Marietta looked from one to the other. ‘Is there some reason why we might suffer delay?’
‘Miguel thought he saw men lurking in the woods when he went to the stream to wash. I do not think it can be Rouen’s men, for I doubt he could have caught up with us so soon, but it is a reminder to be on our guard. There are always rogues and bands of roaming beggars ready to set upon the unwary traveller.’
‘You think he will come after me?’ Marietta studied their faces, wondering at their grim expressions. Was it because they were expecting to be attacked that they looked so grim? The hurt inside her eased a little as she realised that Anton was not angry, but anxious. She had misjudged him.
‘He needs you if he is to gain control of your husband’s fortune. I expect he will come.’ Anton’s expression softened. ‘Do not fear him, Marietta. We are a match for the Bastard’s men—but we must keep a strict watch lest he take us by surprise.’
‘I see …’ Marietta’s pulse raced. ‘What am I to do?’
‘First we must get you to court,’ Anton said. ‘Come, lady, we must leave. It is possible that Rouen’s men might catch up to us if they had a fast ship and rode all night.’
‘I am a great deal of trouble to you, sir. You must wish that you had never set eyes on me.’
‘You speak foolishly,’ Anton replied. ‘I deal in what is real. Whether I wish it or not, you are here and my responsibility. I must get you safely to court.’
‘And then?’
‘I have told you I shall plead your case. You must have faith, lady.’ Marietta swallowed hard, because the closer they got to London the more anxious she became. ‘I am a man of my word, Comtesse. Whatever happens, I shall do my best for your son.’
‘Then I am content.’ Marietta hesitated, then, as he came to help her mount, ‘Forgive me. I meant to stay awake but you did not come.’
‘The hour was late. I had much to do.’
A little pulse flicked in his throat. Marietta was not sure if he was angry or the victim of some strong emotion.
She smiled tremulously as he lifted her effortlessly to the saddle, and for a moment he smiled at her, making her heart lift.
‘Do not give up all hope. Henry is a fair man, and he likes beautiful women. He may find in your cause—and then he will bring his influence to bear on your son’s behalf.’
‘Thank you …’ Marietta’s voice was no more than a whisper.
She glanced at Miguel. He was standing close enough to hear what had been said, and as he returned her look she saw something in his eyes that worried her.
Why did he look at her that way? She could not decide whether he disliked her or felt some resentment because she preferred Anton. Perhaps it was just imagination. Miguel had given her no reason to believe that he felt either desire or hatred for her.
Anton was striding away, mounting his own horse. His manner to Miguel showed that he trusted and relied on him, thought of him as a friend. Marietta was misjudging him, just as she had mistaken Anton’s mood earlier, thinking he was angry when he was merely anxious.
Her fear about what would happen in the King’s court had made her too sensitive. She must trust Anton and his friends, for there was nothing else she could do.
London was a sprawling and dirty city. The narrow streets were choked with filth: rotting food, excrement and dead rats lying at the side of the road. No one cleared the rubbish away, and consequently the smell in some parts of the city was foul, disease carried in the air. The houses were mostly of timber, with overhanging top storeys that made them look as if they might topple over and fall down. Some of the larger houses belonged to merchants; they had brightly painted signs that showed which guild they belonged to—the guild of shoemakers, metalworkers, cloth merchants, bakers, tailors, goldsmiths or physicians.
There was so much noise, and the roads were clogged with wagons and horses, the iron rims on the wheels clattering over cobbles. Men drove sheep to market, costers plied their wares, calling out to the people who passed by on foot or on horseback. Dogs barked and fought over the offal they found lying in gutters, and the fashionable ran to avoid the slops tossed out from bedroom windows; many held pomanders to their nostrils to block the foul odours.
When Anton’s train finally came to a halt in the courtyard of an impressive house, Marietta looked about her curiously. It was far more modern than her husband’s castle or her father’s manor in France. There was an undercroft for the horses and servants, but the upper storeys had paned windows of dull grey glass crossed with lead.
‘You must be tired,’ Anton said, as he came to her. His hands clasped her waist, lifting her from the saddle effortlessly. For a moment her breath caught, for she sensed strong feeling in him, but he suppressed it ruthlessly. ‘I shall send word to the King that you are here, but I do not think he will see you until tomorrow at the earliest.’
‘Is this your house?’ Marietta asked, looking about her.
‘It belongs to my grandfather, Lord Melford. You will be safe here and may rest in peace.’
‘Thank you. I am tired, but not—’ She broke off as she saw Miguel staring at her. ‘I must spend the night in prayer. If God has mercy, I shall be exonerated of all the accusations made against me.’
She turned away and went into the house. A woman in a grey gown and white cap came to greet her.
‘My master sent word. Your chamber is ready, my lady. I dare say you would like some good hot broth after such a journey.’
Marietta thanked her. The woman seemed kind and uncritical. Perhaps she had not been told that Marietta was to face a trial for her life.
Marietta found the house welcoming and comfortable. The furniture was good solid English oak, as was the panelling on the walls of the bedchamber she was shown to. At once she noticed how much warmer the wooden house was than the damp stone walls of the older inns. Her husband’s castle had always been cold, even on a summer day, but this had a comfort able feel.
The crimson velvet hangings about the tester bed matched those at the window, edged with gold braid and draped back with twisted threads of gilded rope. The floor was also of wood, and partially covered with a red and gold carpet. Marietta had always thought carpets too precious to be used on the floor, for they were costly and often used to adorn tables or hang on walls. She thought that the Melford family must be very wealthy.
She had learned someihing of Robert Melford’s history from Claire. He had been with Henry Tudor when he took the throne of England, and his family had served the monarch since that time, rising from humble beginnings to great power and wealth.
‘I will send hot water and food, my lady,’ the housekeeper said, and bobbed a curtsey.
Marietta explored the room after she had gone. There was a large armoire, carved and polished, coffers and a padded stool, also a lyre and a music stand. She opened the armoire and saw gowns of costly silk lying on the shelves. They must belong to a lady of the house. Marietta touched one with reverent fingers. As the Comtesse she had owned gowns almost as fine as these, but they had been left behind. All she had was the dress she was wearing. It was travel-stained and looked creased after so many days of being constantly worn. She would ask the housekeeper if something could be done to freshen it, so that she might be presentable when she was brought before the King.
What did it matter what she looked like? A wave of despair swept over Marietta. She clutched the silver cross she wore on a chain about her throat and kissed it, then sank to her knees.
‘If I have sinned, forgive me,’ she whispered. ‘I ask only that the truth be believed …’
Hearing a knock at the door, she called out that the servant might enter, but when it opened she turned to see that her visitor was Anton. She rose to her feet, heart pounding. She wished that he would take her in his arms, kiss her and tell her that he could not give her up—but she was dreaming again! He would not risk his King’s anger for her sake.
His dark eyes went over her, his expression gra
ve.
‘I came to see that you have all you need. I hope your chamber is comfortable?’
‘Yes, quite comfortable. Is this Lady Melford’s chamber?’
‘Once it may have been. She does not come to London these days. My grandparents stayed here often in the past, I believe, but now they allow my parents to use it. My cousins and uncle stay here too, when attending court. Uncle Harry is most often here, I believe, for he is called to attend the King several times a year.’
‘Will the lady whose chamber this is mind that I am using it?’
‘This is a guest chamber. It is not a family room these days.’
‘I thought … the gowns in the armoire …’
‘Are for you. I commissioned them before I left London to return to my uncle’s house, for I knew that you had none of your own. If the King allows you to return to my cousin’s home, you may take them with you.’
‘They are very costly. I cannot repay you …’
‘I ask for no payment, Marietta.’ He moved towards her, his gaze suddenly intense, burning her with its heat. ‘Forgive me for bringing you here. I should have fled to Spain and taken you with me … I could do it still …’
‘You fear for my life.’ Her eyes opened wide and she gasped, because she sensed his urgency. ‘I thank you for the thought, sir—but I shall not allow you to put your own life at risk for my sake. If you disobeyed His Majesty he might punish you—he could punish your family too. Besides, you were right when you said that I should never be free if I did not face the King’s justice.’
‘Henry is just. I believe he will treat you fairly.’
‘Then why do you fear for me? Do you still doubt my innocence?’
Anton stared at her, his face working with passion. ‘I do not wish to think you capable of any wickedness, Marietta. However, life has taught me not to trust a woman’s smile.’
She felt chilled as she saw the look in his eyes. ‘I think someone has hurt you, sir. You are at times bitter … angry. All women are not faithless. My father married me to a man many years my senior. I did not love him as I might a young, passionate lover, but I tried to be a good wife. I denied him nothing he asked of me—and I nursed him faithfully when he was ill. If that makes me faithless or a witch, then so be it.’
‘Marietta … I have promised I shall speak to the King in your favour, and I shall keep my word.’
‘Even though you do not trust me?’ Her clear eyes met his. ‘Tell me, do you think I lay with you so that you would help me to evade justice?’
He hesitated, then, ‘I do not know.’
‘If you do not know there can be nothing more to say, my lord. If you will excuse me, I need to wash away the dust of the road—and then I should like to be alone.’
Anton stared at her, then inclined his head. ‘You are angry, and justly so. I am little better than the man you ran from in terror, for I took advantage of your vulnerability. Yet I do care …’
She shook her head, unable to bear more of this. ‘Please go now.’
Marietta was fighting to hold back her tears. How could he not understand that she loved him?
Someone had hurt him so badly that he could not love or accept love. She had fallen in love with a bright-eyed young man, eager for life and its pleasures. This man was not the man she had enshrined in her memory for so many years. He was honourable, and he would help her, but he could not love her.
Someone had robbed him of the power to love.
Chapter Seven
Anton stood staring out of the window at the long garden that ran down to the river Thames. It had begun to rain, the wind howling through the trees that fronded the river’s bank. He felt as if he were being torn apart, little by little. His body ached to know the delight he had found in Marietta’s arms, but still his mind would not let him accept her for what she seemed. Her beauty beguiled him, and her smile turned his insides to molten fire, but was she honest? If he trusted her, asked her to be his for ever, would she betray him?
Miguel had made it plain in little ways that he did not trust her. He had said nothing outright, couching his words in innuendo and suggestion rather than saying outright that he believed her a witch and a murderess.
Was Anton a fool to feel as he did about her? Despite his doubts and his caution, the scent of her haunted him. He longed to snatch her up on his horse and ride away with her, to keep her safe for the rest of her life. Yet he knew that if he disobeyed the King in this it might mean that his whole family would be slighted and shut out—his own liberty forfeit if he ever returned to England. It was foolish to think of such wild plans. Marietta would never be safe until she had the King’s pardon, and with it his protection.
‘Your message has been sent.’
Anton turned as Miguel entered the parlour. He knew that his friend hoped they would be rid of the Frenchwoman once she was taken before the King. Miguel was no coward, but he saw no point in spending lives to keep her safe. Indeed, Anton strained the loyalty of his men by asking it of them, for she was no kith or kin to any of them. Only if he offered her the protection of his name could he expect the men to give her their wholehearted loyalty.
‘You sent word to His Majesty in my name?’
‘It was the reason you brought her here—or has she bewitched you?’
‘Yes, perhaps she has,’ Anton replied, his eyes thoughtful as he returned his friend’s stern gaze. ‘I have almost felt that I could find happiness with her.’
‘You were betrayed once. Do not put your trust in women, Anton. If you let her rule your heart she will destroy you—as Isabella did.’ Something flickered in Miguel’s eyes as he spoke Anton’s wife’s name.
‘I swore I would never love again, but this woman.’
‘She uses witchcraft to bind you to her. Do not trust her, or you may rue the day you saved her life.’
‘Perhaps you are right. I have been wondering … but you did what I ought to have done as soon as we reached London.’ Anton’s expression softened. ‘I do not know what I should have done had you not been my friend when Isabella died.’
‘I shall always be your friend. You should marry again, Anton—but choose wisely, a good woman you can trust. The Frenchwoman is too beautiful. Her kind take a man’s heart and bring him to his knees. You should choose a plainer, gentle lady.’
‘You dislike her very much, do you not—the Comtesse?’
‘I do not trust such as she. I fear her magic for your sake. After Isabella was killed I thought you might lose your mind for a time.’
‘Was killed? What do you mean? She tripped and fell to her death.’ Anton’s eyes narrowed. ‘Do you know something I do not? Have you kept something from me all this time?’
‘It was a slip of the tongue, Anton. As you say, Isabella slipped and fell.’ He made as if to turn away, but Anton crossed the distance between them swiftly, catching his arm.
‘What do you know?’ he demanded. ‘You must tell me!’
‘It will do no good.’ Miguel faltered, and then inclined his head. ‘The servants whispered that she had been pushed. I kept it from you, because it was nonsense …’
Anton’s eyes narrowed. ‘What else did they whisper?’
‘Nothing.’ Miguel’s mouth tightened as the pressure on his arm increased. ‘If you will have it … they thought that you had killed her in a rage when you discovered her faithlessness. Raised voices were heard by a gardener—a man and your wife’s, he said. I questioned him and told him he would be dismissed if he continued to slander your name. He ran away and the whispers stopped.’
‘I wish that you had told me. I should have liked to question him myself. I did not follow Isabella into the garden that day. I was too angry, too hurt—but she may have been pushed by someone else.’ His eyes became flinty. ‘If the gardener heard a quarrel it could have been with someone else—her lover. Perhaps he wanted her to run away with him.’
‘There was no one in the garden. The man imagined it all.’ Miguel�
��s eyes slid away. ‘I should not have told you. You will brood on it and the pain will send you mad.’
‘No.’ Anton frowned. ‘I thought I had driven her to her death because I was cruel to her—but if she argued with someone, if she was pushed, it means that he and not I was responsible for her death.’
‘The gardener ran off. You could not have questioned him. At the time you were in such despair. I did what I thought right.’
‘I know that you acted out of concern for me, and I thank you for it,’ Anton said. ‘However, in future I want to know everything. I shall send to Spain when this business is over and see if the man can be found.’
‘I had a search made for him. I doubt you will find him, but you must do as you see fit.’
‘Yes …’ Anton nodded. ‘Your advice has served me well in the past, Miguel, but in this you were wrong.’ He turned back to the fireplace, taking a glass of wine from the mantle. ‘I shall not rest until I have the truth …’
Anton remained staring into the fire. He did not turn as the door closed when Miguel left the room.
Marietta was ready when the summons came. She had chosen a dark blue gown, very plain, with a squared neckline and a band of gold braid beneath her breasts. It suited her well, making her look what she was—the widow of a wealthy nobleman. She had only the silver cross she had been wearing the night she was abducted, for her other jewels and possessions were still with Lady Claire. Her hair was dressed simply and allowed to fall onto her shoulders, covered only by a black French cap.
She went downstairs to find Anton waiting for her. He was dressed finer than she had ever seen him, in black and silver, a jewelled sword at his side. She made him a curtsey and he smiled.
‘You look very well, lady. I am glad that you did not spurn my gift.’
‘I did not wish to wear a stained gown to meet the King of England. It was thoughtful of you to provide gowns for me, sir.’
‘I have done no more than was owed you. Everyone is entitled to a fair hearing—and you should wear clothes befitting your rank.’ Anton’s face was expressionless.
A Wayward Woman Page 37
