Sweet Bea

by Sarah Hegger

  “Who is this person?” Tom loomed nearer, his pitchfork held like a spear. He had a look on his face that made Beatrice tread warily. There was only so far she could push Tom.

  “Nobody you know.”

  “That is it. I am telling my mother. Let her deal with you.” The fork clattered to the ground as Tom strode toward the door.

  “Nay.” Beatrice jumped over the implement and caught his arm “You must not. Please, Tom.” She tugged on his sleeve until he stopped. “You must let me do this.” Her voice wobbled as she saw all her newly hatched dreams crumbling at her feet. “You know how ill my mother is. And Faye. Faye’s husband could come and take her children from her by force. Only my father can stop that. He must come. Henry does not see it, but he must come home.”

  “I understand.” Tom’s expression softened. “But it is not you who must go. It is too dangerous.”

  “There is nobody else. I am the only one who is ready to do this.”

  Tom took her hand from his sleeve. He held it in his large, roughened palm. “Bea, you are hatching crazy notions in that head of yours.”

  Beatrice bit her lip to keep from crying. He didn’t see any of it. “If I do not do this, I will never be one of them. Here is my chance to make my family proud. I can make up for all those broken engagements and all the embarrassments and everything.” She stopped because she ran out of breath.

  Tom rolled his eyes and gave her hand a squeeze. “There were only three broken engagements.”

  “Exactly.” Beatrice blinked against the sting at the back of her eyes. The humiliation was a bitter taste in her mouth. “This is my chance to prove to my family I am one of them.”

  “Of course you are one of them. You do not need to prove yourself to them, Bea. Your family loves you.”

  “I know that.” Beatrice dashed her cheeks impatiently. Treacherous tears wouldn’t stop leaking onto her cheeks. “I know they love me, but they do not take me seriously. It is always oh, Beatrice is up to her tricks again, or you know Beatrice.”

  And everything else she’d said or thought dropped away. Beatrice knew this was the real reason. “I need to do this. For my mother, for all of them.”

  “Ah, Bea, it is all in your head.” He released her hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “You think you need to measure up to your family because your father is this big legend and your mother was known everywhere. They are people, like you and me.”

  Beatrice wasn’t going to argue the point with him. There were two sorts of people. Some were made in the image of God and others were nearly Him. “I am going to do this, Tom,” she said. “All you have to decide is whether you are going to stand in my way or help me.”

  Broad face impassive, Tom stilled and searched her eyes.

  Beatrice held her breath.

  “I must be mad.” Tom looked past her at the twilight spilling into the stable and sighed. “My mother, for sure, is going to flay me alive for this. And I would not blame her.” He threw up his hands. “Of course I am going to help you, Bea.”

  “Oh, Tom.” Beatrice finally breathed. Victory. She flung her arms around his neck. There was nowhere a better man than Tom and he was her best friend.

  He wheezed as she tightened her grip.

  “But—” He unwrapped her from his neck. “You are not going alone, because I will go with you.”

  Beatrice didn’t want Tom along. She wanted Garrett. She chewed the inside of her cheek. Tom wouldn’t approve of Garrett and he might be difficult. Then again, it was better than Tom putting a stop to the entire scheme. If he came with her, he would have no opportunity to tell tales on her. “I love you, Tom.”

  Tom bent and grabbed his pitchfork. “Remember you do when my mother gets hold of me.”

  Chapter 7

  Beatrice opened the door to her mother’s chamber. Lady Mary sat in her bed, propped against a mountain of pillows. Her braid trailed over her shoulder and pooled in her lap. It had once been bright as new gold, but was dulled with age now. Her face, as unlined as a woman half her age, lit in a smile as warm as the sunlight pouring in.

  The chamber smelled of roses. All around were those little touches that spoke of Lady Mary. The huge bowl of flowers by her bed. An embroidered fire screen before the hearth, stitched by her mother’s hand. And fine silks draped over the chest at the foot of the bed.

  Beatrice’s belly churned with the lies she was about to utter.

  “Sweet Bea.” Her mother patted the silver fur bed throw beside her. “Come and tell me what you are planning for today.”

  She couldn’t do that. Beatrice climbed on the bed and tucked her feet into the silky pelt like she had every morning since Lady Mary had been confined to her bed. She would miss her mother. There would be no more morning visits until she got back from London. Her heart gave a sharp twist. “The weather is fine today.”

  “I see so.” Lady Mary gestured toward the open casement. “You should take Simon and little Arthur to collect seashells.”

  “What?” Her mouth dried, and she eyed the cup of tea beside her mother.

  “I said you should take Simon and Arthur to the beach.”

  “I would if they were here.”

  “And they are not here?” Mother raised an eyebrow. Lady’s Mary’s eyes were the same piercing blue as Faye’s. They could strip you to your chainse.

  Beatrice adjusted her skirts over her legs and played for time. She pointed to the cup. “May I?”

  Lady Mary pulled a face. “Please. It is one of nurse’s tisanes.”

  Beatrice put the cup back on the gleaming oak table. Her mouth wasn’t that dry.

  “I thought I heard Simon this morning.” Mother folded her arms over her large belly.

  “Nay. Perhaps it was a child from the village?”

  Lady Mary pursed her lips. “It sounded just like Simon.”

  “It may have.” Beatrice’s throat tightened. She hated lying to her mother. “But Simon is at Calder Castle with his mother and his father so you could not have heard him.”

  Lady Mary studied her.

  Beatrice dug her nails into her palms to stop herself from fidgeting. Please, just this once let Mother not see through her. Her heart pounded so loudly, her mother must be able to hear it.

  “Did Godfrey arrive?”

  Beatrice unclenched her hands. She wiped damp palms on her knee. “He did. The Army of God still holds London, but he has not seen father or the boys.”

  “I pray they are well.” Lady Mary sighed and looked out the casement. Her mouth was drawn down at the corners and she looked tired and sad.

  Renewed determination surged through Beatrice. This was why she had Tom preparing supplies right this minute. When Sir Arthur and her brothers were back, her mother would smile again. She touched her palm to her mother’s belly. “How is the babe?”

  “Restless.” Her mother covered her hand with her long, delicate fingers. “He is a strong lad.”

  “Lad?”

  “What girl would cause her mother such discomfort?”

  Guilt took a swipe at Beatrice. She had caused her mother all manner of discomfort and was about to add to her tally. When she returned from London, there would be no more upheavals and trouble. She would settle down and become a good daughter, just like Faye.

  “Look at me, Bea.” Lady Mary squeezed her hand. “You do not cause me discomfort.”

  Of course, her mother would say so, because she was her mother. Her mother was uncanny the way she could read her face so easily. Bea forced a smile to her lips. “Not at this minute, I am not.”

  “There.” Her mother smiled. “We are in perfect agreement. Now, tell me what you plan for the rest of this lovely day.”

  Beatrice chatted with her mother until Nurse came in with instructions for Lady Mary to rest.

  “See you on the morrow, Sweet Bea,” her mother said.

  It was time to say good-bye. Beatrice’s throat closed
around a huge lump. She ducked her head to hide her face from Nurse’s view.

  “Actually.” Her voice came out in a rasp and she cleared her throat.

  Her mother raised her brows.

  The prepared excuse lodged behind Beatrice’s breastbone. She forced the words out on a rush of breath. “I thought I might go to the sisters at St. Thomas in the morning.”

  “Did you?” Nurse glared from beneath her wimple.

  It was easier to look at Nurse than her mother. “I thought I might light a candle for father and William and Roger.”

  “And our chapel will not suffice? Father Thomas has run short of candles?”

  Beatrice raised her chin and met Nurse’s penetrating stare.

  Nurse jammed her hands on her hips.

  “I think it is a fine idea.” Lady Mary’s soft voice broke the joined battle.

  Beatrice let her breath out slowly. Her mother was a saint and she was a liar and a worm.

  “Light one for the babe and your mother while you are there.”

  Beatrice pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek. She inhaled the comforting rose scent clinging to her mother. “I love you.”

  “And you, Sweet Bea.”

  * * * *

  In the moonlight, Beatrice slipped out the postern gate. It clanged shut behind her and she jumped. The rest of the keep was at Vespers.

  Tom waited for her just as they had arranged. He had three horses and all the provisions for their journey. “Did you leave the message for Faye?”

  Beatrice rolled her eyes and mounted. Just because Tom had agreed to help her, didn’t mean he would come quietly. “I left her a message,” Beatrice whispered. “I think it is a vastly stupid idea, by the by. What is to say Henry will not come charging after us the moment Faye tells him where we have gone?”

  “You said Faye would not tell him.” Tom stood beside his horse, arms crossed over his chest.

  “I said Faye was not likely to say anything.” She wasn’t at all sure Faye would keep the information to herself, which was why she’d made a point to leave the message where it wouldn’t be delivered before the morning. Faye wouldn’t wait up for her and Nurse believed she slept beside Faye. By the time the keep rose to break its fast, however, and she was still nowhere to be found, questions would be asked. Her story about the convent would buy her a little more time. By then she planned to be well on her way. If Tom would just get on his horse.

  He had picked the calmest horse in the stable. Old Parsley would trudge along happily as long as you fed him and didn’t ask him to do anything too onerous. Besides, Parsley was in love with her mare, Breeze. Where Breeze put her dainty hooves, Parsley was sure to come crashing after.

  “You left the message I told you to leave?”

  “I said what you told me to say.” Mostly. “As we discussed.”

  Finally, Tom mounted. He took up the reins to the third horse. Badger jerked his head and blew hard. Tom clucked and the gelding reluctantly shambled forward.

  Beatrice nudged Breeze into a walk. Tom’s constant carping threatened to snuff her spark of adventure. Still, that was Tom for you. He had his uses like procuring food, human and animal, and other bits and pieces necessary for the journey. His thought to bring sleeping blankets was inspired.

  They crossed the meadow and wended through the towering beech trees toward the village. The moist ground muffled the horse’s hoof falls in the still night.

  Faye mightn’t tell Henry. And if Faye did tell him, Beatrice doubted Henry would do anything about her absence.

  An owl hooted. Badger shied and Tom soothed him.

  If it were Roger, no threat on earth would’ve moved her to leave a note. Roger would’ve been on his destrier in hot pursuit before he’d reached the end of the message. It was fortunate Roger remained in London. Or mayhap, not. Roger would not be dithering like Henry, in the family’s darkest hour.

  She missed her oldest brother. He was her favorite, with his quick temper and quicker sense of humor. Roger came closest to understanding her within the family. Not all the time, but enough to keep her feeling like less of a cuckoo in the nest.

  All that would change after she reached her father in London. Her family might be angry with her for taking such a risk. Roger would definitely thunder and rant, but all would be forgiven when her purpose became clear.

  Breeze cleared the trees and took the gentle descent to the village. Fishing nets, strung between stakes to dry like giant spiderwebs, glittered in the moonlight. Warm yellow light spilled from casements onto the green.

  She pulled Breeze to a stop. “I will have to go alone.”

  Tom reined Parsley in beside her. Badger pulled at the bit before he settled. “Why?”

  “Because, we do not want everyone to know what we are doing, or someone will tell Henry for sure. Then where will we be?” Must she explain everything?

  “Tucked up safe in our beds, where we should be.” Tom hunched in his saddle. “I am beginning to think we should stop this before we travel any farther.”

  “We cannot, Tom.” Beatrice’s heart missed a beat. “You said you would help me.”

  “Aye.” Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “But that was foolish on my part.”

  “Are you going to keep whining the same old tune all the way to London?” Tom was so blasted stubborn.

  “I am not whining. Bea, will you listen to sense before you get us both mired in something we’ll regret.” Badger stamped and Tom tightened his lead rein.

  “Well, I shall not regret it.” If Tom didn’t want to help her, he could go cringing back to Anglesea. “Go back, if you like, but I am going to get the man we need.” Tom would make a raw spot if he kept rubbing at his neck. “Come now, Tom. Think of this as a grand adventure. We used to talk of them all the time when we were younger.”

  “You spoke of grand adventure.” Tom jabbed his thumb into his chest. “I wanted a farm. I still want a farm.”

  “Of course you do.” Beatrice leaned across and patted his knee. “And think how grateful my father will be you helped save the family from certain ruin.”

  “Sir Arthur will skin my hide for letting you do this.”

  “Nay, he will not. He may skin my hide, but you will receive his gratitude. Not only did you help save the family, but you remained steadfastly by my side to protect me.” She stroked Breeze’s neck. “And if it comes to that, I shall take full blame. My father will have no trouble believing as much.”

  Tom grunted. He tapped his fingers against his thigh.

  “Besides,” Beatrice said, “if we go back now, there will be a huge furor. My mother will hear of it, for certain, and you know she is not to be worried.”

  “Have you not thought this start of yours may well scare her half to death?”

  Beatrice’s stomach tightened. She’d steadfastly avoided thinking what would happen if Lady Mary discovered where she’d gone. Beatrice shoved the concern aside. When she brought her father home, her mother would improve. “Nobody will tell her. I stressed that in my message to Faye. Mother is not to be caused any undue worry.”

  She trotted forward.

  Tom stayed.

  Beatrice halted Breeze and turned. “Come along.”

  He was at his neck again. “Beatrice, we should turn back.”

  Why had she ever thought to involve him? He was ruining everything.

  “I am not turning back, Tom. I will find Garrett and he will lead me to London. You”—she glared over her shoulder—“can do as you please. But if you betray me, I will never, ever, ever forgive you. Now, run along, Tom.” She flung one hand toward Anglesea. “Run back to your mother and carry tales with you. Perhaps she will let you hide beneath her skirts.”

  “That is not fair.”

  Beatrice kept her eyes on the bright moonlight showing the path. Her decision was made. Beatrice the Brave wouldn’t be craven and hide when duty called.

  “And that is
another thing bothering me about this,” Tom called after her. “Who is this Garrett? I know no one by that name.”

  Beatrice let Breeze pick her way down the path. The soil beneath the horse’s hooves was sandy and their pace slowed. She was done with Tom and his questions. She would find Garrett. Her heart gave a happy thump. He would be surprised to see her. Her own boldness thrilled her. How would Garrett react? Would he try to steal a kiss?

  Tom’s cursing interrupted her fantasy as he lumbered along in her wake.

  There would be no kissing with Tom lurking about and muttering his disapproval.

  Chapter 8

  “Garrett.”

  Her voice woke him instantly.

  “Garrett.” Beatrice called louder this time.

  Beside him, Lilly stirred. He put his hand on her shoulder to hush her.

  Lilly stilled.

  Beatrice called again, growing more insistent.

  “Jesu.” Beatrice stood right outside his hut. He shook Lilly hard enough to wake her.

  She opened her eyes and grinned at him. “You are a lusty one.” Lilly caressed him beneath the bedding.

  Garrett caught her hand and pushed it aside. “You have to go.”

  Lilly blinked at him.

  “Now,” he said with more force.

  “Garrett, are you in there?”

  The latch rattled, and Garrett leapt to his feet. He hauled Lilly from beneath the warm covers. “Do not come in. I am not decent.”

  The latch rattling stopped.

  “Oh?” Beatrice squeaked from the other side of the door.

  He imagined her cheeks going pink.

  Lilly stood there, teats out to the world, staring at him.

  “Go.”

  “Why? And who is at the door?”

  “Never you mind.” Garrett gave her a push. “Just leave.”

  Lilly set her jaw and cocked one hip.