The more time he spent watching her, the more he was coming to like her. His first impression of her as a rebellious wench had not been her true nature; it had been the fear that had caused her to act like an animal. What he was seeing before him and what he had seen the day before, he suspected, was this woman’s true character. She was special.
When Davyss arrived and bailed from his charger, Lollardly put his hands on the man’s chest to stop his advance.
“What goes on?” Davyss demanded, flipping up his visor. “Why have we stopped?”
Lollardly pointed to Devereux, several feet away, cleaning the scrape of a peasant child. “Your wife is helping this child.”
By this time, Hugh had come upon them, watching the scene with impatience. “It is simply a peasant,” he grumbled. “She should not be wasting her time or ours.”
Lollardly shushed him. “Jesus tended lepers,” he reminded him. “Do you not see the noble self-sacrifice of Lady de Winter?”
Hugh fixed him with an intolerant look. “She is wiping away dirt from layers of dirt on a dirty child. There is nothing Christ-like about that.”
The big priest thumped Hugh on the neck, the only weak part in the armor the man was wearing. As Hugh yelped and rubbed the spot, Lollardly glared at him.
“You would do well to pay attention to your new sister, Hugh de Winter,” he hissed. “She is on the path to heaven. You could live for one hundred years and never know the same Godliness, you pathetic sinner.”
Hugh frowned and continued to rub his neck. “It is one peasant child in a sea of thousands,” he snarled as he turned away. “’Tis a waste of time and effort. The child will die before she sees her next birthday, anyway. Lady de Winter is not helping the child to live longer by wiping off a smidge of blood.”
As Hugh stomped off, Lollardly shook his head. “Your brother is unsalvageable, Davyss,” he lifted an eyebrow as he looked at the older brother. “But what of you? Is your new wife starting to make a mark upon your spirit yet?”
Davyss was watching Devereux as she finished tying the bandage in a puffy bow. The little girl seemed very pleased by it. He continued to watch her smiling face as she watched the child skip away, his heart softening for reasons he could not understand. He didn’t respond to the priest’s question as he made his way to his wife.
“Is everything all right, my lady?” he asked her pleasantly.
Devereux turned to him, a smile on her lovely face. She was particularly rosy cheeked this day, her humor far better than he had ever seen it. Since that morning when they had departed for London, she had been kind and sweet, and he was growing more and more enchanted.
“Everything is fine,” she told him. “That little girl was trying to give me flowers and tripped. I fixed her scrape.”
He smiled at her. “So I saw,” he said. “May we continue?”
She nodded. “Of course,” she started rushing back to the carriage. “I am sorry to have delayed you.”
He took her by the elbow and slowed her pace. “No trouble,” he said. “We should be at our destination within the hour.”
They reached the covered wagon and Devereux shielded her eyes against the sunlight as she gazed towards the south. “Where will we be staying?”
Davyss put his hands around her slender waist and lifted her up into the wagon. Then he wiped at the sweat on his brow, gesturing off in the direction of the city.
“At Wintercroft,” he replied. “It is my family’s townhome. I think you shall like it; there is an expansive garden and a large pond. It is also where Nik and Philip’s wives reside, so you will have ladies in residence to serve you.”
She looked down at him. “They are married?”
“Aye.”
“And the women stay in London while the men are about with you?”
He nodded. “We do not travel with women.”
“And you would have me stay in London while you are traveling, also?”
He could see where this was leading and he grunted, scratching his forehead. This was not one of those “safe” conversations between them.
“I think it is a little premature to discuss that at the moment,” he moved away from the wagon so she couldn’t press him further. “Hold fast, my lady. We will be home soon.”
Devereux watched him mount his charger and plow his way to the head of the column. Her thoughts lingered on the wives that were sequestered while their husbands were out running about. Davyss didn’t give her an answer which made her suspect that he expected her to remain sequestered, too.
Truth was, she wasn’t sure how she was feeling after yesterday. Everything she had initially thought about Davyss de Winter had been dissolved for the most part and she was becoming acquainted with a man who was kind, compassionate, gentle and wildly handsome. He had a quick wit and was humorous, something she found very appealing. But she still wasn’t sure how she felt about being married to the de Winter war machine. Not that she had any choice; she was married, like it or not. She would simply have to deal with it.
The road widened and sturdier buildings began to come into view. They were larger estate homes and she watched with interest as they passed one after another. The homes were well spaced, perhaps a half mile or more in between them, and the area was fairly heavily forested as they began to near the moist air of the river. The land was very green and small ponds littered the area.
They traveled a little further when they came upon a road that branched off to the right from the main road. The column began to turn down this road, moving like an army of ants as they tramped down the moist dirt. Devereux strained to see what was at the end of the road and gradually, the heavily foliaged trees parted and she could see a gray stoned wall come into view. The wall was inordinately high and she could see a massive wood and iron gate cut into the middle of it. The gate was cranking open, allowing the army to enter.
Wintercroft loomed before her; although it was a fortified manor, it looked more like a small castle. It was pale-stoned, bulky and gloomy. The yard was littered with small outbuildings and a fairly large stable block. The house itself was odd; there was a heavy iron door on the first floor but no windows anywhere on the floor. All of the windows were on the second floor but there was also a strange addition that projected off the north side of the house, creating a third and fourth floor. It was like an enormous tower had been added to half of the house.
As the wagon pulled into the yard and drew close to the house, Devereux noticed two women standing by the front door. As she watched, the front portion of the column began to disband and two knights dismounted their steeds and approached the women. Philip pulled off his helm, his fair blonde hair glistening in the weak sunlight as he smiled broadly at his wife and took her in his arms. Nik, nursing a damaged arm from the skirmish in the inn, was less enthusiastic about greeting his wife. He simply kissed her on the cheek and they stood and talked like two acquaintances.
By this time, the wagon had pulled up to the front door and Davyss was suddenly standing next to the wheel. Devereux hadn’t even seen him approach; she had been watching Philip and Nikolas with their wives. He smiled at Devereux and reached up to gently help her from the seat. Once her feet were on the ground, he claimed her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow.
“Welcome to Wintercroft,” his hazel eyes moved over the structure affectionately. “My grandfather built this as a present to my grandmother. My father was born here.”
Devereux inspected the odd building. “Is it a castle?”
Davyss shrugged. “Somewhere between a castle and a manor,” he replied. “I think my grandfather wanted a stately manor but ended up adding fortifications for protection. You will find the interior of the keep to be a cross between the two; comfort and functionality. My mother hates the place.”
She looked at him. “Why?”
He gazed down at her, smiling faintly. “She thinks it is ugly.”
Devereux suppressed a grin as her gaze returned to t
he peculiar structure. “It is… interesting, to be sure. Where does she stay when she comes to London, then?”
“She has her own home in the city called Hollyhock.”
Devereux lifted an eyebrow. “So she leaves the ugly house to her sons?”
“Exactly; what do we care what it looks like?”
Devereux wasn’t sure what more to say, giggling when Davyss lifted his eyebrows at her as if he knew what she was thinking. It really was an ugly place. He patted her hand and fondled her fingers affectionately as they moved to where Philip, Nikolas and their wives were standing. As Davyss approached, the couples broke from their conversation to face de Winter and his new wife.
Davyss was focused on the women. “Lady Lucy de Rou and Lady Frances de Nogaret,” he indicated Devereux. “This is Lady Devereux Allington de Winter; my wife.”
Lucy de Rou was a delicate little blonde with big brown eyes and a big smile. She dipped in a curtsy for Devereux, followed quickly by Lady Frances. Frances was pretty and dark-eyed. Both women were prim, proper and pleasant.
“’Tis an honor to meet you, Lady de Winter,” Lucy said in a sweet, baby-like voice. “We were told you would be coming and have prepared the master’s chamber. I hope it is to your liking.”
Devereux smiled. “I am sure it is fine,” she said. “Thank you for your kindness, my lady.”
Lucy just grinned, smiling up at Philip as if to seek his approval. He smiled sweetly at her. Frances, however, seemed a bit more reserved. In fact, Devereux got the distinct impression that the woman was sizing her up.
“We have prepared a bath for you, my lady,” Frances said. “We thought you would want to refresh yourself after your journey.”
“Again, you are thoughtful and kind,” Devereux nodded. “I am most appreciative.”
“Will you come with us, my lady?” Lucy indicated the open door, glancing at Davyss. “With your permission, my lord?”
Davyss waved a hand at them. “By all means.”
Devereux looked at Davyss even as Lucy took her by the arm. There was something hesitant in her expression and Davyss smiled reassuringly. She smiled weakly in return, perhaps with resignation, and allowed the women to take her into the manor. Davyss’ gaze lingered on the doorway even after she was gone, his mind fixated on the vision in blonde.
Hugh stood next to him, watching his brother as he stared at an empty doorway. “Davyss?” he nudged him. Receiving no response, he nudged him again. “Davyss?”
Davyss seemed to snap out of his trance, almost embarrassed, and began snapping orders. “Get the army quartered and secure the gate,” he barked. “I want my knights in the hall in an hour.”
Hugh began echoing his brother’s orders, repeating them to all who might not have heard rather than actually doing anything. He was an excellent fighter but he was under the impression that menial tasks were beneath him so he tended to give orders rather than take them. But that was normal and Davyss simply ignored his brother’s bossy manner; his own manner was rushed and brusque. He wanted to be done with the chores so he could return to the lovely young woman who had so recently been ushered into the keep.
He almost couldn’t think of anything else.
Inside the bulky keep of Wintercroft, Devereux was receiving the whirlwind tour. Lucy and Frances had whisked her into the very small foyer and up the massive stone stairs that were immediately to the right. They went up to the second floor and into a series of rooms that were linked; there were no hallways. One room opened up into another and into another, like a line of rooms. They were massive and fairly well appointed.
They passed through two enormous rooms and into a third, which was larger than the rest. There was an enormous bed in it, two massive wardrobes and a scattering of tables, chairs and other possessions. A colossal tapestry hung on the wall near two windows, partially rolled up; Devereux could see that when the tapestry was unrolled, it covered both windows.
The women paused when they reached the room. Devereux stood in the center of it, slightly awed by her surroundings, as Lucy and Frances bustled about with a couple of old servants. Devereux didn’t even know what they were doing; she was paying more attention to the room around her. The rooms on the second floor were surprisingly light and airy with scrubbed, wide-planked wooden floors and great stone walls. There were great pieces of furniture in the rooms, from giant wardrobes to luxurious and expensive tables, candlesticks, sideboards and chairs. The wealth of the de Winters was fully evident and on display in this place, as it was meant to be.
Devereux gradually became aware that the ladies were attempting to direct her into a small door in the corner of the room. She obediently followed and ended up in a small chamber that had an enormous copper tub in it. Someone had lined it with linen and clear, clean water steamed into the air.
Off to her right, there was a smaller wardrobe, a vanity, and tucked into the corner was a stone seat built into the wall with a hole in it. There was a wood and fabric screen around it, partially blocking her view, and it took her a moment to realize it was a privy. Devereux was shocked; a privy in the house?
The ladies were attempting to help her remove her clothing. Devereux snapped out of her awestruck observations and allowed them to untie the surcoat she wore, one of the new ones that Davyss had given her. It was a yellow linen garment with lovely long sleeves and a matching shift underneath. The women stripped her to the shift and suddenly, Devereux was very self-conscious. She always bathed and dressed in private, so this was something of a new and uncomfortable experience. True, there were servants at her father’s house who did the cooking and cleaning and that sort of thing, but she’d never had a handmaiden. She had always fended for herself. When pretty young Lucy tried to help her from the shift, she balked.
“Ladies,” Devereux clutched the shift around her neck as if to hold it tight so they could not lift it over her head. “If you do not mind, I would like to bathe in private.”
Lucy looked confused, looking to Frances, who simply shrugged her shoulders. Lucy returned her puzzled gaze to Devereux. “But… my lady, we are here to assist you. We wish to help you bathe. Do you not need help?”
She asked it with such bafflement that Devereux almost smiled. “My lady, I mean no offense, truly,” she said carefully; she did not want to get off to a bad start with these women. “’Tis simply that… well, it is my preference. I believe bathing is a private activity.”
Lucy blinked, still puzzled, but nodded unsteadily. This time, it was Frances who spoke.
“It is because you do not know us, Lady de Winter,” she said confidently. “I understand. But please believe me when I say that we only wish to assist you.”
Devereux turned to the handsome brunette; there was still something odd about the woman, an appraising look to the eye. It put Devereux on her guard.
“That is not necessary, Lady de Nogaret,” she informed her. “If you and Lady Lucy will leave me now, I will bathe in private. Please see that my baggage is brought up.”
“But…,” Lucy protested weakly.
“That will be all, Lady Lucy. Thank you very much for your consideration.”
Lucy nodded, looking somewhat like a kicked dog, and began to leave the room. Realizing that Frances wasn’t moving, she took the woman by the arm and practically yanked her from the room. Devereux stood there, waiting until she was sure they had gone, before moving to the wood and fabric screen that partially covered the privy and moving it to the open chamber door. Even if anyone entered the enormous chamber beyond, the screen provided some privacy.
With a heavy sigh, she looked around the small chamber as if gathering her thoughts. She noticed that the ladies had set out a sponge, a bar of white soap, a glass phial with some kind of oil in it, and a scraper. They all sat upon a small table next to the tub. There was also a robe of some fashion, white and fine, strewn across a chair by the vanity. Throwing off her shoes, she pulled off her hose, pantalets and shift before plunging into the tub.
It was clean, hot and glorious. Devereux sighed with contentment as she went to work with the white bar of soap that smelled strongly of hyacinth. She washed her hair with it, twice, before moving to soap up her body. The tub was so big that she could move easily in it, submerging her head as she scrubbed every inch of flesh. Soon, the chamber was filled with the scent of flowers and it was into this lovely sanctuary that Davyss entered.
He had brought up her trunks, depositing them against the wall in the master’s chamber. Lady Lucy had told him, somewhat sadly, that his wife had not required any help with her bath, so he had come up personally to see if she was in any manner of distress. She seemed to be such a sensitive woman that he found that he worried for her moods and mental state constantly during this time of change. He didn’t want to see her upset, not even for a minute.
After setting the trunks down, Davyss removed his gloves, his plate armor, his hauberk and mail coat, and laid them carefully on the frame in the corner so any moisture would dry out. His squire would collect them later to clean them. In his breeches, sweaty tunic and massive knee-high boots, he went to the screen blocking the door and knocked on it.
“Lady de Winter?” he called softly. “May I enter?”
He could hear splashing before she answered. “Of course, my lord,” she replied, sounding rather breathless. “Please come in.”
He slid around the screen without moving it, his hazel eyes riveted to the figure in the enormous tub. As he approached, he could see that she was covering her chest with a piece of linen she had yanked off the side of the tub. He suppressed the urge to laugh at her but he couldn’t keep the grin from his face. He stood over the tub with his fists on his hips as if inspecting the entire activity.
“Well?” he said with mock sternness. “I hear you wish to bathe alone. Does that mean I cannot participate, either?”
She gazed up at him with the linen pulled up around her neck, unsure how to answer. “I … well, I suppose so. You are my husband, after all.”
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