“My dear,” drawled Lord Vawdrey. “Perhaps you could loose your grip before I lose all sensation in my hand.”
She glanced up at him, and found they had been excused from the royal presence. The Thanes were descending the steps from the dais and Oswald Vawdrey was ushering her to follow. “I’m sorry, my lord,” she said quickly and followed his lead. Everyone was drifting toward the long tables now as rows of servants bought out the first course. To her surprise she found that Lord Vawdrey led her to the nearest table, whereas the Thanes were now disappearing down the hall. Then she comprehended those present would all be seated according to rank. And Earl Vawdrey ranked considerably higher than Sir Ambrose Thane. A chair was drawn out for her and she was seated as trays of glazed meats were circulated by squires and pages. Behind the top table was a dazzling array of velvet-draped steps covered in golden plates laden with food. In the center of their table was a large jelly in the shape of a swan, fully decorated with feathers and a golden beak. Fen had to stop herself from staring at all the sights. She was introduced to Lord and Lady Schaeffer who they were sat next to. Lord Schaeffer was grey and bearded and dressed in conservative navy blue, with an air of affluence. His wife was a very handsome woman in her fifties with a regal bearing. Both were polite and welcoming and Fen tried to smile and say the right thing although she felt dazed and miserable after her run-in with Ambrose. The first course, a sturgeon served in parsley and vinegar was served and Fenella forced down a few bites, listening while Lord Schaeffer talked about the privy council with Oswald. She could not follow what they were discussing, though it sounded like the possible replacement of a member. Her goblet was filled with mead and a troop of musicians dressed in red and green filtered into the hall and started to play. Fenella found she could not help but glance toward where the Thanes sat further down the hall. Colleen was whispering with a stuck-up looking older woman, who was gazing around them in disapproval. Fen noticed they had not yet been served with any food or drink, which might be the source of her displeasure. Her own first course had been whisked away in the meantime and another plate set before her. She found herself speculating if the older woman was Colleen’s mother and wondered how Ambrose would like having a mother-in-law. Her own mother had died years before their wedding.
“Fenella, do you think you could tear your gaze away from the Thanes long enough to eat a bite?” asked Oswald smoothly.
Fenella looked down in embarrassment at her untouched goose in garlic and grape sauce. She blushed. “I – that is –” she closed her eyes briefly, trying to reign in her misery. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you feeling unwell?” he asked coolly.
“No, not unwell-”
“Then kindly pull yourself together, Fenella. You’re making a spectacle of yourself and of me.” She looked up quickly at him, but there was something very disquieting about the fact that he could look so urbane, and yet speak so cuttingly at the same time. Blinking back her tears, she took a swig of honey mead. It was stronger than the one they made back home. She managed to force a smile to her lips and forced her attention to the musicians at the other end of the hall. She could just about hear them over the babble of conversation and tapped her foot in time to the song which had a tune she recognized though the words were quite different to the ones she had learned in her youth. She sipped steadily at the mead while they waited for the next course and was surprised when she reached the bottom of the cup. She glanced at Oswald who was still engaged in conversation with Lord Schaeffer. She had disappointed him, she thought sadly. Made bold by the mead, she leant into him and angled her head up to whisper in his ear. “I’m sorry, my lord.” He inclined his head slightly but other than that gave her no reaction. She felt horrible and churned up inside. He had bought her so many beautiful things and she had repaid him by looking like a cast-off wife who was pining for her former spouse. For that is what everyone would think, she thought wretchedly. Slipping her arm through his, she tried again. “It’s not what you think,” she said in a low voice. This time he gave her no discernible reaction at all, did not even look at her. Instead he struck up a conversation with another courtier sat on the opposite side of the table. To make it worse, Lady Schaeffer sent a sympathetic look her way which spoke volumes. Everyone thought her a pitiable thing.
“What a lovely necklace, Lady Vawdrey,” the older woman said heartily. “The stones seem to glow with an inner fire. Are they genuine rubies?”
“Yes, indeed,” rallied Fen, withdrawing her arm from her husband and touching the chain. “I am fortunate to have such a generous husband.” In truth, it was probably worth five times what her pearl necklace was.
“Indeed. Mine refuses to buy me anymore jewels,” sighed Lady Schaeffer. She cast a sly look at her husband who was too caught up in his conversation to respond to the jibe. “Still, we have been married thirty-two years,” she acknowledged with a shrug.
“You forget Lady Schaeffer,” piped up a lady sat two seats down from Fenella in an arch, carrying voice. “That Lord and Lady Vawdrey have been married for some twelve years.” She turned wide, incredulous eyes toward Fen. “Is that not so Lady Vawdrey?” Opposite her another lady giggled. Fenella did not have the faintest idea who they were, but their spiteful expressions reminded her of a girl she had grown up with who was always there with a nasty jibe if you exposed any kind of vulnerability. Doubtless they were of the same ilk as Nan Crosby with her cruel tongue.
“I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced,” answered Fen coolly. Then she deliberately turned her back to them and addressed Lady Schaeffer. “I wonder if you enjoy partaking of a walk in the mornings, Lady Schaeffer? My husband has kindly had my dog fetched to Aphrany, but I do not yet know of any good walks, here in the castle grounds.”
Lady Schaeffer’s eyes gleamed a moment in appreciation. “But I would love to show you around the grounds, Lady Vawdrey,” she answered swiftly. “And I myself have a hound who dearly needs the exercise.”
“Then we must certainly do so,” said Fen with a smile. “I would appreciate the help in navigating some of the more thorny and treacherous paths.”
They shared a look and Lady Schaeffer raised her goblet to toast her silently.
Suddenly Fen felt a whole lot more optimistic about the possibility of making friends at court. She glanced toward Oswald to see if he had noticed their exchange, but he was still looking remote and her heart sank a little further. Resolutely, she managed to avoid looking anywhere in the vicinity of the Thanes for the next two hours while the remaining four courses were served. Not just for her husband’s sake, she thought, but for her own. She wouldn’t give Lady Colleen the satisfaction of thinking her defeated. She needed to remember that her behavior reflected on her marriage. She had to behave in a fitting way for an earl’s wife. It was the least she could do for her new husband after everything he had done for her.
On the way back to their rooms afterward she tried to speak to him about the Schaeffers but he wouldn’t be drawn into conversation with her and answered only briefly and dismissively. As soon as he had escorted her inside, he made for their bedroom and feeling uneasy, Fen followed him. He was moving around the room picking up various objects including a change of clothing.
“Where are you going?” she asked in alarm. “Are you leaving for somewhere?”
He didn’t answer her, but turned back to the large chest where he kept his tunics. Fen hurried around the bed and laid her hand on his forearm. “Please, my lord,” she said. “I can explain why I was so distracted.”
“I’m not interested, Fenella.” His words were entirely devoid of tone and he looked pointedly down at her hand waiting for her to remove it.
Instead of loosening her grip on his arm, she tightened it. “She was wearing my necklace,” she blurted and could not help the tears which sprang to her eyes. “Which was why I was staring. They were my mother’s pearls. Ambrose must have given them to her.” She couldn’t keep the emotion from her voice or the
tears which trickled down her cheeks as quickly as she brushed them away.
Oswald’s gaze snapped to hers. “What did you say?” he said softly.
“My mother’s pearls,” she repeated earnestly. “I could see quite plainly that’s what she was wearing. And – and-” she broke off, taking a deep breath.
“And?” he repeated sharply.
“And she knew, I could tell – and – she didn’t care, or rather, she was glad of the fact,” Fen broke off with a sob.
Oswald stood very still for a moment and then suddenly dropped his pile of clothes with a sharp exclamation and made for the bedroom door. Fen watched him with an open mouth as he disappeared out of it. “Wait,” she called weakly. “Where are you going?” She ran after him to find him exiting the main door to their apartments. “My Lord?” The door slammed shut after him and Fen stood dazedly at it a moment. Where had he gone?
She retraced her steps slowly back their bedroom and picked up his discarded clothes, returning them neatly to his clothing chest. The fire had already been made up in the bedroom and a pitcher of still warm water was on the side awaiting their return. Loath to waste it, she poured half of it in the bowl, stripped down to her shift and had a good wash. She put away her jewelry into the drawer, took the pins out of her hair, re-braided it and climbed into the bed. She was just debating blowing out the candles on her side when she heard the outer door swing open and footsteps heading toward her. Sitting up, Fen watched Oswald stride through the door carrying something in his hands. He walked right round to her side of the bed, opened the lid of a wooden box and emptied the contents onto the bedclothes in front of her. It was her jewelry. Fen stared at it. The pearl necklace sat at the top of the heap. Then she looked up at Oswald and moistened her lips. “How did you-?”
He held up a finger halting her words. “I want you to go through this pile and separate what is yours, from before your travesty of a marriage with Thane. Then I want you to make a pile of what he bought for you, which we will be returning to his legally wedded wife. Is that clear?”
Fen nodded.
“Now Fenella,” he added. “I want you to do it now.” His words could cut glass.
She immediately scooped up her pearls, a tiny golden key, a pewter pilgrim’s token she had bought once on a trip to Hawkesbridge and a bone ring carved in the shape of a bear’s head that her father had given her on her tenth birthday. In the second pile she put a round silver brooch pin, a brass circlet to wear over your head-veil and a leather belt with brass castings at the end. The second pile she pushed toward Oswald.
“These were from Ambrose,” she said.
Oswald held up the wooden box. “And this?” he asked.
“That was his mother’s,” she said.
Oswald swept the three items back into the box. “I’ll return these now,” he said grimly.
Fen nodded and watched as he exited the room in long purposeful strides. Then she opened her hand to look thoughtfully at her returned things. ‘Your travesty of a marriage with Thane’ he had said, rather bitingly. And perhaps he had a point. After all, no husband who had ever respected her, let alone ever cared for her would have sat idly by while she was slighted like that. Oswald Vawdrey had not sat by, she reflected, drawing in a shaky breath. He had restored her belongings to her. She slid from the bed and added her three items to the drawer with her new adornments. She felt strangely calm now and determined to do better; to do right by her new husband. There would be no more tears for her old one, she vowed. She was Countess Vawdrey. And she needed to start acting like it so Oswald could be proud of her.
When he returned mere moments later she was back under the covers awaiting his return. She waited silently as he stripped to the waist and washed and then slid into the other side of the bed. There was perfect silence between them for a moment. Then Fenella rolled onto her side facing him.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he warned her.
“Very well, husband.”
That seemed to silence him a moment. Fen blushed in the darkness, knowing full well she had never addressed him as that before.
“Next time,” he said tightly. “I want you to simply tell me from the outset whatever is troubling you. I don’t like misjudging you.”
Fen thought about this a moment, weighing up his words. “Even if it’s beneath your notice?” she asked in a small voice.
“If it’s regarding you, then it isn’t beneath my notice,” he answered shortly.
Fen turned this over a moment too. It scared her a little, how much she liked his reply. “Very well, my lord,” she agreed in little more than a whisper.
He sat up and blew out the candles on his bedside and then settled back onto the bed. Fen continued to stare at the spot she imagined his face would be. “Go to sleep, Fenella,” he said in a throaty voice.
“I’m not tired now,” she told him boldly. She reached out to lightly touch the bolster between them.
“You’ve had two cups of mead,” he told her sternly. “You only think you’re wide awake.”
Fen was surprised he’d noticed how many cups of mead she’d had, he’d been so steadfastly ignoring her. But perhaps he had still been keeping a watch on her after all. The thought made her feel a little warmer inside. “Yes, husband,” she said and could have sworn she heard him take a ragged indrawn breath and mutter something under his breath. “Good night.”
She lay awake a while pondering on the different natures of her past and present husband. The funny thing was, Ambrose always fretted and worried about other people’s true feelings or intentions, but usually only in relation to himself. You could describe an event in minute detail to him and he’d make all the right noises and then at the end pat you on the head and declare it was all in your own head and you were making too much of it. A day or so later and he would have forgotten that you’d even told him. Before now, she’d simply imagined that Ambrose’s life was so much broader than her own that he simply did not have the space to consider her emotions overmuch. It seemed to her now, that this was the absolute opposite with her new husband. Lord Vawdrey did not make any sympathetic tuttings or murmurings in the right place of the story. He made no attempt to soothe hurt feelings. He fired a few short, uncomfortable questions and then took swift and terrible action. She could scarcely believe he had returned her pearls to her like that. She had thought at first that he was angry with her for being so trivial as to bring up something so far beneath his notice. The fact he had exposed himself to gossip and speculation simply to retrieve her property astonished her. When she finally dropped off to sleep, she was still marveling over it.
**
Fenella woke to the familiar warmth of Oswald Vawdrey's physical presence and lay a moment letting the happenings of the previous evening washed over her. She felt somehow comforted by the press of his firm, strong body as she recalled Ambrose's rude behavior, his refusal to meet her gaze or even address her directly. That made her wince, but it was not the pain of betrayal she had felt a mere three days ago. She felt ashamed of him. The man she had thought she had married would not done something so callous as to make a gift to another woman of her pearls. Even Gil would be shocked by that. She resolved to tell her brother of it in her next letter. Although she did not know the whole story of how exactly how Colleen had got her pearls in her clutches, or how Lord Vawdrey had taken them back. She had wanted to ask him last night, but he had been angry then, and she did not quite dare. She had slighted her new husband by acting miserably at the feast and that mortified her. She needed to make amends for that. He had done nothing but try to make things easy for her at court. And he had spent so much money on a full bridal trousseau for her. She jumped, feeling his hand land on her thigh. But a sleepy murmur near her ear, reassured her he was still fast asleep. She lay very still and he huffed out a breath and shifted against her back. She examined the state of her own heart while she had a quiet moment. Her feelings still smarted and felt a little raw, but more like
a bandage had been removed from a wound leaving it tender and sore rather than fresh and oozing. She felt a flicker of optimism. Perhaps all would turn out well in the end? After all, was it not better to find out now if her husband was an unreliable philanderer who could not be trusted? While she was young enough to re-marry? And despite all the odds, she had re-married well. According to Roland, women were not Oswald's passion, but ambition. Therefore, was it not unlikely that he would visit similar disgrace on her in the future. He seemed to feel strongly about according her the respect due to a wife. He had even been indignant on her behalf. Certainly, last night he had been angry. But at least part of that had been directed toward her, she reminded herself. For sitting in such misery when all at court were eager for a glimpse of his new wife. She would have to rectify that as soon as she got the chance, she vowed to herself. The hand on her thigh gave her a light squeeze and she turned her head to peer over her shoulder. Oswald Vawdrey's eyes were still shut but he stirred against the pillows and frowned. She glanced toward the window to where grey light streamed through and wondered at the time. She fancied if she listened, she could hear Meldon going about his business in the rooms beyond theirs. No doubt he would soon be through with their washing water. She wondered what she would be expected to do with herself today, when she still had no apparel to her name. It was most frustrating as she would have liked to have taken that walk with Lady Schaeffer. The latch clanked and the door swung open. Meldon crossed the threshold carrying a steaming jug of water. She felt Oswald Vawdrey's head lift off the pillow behind her, then drop back down. He didn't hurry to move his hand from her leg, she noticed. The door had no sooner shut behind Meldon then it re-opened and he came in carrying a large leather pack which he dropped down at the foot of the bed.
His Forsaken Bride (Vawdrey Brothers Book 2) Page 15
