by Jackie Ivie
How stupid she’d been to forget that part!
Bess yanked the striped veil from the headdress, pulling out stitches. It made an effective handkerchief. She’d reached a gate leading to the outer bailey. There was no one in sight. The doors stood wide open.
Bess sprinted, holding the material to her face with one hand, her skirts with the other. All she had to do was reach the barbican wall and she’d be free. Beyond that were sections of land she could disappear in. She didn’t see anyone. She didn’t think she could have heard them, either. There was the most horrid sound in her ears. She couldn’t outrun it. She suspected it was the sound of her heart breaking.
Bessie reached a meadow. Saw a forest line in the distance. She trudged on. Halfway across the field, it started raining. Bessie bent her head and kept moving. Tall grass finally gave way to trees. It was quiet here. Darker. Solitary. Bessie’s heart was pounding, her legs tiring, and her steps slowing. She was cold. She was shaking. She was flirting with illness. She didn’t care. She’d rather die of a chill than allow Devon to inherit one centime.
‘No child should be without love and affection. I’ll prove it when we have our own.’
Fresh tears started up at the memory of Devon’s words and the look on his face as he’d said them. She swiped the veil across her face with a vicious gesture. She’d rarely felt as miserable. Her hair was a mass of wet coils that would give Roberta fits. The headdress had slipped to her shoulders. She hadn’t cared at the time. It had grown heavy with rain and sent rivulets down her neck and arms. Her skirt and petticoats were even heavier. Inner layers clung to her legs, further hampering her steps. Her shoes had been purposely sewn with no needle holes on the outside in order to make them more waterproof. It wasn’t working. She was wet. Tired. Sore.
And yet nothing overrode the heart pain.
Bessie wrapped her arms about the unforgiving bark of a tree. She was grateful now for her austere upbringing. She’d had little contact resembling a hug. Like the one Devon had given her in the library...
She pulled away from the tree in disgust.
Such memories were stupid. Self-defeating. Pure fantasy that had been conjured by her imagination. Nothing Devon had done or said deserved to do this to her. That’s why she was out of sight and range now. She needed to exorcise every little bit of his false loving nature, and how she’d felt when he turned it toward her.
~ ~ ~
“What’s the matter? Are you hurt? Or did my brother toss you over for another comely wench?”
Bess lifted her head and looked across and up at the man who’d addressed her. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes. The rain had stopped, leaving behind a mist that should have hidden her. But she should have known no speck of Hildebrand property was safe. It was James. He was several yards away and regarding her from the back of a bay-colored stallion. His steed looked like a prime piece of horseflesh. That was no surprise. Her funds had probably paid for it. Bessie carefully kept every expression from her face.
“You should have known it would happen the moment you gave him your favor.”
“We haven’t met,” Bessie croaked. She wasn’t going to have any trouble disguising her voice.
“Oh. James Hildebrand. Second born.”
“I...see.”
His brows drew together in a frown. She didn’t know if it was her words or the cool tone with which she spoke them.
“You are even prettier up close. Devon shouldn’t have tossed you over so soon.”
“What makes you think he did?”
He shrugged and then dismounted. Bess stood and started pulling her skirts from her lower limbs. She settled with shaking them out, before smoothing the gold brocade into some semblance of propriety. Her hair was hanging in a series of damp ringlets. The headdress was a mass of wet cloth at her back. She probably looked a fright.
“You are some distance from the castle. You were out in the rainstorm. You’ve been crying. Tell me I’m wrong.”
She lost her aloof facade. Tears filled her eyes. She turned away and hid her face with her hands. If this was the extent of strength behind her facade, she was in severe trouble when she met up with Devon.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry again. Here. I’ve a cloth. Take it.”
James had a gentlemanly side. He reached her and tapped on her arm. Bessie reached across her body for his handkerchief.
“My thanks,” she whispered into the linen.
“Why did Devon do it? He has spoken of nothing but you for days. I should know. I had to listen.”
“Please?”
“Has my brother gone mad? There’s not a comely wench for leagues. I’ve been looking. His wife has hired every redhead female in the world, but they are all ugly.”
James was an excellent companion when one was trying to escape emotions. Bessie sniffed and mopped at her cheeks.
“I am a redhead.”
“Except you, of course. I wasn’t speaking of you. Devon must be crazed. His own wife is so ugly, she hides her face from the world to save it the trauma. Then, when he has you, he tosses you over. It makes no sense. But, here. It’s getting late. The sun is setting. I’ll take you back to the castle.”
“I...can find my own way back.”
“And I think you are already lost.”
“I can’t be seen with you, James Hildebrand. My husband...will not understand.”
“Allow me to see you back to the fields then?”
He walked toward his stallion. Bessie followed.
“That is a beautiful horse.”
“Isn’t he? He’s new. He is not the lone one. The stables are almost full. It is strange, but I’ll not question the hand behind it. I’ve so longed for a mount of my own, such as Devon has. His horse, Black-Heart, is well-trained. I don’t know if he showed you. The horse obeys his slightest command. That is of great benefit, especially on a jousting field.”
“Can we talk...of other things?” The croak was back in her voice.
“Of course. Here. Let me assist you up.”
Bess held her breath as James put both hands about her waist to lift her onto the horse’s back. She needn’t have worried. It didn’t feel anything like when Devon touched her. The instant thought shot pain through her chest, and that just brought the sobs right back.
She shoved his linen to her eyes and shuddered through one breath after another. Nothing worked, and she had an audience to witness it. She was embarrassed. Distraught. And disgusted. Somehow, that made it worse.
“He has much to answer for, I would say,” James commented from the horse’s head.
“You are not...to speak of me to him.”
“Who’s going to stop me?”
“Please?”
“He’s not to know he’s broken your heart and ruined my chances with you at the same time? What kind of bargain is that?”
“Do I need to beg?”
“No. I’ve no desire to add to your heartache. I recognize it...all too well.”
James pulled the reins and started walking. His horse followed.
“You...do?”
He glanced back at her. Then away. “Yes. She was beauteous. Young. Sweet.”
“And?” she prompted.
“She would not have me.”
“Why not?”
“I am the second born in a poor knight’s family. So. I held her hand. Spoke words of love. And lost her.”
His voice lowered. Went brusque. He’d been right about the daylight. They were losing it.
“Recently?”
“No. My suit was turned down two years, eighty-one days ago. Not that I am counting.”
Bessie regarded him for several steps. “Where is this paragon of virtue now?”
“She is the Baroness of Danford.”
Bessie knew her. The misery every time she’d seen the poor girl was explained now. “I think I’ve heard of her. The baron...is an unhealthy man. He might not live much longer.”
“So? What mak
es you think I’d take her? She’s used goods now. And things have changed. I am the brother of a lord.”
“Love doesn’t pay attention to such things, James.”
“She turned down my suit. Would you have me forget that?”
“She was probably forced up the altar. It’s been done before. It happened to me.”
“Village wenches aren’t forced to wed.”
Damn her foolish tongue!
“I think if...a marriage will beget an allegiance, it’s performed, regardless of anyone’s feelings. Look at your brother. Does he love his wife?”
“I would have sworn he loves you. I’d bet my bottom shilling on it. That’s what makes this so odd. You. Face-down in the meadow. Sobbing your eyes out. I think he’s gone mad.”
He shook his head. It was hard to spot. She knew what had caused the change. No doubt James would find out soon enough, as well.
“We’re near the fields. You can let me off here.”
“Will you be all right?”
“Yes. Thank you. I appreciate what you’ve said and what you’ve done. I would also say the Baroness of Danford has a wondrous future ahead of her. I doubt she knows it, though.”
James lifted her back down. He was frowning and looked very much like his older brother. Bessie averted her eyes.
“Her husband might linger for years. I’ll not wait that long.”
“Love knows no such thing as time, James. Haven’t you learned that in the last, how long has it been again?”
“Two years, eighty-one days. Going on eighty-two.”
“Name your steed, James. Train him, too. He’s yours. Don’t ask me how I know these things, I just do. I also know that a widow has more say than a maid. I wouldn’t wait too long to offer for the baroness, once she’s widowed. She may have other offers.”
“I’ll not allow her to be stolen from me again.”
“I knew you’d see it that way. Now, go, before you’re missed.”
He stopped at the edge of the field. He looked magnificent on his bay horse already. Just as Devon looked on Black-Heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“I met the redhead today, Devon. We...spoke. She’s very attractive. Bright, too.”
Bessie dropped her spoon into her soup bowl. It made a loud clatter and a bit of mess on the table linen.
“What did you just say?”
Alicia’s question carried surprise. Shock. Her eyes were wide as she looked from Bessie to James to Devon and back to Bessie. The latter hadn’t any idea what she was supposed to say.
“Just where did you happen to come across the mysterious lady?”
Devon’s voice was bland. It matched every word he’d spoken since Bessie finally made an appearance at sup. She’d put up with Roberta’s words of dismay while the maid detangled and braided her hair. Sat through the application of the calming lemon juice mixture on her face and throat. Picked out and donned a costly ensemble. Worn with thick, concealing widow’s weeds she’d had to lift to sip at the soup. All of it was in preparation to meet her husband. To play his game. Pretend that his actions had meant little.
It was all for naught. He hadn’t even looked her way.
“In the woods,” James answered.
“The woods? She doesn’t sound a very reliable employee, Bess. Perhaps you should sack her.”
Henry’s choked reaction was loud. Alicia must not have recovered from her shock, for she was open-mouthed. Apparently speechless. Bessie looked down the table in the general direction of Devon. He wasn’t looking toward her at all. He was looking down at his sup.
“Perhaps, I should. I believe her husband is an excellent employee, though. It would be a shame if he were punished for her peccadillo. Why do you think I put up with her overly-familiar ways?”
Regina scooted her chair out and stood. “Pardon me. I’m not...quite hungry. I think...my newest mix needs stirring. In fact, I’m certain of it. Good eve, all.”
The girl plastered a hand to her mouth as she finished. She was probably stifling laughter. If Bess had a sense of humor anymore, she’d find it amusing, too.
“Regina has certainly changed. She appears to have found an interest beside tormenting her sisters, flirting with ineligible men, and running recklessly about the countryside.”
“She has a natural ability with herbs and spices, Devon. I’m surprised no one suspected it before. I expect great things of her.”
“Why would you care?”
Bessie sucked in her breath at Devon’s retort. Henry was trying to drown his reaction in his ale. Alicia was still looking from James to Devon and back. And then at Bessie. She didn’t look as shocked anymore. She looked censorious. Her lips were thinned. Her eyes narrowed.
“Your siblings are likable, Devon. The entire family is, except perhaps your Uncle Francis. I understand he has decided to relocate to the North wing. That was sudden. And fortuitous. I, for one, shan’t miss him.”
“Yes. That is odd timing, though. That wing isn’t completed, yet he moved without quarrel. Just today. I wonder why. He even ordered his meals to be served there. That was unexpected...no?”
His tone was still bland. Bess decided she was grateful he wasn’t looking at her.
“Who cares where Uncle Francis is? I want to know about the redheaded woman. I want to know how you met with her, James. And then what happened. That is what I want to hear. So. Explain.”
“Perhaps you could save that sort of question for later, Alicia? I’m certain Bess wouldn’t like to hear it. The wench was but a passing fancy for me, I’m afraid. I wish James better of her.”
Bessie lost her color at Devon’s reply. She swayed atop the seat and tightened her legs to keep from toppling out. She was afraid to move. Breathe. Blink.
“You have no interest in her, anymore? Truly?”
“This isn’t the type of conversation for a family sup, James. What else did you expect me to say?”
“Oh.”
“So, what happened? I am getting tired of all the avoidance. Tell me what transpired. I insist.”
“You’re very persistent, Alicia. I hadn’t known that about you. It’s arousing my curiosity. Why should you care? Have you even met with the wench?”
“Uh. Perhaps...I’d best speak...with James at another time,” Alicia answered.
“Perhaps that would be best.”
“All this talk of servants is boring. Why can’t we discuss the masquerade? I’ve quite decided I’ll go as the black swan, although Regina still wants it. I do hope I can persuade her otherwise.”
“Adorning yourself is all you think of, Olivia,” Alicia answered.
“No, I don’t. I think of other things.”
“Like what?” Alicia continued.
“Like...the future. A household of my own. A husband. It doesn’t even matter what he looks like, or how old he is. He’ll have to be important, though. I want lots of servants, and lots of gowns, and lots of jewels. You know...things like that.”
“That’s absolutely disgusting.”
“Why so? It doesn’t seem to have harmed Devon much. Just look about. He got exactly what he went to London for.”
Bessie was beginning to think she was going to be ill. The broth was curdling in her belly, and Alicia was still glaring at her.
“And, just what is it that I went to London for, Olivia?”
His tone should have warned the girl. It wasn’t remotely bland. It raised the hairs on the back of Bessie’s neck. Bessie shut her eyes to the girl’s oblivion.
“I would say it’s obvious. You got a title from the queen and wealth besides.”
“I didn’t receive any wealth, Olivia. You have been misinformed.”
“Where is all the gold coming from, then? I am not imaging all the books Byron has unpacked and is cataloging. I don’t imagine all the improvements about the castle. The tapestries. Furniture. And I certainly haven’t envisioned my new wardrobe.”
“Some wealth comes with strings a
ttached.”
Bessie gasped and looked to her lap. Devon may have been answering his sister, but his words were meant for his wife. Olivia acted completely immune to any of the undercurrents about the table. Unaware. And innocent. She wouldn’t last a sennight at court.
“Well. I hope my future husband comes with the same strings. I’d call them purse strings if I were you. Why are you looking at me that way? You have everything I’m hoping for.”
“He doesn’t have the most important thing. He doesn’t. I found that out today in the woods.”
If Bessie could have launched her spoon at James without consequence, she’d have done it. Her fingers tightened on the stem.
“And just what is it you found out about me?”
There was a hard note behind Devon’s words. James ignored it.
“I’m not to say,” James answered.
“Really?”
“I wouldn’t betray her trust that way.”
There was absolute silence at the end of James’ words. Bessie started counting. She’d reached fourteen before Olivia broke the silence.
“I cannot say I’m eaten up with curiosity, but it is obvious James won’t hush until he has his say. And why? What is so special about a servant woman? I’m tired of the entire subject.”
“That’s only because we are not talking about you.”
Bess thought for a moment, that Olivia was actually going to stick her tongue out at Alicia. Then, James spoke again.
“She’s everything you described, Devon. And more. I can’t stop thinking of her.”
“That much is obvious,” Olivia answered.
“So, what happened?” Alicia asked.
“This is not a proper conversation for the supper table. Rest assured, I’ll take James to task over it, later. Either find another topic, finish your meal in silence, or excuse yourself.”
Henry appeared to have breathed in some of his ale as Devon spoke. James jumped up from the table to assist, but was waved off. And then, while he had everyone’s attention, he added to her distress with an announcement.
