The answer came soon enough.
A soft knock on her chamber door roused her from her thoughts. Timidly, Kathalin called out.
“Who comes?”
“’Tis Lady de Lohr,” came a heavily accented Germanic voice. “Will you please admit me, Lady Kathalin?”
De Lohr. Kathalin knew that Alexander’s parents had arrived so she could only assume that it was his mother. She seriously considered sending the woman away but she knew it would be foolish to do so; it wouldn’t delay or prevent anything. Even if she was to fight back, and perhaps grossly offend Lady de Lohr, that was no guarantee they would back out of the marriage contract. Even if they did, she could only imagine that Jasper would still not allow her to marry Gates and they’d be right back where they started. Many thoughts and many possibilities, rolled through her head, but none of them viable. It all came down to the truth of the matter –
She was trapped.
Her father intended marriage for her regardless of what she wanted, so if she wanted to look at the positive side of the situation, at least she knew Alexander. It would be horrific to be married to someone she did not even know, perhaps an old, smelly man or even a young, foolish heir, someone she could not stand to be around. At least she could stand to be around Alexander.
Perhaps this was the best she could hope for.
Resigned, she climbed off of the windowsill and went to the door. Throwing the old iron bolt, she pulled the door open.
A handsome woman with blue eyes, fair skin, and a pristine white wimple was smiling back at her. “Lady Kathalin?” she asked.
Kathalin nodded. “Aye.”
“I am Lady de Lohr, Alexander’s mother.”
Kathalin stood back and admitted the woman into her chamber. “Please come in.”
Elreda came into the chamber but her attention remained on Kathalin. In fact, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off her. “Sweet Mary,” she sighed. “You look much as your mother did when she was young. Have you been told that?”
Kathalin shook her head. “Nay, my lady.”
Elreda, in just the short few exchanges they’d had, could see how depressed Kathalin was. Now, the reality of all of the arguing Alexander had been doing against his participation in the marriage now had a face and a name in this lovely young woman. Elreda well understood what it was to have a broken heart, to be forbidden to marry the man you loved, but she also well understood a sense of duty. One had to do what one was told to do, especially when one was a woman. That being the case, it was impossible not to extend some measure of compassion to the girl.
“You look like her a great deal,” she said, forcing a smile. “She was very beautiful in her youth. I have come to extend my welcome to the de Lohr family and to help you prepare for the ceremony. The priest has arrived so the mass will be conducted as soon as you are ready.”
Kathalin’s heart sank at that news. Not that she didn’t know the wedding was coming, eventually, but to realize she was on the cusp of marrying Alexander in a matter of minutes made her nauseous. Still, there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t fight back and she couldn’t run off. For her, it was over.
Her entire life was over.
“Very well,” Kathalin said, looking down at the lavender wool gown she was wearing. It was the garment Gates had purchased for her and even as she gazed at it, she fought off thoughts of him. “I suppose I am ready. Is there something more we must do?”
Elreda could see that the girl was dead in the eyes. No glimmer of hope, happiness, or excitement. A young lady should be thrilled for her wedding, but Lady Kathalin clearly wasn’t. Although Elreda knew why, she would not say so. Some things were better left unspoken. Moreover, there was no reason to acknowledge pain that she could not help in any way. Perhaps it was as Rosamund said; perhaps Kathalin would forget about it, eventually.
Elreda had her doubts.
“Mayhap you will allow me to fix your hair,” Elreda said, trying to sound positive and happy. “You have such lovely hair but it would be nice to dress it. Would you permit me?”
Kathalin had no desire to refuse or protest. She simply lifted her shoulders in a defeated gesture and Elreda took that as an affirmative. If the girl was going to be so apathetic, then Elreda would simply do what needed to be done. Gently, she pushed Kathalin down onto her small bed and went to work.
Elreda found the comb and iron pins on the same table that contained the soap and wash basin. Kathalin’s hair was already in a tight, single braid, so she unbraided the hair and combed it vigorously before braiding it again and wrapping it around Kathalin’s head, creating an elaborate hairstyle of braids that was exquisitely detailed. All the while, Elreda kept stealing glances at Kathalin’s face, thrilled with the perfect beauty and imagining the magnificent grandchildren she would have from this woman. For the mother who had desperately wanted her son to marry, it was difficult not to think such thoughts.
But on the heel of thoughts of grandchildren also came thoughts of Rosamund, wondering how the woman could be so cold and callous towards this child. Surely the disease had something to do with it, but Elreda sensed that there was more to it. She wondered if Rosamund would ever return to the way she was before and if the compassionate woman Elreda had once known would make a resurgence.
For Kathalin’s sake, she hoped so.
When the hair was finished, Elreda moved to inspect the surcoat Kathalin was wearing and noticed that the bottom of it was quite soiled. She asked Kathalin if she had any more dresses that would be appropriate for a wedding and Kathalin pointed to the slender wardrobe. Elreda opened it to find the blue patchwork brocade and the eggshell-colored wool with the fur around the neck and cuffs hanging on pegs inside. She withdrew the pale wool.
“This is a lovely garment,” she said, holding it up. “Will you wear this? It would be better if this was pink or blue for your wedding, but the white will do. Will you put it on, my lady?”
Kathalin simply nodded and Elreda helped her from one garment into the next, tying up the laces in the back of the eggshell wool that cinched up the bodice. All the while, Kathalin ran her hands over it, smoothing it, remembering when Gates had bought it for her. Gates…. She closed her eyes, seeing his face, remembering when he’d produced the three garments at that tiny inn with no name, having purchased them from a business with a seamstress who sewed for the Countess of Shrewsbury. The dresses had been beautiful and it was then that something warm had begun to brew between her and Gates. Aye, she remembered that night well.
It had been the first night of the rest of her life.
Or so she thought.
Now, she was facing a different life as the mother of her future husband helped her dress for the wedding. Lady de Lohr seemed kind enough, quietly and efficiently helping her with her gown. Her touch was gentle but sure, but Kathalin had been completely silent through most of the process and she was coming to think that perhaps she might need to show some gratitude to the woman she was going to be related to for the rest of her life.
Even though her mood was heavy, and her heart broken, none of that was Lady de Lohr’s fault or even Alexander’s fault. The de Lohrs, through all of this, had not done anything wrong. It had not been these people who had separated her from Gates. Keeping that in mind, she tried to be somewhat polite.
“Thank you for your assistance, my lady,” she said.
Elreda was surprised by the gratitude. She had been fussing over the back of Kathalin’s dress but moved so that she could see Kathalin’s face. She smiled timidly.
“You are very welcome, my lady,” she said. “May I say that I am very happy to have you join our family? Alexander is our eldest son and his two younger sisters are already married. Strange thing that my boys do not have brides yet but my girls were married at a young age.”
Kathalin could already see warmth in the woman, warmth she had hoped to see in her own mother but never did. “How old are your girls?” she asked.
Elreda went
back to fussing with the hem of the gown, which seemed to be torn. She was trying to shore it up with what thread was still there. “Beatrix has seen twenty-four years,” she said. “She already has two sons with her husband, who is part of the Cornwall d’Vant family, and Roxanne has seen nineteen years. She is pregnant with her first child.”
It was clear that Elreda was thrilled to speak of her children. Is it possible that women do love their children so much? Kathalin thought. She’d often wondered.
“And you said that Alex has a brother?” she asked.
Elreda finished with the hem of the gown and let it fall to the floor. “Baxter is twenty years and two,” she said. “He was in France with his brother at Poitiers, although we have not yet seen him returned. He serves de Montacute now and it is possible he has been kept with the earl. Ah, well… I am sure we shall see my boy very soon.”
Kathalin couldn’t help but be fascinated by a mother who should love her children so. “Do you miss your children, then?”
Elreda heard the wistfulness in Kathalin’s tone and it nearly broke her heart, for she knew that the girl had known none of that from her own mother. Reaching out, she grasped Kathalin by both arms in a comforting, motherly gesture.
“I miss them all very much when they are away from me,” she said, “and I take great comfort with the fact that you and Alexander will come to live with us at Lioncross Abbey after the wedding. It is a very big place and I am sure you will be quite happy there. I look forward to spending time with you and coming to know you, Lady Kathalin. You will be most welcome in our family.”
Kathalin had never felt so wanted in her entire life and it was nearly too much to take. From parents who rejected her to people she didn’t even know welcoming her, it was overwhelming. Confused, she nodded her head but just as swiftly burst into quiet tears. She simply couldn’t help it. So much about this situation was agonizing, now with a future mother-in-law who spoke of her excitement for having Kathalin join her family. It was a wonderful thing to hear but it meant nothing to her considering Gates would not be part of that family. According to Alexander, he wasn’t even allowed to visit. Her hand flew to her face to quickly wipe away the tears.
“Forgive me, my lady,” she said. “You are so kind. I… I am simply… this day has been quite taxing.”
Elreda knew why the girl was crying. She needed no explanation. But Elreda could do nothing to help her; she had tried, so it was best now to simply get on with it. There was no use in delaying the inevitable.
“I know,” she said, putting her arm around Kathalin’s shoulders and turning her towards the door. “Let us go down to the hall now where the priest awaits. We will conduct the mass tonight and be done with it. Shall I tell you of Lioncross Abbey, which will be your new home?”
Kathalin simply nodded, allowing the woman to lead her to the door as she wiped away her tears. Elreda prattled on about Lioncross, a massive and important castle, but Kathalin wasn’t really listening. She was reflecting on their conversation.
We will be done with it. Something in Lady de Lohr’s tone suggested that she understood the situation, the reluctance of Kathalin. Perhaps she even knew about Gates. Kathalin suspected that she must know, being that Alexander must have told his parents. Surely everyone knew by now. And no one would do anything to help her or help Gates. They were determined to see a de Lohr/de Lara wedding, no matter what the cost.
As Lady de Lohr took Kathalin by the hand and led her out of the keep, Kathalin couldn’t help but feel as if she were being taken to her own funeral.
The funeral that would bury any chance of her and Gates ever being together.
The funeral for a love that would never die.
“The priest is in the hall, Gates,” Jasper said. “I will expect you to attend Alex now. You will dress in your finest and stand by while he is married. You owe him that much considering how hard he tried to disobey both of his parents and me for your sake. The least you can do is not hide like a coward and pay witness to his wedding. It would show everyone that you do not bear a grudge. I would not have a knight in my stable that bore a grudge.”
Jasper was standing in Gates’ chamber in the gatehouse, dark now that the sun had gone down and lit only by the fire in the hearth. As Gates listened to Jasper’s words of both threat and abuse, he lit a fat taper on the table near the window.
“I never considered hiding,” he said, annoyed that Jasper had resorted to insults in his attempt to force him to attend Alexander and Kathalin’s wedding. “Alex is my friend and I will support him in this endeavor which he did not choose to be a part of.”
It was a volley back at Jasper for what he had done to all of their lives. Jasper inhaled slowly, displeasure on his face.
“Gates,” he said, his voice low. “I realize that this entire situation with my daughter has been distasteful for us all. I am willing to forget about your behavior, as I always am, but do not cross me. Do not give me a reason to become upset with you. Am I making myself clear?”
Gates wasn’t in any mood for Jasper and his veiled threats. He wasn’t in any mood for the man, anyway. He was beaten, hollow, despondent, and struggling not to show it. After leaving Kathalin in the garden earlier that day, he had been lingering in a state of anguish. He thought about throwing himself on his sword or going into town and buying some poison from the apothecary. He even thought about getting on his horse and riding north until he came to Castle Questing and then remaining there for the rest of his life, living like a hermit. The more he gazed at Jasper, the more attractive the latter option became.
“You are,” he said. “But to you I will say this; I can no longer stand the sight of you or of Hyssington Castle. I have had a belly full of the inequity and despair of this place. I will stand with Alex as he marries Kathalin but after that, I am leaving and I will never return. I ask that you release me from my oath of service to you but if you will not grant me a release, I will simply go anyway. There is nothing you can say or do that will change my mind, so it would be best not to try. I would rather part amicably from your service but I take no issue with parting with hostility. The choice is yours.”
Jasper gazed back at him, steadily, trying to deduce whether he was bluffing. Jasper had known Gates for many years and he’d never known the man to lie, or bluff, but in this case, he couldn’t tell. He thought perhaps it was the disgruntled lover in him speaking.
“For all of the husbands and fathers and brothers I have paid for the women you have compromised, you would show me no greater respect than this?” he asked, shaking his head with regret. “I thought you were a better man than this. You owe me, de Wolfe.”
Gates could feel his temper rise and his jaw began to tick. “If you would give me a tally of what I owe you, what you have paid out on my behalf, I will be happy to repay you,” he said. “But my service to you is at an end. You seriously cannot expect me to continue after what has happened.”
“I not only expect it, I demand it.”
Gates could see that Jasper was serious and he considered his options at that moment; if he continued to argue about it, he could very well end up in the vault for insubordination, but if he simply shut his mouth and let Jasper think he had the upper hand, then he would be able to slip away at some point and Jasper wouldn’t know anything about it until it was too late.
Frustrated, and hurt, Gates opted for the latter. He would not argue with a man who not only dispossessed the capacity for understanding, but who lacked the reasoning to do so as well. A selfish, petty man. He had always known that but now, he was seeing it more than he ever had. He turned back to the wardrobe that contained his possessions, including clean tunics.
“I will be down to the hall momentarily,” he said in a clear refusal to verbally engage Jasper. “Allow me to change into something clean. I will not go to a mass looking like this.”
He wasn’t dressed particularly badly but Jasper didn’t argue with him. He was simply grateful that Gates wasn’t a
rguing with him, that he was submitting to him, which is all Jasper wanted, anyway. Therefore, he turned away and left the room, heading down the narrow stairs that led to the entry level of the gatehouse. His footfalls faded, echoing off the stone.
When Jasper was gone, Gates emitted a heavily sigh. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his chest and he could breathe once again. But the weight of losing Kathalin was still there, like a vise around his chest, and it was a struggle simply to live. He had no idea he was capable of such emotion, something that literally drained the life from his body. He was dead already, in purgatory, soon to live out the rest of his life in the indentured hell of a man in love with a woman he could never have.
Gates knew that Stephan had returned with the priest some time ago. He recognized Father Wenceslaus as he had arrived with the big knight astride his small, elderly palfrey that hardly moved well at all these days. Gates knew that because Jasper had once offered the priest another horse to ride, a fine animal, but the priest had declined, stating he was quite attached to his old mare. As Gates had watched from his chamber window, seeing Stephan astride his big rouncey, and the priest riding, strangely, sidesaddle on the back of his elderly mare, he resigned himself to the inevitable.
The passage of the pair beneath the gatehouse had been something of a blow to Gates. He’d been hoping beyond hope that, somehow, this was all a nightmare and by some miracle, the priest would never come, Jasper would forget about the betrothal, as would the de Lohrs, and he could slip away with Kathalin.
Since leaving her in the garden, he’d done quite a bit of soul searching, knowing that he was doing the honorable thing by not abducting her, but as time passed, he wondered if he was doing something he could really live with. Had Kathalin been correct? Did he love his reclaimed honor, or at least the idea of it, more than her? It was quite possible that she had been correct and as the hours passed and the sky turned to night, he was coming to think that he had been wrong. In his angst, he was deeply confused.
Dark Destroyer (De Wolfe Pack Book 6) Page 35
