a woman’s face was in his mind: a beautiful woman who had smiled as she gave him a silver arrow—a woman who had felt so good in his arms as he carried her to his tent.
Chapter Two
Marietta felt the man’s hot gaze on her and her skin crawled. She had disliked her husband’s bastard the first moment she laid eyes on him, and his behaviour at the tourney had not endeared him to her. There was something menacing in the way he looked at her. She felt as if he stripped her naked with his eyes, exposing her flesh to his lust. For Montcrief’s sake she had greeted him politely, but all evening she had longed for the moment she could leave the feasting and return to her chamber. At last the time had come, for the hour was late.
‘I shall retire now, my lord,’ she said softly, leaning towards her husband to whisper in his ear.
‘Yes, do so, Marietta. Some of the men grow lewd and coarse. I do not wish you to be exposed to such behaviour. Go to your chamber now and lock the door. Do not expect a visit this night for I have business that will not keep.’ He smiled and touched her hand.
Marietta nodded. She knew that he meant to get Rouen to sign the paper he had had prepared and be done with it that night.
‘I wish you goodnight, my lord. May you sleep peacefully.’
‘Send some of your mixture to my chamber, my love. My chest feels tight this evening. I do not wish to be ill again.’
‘My woman shall bring it to your chamber. It will be there when you retire.’
Montcrief inclined his head, smiled at her and waved his hand. Marietta beckoned to her ladies. The three of them exited the hall together, leaving the men to their drink and their jesting. Beyond the lights of the hall there were shadowed passages and dark corners, the chill of the stone walls striking even the most hardy.
In her bedchamber, Marietta went to her cabinet, unlocked the door and took out a small bottle.
‘When you have helped me to disrobe, take this to my lord’s chamber and place it on the table by the window. He will see it there and know what it is when he retires.’
‘Yes, my lady.’
Jeanne took the bottle and stood it down while she helped Marietta to remove her rich tunic and gown of green cloth.
‘I can manage now,’ she told her ladies. ‘Go to your beds—but do not forget the medicine for my lord, Jeanne.’
When her ladies had gone, Marietta went into the small alcove where the child’s cot was placed. Charles was fast asleep. She smiled, resisting the temptation to touch his cheek lest she wake him. Feeling glad to be alone at last, Marietta sought her bed and was soon asleep.
It was barely light when the noise of shouting and lamenting woke her. She sat up as the door of her bedchamber was opened and Jeanne came rushing in, looking strange. almost frightened.
‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘What is all that shouting and wailing?’
‘I bring terrible news, my lady,’ Jeanne said. ‘I do not know how to tell you—your husband is dead. His steward found him lying on the floor of his chamber.’
‘My lord is dead?’ Marietta gave a cry of alarm and jumped out of bed. She was reaching for her robe as her other women entered the room. ‘How did he die? Was it a seizure?’ She crossed herself. ‘God save his soul.’ Tears stung her eyes, for her husband had been good to her despite the differences in their ages.
‘He was bleeding from the mouth,’ Louise said, and looked awkward. ‘Some are saying it must have been poison.’
‘Poison? Who would poison my lord?’ Marietta looked at Jeanne’s face and saw the guilt. ‘You do not think that the medicine I sent Montcrief last night would harm him?’
‘Of course it would not,’ Rosalind said staunchly. ‘You use only herbs that do good, my lady. Your cures saved him last winter, for without them he would have died.’
‘But some say it.’ Jeanne turned red as the other serving women looked at her. ‘I do not say it, my lady. You know that I am loyal to you—but Lord Montcrief’s steward questioned me. He saw me leaving the master’s chamber last night and asked me what I did there. I told him I took the master’s medicine to him. The look in his eyes frightened me, my lady: it was a crafty, malicious look. I do not think he likes you.’
‘You are right, he does not. Drogbar thinks that I whispered against him to my husband and caused him to lose face. It is true that I suggested we might be served faster at table if the kitchens were brought closer to the great hall, for the food was always cold when I first came here. Montcrief ordered it changed and laughed at Drogbar for not thinking of it sooner. I think the man has not forgiven me.’
‘He hates you,’ Jeanne said, and shivered. ‘He is a powerful man, my lady. He would not dare to speak against you while the master lived, but now.’
‘No one will dare speak against her. She is the mother of the new lord of this manor,’ Rosalind said. ‘Do not forget that she bore the master a fine son.’
‘There are those who wonder how it was possible, for the lord was too old to father a child; they hint at the black arts—’ Jeanne broke off as all eyes turned on her. ‘Forgive me, lady—but it is whispered of you, here at the castle and in the village.’
Marietta’s gaze narrowed. ‘I have never heard these tales. I have always tried to help peopl
e. Why should they say wrong of me?’
‘They whisper you are a witch.’ Jeanne crossed herself. ‘Forgive me! I know that you help people, but there are some who whisper that you could not have saved the master’s life had you not bartered with the Devil himself.’
‘Be quiet, you foolish woman!’ Rosalind said, and her eyes flashed with anger. She had come to Montcrief with Marietta, and known her since they were both children. ‘My lady is not a witch. Those who speak so foully abuse her good nature. She has shown you nothing but kindness, Jeanne—nor you Louise.’
‘I would not spread such tales,’ Louise said indignantly. ‘I know my lady is a sweet angel.’
Jeanne looked at Rosalind, and then at her mistress. She fell to her knees before Marietta. ‘Forgive me, my lady. I do not believe the tales, but I thought you should know what is being whispered.’
Marietta’s face was pale. Inside, she was grieving for her husband, and all this talk of witchcraft was too foolish to be borne.
‘Enough of this nonsense!’ she said. ‘I must go to my husband at once.’
‘My lady … is that wise?’ Jeanne asked.
Marietta ignored her. She swept out of the chamber and ran down the stairs of her tower. Going through a narrow passageway, she entered the Great Hall and ran across it to the private chambers that belonged to Comte de Montcrief.
As she tried to enter the steward blocked her path, his eyes staring at her with hatred, dark and malicious. ‘None may enter here.’
‘Stand aside, sirrah,’ Marietta commanded. ‘How dare you deny me entrance to my husband’s chamber?’
‘It was the new lord’s orders that none should enter.’
‘My son is the new lord Montcrief—and I am custodian of his manor until he reaches maturity.’ Marietta’s eyes flashed at him. ‘Stand aside or I shall have you flogged for your impudence.’
‘Do as the lady says,’ a voice said from behind her, and Marietta whirled round to look into the face of the Bastard of Rouen. The sneer of triumph on his thick lips sent a chill through her. ‘I did not tell you to deny my father’s wife the right to pay her last respects. You may go in, lady.’
‘By what right do you assume command here? My husband gave me the custodial rights until my son is sixteen. I know his will is lodged at court and once it is read everyone will know that my claim is just.’
‘I would not dream of interfering with your ordering of the household and your son, lady.’ The Bastard inclined his head to her. He was a handsome man, in a coarse, rough way, his eyes a chilling blue. ‘However, I believe you will find that the men follow me. How can you hold this land for your son, lady? It needs a strong man—as you would soon discover if I rode away and deserted you.’ He moved closer, towering over her. She could smell an overpowering perfume that hid the smell of dried-on sweat. ‘Do not fear, lady. I intend to stay here and protect you and your sweet son, as my father would have wished.’
His mocking smile infuriated her. How dared he take command here? Marietta was tempted to throw the truth in the Bastard’s face. She knew that her husband had tried to prevent this very situation, but something had gone wrong. Montcrief had died suddenly and the Bastard had seized his chance. For the moment Marietta was powerless. Instinct told her that it would be foolish to antagonise this man.
‘I thank you for your kind thought for me and my son,’ she said proudly. ‘For the moment I shall accept your protection.’
‘You are gracious, my lady.’ His eyes gleamed with anger as he bowed his head to her.
Marietta went into her husband’s chamber. One of the men who had served the lord was washing his face, but he bowed his head respectfully and drew back. It was obvious that he intended to leave, but she held out a hand to stay him.
‘Tell me, please, how my lord looked before you washed him?’
‘There was blood on his mouth. It had run from the side—a mere trickle, my lady.’
‘And his expression? Were his eyes open or closed?’
‘Open, my lady. I closed them and put the silver coins there to protect him on his journey across the Styx. If he goes prepared he may pay the boatman.’
‘You believe in such things, Jolyn?’
‘Yes, my lady.’ He crossed himself and glanced over his shoulder. ‘I know there are many things that we cannot understand. Some speak of the Devil and evil, but these powers may be used for good. I know that my lord spoke often how much better he felt after you gave him medicine, my lady.’
‘Thank you,’ Marietta said. ‘You may leave me with my lord, but return soon to finish what you have begun.’
Jolyn bowed his head and left the room. Marietta bent over her husband and kissed his brow.
‘Forgive me that I was not here when you needed me, my lord,’ she said, and the tears wet her cheeks. ‘I have been fortunate and I shall miss you.’
She bent her head as the tears trickled down her cheeks. Montcrief had treated her kindly and he had protected her. Now she was a woman alone and at the mercy of others. The Bastard of Rouen had taken command here and for the moment there was nothing she could do—except protect her child and wait. If she could get word to the French court perhaps the King would help her, but would she still be alive or would she be the next to die—and her son with her?
‘We are pleased to see you at court.’ King Henry VIII of England stood up to offer his hand to Anton. He clasped him by the shoulder. ‘We were sad to learn of your loss, sir—but welcome you home. You have served us well.’
Anton bowed gracefully. Clad in black from head to toe, with only a fringe of silver to his sash, he was a distinguished man who turned heads as he walked through the court.
‘I am honoured to be received privately, Sire. You show me great favour. It is good to be home again.’
Henry studied him in silence for a moment, then, ‘You have brought the Lady Sarah to her husband, for which I am sure he expressed his thanks, but what is your intention now, sir?’
‘I believe I shall buy land and build my house. In time I may marry again, and I hope to have several sons. My father has but the one son, and if I fail the name dies with me …’
The King looked at him oddly, a glint of displeasure in his eyes. ‘It is the hope of all men to have sons, sir. The Queen hath given me a daughter but as yet I have no living son.’ He crossed the room to look down at the courtyard garden below. Through the opened window floated the sound of ladies laughing. The King raised his hand and called out. ‘Tell me, my lady Anne—is it warm today?’
Anton did not hear the lady’s reply, but when the King turned back to him the look of displeasure had gone from his face.
‘The Lady Anne Boleyn is walking with some ladies. I think we should go down and join them, sir. The getting of sons is an ambition I share with you. Choose your wife carefully, my friend. Divorce is no easy thing, especially if you be a king.’
‘I imagine it must be difficult, for many in the church would be against it.’ Anton knew he must tread carefully, because he had heard the stories and knew of the rumour that the King was seeking a divorce from Queen Katherine so that he might marry Anne Boleyn.
‘And you—what is your opinion?’
‘I think no man should stand above the King, Sire.’
‘You have learned your trade well,’ Henry said and smiled. ‘I see you are a true diplomat. Tell me, Anton of Gifford—will you do your King a further service?’
Anton bowed his head. It was as he had feared, but he knew he could not refuse. He had become wealthy, and he had learned much from his position at the court of the Holy Roman Emperor—and he had this king to thank.
‘Of course, Sire. You have only to ask.’
‘It will mean a short journey to France—but we shall talk of this another day.’ Henry smiled. ‘It is too pleasant to talk of politics. We must find a way of amusing the ladies—perhaps a game of tennis might please them. Tell me, do you play—are you a good sportsman? Shall we match ourselve
s for the ladies’ pleasure?’
‘I have some skill,’ Anton replied, smiling inwardly as he recalled the day he had won the coveted silver arrow—and the woman who had presented him with his prize. It was odd, but she had been much in his thoughts of late. He was angry with himself for letting her take root in his mind. Isabella’s loss was still a cause of raw grief and he needed to atone for her death! ‘Why not, Sire? I may be able to give Your Majesty a little sport.’
‘You are sent for, lady,’ Jeanne said, her cheeks hot as she avoided looking at her mistress. ‘The lord asks that you join him at table this evening.’
‘I am in mourning for my husband,’ Marietta said. ‘Please tell the Bastard of Rouen that I shall not come down this evening.’
‘It is forbidden to call him by that name. He is lord of Montcrief now,’ Jeanne said, and her eyes were wide with fear. ‘He told me that if you did not come he would send men to fetch you.’
‘He has threatened you?’
‘It was I who took the medicine to the Comte’s chamber the night he died. The new lord says that if I do not obey him he will charge me with the Comte’s murder.’
‘Does he dare to suggest that my husband was murdered?’ Marietta’s gaze narrowed as the woman hung her head. ‘And who is supposed to have put the poison into the medication—you or me?’
‘I swear I did nothing wrong!’
‘I have accused you of nothing. There was naught to harm my husband in the cure I sent him—but it may have been contaminated later.’
‘Will you come, lady? I fear the lord’s wrath if you do not. He says I shall be beaten if you do not obey him.’
‘Very well. For your sake I shall come.’ Marietta waved her away. ‘Leave me. I must prepare myself.’
She turned to Rosalind as the door closed behind the other woman. ‘Now I am bidden to table because he desires it. Where will it stop?’
‘I have seen his eyes on you, my lady. He wants everything that belonged to his father. He wants more than your obedience—and I fear he will take it whether you will it or no.’
A Wayward Woman Page 27
