Birthright

by Markland, Anna

  Strident shouts of distress jerked her awake. People were screaming. She looked back. One of the carts had lost a wheel. It teetered precariously on the cliff’s edge. Denis was shouting a warning for the occupants to remain still, lest they send the cart over. Terrified women clung to each other, whimpering. Servants swarmed out of the other cart and strained to shore up the damaged one. The soft earth threatened to crumble beneath their feet.

  Adam rode on.

  Alarm filled her. He had he not heard the shout for help, the cries of distress. She balled her fist and thumped his chest.

  He reined to a halt. “What is it?”

  She put her hand on his chin and forced him to turn his head. His eyes widened as he took in the scene. Evidently, he’d been dozing when the alarm came.

  He quickly turned Nox and rode back, thrusting the reins into Rosamunda’s hands as he jumped from the horse. “Stay here.”

  Denis had dismounted, leaving Paulina atop Brevis.

  The sisters stared at each other. Paulina was obviously as terrified as she was. Denis’ mount was not as large as Nox, yet Paulina looked tiny in the wooden saddle.

  Both horses shifted nervously as the cries for help grew more insistent.

  Rosamunda looked at the ground. Her throat tightened. Determined not to end up falling, she tried to recall what Adam had done to soothe the beast. She patted the side of its neck and pulled lightly on the reins, mouthing its name.

  Her touch seemed to calm him. Relieved, she turned to see how her sister was faring. Abject fear distorted Paulina’s features as she clung to the mane, the reins dangling uselessly.

  Rosamunda had a choice. She could do nothing, leaving her sister to the mercy of Brevis, who might throw her off.

  She could somehow dismount, leave Nox to his own devices, and run over to try to calm Paulina’s horse. This had the potential of alarming Denis’ mount further.

  Or she could coax Nox over to Brevis in the hopes his presence might have a calming effect.

  In truth, she did not consider the first two choices. Digging her slippered feet into Nox’s side, she urged him forward. To her astonishment, he complied.

  Brevis calmed as soon as she came alongside.

  She reached for the reins. “Hang on, Paulina,” she mouthed, pulling the horse away from the edge of the cliff. Her sister sobbed, clutching the mane.

  * * *

  Adam recognised it was a grave error to leave Rosamunda alone on Nox. In the panic of the moment he had forgotten she had never ridden before. Straining to lift the broken cart away from danger, his shoulder braced hard against the unyielding wood, he feared if he looked in the direction of his horse, the stallion would have run off with her. Or she might be lying injured. He broke out in a sweat that had nothing to do with the exertion.

  His racing heart calmed when he caught sight of la muette seemingly in control of his sometimes temperamental beast. In addition, she had apparently calmed Brevis. So much for his ambition to be the great protector.

  Denis was assisting terrified servants to climb over the side of the cart to safety. Incredibly, some refused to take his hand, preferring to look away and trust their fate to the cliff.

  Adam and a handful of able-bodied men succeeded in shoving the cart away from the edge. The wheel was beyond repair. They either had to leave some of the servants here and return for them, or load everyone into the remaining cart.

  He sank to the ground, knees bent, breathing hard, rubbing his shoulder. Denis wandered over. He bent close to Adam’s ear. “That was a close call.”

  Adam frowned. “I did not hear your shout. It was Rosamunda who alerted me.”

  Denis shrugged, raking his fingers through his dishevelled hair. “I thought as much. It isn’t safe to load everyone into one cart. Many are already muttering about bad luck and curses.”

  Adam smiled. “Look yonder. Can you believe it?”

  It was a comical sight. A young woman, grinning broadly, dressed in a soiled bliaut stretched over a nightshift, led both horses, Nox’s reins in one hand, Brevis’s in the other.

  Her sister tagged behind, obviously trying to distance herself from the animals.

  Denis laughed out loud. “What a relief. My only thought when I left Paulina on Brevis was to get to these ungrateful wretches. Looks like Rosamunda has saved the day in more ways than one.”

  Adam chuckled too. Here was a woman of great courage and resilience. She had been cruelly treated by her own parents because of an affliction. Despite her muteness, Nox had understood her. Could he do the same?

  Crossing The Threshold

  Rosamunda and her sister had listened with interest when their brothers spoke of East Preston. Derelict when granted to Adam’s father, it figured in the tale of the heroic Montbryce brothers. Nigh on five and twenty years before, unable to stay in the rat and pigeon infested manor house, the brothers had camped out there on the eve of their first fateful visit to Melton Manor.

  Antoine de Montbryce had decided to reclaim East Preston from its dereliction, trusting it had good fields and could be made into a productive estate. According to Vincent and Lucien, the years had proven him right.

  Rosamunda expected a dark, unfriendly place. Instead, the well-appointed house seemed warm and welcoming. The Montbryce family had never leased out the estate, preferring to install a steward who took care of the place in the family’s absence. It was their home away from home when they visited from Normandie.

  Adam gave her over to the waiting steward, dismounted then took her back into his arms. “Rosamunda Lallement, this is Steward Cormant. He will see to your needs while you are a guest in my home.”

  A thrill of contentment warmed her heart. His home. This was his home, at least when he was in England.

  Cormant bowed. “Lallement? From Kingston Gorse? I thought—”

  Now the questions would begin, the explanations she was ill-equipped to provide, the gasps of disbelief. Cormant would not be the last.

  Adam interrupted him, evidently sensing her discomfort. “Marc and Maudine Lallement died in a fire at the house yestereve.”

  He gestured towards Denis, now riding in with Paulina behind the servants’ cart. “We have brought their daughters here while Vincent and Lucien set about securing and rebuilding the manor. We will need several chambers prepared.”

  Cormant’s eyes widened further, now evidently understanding their disheveled appearance. “My condolences.”

  Rosamunda supposed she should feel more grief for her parents, but she mouthed the word Merci.

  Cormant furrowed his brow.

  “Demoiselle Lallement is muette, Alain,” Adam explained.

  The man’s mouth fell open. He cleared his throat, his eyes darting from Adam to Denis to Paulina, then back to Rosamunda. “The young ladies will need clothing, I assume.”

  His puzzlement over Paulina’s size was apparent as Denis assisted her to dismount into the steward’s arms. Denis scowled at him as he dismounted and relieved Cormant of his burden. “The sooner you begin, the quicker it will be.”

  Cormant was about to hurry away, but Adam stopped him. “As you see, we have brought some of the servants with us who will have to be accommodated. One wagon failed. There is another contingent to pick up on the cliff path.”

  Cormant’s eyes narrowed as he looked to the cart. The servants huddled together, evidently unsure what was to become of them. They gawked at the scene unfolding in the courtyard. Rosamunda smiled inwardly. They likely did make a peculiar sight; a giant and a dwarf each carrying a woman perfectly suited to him.

  Her body warmed, but she must not assume too much. She had no experience of this new world into which she had been thrust. Adam de Montbryce might be the man of her fancies, but she had no knowledge of men.

  All she knew of life beyond the attic rooms of Kingston Gorse, she had learned from her brothers. She suspected married women were not free to come and go as they pleased. She had longed for freedom.

&nb
sp; Denis de Sancerre might appear to be the right man for Paulina, but her sister was delicate, sensitive. Her heart would break easily. Rosamunda would do her utmost to make sure that did not happen.

  * * *

  “You need not carry me, sir,” Paulina insisted. “My stature does not preclude me walking by myself.”

  Sancerre’s scowl deepened and she instantly regretted the hasty words. This miniature knight addled her normally agile brain. “I apologise,” she murmured as he set her on her feet. “That was a thoughtless remark.”

  His glower did not lessen. “It was, but I acknowledge your apology. Since you can walk, I shall escort you into the hall.”

  He put a hand to the small of her back to guide her in Montbryce’s wake. She had hugged her brothers, but this touch of thick fingers, light yet firm, was more intimate.

  Not wishing to appear churlish, she allowed him to guide her. It felt good to have someone take care of her welfare.

  She suspected East Preston was not as grand a house as her own, having only two stories. There were numerous sturdy outbuildings, framed with large timber uprights filled with wattle and daub. She recognised they were chinked with moss to keep out the winter cold. There was a stone building set aside from the wooden house, which she assumed was the kitchen. They had the same precaution at Kingston Gorse, and much good it had done them. She wondered if her mother had started the fire. Her father had died crying foul murder.

  She looked up at the roof, which appeared to be well thatched. A shiver rippled through her at the memory of the burning thatch raining down from the roof of Kingston Gorse.

  Sancerre put a hand to her elbow. “You are safe now,” he whispered.

  He had sensed her fears.

  She gasped as they entered the house. The interior was elaborately decorated with ornamental wood turnings, the wooden floor softened with wattle mats. Elegant tapestries adorned the walls.

  Adam had set Rosamunda down in a chair before a hearty fire burning in the hearth. He beckoned Paulina. “Come, warm yourself.”

  It would be an inelegant struggle to get into the massive chair he indicated, and her feet would dangle in the air. She stood by Rosamunda’s chair, holding her chilled hands to the warmth, gazing into the flames.

  Fire had taken everything from her, almost robbed her of life. Yet, it had brought freedom. If the flames held the secret of what the future had in store, they did not reveal it, no matter how hard she stared.

  * * *

  Adam had never paid much attention to the house itself, though he shared his father’s pride in it and felt at home there. It certainly was not as grand as Belisle Castle, but it was warm and welcoming. Perhaps therein lay the reason he had chosen to come here to exorcise his demons.

  Carrying Rosamunda over the threshold, he saw the house through different eyes, savoring every lime-washed panel, every stair, every chamber. Much of the old house, left derelict for five years after the conquest, had to be rebuilt from split and planed timbers, fastened together with iron nails.

  Rosamunda mouthed something, but he was intent on staring at the rosy glow the fire had brought to her cheeks. He leaned closer, arching his brows, shaking his head slightly.

  She looked at him curiously as he stared at her lips. “Beautiful house.”

  “Oui, Cormant’s father and uncle worked like dogs to reclaim it, not to mention the rat catcher.”

  She laughed. “Isembart Jubert.”

  “You know the story of Isembart?”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Hugh and Devona and Izzy.”

  For some unfathomable reason he suddenly felt jealous of his cousin Izzy. “How did you learn of them?”

  Paulina interrupted. “Our brothers. Rosamunda never tires of hearing the tale.”

  * * *

  Aware Adam had not heard Paulina’s explanation, Denis touched a hand to his hip. “Their brothers told them the story.”

  Adam smiled at Rosamunda, and she giggled.

  Paulina scowled at Denis. It struck him then that of course she would not understand why he had repeated her words. But it was for Adam to speak of his affliction if he wished it known. He stood close to her, feeling the reflected heat of the fire. “Adam did not hear you,” he murmured.

  Paulina shrugged, folding her arms across her breasts, and took a step away from him.

  Cormant entered, two maidservants in tow. Both gawked at Paulina. Denis had often been the recipient of such stares. Wanting to protect the tiny woman whose life he had saved, he moved to shield her from their view.

  Fire flooded his veins that had naught to do with the flames in the grate. He itched to enfold her in his arms, but it was too soon. He had patience. He would bide his time, help her overcome her fears. He would have to stop scowling. No wonder the woman was cool towards him.

  Cormant stiffened his shoulders and gestured to the servants. “Hortense and Victorine will serve your guests as ladies’ maids.”

  Each girl bobbed a curtsey, then scurried off when Cormant waved them away. “Chambers have been prepared for Mesdemoiselles Lallement. Follow me, please.”

  Smiling broadly, Denis offered his arm to Paulina. To his immense relief, she accepted and he escorted her out of the hall, leaving Adam to accompany Rosamunda.

  The Hand Of Destiny

  Adam chafed that he was neglecting his responsibilities to his father. He had undertaken to visit the ten manor houses in Sussex, yet seemed incapable of summoning the will to leave East Preston.

  He informed Belisle of the fire at Kingston Gorse by way of the well-established pigeon relay. The message explained that no tithes could be expected from Kingston Gorse for some time to come, given the tragic circumstances of the Lallements’ deaths.

  No mention was made of his and Denis’ presence in the house at the time of the fire; their mother would fret over it.

  It was impossible to explain the existence of Rosamunda and Paulina in a short missive. He didn’t know how to describe what he was beginning to feel for Rosamunda. She was full of life, determined to explore the house and grounds, asking a thousand questions about it and the other manor houses the Montbryces had been granted.

  What had Antoine done to deserve such a gift? How many manors in total? Were they all two stories? All made of wood?

  She rushed into the house one day, her joy evident at having discovered rosemary growing in the herb garden.

  She wanted to learn how to ride. When she discovered the weaving shed, she begged to be taught how to weave.

  She haunted the kitchens, never making a nuisance of herself, simply watching wide-eyed.

  Adam was learning to understand her. His deafness had no bearing on their conversations. She seemed unaware of it.

  She swore an oath to never take up a needle again. She wanted to hear of Antoine’s bravery at Hastings over and over. Adam told her the tale of his oncle Hugh and tante Devona and she was enthralled by details her brothers had not been aware of.

  She wept at the story of his father taking his mother prisoner during a siege. She shuddered when he told of Denis’ birth and the mob out for his blood, making him wish he had not mentioned it. It was perhaps too akin to her family’s history.

  She put both hands over her heart. “Love? Your parents.”

  Adam chuckled. “Passionately.”

  A tear trickled down her cheek. “My mother—no love.” She grimaced. “Only hate.”

  His heart went out to this young woman. He wanted to enfold her in his arms and protect her from being hurt ever again. But he was not the man to fulfill all her needs. He might bring her pleasure, but could not plant the seed of a child in her belly.

  It saddened him immensely. He loved spending time with her, but keeping his hands to himself was proving increasingly difficult.

  The maidservants quickly fashioned chemises, nightshifts and bliauts for the Lallement women to replace the borrowed raiment. Paulina was particularly grateful, having been reduced to wearing clothing of the ch
ildren of servants who were not as well endowed above the waist as she.

  Denis seemingly could not take his eyes off the tiny woman. “What a pair we are, brother,” he remarked one day after they had been practicing swordplay in the courtyard. “God brings us two beautiful women and we have no idea what to do with them.”

  Leaning his hip against the wall of the well, Adam took a gulp of water from the dipper, then wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his sweat-soaked shirt. “I know what I’d love to do with Rosamunda, but that is impossible.”

  Denis accepted the dipper Adam had refilled from the bucket. “But think on it.” He pointed to Adam’s ears. “You are deaf, and we stumble into a girl who is muette.” He touched his lips, then thumped his chest. “I am a dwarf and your muette’s sister is the smallest woman I have ever seen. Surely the fine hand of destiny is at work somewhere here.”

  Adam groaned, wiping the sweat from his brow. He understood the gist of what Denis was trying to say, but—

  “My inadequacies go deeper than my deafness. Rosamunda will want children.”

  “Have you asked her?”

  Adam brought his fist down on the stone wall and threw the bucket back into the well. The windlass squealed as the rope unwound, until they heard a soft splash. “Non! I do not intend to reveal my problem to her. You are the only one who knows, and it must stay that way.”

  “She’s drawn to you. Perhaps it—”

  Gooseflesh marched across Adam’s nape. “Non! She will find someone else and forget me. I will speak to her brothers. Perhaps at one of father’s other manors there exists a worthy knight who would make her a good husband.”

  Denis looked at him sadly. “The same will not likely hold true for her sister. Dieu! I want that woman.”

  Adam put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Then woo her.”