by Anne Herries
‘Perhaps…’ Marietta felt warmth spreading through her like molten treacle, thick and comforting. To be Anton’s wife would be more happiness than she could ever expect. ‘You must not speak of this to anyone else, for I would not have him feel obliged to wed me for honour’s sake.’
‘I would not breathe a word, my lady.’ The serving woman grinned at her. ‘But he is a fine man, and would not leave you to lie lonely in your bed at night…’
‘Nor should I wish him to,’ Marietta replied, and gurgled with laughter. ‘I admit it would pleasure me to wed him—but not unless he truly wishes it…’
Anton was in the hall when Marietta came down the stairs. She was wearing a gown of green silk that clung to her slender waist, flaring out at the hem. Around her waist she had a girdle of silver threads, and a plain silver cross hung from a ribbon at her throat.
She wore her simple clothes with such style that she might have been a queen. Her hair had been left loose, and fell upon her shoulders in rich red-gold waves; her eyes were more green than blue. For a moment his breath caught in his throat, and he could scarce breathe for the racing of his heart. She was so beautiful! Magnificent. Beside her, Isabella would have seemed pale and slight.
How had he ever forgotten such a woman? Anton knew that the memory of the child he had pulled from beneath the flailing hooves of a frightened horse had remained at the back of his mind—but he had never dreamed she would grow up to be a woman like this…
Hearing an indrawn gasp behind him, Anton turned, surprising a look on Miguel’s face that shocked him. He realised that Miguel was jealous—but why? Was he jealous of Anton because he wanted Marietta, or jealous of Marietta because he thought she would come between them? There had been a special relationship between the two of them since Isabella’s death.
Anton waited as his friend came up to him.
‘What are your plans now?’ Miguel asked. ‘I have been thinking that I may return to Spain in a month or two…’
‘If it is your wish,’ Anton said. ‘I shall be sorry to lose you, though I knew you might wish to return to your home in time. We have been good friends, Miguel.’
‘It may be for the best if I go. I should only remind you of things you wish to forget.’ Miguel’s eyes looked through him. ‘I will stay until you have settled with the Bastard of Rouen if you wish it.’
‘I shall need all my men for that,’ Anton replied, feeling puzzled by his manner. ‘Please, accept the hospitality of my uncle’s home and enjoy yourself this evening. We have all earned a rest.’
Inclining his head to Miguel, he walked to greet Marietta as she stood at the bottom of the stairs, hesitating a moment. Her eyes seemed to question him and he made her an elegant bow.
‘You are beautiful, lady. That gown becomes you.’
‘It is one that you chose for me. I believe the style is flattering to me.’
‘You look like a queen.’ Anton offered her his hand. ‘Your son does well?’
‘He has been cared for with all love and attention. He was sleeping, and I dare say he has hardly missed me at all.’
‘I do not believe that for a moment. Any man would miss you, Marietta. I think that most must love you from the moment they see you.’
‘I do not wish for the love of just any man.’ Her eyes met his steadily.
Anton inclined his head. ‘The man you love will be fortunate indeed.’
Marietta waited, hoping for more, but then Sir Harry came up to them and Claire beckoned. She excused herself and went to her kinswoman.
‘I have had a letter from Lady Melissa Melford,’ Claire told her. ‘She is Anton’s grandmother. Melissa has heard about you, my love, and she wishes to meet you. My husband’s mother suffered a great deal at the hands of her uncle before she was wed. When she learned your story she wanted to know if there was anything she could do to help you.’
‘We stayed at Lord Melford’s house in London,’ Marietta said. ‘I should very much like to meet her.’
‘She knows that you are our guest, and I believe she may make the journey. Lord Melford is well enough at the moment, though he does not go far from home these days. He will not accompany her, but she may come and bring Catherine with her, and Anton’s daughter at his request. Lady Catherine is Anton’s mother, of course, and my husband’s twin. I believe you met their younger sister, Anne de Montfort, in France?’ Claire laughed softly as Marietta nodded. ‘I dare say that most of the family will choose to visit us soon for Annabel’s wedding—though perhaps not the de Montforts. I shall enjoy seeing all my family under my roof for once.’
‘You will have much work to do. Perhaps you will allow me to help you prepare.’
‘I dare say you would like to be busy.’ Claire nodded and looked thoughtful. ‘Once you have had the running of a large house idleness hath little to recommend it. We shall oversee the preparations together, but you must have time for leisure. You will wish to spend a little time with Anton before he leaves us.’
‘Has he spoken of leaving?’ Marietta’s gaze flew to her.
‘I believe he means to stay a few days, or perhaps longer. I am not certain. I shall prevail on him to tarry, at least until his parents are with us. However, his visits are not usually of long duration. I know that it is his intention to look for land that would provide him with a good estate—and to employ builders to construct him a sound dwelling.’
‘You believe he wishes to settle near here?’
‘He likes the area well, I think. I understand Harry has been making enquiries concerning a manor that may come for sale after the death of its lord. It would be pleasant if he were to settle within a few hours’ distance of Rundle Park, would it not?’
‘Yes…’ Marietta was watching Anton as he laughed with his uncle Harry and some of the other men. ‘Very pleasant. You would often have his company, for you might dine with each other.’
‘Yes, and I should also have the company of his wife.’
Marietta glanced at her. Claire was smiling at her in such an odd way. Could she have guessed that Anton had asked her to be his wife?
Marietta retired soon after supper that night. She was tired from the journey, and wished to rest, but she was feeling content and drifted into sleep moments after her head touched the pillow.
In the morning she woke feeling refreshed and ready to face the day. As soon as she was dressed in a sensible gown she paid a visit to the nursery. Her son shouted and cried when he saw her, but once she had played with him and given him some sweetmeats he quieted and sat on her lap, snuggling up to her contentedly.
It was as she was nursing him that she heard someone enter the room, and turned her head to look. Anton was standing just inside the door, looking at her.
‘You both look happy,’ he said. ‘It is clear that your son knows his mother is home.’
‘He cried when he saw me, but he has settled now. I have never left him for more than a day before. I believe he thought I had abandoned him.’
‘You would never do that in this life.’ He smiled at her. ‘I shall leave you, for I must speak with my uncle. We shall meet later.’
‘Yes, of course.’
Anton went away. Marietta nursed her son for a while longer, then he grew restless and clamoured to be put down.
Marietta left him playing with a wooden horse that the Earl had commissioned for him, and went down to Claire’s stillroom. They were to take stock of what stores were available, so that the Earl could send to Shrewsbury for anything they needed.
After an inventory was made, a list of ingredients was written out, and the ladies began a tour of the house, making notes on what needed to be done. Servants were set to cleaning, and the linen was checked so that it could be washed and beds made up with fresh-smelling sheets in the guest chambers.
In a castle only the most honoured guests and ladies were given chambers of their own. Men of the lower ranks slept in the Great Hall, or in little cells that were only big enough to hol
d a truckle bed that was stored away during the day. It had been the custom in Medieval times, and persisted even now in older houses. Only the more modern houses had separate chambers, and many of those led into each other, which could be inconvenient.
It was not until after they had stopped for refreshment at noon that Lady Claire declared herself satisfied for one day. She went to her chamber to attend to some private business, and Marietta was left to herself.
She was staring out at the gardens when she heard something behind her, and turned to see Anton enter the room.
‘Oh…’ She smoothed her gown. ‘You have found me in all my dirt, sir. We have been working all the morning and I should change…’
As she turned to leave Anton caught her wrist. She glanced back at him and her heart raced.
‘We have scarce had a moment alone,’ he said. ‘You look charming to me, Marietta. Do not leave so soon.’
‘If you wish me to stay, I shall.’
‘Please sit down. I have something to say to you.’
Marietta sat in a chair with wooden arms and looked at him.
‘I have tried to be patient, but now I wish to speak to you. You said you would give me your answer when we reached my uncle’s house, but first I must tell you something you should know. Because I believe you may have been told something, but perhaps not quite the truth.’
‘Very well. I am listening.’
‘You know that I was married to a Spanish lady I cared for?’
‘Yes, I know that, sir. You have spoken of your wife.’
‘She was lovely…very different from you. Isabella had black hair and pale skin and she was gentle. I thought her an innocent…an innocent angel.’
‘You loved her very much?’
‘I believed so at the start, and I thought she loved me. I was content with my life. Our daughter was born and all seemed well. Then one day Isabella told me she was to have another child, and I thought my happiness was complete…’ Anton’s eyes darkened, became hard as black diamonds. ‘Isabella did not carry the second child easily. She was ill and troubled, often complaining, and unwilling to be near me. I thought her manner was simply because she felt ill, and then…then a letter came to my hand. It was unsigned, and I tried to dismiss it as lies from the pen of a coward. The writer said that my wife had betrayed me with another man—that the child was his, not mine.’
Marietta started up. ‘How shocking and hurtful that must have been. I am so sorry…’
‘I was devastated. I felt that my life was shattered, my trust betrayed. I tried hard to ignore it, telling myself that only a coward would send an unsigned letter—that what it contained must be lies.’ Anton turned away from her, his back stiff with tension. ‘In the end I could not bear it any longer. In a jealous rage I accused her of betraying me. I asked her if the child was mine…’
‘What did she say?’ Marietta caught her breath as he turned and she saw the agony in his eyes. It was costing him much to tell her this story.
‘Isabella denied the accusation. She looked stunned, hurt…afraid…’ A nerve flicked in Anton’s cheek. ‘I was terrible in my anger. She ran from me in tears and fear—and in the sunken gardens she fell down some steep stone steps and hit her head. She died, and the child died with her. I knew I was being punished for my outburst.’
‘Anton!’ Marietta stood up, looking at him with a mixture of horror and sympathy. ‘How terrible! You must have felt so guilty—as if you had killed her and the babe…’
‘Yes. I see you understand me.’ Anton ran restless fingers through his hair. ‘Some months have passed now since her death, but at first I could not forgive myself for what I had done. I hardly knew how to live. I think I might have taken my life if it had not been for a friend. He was my comforter—the only one who understood what I suffered…’
‘You are speaking of Miguel?’
‘Yes…’ Anton sighed. ‘We were as brothers—or so I believed.’
‘You have doubts now concerning his loyalty?’
Anton’s eyes sought hers. ‘Do you wish me to speak plainly?’
‘I think it best.’
‘I have asked you to wed me. You know that there is something between us? You have felt it, as I have?’
‘Yes, I feel it.’
‘I saw Miguel’s face when you came down last night. I believe he is jealous, but I do not know why—whether it is because he wants you, or because he believes you will destroy the friendship we have had these past months.’
‘Why should I come between you and your friend?’
‘I do not know. I saw jealousy in his face as he looked at you—it may be that he wants you for himself.’
‘Yes, perhaps…there is something…’
‘You have sensed it yourself?’
‘I know there is something, but I do not know if he desires me or hates me.’
‘He gasped when he saw you, and the look on his face shocked me.’ Anton shook his head. ‘I shall not allow Miguel’s wishes to distract me. I must ask you for my answer now. Will you be my wife, Marietta? I do most sincerely wish it, if it will please you.’
‘Marry you…’ Marietta caught her breath, and then she was smiling, her doubts fading as she saw the look in his eyes. ‘Yes, I will marry you, Anton. I should be honoured—if it truly pleases you?’
‘Marriage to you would please me well,’ Anton said. He stood up and offered her his hand, bringing her to her feet. ‘However, we must be careful. I am not sure how Miguel will react to the news—and we still have to face the possibility that Rouen will come after you again. Miguel speaks of returning to Spain after we have dealt with the Bastard. I think that perhaps we should keep this agreement private for the moment.’ He gazed down at her. ‘I wanted to settle this between us. You know it is possible that I may be killed…’
‘I beg you not to say it! I do not think that I could bear it…’ Marietta caught back the words that would betray her heart. He had still not told her that he loved her. Only that he had cared for his wife and been devastated by her death. Perhaps he sought a marriage with a woman who had been married before, a woman who was well versed in the needs of a man, both in his bed and his home. She knew he needed a mother for his daughter. ‘I would have you live and be my husband, sir.’
‘It is my true wish,’ Anton told her. ‘Now, I must tell you something more. I have had word that there may be soldiers in the west woods, and I suspect they are the Bastard’s men. I am taking a party to search them out…’
Marietta’s nails curled into her palm, but she did not beg him to stay. It grieved her that he must leave so soon, but she knew that the future depended on what happened now.
‘Take care, Anton. I shall pray for you.’
‘Think of the future. It is what sustains me…’ Anton moved closer. He reached out and drew her into his arms, looking down at her for a moment before he bent his head to claim her lips. His kiss was soft, tender, deepening as he clasped her hard against him. For a moment the hunger and need was in his eyes as he looked at her. ‘Forgive me. I do not wish to leave you—but I must…’
‘God go with you…’
Marietta released him as he tore himself from her arms and walked away. She blinked as she felt the sting of tears. She loved him, and if they both lived she would wed him, but she was still not certain of her place in his heart.
Marietta spent some time playing with her son. When she went down to join the others for supper in the Great Hall it was almost dusk. She asked Claire if the men had returned from their search but she shook her head.
‘We have heard nothing,’ she said. ‘Harry went with them, because he said that if the rogues were on his land he wanted to deal with them. I thought they would have returned before this, for they cannot search in the dark—’ She broke off as there was a commotion in the hall and then Sir Harry came striding in. He had blood on his clothes and Claire gave a scream of fright, running to him, his name on her lips.
‘
Stop,’ Harry commanded. ‘The blood is not mine, but Anton’s. He has been wounded in the side and has lost much blood. I came on ahead to warn you. The men are carrying him home…’
‘Anton is wounded?’ Marietta approached hesitantly, her face deathly white. ‘How did it happen? He is such a skilled warrior…’
‘They came upon us suddenly, about thirty of them out of the trees. We held our own easily and drove them off. The Bastard of Rouen was killed by Anton’s own hand, but somehow in the melee he was wounded.’ Harry frowned. ‘From the angle of the wound I think a sword was thrust into his side from behind. I doubt he knew his enemy was there. When all is confusion these things sometimes happen, but it is a cowardly way to strike a man—from behind, when he is fighting another.’
Marietta hardly heard his last words for they were bringing Anton. He was being carried on a gate taken hurriedly from its hinges, and his garments were soaked in blood.
Holding back the feeling of terror that swept over her, Marietta hurried to her chamber. She had healing herbs that would be needed, and she would use all she knew to save him—because if he died she did not care what became of her.
When she went to Anton’s chamber, Claire was already there. Anton was naked, for they had stripped away the bloodied raiment and the servants had brought water to wash the wound.
‘Let me help,’ Marietta said, and went to Claire’s side. She took the cloth and soaked it in the bowl, wringing out the bloody water and bathing the area around the wound. ‘The cut is deep, but I do not think it had penetrated a vital organ. See—the flesh does not open far. If we cleanse the wound and apply salves it will heal…’
‘Yes, that is what I thought,’ Claire agreed. ‘But wounds like this can turn bad so quickly, Marietta. Perhaps we should use the iron on him? The danger will come if the pus turns green.’
‘Sometimes the iron can do more harm than good with a fresh wound like this. I could sew the flesh together with silk thread. And I have some herbs that may help. I need to make an infusion to pack the wound. Have I permission to use your stillroom—and to apply the poultice?’
