Love's Intrigue

by June Francis

  ‘We do not kiss under the mistletoe in France,’ said Louise, smiling. ‘But we do decorate our houses with holly and that is also said to have healing properties, and to protect the home from fire and storm.’

  ‘Then it’d be good if we got some of both,’ said Nat in a determined voice.

  ‘But no ivy,’ said Peter, his blue eyes bright as they went from one to the other. ‘It’s said to have been used by the Roman god Bacchus to decorate his halls when he held his drunken revels.’

  ‘Now I never knew that,’ muttered Nat, rubbing at his ear. ‘That’s what studying learns you. Although I knew ’twas unlucky to have inside.’ He came to an abrupt halt in front of an enormous oak tree.

  All of them looked up into its black spreading branches to a bole of the tree, where, as if by magic, a bright green clump of mistletoe sprouted. Nat fingered the knife in his girdle. ‘I’ll go up,’ he said, eyeing the lowest branch. ‘Lend me your back, Louis.’

  ‘Pardon?’ Louise gave him an uncomprehending stare ‘Bend over,’ said Peter, arching his back so that his arms dangled and his fingertips touched the ground. She aped him but was not prepared for Nat’s foot on her spine as he sprang up and seized a branch. She was sent sprawling on to a carpet of mouldering damp leaves, and came up spitting them out with the sound of the boys’ laughter ringing in her ears.

  There was a rustling of undergrowth and the twins and Blanche appeared through the trees.

  ‘Is it leaves that they eat in France for Christmas?’ said Blanche, her pale eyes passing disdainfully over Louise’s sprawling figure. ‘I always did consider them beasts.’

  Louise’s temper ignited and her voice contained a note of anger. ‘I’d have you know, madame, that France is the most … ’ She sought for the right word in English and came out with it in French.

  ‘What is he saying?’ demanded the other woman.

  ‘That you are uncivilised, coz,’ drawled Harry, while John stepped forward to help Louise to her feet.

  ‘Just what I would expect from him,’ said the older woman, her eyes sparkling. ‘Tell him, John, that I consider him rude and vulgar.’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me,’ said Louise, her glance passing over John’s frowning face as he helped her up. ‘And tell her that I did not say exactly what Harry said. I spoke of France and that it is the most … ’ Again she sought for the English word.

  ‘Civilised is the word I believe you’re looking for,’ said John coolly, his fingers tightening on her arm.

  ‘Tell him that he is mistaken,’ said Blanche in vexed tones. ‘England is the more civilised.’

  ‘But don’t expect civilised behaviour from our cousin,’ said Harry promptly, his expression maliciously amused as he shifted the basket of holly he carried to his other hand. ‘She’s been spoilt from the cradle because her parents could have no more children. And no doubt if they had lived to have seen how their daughter turned out they’d have been glad that they didn’t!’

  Blanche gasped. ‘How dare you, Harry?’ She flew at him. ‘Pig! Beast! I hate you!’ She managed to catch him a blow on the nose before he seized her wrist and twisted her arm up her back.

  ‘Harry! Blanche!’ John’s voice was sharp. ‘Do you call that civilised behaviour? What will M’sieur Saulnier think of you?’

  Harry dropped Blanche’s arm and glared at her. ‘I should have had the handling of you from early days; you would have been a much nicer person now.’

  ‘I suppose you consider yourself a saint?’ flashed Blanche, her expression animated.

  ‘Hardly. But at least there are times when I do think of other people’s feelings.’

  ‘Like when you went missing for five years and didn’t let anyone know where you were?’ she cried.

  ‘John knew I was safe,’ he countered tersely.

  ‘He did not know. He only had a feeling!’

  ‘Those feelings count,’ hissed Harry. ‘Ask John about when he was nearly killed in Normandy and Louise saved him!’

  ‘Enough, brother,’ said John, sending him a warning look.

  Harry ignored him. ‘Ask him! Didn’t I know he was hurt?’ He whirled round to Louise, who was brushing dead soggy leaves from her surcote. ‘You tell her, Louise, how I was trying to get a ship to England.’

  ‘Will you be quiet?’ roared John. ‘Hasn’t your tongue led us into enough trouble in the past as it is?’

  Harry went suddenly silent but it was too late. Blanche was gazing at Louise with an arrested expression in her eyes. ‘You called him Louise — that’s a girl’s name.’

  ‘Louis is a girl,’ Peter surprised them all by saying as he caught a clump of mistletoe which had been sent hurtling down from the tree. ‘But she rides as hard as a man, and never complained of aches and pains and being tired on the journey like Mother used to all the time,’ he said with obvious enjoyment of the effect he was creating. ‘She’s as good as a boy.’

  ‘Thank you, Peter,’ murmured Louise, her cheeks burning. ‘You’re very kind.’

  ‘But — why is she dressed like that?’ Blanche asked of John, staring at Louise doubtfully. ‘It’s unseemly.’

  ‘To save her virtue from the civilised English when they overran her town,’ said John quietly, ‘her father cut her hair and had her wear boy’s clothes.’ Louise looked at him with gratitude.

  Pink colour slowly washed over Blanche’s pale skin. ‘But — why does she still wear them?’ she said hesitantly. ‘Has she no women’s clothes at all?’

  ‘I have some,’ answered Louise quickly, not wanting her pity. ‘Harry gave me several of Clotilde’s gowns, and — ’ She stopped abruptly.

  ‘Who is Clotilde?’ asked Blanche in a chilling tone, her gaze passing over Louise to Harry, whose black brows were knit together in a furious scowl. ‘It seems that I’ve not been told everything about your brave deeds in Normandy.’

  ‘Not quite everything,’ he said briefly.

  Louise put in, ‘It’s a long story and not what you think.’

  ‘And how would you know what I’m thinking if you’re such an innocent? Just looking at you speaks of the kind of woman you are!’ Blanche whirled round and marched out of the clearing.

  John said in a rasping voice, ‘I’d best go after her and try and persuade her not to talk of this. You’d have both been better keeping your mouths shut.’

  Harry swore softly and Louise felt like swearing. There was a silence as they gazed after him.

  It was suddenly broken by the sound of cracking timber and a yell. Bits of twigs and mistletoe came flying down with Nat, who managed at the last minute to save himself from hitting the forest floor by seizing hold of the lower branch of the tree. He swung by his hands several feet from the ground, relief mingling with the fear that lingered in his eyes. Harry moved forward to take his weight and ease him down.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Nat in heartfelt tones. ‘I was that taken up with listening that I forgot I was up a tree.’

  ‘Big ears,’ said Peter, his eyes laughing, despite his sober expression. ‘I wager that you can’t keep this a secret as I’ve done for days.’

  ‘How did you know?’ demanded Louise.

  ‘I’m not stupid,’ said Peter in a scornful tone.

  ‘No,’ muttered Louise, frowning. ‘But you never said anything.’

  Peter shrugged. ‘If Father had wanted me to know he’d have told me.’

  ‘Blanche’ll tell your grandmother and grandfather,’ said Harry moodily, pressing his foot down hard on a fallen twig. ‘And cousin Hugh! That’s the kind of woman she is.’

  ‘Perhaps she won’t,’ Nat said, a slight furrow between his brows.

  ‘But most probably she will!’ Harry’s voice was impatient. ‘It’s bound to create a scandal. I knew that you should never have come to England with my brother, Louise.’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘If you hadn’t abducted my sister then I wouldn’t be here! Anyway, from what I’ve heard, scandals are not new in your family.’<
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  ‘And what’s that mean?’ he said sharply.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ murmured Louise, gaining control of her temper. ‘Bickering will get us nowhere.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Harry stared at her. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see. And if it does come out that you’re a woman, then best put on the dowdiest women’s clothes in your possession. There’s less likelihood of the family believing the worst of you if you play your charms down.’ He smiled unexpectedly. ‘Perhaps you can paint a wart on your nose and I could cut your hair shorter.’

  Louise swiftly put both hands to her head and stamped her foot. ‘You will not touch my hair! You want me to look ugly! Merci m’sieur,’ she said sarcastically. ‘I was the daughter of the richest clothier in Caen! I wore the finest samite from Venice and the best woollen material that the Flemish weavers could make! Is it not enough that I’ve been brought so low that it was needful for me to wear the clothes of a prentice? I will not shame myself any more! And besides,’ her voice rose on a triumphant note ‘ — Clotilde possessed nothing dowdy. She wore clothes that were intended to attract a man’s attention.’

  Harry grimaced. ‘You’ve made your point. John’s reputation will have to carry us through if the worst comes to the worst.’

  ‘His reputation?’ She threw back her head and laughed. ‘Why his reputation? Anyway, perhaps the fair Blanche will be persuaded by him to remain silent about me.’

  ‘It’s possible.’ Harry scowled. ‘She considers him a paragon in most matters. And if someone is normally honest and upright then it’s easier to persuade people that what they say is truth.’ He added silkily, ‘Now if you’d travelled in my company it would have been a different matter.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said drily. ‘But what are we going to do now?’

  He was silent a moment, then shrugged. ‘Carry on as if nothing had happened.’ He looked at the two boys, who were picking up the mistletoe that littered the ground. ‘Nat! Peter! Keep silent about all you’ve heard, unless it appears obvious that our cousin has blabbed, and there will be an extra present for you on New Year’s Day.’

  Peter just gave him a look as if to say, I know how to keep quiet, but Nat grinned. ‘Haven’t heard a thing.’

  Harry slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Good lad! Now let’s be getting back or the hall won’t be getting decorated in time.’

  They retraced their steps and met up with the rest of the group. John and Blanche were already with them. John’s glance met Louise’s briefly, and he nodded slightly. She was uncertain whether he meant that Blanche had been persuaded to keep quiet or not, and she thought that maybe Harry would go over to them and find out. But he did not; instead he began to talk in an animated fashion to herself and the boys as if he did not have a care in the world.

  When they entered the hall the servants were ready to bring in the food for dinner, and no sooner had the party put down the spoils of their labours and discarded cloaks than it was time to sit and eat. Harry stayed by Louise’s side, while John sat next to Blanche. Louise’s spirits plummeted, and suddenly she thought longingly of her old home, where life was much simpler.

  Yet it was a merry company that set about decorating the hall after dinner, with laurel, bay, rosemary, mistletoe and holly. There was much horseplay, as well as talk of food and drink and entertainment on the morrow — but no mention was made of the French visitor’s being a woman. Louise listened to the jests and smiled, although she did not understand everything that was being said, and she could not prevent her gaze wandering at times to the part of the hall where Blanche, in a surcote of pale blue, was handing up bunches of holly to John.

  ‘I think she’s going to keep quiet,’ muttered Harry in Louise’s ear as he caught her watching them. ‘I felt sure that John could persuade her that I’m the villain of the piece while he’s St George, out to help any damsel in distress.’

  Louise’s hazel eyes darkened. ‘But you are the villain of the piece! If you hadn’t abducted my sister then I wouldn’t be here! But I doubt that John will tell Blanche that you are to be blamed for her being in England.’

  ‘Why?’ he said bluntly. ‘You think you know him better than I? It would certainly make her not wish to have anything to do with me — and put him in a good light.’

  She wrinkled her nose in bewilderment. ‘You sound as if you care what she thinks about you. Yet the way you behave towards her is abominable.’

  He shrugged. ‘Only because I know I don’t stand a chance with her now that Dorothy’s dead. She’d make a perfect wife for John because she knows the trade.’

  ‘That is true,’ said Louise, lowering her head so that he could not see her expression, and twisting stems of laurel together. ‘But I still don’t believe that he would say things detrimental to your character. Why should he, when you damage your own case?’

  His mouth twisted wryly and his blue eyes were amused. ‘You certainly know how to rub salt in a wound. But I suppose I’ve been doing that to you by linking Jack and Blanche together. You’re fond of my brother, aren’t you, my dear?’

  She lifted her head: there was no way that she would let him know how much she cared. ‘He’s an Englishman and you know how I hate the English,’ she murmured.

  ‘So you say.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘Let’s forget them both, Louise. Did you know the mummers come tomorrow? It’s great fun and there’s much dressing up. We wear masks and costume and often men wear women’s clothes and vice versa. Don’t you yearn to wear something pretty — to dress up for the festivities? I’d like to see you in that green samite gown that Clotilde was so reluctant to part with — and I’m sure my brother’s reaction would be interesting.’

  Her hand stilled on the garland. ‘You think so?’

  Harry smiled. ‘It’s worth a try. I’ll go and find you a mask.’

  She watched him dodging between people as he went over to the large chest against the far wall, and suddenly was aware that she was not the only woman watching him. So was Blanche, but her expression was unreadable. How did she really feel towards Harry? It seemed to Louise that she insulted him almost as much as he did her. How fitting it would be if Blanche and Harry … No! She would not pin her hopes on that happening. Besides, as Harry had said, a marriage between John and Blanche would be extremely suitable.

  She was not sure if John and his family would go to the Mass that evening, but everybody went to the tiny stone church. Louise determinedly suppressed her guilt — it was not as if she would commit adultery again — and she took the sacrament.

  One of the first to leave the church, she walked back to the house alone and was welcomed indoors with a cup of hot spiced ale and a mince pie shaped like a manger with a little figure of a baby, representing Jesus, on its crust. She ate and drank as quickly as she could, not wanting to speak to anyone, tired out as she was by physical activity and emotion. It was well gone midnight when she went to bed, and knowing that the feasting would start at noon and go on all day she planned to sleep as long as she could.

  The first act Louise performed when she rose the next morning was to search in her baggage and take out the green houppelande of silky samite and hang it on the hook on the wait. A yellow silk corset and a white chemise joined it. She found a head-dress and veil and put them on the bed next to the mask taken from the chest. Then she started on her toilet.

  Just the feel of cotton and silk against her skin gave Louise pleasure, and she hummed as she laced up her corset. Somehow she managed without a mirror to fix her head-dress and veil and adjust the mask. She felt a moment’s anxiety before opening the door. What if John was furious with her for dressing up the way she had, and refused to act as her emissary between her and his brother to discover where Marguerite was? Then she considered Blanche and her beauty, and, tilting her chin, she flung the door wide.

  She was not the only one wearing a mask and there was a lot of teasing and people trying to guess who was who, and there were several puzzled glances sent
in her direction. There was no sign of John or Harry, although their mother was busily directing the servants where to place dishes.

  The tables were already covered with white cloths and candle stands set in place, while the servants loaded the tables with dishes containing boiled capons, partridges, larks and roast geese. There were containers of fruit, hot pies, and apple-wood bowls of ale with toasted apples bobbing in them. There were sugary sweets shaped into ships and castles, as well as plum porridge, a mixture of raisins, spices, breadcrumbs and fruit juices that was spooned down with the first course. It was special because somewhere in the mixture there was a silver coin, a ring and a thimble. The place in front of the host and his lady was still empty — reserved for the boar’s head, which would be ceremoniously brought in once everybody was in their places.

  Quickly the hall began to fill up, not only with members of the family and their friends, but also people from the hamlet who had been invited to sit at the lower tables. Musicians with pipe, drum, harp and trumpet were practising at one end of the hall.

  The noise swelled and people began to take their places at table. Louise slipped on to the edge of a bench near Peter and Nat, and still she could not see either of the twins. She did notice Blanche, clad in a violet-coloured houppelande with scalloped edges to the sleeves, sitting a few places up from the end of the high table. There was a man sitting next to her, but she did not recognise him as either John or Harry. Perhaps they were wearing costumes and masks. Now their host was in his place and a woman whom she took to be his wife, up from her laying-in bed for this special occasion.

  Then a fanfare sounded and everybody rose to their feet and gazed at the chief cook who entered carrying a great silver dish containing the boar’s head. It had sprigs of rosemary sticking out of its ears and an apple in its mouth. It held all of Louise’s attention so that she did not instantly notice the man who quickly took up a stand beside her. She was thinking of how the rosemary represented the returning summer and the fruit the sun. At this darkest time of the year it was good to look forward to the hot days to come. The silver platter was set down in front of Hugh. Grace was said, and then everybody took their seats.