The Maiden Bride

by Linda Needham

  "I agree with you on one point, madam: This sort of jealousy makes for a deadly enemy."

  "You know as well as I that we harbor none of Dernbrook's tenants here. Has Fergus ever been his carpenter? Or Cora his alewife? An elderly nightman and a woman who until recently had made her living on the back streets of York? No and no."

  "It matters not what the truth is."

  "It does to me. Blast the man! Three years ago, he'd never have wanted someone like Skelly or Mullock under his roof."

  "A great many things were different three years ago."

  "Not the strength of a man's honor."

  "Nevertheless, my dear, you'll have to prove his claim false in court."

  "This is nonsense. I will not pay ludicrous fees to the king and then damage to Dernbrook for his imaginary villeins. I'll have to straighten out this matter for good." She started up the castle hill, detesting the feeling that she'd lost control of her own home.

  "Where are you going?" He had a marvelously thorough way of gaining her attention, of putting himself between her and the sky.

  "To disabuse Dernbrook of his ridiculous suit against me before it grows out of hand."

  "It already has. It's scheduled to be heard at the next assize."

  "That's not nearly soon enough."

  "It has to be so. I'll present the case myself. And in the meantime, you will bide your time and your temper and leave well enough alone. I'll send a message to Dernbrook's man of law—"

  "Actually. Nicholas, he's here."

  He always grew quiet as his face darkened. "Dernbrook is here? Now? At Faulkhurst?"

  "Aye. Probably because he thinks that he can intimidate me because I'm a woman, and alone."

  "You're not bloody alone."

  "I know that—but the man has gall. Read what else he says there: that I'm to cease and desist immediately, and to give his seven supposed tenants back to him. They're my tenants, not his. I've promised to care for them at all costs, and I refuse to do what he demands."

  "Sweet bloody hell." He read the document more closely, his jaw clenched and working, eyeing her when he was finished. "You may not have a choice, madam. The law is clear."

  "Oh? And just who do I sacrifice to this clarity of law? Dickon? Skelly? Do I take Lisabet from her home, from her goats and that rangy long-horn cow?"

  "Don't be absurd."

  "Who then, if you're choosing? Because the man is waiting in the keep to steal them away."

  "I'll take care of it."

  "No. I will—I need to, as a point of honor. Otherwise, I'll look weak, like I have to rely on a man to fight my battles for me."

  "That's what a steward is for."

  "Blast it all. Dernbrook wouldn't dare bring this suit if my husband still held Faulkhurst instead of me."

  Nicholas lifted her chin with his thumb, his eyes clear and his smile steady. "Your husband would never have put himself into this vulnerable position, madam."

  Oh, and that was a kiss he set against her mouth, to stall and confuse her. "Then we'd still be waiting for a baker and a horse to come riding through the gates." She backed safely away from him. "No, Nicholas. The real reason that Dernbrook is bringing this suit against me, rumors or no, is because he's too miserly to pay a reasonable wage to his tenants. And now he thinks he can just steal mine. He'll be sorry he arrived at my door, Nicholas. My case is excellent."

  "Have you ever answered a writ, madam?"

  "Not a writ of my own, but I'm not wholly inexperienced. I did have a hand in the outcome of a suit, between the abbess at St. Catherine's and the pig butcher."

  "For…?"

  "Menacing the countryside. The pig butcher, of course; not the abbess. Too many flies in the summer, too near the abbey close with its horrible stench. The turning point for us came when I suggested to Mother Abbess that she take the judges and the jurymen on a tour of the offending yard, which happened to be on a particularly warm day… Needless to say, we won."

  "A quarrel between a pig butcher and an abbess is not in the same league as yours with Dernbrook. He is holding up the king's own ordinance against you—which you have clearly and deliberately violated."

  "And that's where Dernbrook will lose on all counts. He hasn't a mote of evidence to back up his claim against me. He couldn't possibly—because he's mistaken. He needs to know that I am in the right and that I plan to fight for myself. And he needs to know this immediately."

  "My lady, this is not the way between two lords."

  "Then what is, Nicholas? Shall we hold the man hostage? Or gather troops to ride out and besiege him at his manor? Is that what my husband would have done in my place?"

  Nicholas shoved his fingers through his hair again. "He would have— Bloody hell."

  "Exactly. I'm going to do this my way."

  "If you're so damned set on scuttling your whole defense, madam, I'll present your grievances to this Dernbrook myself. Today." He rolled up the writ in his brawny fist and started past her toward the castle.

  "Hold there, Nicholas." She chased after him, caught him at the well house. "How do you mean that I'll be scuttling my defenses?"

  He rounded on her, caught up her nape in the wide span of his hand. "If you present your case to Dernbrook here and he stands patiently by and listens without comment to your clever testimony, he'll doubtless be very glad that he did so."

  "Aye, because of the trouble I shall save him in the long run."

  "Nay, madam; because when you meet him again at the autumn assizes, he'll go before the judges knowing exactly what evidence you will use against him, and you will have given his lawyers three months to decide the best way to refute and discredit you. So he will win because you allowed it."

  "I—"

  "You what, madam?"

  "I—I think we'll never have a better chance than this very moment, with our own evidence right to hand. And with the Earl of Arundel to stand as witness."

  "Arundel? I'm not going to let you drag the matter all the way to Arundel."

  "I don't have to go anywhere." She glanced at him and then up at the castle: "He's here, too."

  "The Earl of Arundel?" He looked sharply to the castle with a blazing frown that should have blown the roof off the keep. "What the hell is he doing here?"

  "My question exactly, Nicholas. I suspect that Edward has had a sneaky hand in this suit. Checking up on my progress, his barons circling me, poking at my flanks."

  "More than your flanks, madam." He frowned, paced away, and looked again to the castle. "Damnation."

  "I can't just leave them waiting, Nicholas. I have to go meet with them before Hannah puts them to scrubbing pots in the scullery. I'll do this myself, but I would welcome you standing in support of me."

  Uncharacteristically, he hesitated. "I'll see to these weirs and then I'll be up." He caught the loops of ribbon that secured the scoop of her chemise and held her fast. "Behave, madam. You're on the scarring edge of the law here. I don't want you to slip."

  Mother Mary, the man made her feel warm and malleable all over. And slightly guilty for bringing the trouble upon them.

  But only slightly.

  "You were just a little right, Nicholas."

  "Yes, I know." She wanted him to kiss her again, to give her courage, to lighten her heart and make her pulse sing. But he was already stalking off toward the millpond and the clump of men working the damaged race.

  * * *

  Arundel. Damn the man.

  Nicholas's heart stood stock-still as he watched his wife hurrying up the road toward the castle, gone off in her headlong stride to where he couldn't reach her, couldn't help her out of this entanglement, or call her back—because he was still and always would be William Bayard.

  Because he and Arundel had fought too many battles together, shared too many women, had too many tankards of ale together. Had even sat at counsel with Edward on occasion.

  Not even a beard, his overlong hair, or a far different heart would be an adequate disg
uise.

  He was trapped, unable to help the woman he loved when she needed him most.

  * * *

  Chapter 20

  « ^ »

  Eleanor knew that she hardly looked the lady of the castle at the moment, with mud and water weeds stuck to her kirtle and in the sopping ends of her hair, but that couldn't be helped.

  She'd barely gotten through the portico and into the deserted great hall when she heard from the hearth a rudely growled, "You there, girl."

  Girl? Oh, bloody fine. There were three men in a clump: Arundel to be sure, stocky and graying and frowning; a younger man of light good looks; and a swaggering fellow. Dernbrook—the churl who had called her "girl," and was now looking down his lumpy nose at her.

  "Yes, milord?" she said, dipping a chambermaid's curtsy. Let him think he was leading a stealthy raid against an unprotected widow. "Can I help you?"

  "Name's Dernbrook. Sir David Dernbrook. Torryhill Manor, as I've told at least three people in the last ten minutes. Where is your lady?" He was gruff, disdainful, and as sneering as his little green fox.

  Hmmmm… Where, indeed? "Which lady would you be meaning, Sir David Dernbrook, Torryhill Manor?"

  He cleared his throat, spat the leavings into the fire, and then raised his volume considerably, as if a peasant was obviously deaf to a civil tone. "Eleanor Bayard, the Lady of Faulkhurst. She was supposed to be coming in from her fields to meet with us."

  "Oh! Well, sir, she's been busy at the fish weirs. That storm came on suddenly. I'm surprised you weren't drenched by it." This was a marvelously sweet place to be sitting just now—this crumb-on-the-table proximity to the man who sought to cheat her because she was a woman.

  She crossed the remaining distance to the hearth, stopped directly in front of Dernbrook with her hands posed as she'd once seen Edward's queen do when she meant to flatten her opposition with a single glance, then said in her very finest "milady" voice, "Welcome to Faulkhurst, Sir David. And you as well, my lord Arundel. I am Eleanor Bayard."

  "You?" Dernbrook wrinkled his nose, sputtered. "Are who?"

  "Lady Eleanor. Lord William's widow. I'm sorry for the chaos, but I do welcome you all." She put out her hand to him as any lady ought, but Dernbrook made a caustic face and drew himself up.

  "What is this trickery?" He looked to his fellows. "Arundel?"

  But the earl was already nodding a respectful bow in her direction. "Good day to you, Lady Eleanor," he said, a hand to the shoulder of the young man standing beside him. "This is my nephew, Percy."

  "My lady." The young man was good-looking and gallant as he bowed over her hand. A few years her senior, but wholly unpracticed at hiding his dismay at the sight of a lady with grime edging her fingernails. Still, he had tried.

  Arundel's civility only seemed to make Dernbrook bluster even louder, no doubt scandalized that his current archnemesis should be so mud-drenched, so peasant-filthy.

  "I've never heard of such a greeting!"

  "I do apologize for my appearance, my lords, but we're dreadfully short of hands here for all the work that needs doing. None of us at Faulkhurst escapes the blisters or the mud or the backaches that come with hard work. I'm sure you find the same to be true at Torryhill Manor, Sir David. Especially these days."

  "I—I—I— By God's teeth, Lady Eleanor. This was damn unsporting of you. Letting me believe—"

  "I understand, sir." She picked a large chunk of sedge off the point of her elbow. "I often believe only my eyes and not my common sense. I'm sorry that I wasn't here in the keep to receive you."

  "And well you should have been. Your constable detained us like we were criminals. Damned impertinence! I'd have that boy whipped if I were you."

  And you would be eternally sorry for that, Dernbrook. A cold, assessing resolve slipped through Eleanor's veins. "But you're not me, Sir David, are you? I'm afraid my constable is new at his post and overeager to protect me."

  "That's no—"

  "Ah, my lady, you've been out in the fields plowing again, haven't you?" Hannah came scolding out of nowhere to set a tray of cups and a ewer of new wine on a nearby table, and handed Eleanor a warm towel. "You look a fright."

  "We nearly lost the lower fish weir, Hannah. But we rescued it." Eleanor scrubbed her face with the towel, ignoring Dernbrook and his harrumphing, uncertain how to judge Arundel's quiet observation.

  Hannah nudged her and nodded toward Dernbrook. "Any of these fellows be a pantler, my lady? Could use one, you know. And a good sauce man, too."

  "Ah, no. Gentlemen, this is our cook, Hannah. Will you be staying the night with us? You're certainly welcome to."

  "That depends, Lady Eleanor," Dernbrook said over the rise of his crossed arms and his barrel chest, "upon your cooperation."

  "I pride myself on cooperating, sir. That's the only way we can get things done at Faulkhurst. Hannah, be a dear and bring a loaf of your sweet nutbread for our guests." She handed Hannah the dirt-streaked towel and the woman scurried off. "Now, sir, if you'll tell me how I can help you—"

  "You know damned well how, Lady Eleanor. Unless you haven't read my—"

  "Your writ?" Eleanor wished that Nicholas would hurry along, wished most of all that he was standing by her side, grumbling his opinions into her ear. "Oh, yes, I have read it, sir. But it made no sense to me at all."

  "Well, of course it didn't, my lassie." The man seemed to take her admission as some kind of validation of his cause. His eyes rounded in fatherly kindliness. He smiled crookedly and laughed as though he'd been holding in the goodness of his nature. "There, you see, Arundel? I told you the girl was out of her league. At least she knows it. Now then, my lady, hurry along and send me your steward, then. I'll deal with him."

  Eleanor felt the tips of her ears go steamy hot as Dernbrook calmly shucked his gloves and sat down in her barrel chair, poured himself a cup of her wine, and made himself excessively comfortable in her great hall.

  You thin-witted, insufferable little toad.

  "You'll deal with me, my lord. I am the mistress here, responsible to the last grain of barley that is ground to meal. I insist upon attending to the affairs of my household without any man's counsel, unless I seek it."

  Dernbrook laughed still. "You'd best seek it now, lassie. Come, come. We haven't got all day."

  Her blood near to boiling, Eleanor planted herself firmly on the table edge as she'd often seen Nicholas do, and clasped her hands together in her lap to keep them from shaking in outrage. "I think, Sir David, that I'll do nothing at all until you tell me exactly why you believe I have stolen away your tenants."

  He blustered and waved a finger in the air. "Because seven of mine have disappeared."

  "Did you perhaps eat them?"

  He thumped his fist on the table and stood. "How dare you make light of this!"

  Behave yourself, madam. Though Nicholas's warning was only inside her head, she felt him close by, watching from somewhere.

  "I make light of it, sir, because your claim against me is unfounded and ridiculous—as I shall prove it to you and to His Lordship."

  "Those tenants are mine, lass. And there are probably more hiding somewhere on your estate." The man stood and hitched his thumbs into his belt, then strutted to the screens and peered into the hallway as though she'd hidden them from him. "I'll have them back, or you'll be in mercy to the court and to me for more than you can bear."

  "What do you think I did with your people? Kidnapped them? Do I hold them for ransom?"

  "As good as. I've heard of your tales of gold-paved streets and freeman's wages." He strode back toward her, throwing the silent Arundel a conspiratorial nod.

  "And how many buckets of gold did you pick up on your way through the village?"

  "There, you see, Arundel? Not the least bit aware of the trouble she's in. I know for a fact that until six weeks ago, Faulkhurst was an abandoned ruin. And now it's—" He fluttered his hand in the direction of the bailey.

  "Flourishing,"
was Arundel's imperturbable reply.

  "Thank you, my lord." Eleanor dipped the man a curtsy, surprised at his support. "But we flourish only because we've been blessed with one miracle after another, Sir David. And because we've worked each day until our fingers bled."

  "Ballocks, Lady Eleanor. You've defied the king and stolen laborers from me."

  "Mind your tongue to the lady, Dernbrook." The earl's nephew looked suddenly fierce and red-faced. His uncle caught up the young man's elbow as if to restrain him from entering the fray.

  Dernbrook sank in on himself for a moment, turtlelike. "Yes, yes, of course, my lord Percy. But her untruths will catch her up—which is the very reason that I brought along not only records from Torryhill to prove my claim absolutely, but also, my lady Eleanor, the earl to stand surety for me."

  "To warrant your debate only, Dernbrook," the earl said evenly.

  Eleanor nodded her gratitude for that clarification, still unsure what was going on between the earl and his sulky, excitable vassal. "I'm very pleased that we can take care of the matter out of court. Frankly, I dislike the idea of the king taking his fees every time two of his subjects have a dispute."

  Dernbrook snorted, obviously surprised that a mere lass would have such a logical opinion on a matter of law and commerce. "At least we are in agreement on that point, Lady Eleanor."

  "And on others, I hope." Her account books were sitting on the side table, as they always did in the midst of a busy day, ready to be consulted or added to at a moment's notice. She carried one of them to the large hearth table. "How large is Torryhill Manor, Sir David?"

  Dernbrook looked as though she had accused him of lacking the full allotment of male rigging. "At three thousand acres, Lady Eleanor, Torryhill is my least substantial manor. I have seven in total. Torryhill is well fortified, and held by me directly from my cousin here."

  A cousin to the earl? Oh, blast.

  "Then you must have hundreds of tenants to keep track of. I have not nearly as many. But here is my accounting, as current as the rains of two hours ago. Now, shall we get down to the matter of your missing 'one saddler, two smiths, a carpenter, and three reapers—'"