by Alexa Aston
Thurstan studied Ancel a moment, appraising him and this new information. Margery’s heart beat fast, knowing how devious her stepbrother could be.
“Do you have my permission to marry her, Sir Ancel?” he finally asked, his gaze steady. “I am her closest male relative and I have signed no betrothal contract with you. Are you betrothed, unbeknownst to me?”
“We are not,” Ancel replied, “but the king knows we intend to wed. It was at his suggestion that we do so.”
Margery wanted to wipe the smirk off her stepbrother’s face as he reacted to Ancel’s words.
“Get down from that horse, Margery,” he told her. “I’ll be the man to determine your future. Whether you stay here or leave. I may even take you to court to find you a husband.”
“I have already been to court,” she snapped, “and have met the king. Twice.”
Thurstan’s surprise was evident. Still, he recovered quickly and said, “With your beauty, I stand to gain a fortune. Men will battle for your hand. I’ll simply sell you to the highest bidder. Now do as I say and get down off the horse. You are to come with me.” He glanced around at the escort party. “I assume most of you men are soldiers sent by the king, so you may remain until he recalls you.
“As for you, Sir Ancel—and anyone with you—you are no longer needed nor welcomed at Highfield. I am the baron and my word here is law. I want you off my property. Now.”
Margery turned and saw Ancel seethe at Thurstan’s words as she told him, “You must let me go.”
He dismounted from Storm and brought her to the ground. They stared into one another’s eyes, a thousand unsaid words passing between them.
She couldn’t let him leave without a final kiss goodbye. It didn’t matter who was present. Margery reached up and pulled his face to hers. Their lips met in a final, searing kiss.
Ancel broke the kiss and said to Thurstan, “There is no need to take Lady Margery to court. I’ll pay your bridal price. Name it.”
Thurstan burst out in laughter. “You love her? You do. I can see it your eyes.” He thought a moment. “But do you have access to such funds, Sir Ancel, for I would ask a high price. Do you own a large estate? I doubt it since you mentioned you are but a member of the king’s royal guard and your own father looks hale and hearty.”
“I’ll provide the necessary funds,” Geoffrey called out.
“No, Father,” Ancel said firmly.
“’Tis part of your inheritance, Ancel. I don’t mind parting with it in order to have Margery become your wife and a member of the de Montfort family.”
“Keep your coin, Lord Geoffrey,” Thurstan said. “I wouldn’t sell Margery to your son if he were the last man left on earth.” He shook his head. “I will ask you once again to leave my estate.”
She shivered at Thurstan’s callous, ungrateful tone and dropped her eyes to the ground. If she looked at Ancel again, she would burst into tears.
“Go back to the keep, Margery,” Thurstan ordered, his tone harsh. “I am famished and have missed your cooking.”
“Margery no longer cooks,” Ancel declared. “Highfield now has its own cook and plenty of servants so that she is no longer run ragged. She should be treated as the lady she is and not your slave.”
She raised her eyes to see how Thurstan would react. His face went blood-red in anger.
“Margery will do whatever I tell her to do. If I want her to lick my boots clean, then she will. If I decide she should remain at Highfield and serve me instead of marrying her off, ‘tis my business, de Montfort. Not yours. Get off my estate.” Thurstan wheeled his horse and headed for the stables.
Ancel grabbed her by the shoulders. “This is far from over, Margery.” He looked to Will. “Stay here, Will. Keep your eyes and ears open and watch over Lady Margery.” Glancing around the circle of Highfield soldiers, he said, “The same goes for the rest of you.”
With that, Ancel leaped onto Storm’s back and rode off. Geoffrey and Merryn gave her sorrowful looks that caused her heart to ache as they galloped after their son, the Kinwick men following suit.
Margery’s new life ended before it had even begun.
Chapter 21
Ancel raced through the gates of Highfield, hatred for Thurstan Vivers causing the blood to pound in his ears. If he didn’t ride away quickly, he might be tempted to kill Margery’s pompous stepbrother. The scenery sped by in a blur as he pushed Storm.
His father’s voice called out to him from behind. Ancel sensed the horses his parents rode gaining on him but he ignored them. Nothing would deter him from speaking to the king the moment he arrived in London.
“Ancel de Montfort! Stop your horse now!” shouted his mother.
At once, he pulled up on the reins and turned Storm to face her. Both de Montforts came to a halt in front of him. The soldiers from Kinwick remained at a respectful distance.
Ancel had grown up wanting to emulate his father in every way. Geoffrey de Montfort’s skills as a knight were legendary. His patience in teaching other soldiers as well as his intelligence, courage, and generosity made him someone any man would look up to, especially his own son. But thanks to Ancel’s early years without his father in his life, he’d formed a unique bond with his mother. During the years of her husband’s imprisonment by the Earl of Winterbourne, Merryn de Montfort had ruled Kinwick with a strong, fair hand and been both father and mother to her young twins. Ancel’s respect for his mother and her accomplishments made him stop now to listen to her. She’d always been the voice of reason, wise beyond her years. Hearing her out now might calm his rage.
She didn’t mince words. “I know you want to run a sword through that bastard, Thurstan Vivers, and that’s why you fled as you did. Going to the king now isn’t wise, though.”
Ancel’s breathing slowed as he considered her words. “Why?”
“First, it might be days before you could gain an audience with him. Look how long it took you and Margery to see the king when you last went to London because of the politics involved. More importantly, think of the circumstances and the season. Richard may be a king but he’s still a boy on the cusp of manhood. He has his newly-betrothed at court and will want to spend time with her, getting to know her. Even wooing her. Christmastime fast approaches and the king will want those around him in a celebratory mood, not blackened by anger and hatred.”
She paused. “Our king has had nothing but trouble for the last six months. This uprising challenged not only the young monarch himself but our very system of government. It’s taken months for him to regain control of England, thanks to men such as you, who armed themselves and rode out in the name of king and country. Richard is tired of conflict. Afraid of another challenge to his authority. He needs a brief respite of peace in his life—and time to get to know his future wife as they plan their royal wedding.”
“Interrupting him now could have the opposite effect of what you might hope. Your problem is all-consuming to you but to the king, it matters little,” his father added. “No matter the service you’ve given him or how many times you have risked your life on the battlefield for him. Let him enjoy this season of hope and goodwill before you approach him with your difficulties.”
Ancel knew his parents presented a strong argument for having patience. Richard did show flashes of being temperamental. If anything, Ancel had never been an impetuous man, which the king appreciated. Ruining the king’s mood with his problems would solve nothing and might even cause more conflict with Thurstan Vivers.
“Would you have me come to Kinwick with you?” he asked.
“Aye,” his mother said, visibly relaxing. “We can talk through the matter and come up with a way to solve this dilemma.”
“I worry for Margery, though,” Ancel said. “Being left with that monster.”
“Margery is a woman much like your mother,” his father assured him. “Have faith in her—and in the love she has for you.”
“I assume the first thing Vivers will do is notify
the king that he has returned to Highfield,” his mother said. “So young Richard’s royal advisers will already know of the situation before you even approach him. They will have made null and void anything relating to you receiving Highfield and the title. But remember, Ancel, that the king has met Margery and knows how you feel about her. Though Vivers has control over her future at present, the king might persuade him to allow the two of you to wed.”
“If we could only find her father, he would be able to supplant Vivers,” Ancel blurted out.
“Her father?” Merryn asked, frowning. “Both her father and stepfather are dead.”
“Lord Joseph Ormond may have wed Margery’s mother but Lady Marian was already with child before they spoke their vows,” Ancel revealed. “Margery doesn’t know the name of her sire.” Quickly, he explained what Margery had related to him and saw understanding dawn on his parents’ faces.
“So the only clue she has is this silver pendant inlaid with garnets that she wears,” Geoffrey noted. “I noticed it right away because it was so unusual.”
“Aye. The pattern is odd and intricate. If I can discover her birth father’s identity and he is still alive and chooses to acknowledge her, then Margery would be out from under Vivers’ thumb.”
“Then there is hope,” Merryn said.
“I know where I must go,” Ancel declared. “Margery once told me that besides the pendant from her true father, her mother gave her a ring and necklace moments before the revolting peasants arrived. Lady Marian had received these jewels as gifts from her father, the Earl of Waudum. I must journey to where Lady Marian grew up and see if I can uncover what man she might have been friendly with immediately before her marriage. I know there is a slim chance to unearth his identity so many years later but I must try.”
“I met the Earl of Waudum years ago,” his father revealed. “He had come on summer progress with the old king when Edward stopped at Kinwick one year. Waudum mentioned he was a widower but I remember him telling me that his lands lay just west of York.”
“Then that is the place I will start,” Ancel said, determination filling him.
His mother nudged her horse forward and brought it alongside Storm. She raised her palm to Ancel’s cheek. “We will pray for you, my son. I wish for you to find success in this endeavor. I know how much you love Margery and hope you will be able to wed as planned.”
Ancel raised his hand and covered hers. “Thank you, Mother. I’m sorry I cannot accompany you back to Kinwick and spend Christmas with the family.”
His father approached his other side and placed a hand on Ancel’s shoulder. “Do what you must, Son. When you have found your soul mate and become separated, you do whatever it takes to unite once more.”
Ancel watched the tender smile his father gave his mother. Knowing that it was their great love that kept his father alive during seven long years of being locked away from the world gave Ancel new resolve.
“Tell everyone how much I love them,” he said. “And that I plan to do whatever it takes to have Margery with us when we celebrate next Christmastime.”
Ancel’s knees urged Storm on. Now that he had a plan, he had hope.
*
Ancel reached the outskirts of York in just over four days. Storm was in bad need of rest after being pushed so hard for so great a distance. He found a place to care for the horse and rubbed Storm down himself since he knew the animal’s temper would prove too much for a stranger to handle. He paid for Storm to stay three days and to be well fed, warning the owner to place the feed and water in their troughs and exit the stall quickly. He also paid for the use of another horse to see him around the area while Storm recuperated from the rough journey.
York proved to be noisy and crowded, with narrow lanes crammed full of houses. It smelled even worse than London did, with butchers’ offal rotting in the ditches along the streets and privies built on the city moat. Like London, York was a place of great wealth and even greater poverty. The place left a bad taste in Ancel’s mouth. After growing up in the country and spending time at Highfield recently, he found himself, like his father, with no appetite for city life.
Finding an inn, he bought a meal and rented a room for the night, letting the innkeeper know that he might wish to stay longer. After the hot meal filled his belly, Ancel shared the floor of a bedchamber with three other men. Even their snores didn’t keep him awake as he fell into a dreamless sleep after his exhausting road trip.
Awakening early, he ate some bread and cheese in the public room below and then collected his horse and rode out west from the city. A brief conversation with the innkeeper this morning had given him a good idea where the Earl of Waudum’s estate lay. After half an hour in the saddle at a steady canter, he saw a castle and steered his mount in its direction.
Minutes later, he arrived at the gate and gave the gatekeeper his name, being sure to inform the soldier on duty that he belonged to the king’s royal guard. Granted entrance, Ancel rode to the keep and was met by a lanky fellow.
“Greetings,” he called out as he dismounted. “I am Sir Ancel de Montfort, a member of King Richard’s royal guard. I have urgent need to speak with the Earl of Waudum.”
“Go to the stables, Sir Ancel. The earl is usually there this time of day. He’s a great horseman and spends a good part of his day with the horses. ‘Tis past the blacksmith’s place and farther to your left.”
Ancel thanked the man and rode to the stables. The head groom took his horse and sent him around the building to a fenced yard. A stout, balding man sat atop a fence as he watched a man try to mount a spirited horse.
“Lord Waudum?” Ancel asked.
“Aye.” The nobleman gave Ancel a cursory glance and turned back to the enclosure. “Don’t let him know you are afraid of him. He senses it. He can smell your fear. Try again.”
After several attempts, the man managed to get on the horse’s back and held on as the animal raced around the yard.
Waudum laughed and motioned the man off. “’Tis good enough for today. Leave him be. I’ll care for him.”
“You can have ‘im, my lord,” the stable hand said as he slipped between the bars in the fence.
Finally, Waudum turned back to Ancel after ignoring him. “What can I do for you?”
Ancel introduced himself and asked if Lady Marian had been his sister since the nobleman looked to be of an age similar to Ancel’s parents.
“Nay, Lady Marian was my first cousin,” he replied. “Her mother produced enough babes over the years but only Marian grew to maturity. I inherited the title from her father, my uncle. Why do you ask?”
Ancel stretched the truth some as he said, “The king has become interested in Lady Marian’s daughter, Margery, and gave me permission to find out something of her and her mother’s background.”
“I see.” Waudum said. “Frankly, I’m not sure what I could tell you. I last saw Marian when she left the north to marry.” He frowned. “Can’t remember who she wed. It’s been too long. Someone down near Kent, I believe. They’d been betrothed for years.”
“Lord Joseph Ormond,” Ancel supplied.
Waudum nodded. “Aye, that’s the name. I do remember when Marian’s father died and I came to live here, I found two missives from her to the old earl. One told him of the birth of his granddaughter, Margery. The other announced the death of her husband and that the king wanted Marian to wed a baron in Essex.” Waudum shrugged. “I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.”
“Do you know of anyone who fostered with your predecessor?” Ancel asked. “Someone who might have known Lady Marian?”
“Nay. By the time Waudum died, he was in ill health and hadn’t taken anyone on in some years.”
Ancel knew he would gain no more information from the nobleman. “Thank you for your time, my lord.”
As he started to walk away, Waudum called out, “You might want to speak with our steward. He’s been here many years and might be able to tell you more.”
A sliver of hope rose within him. “I will do that. Thank you again, my lord.”
Ancel walked back toward the keep and entered. He stopped a passing servant who took him to the room where the steward labored over a column of numbers. Once again, Ancel went through his story, ending with asking the man if he could remember any of the young men who fostered with the earl near the time Lady Marian left the estate to wed.
The steward scratched his head and stared into the distance. “I’m afraid names have started to escape my memory, my lord,” he apologized. “That was near the time the old earl’s health began to fail. Hmm. I can think of only two in service at that time and they were the last who fostered here. One was a page who left when Lady Marian did because the earl asked me to find another place for him.”
“A boy would be too young. I am looking for someone older. Close to the age of one becoming a knight.”
“There was one who did earn his spurs. Mayhap he accompanied Lady Marian south because he was from that area and ready to go home.” The steward frowned. “I can see him but I cannot recollect his name. Just under six feet, with dark hair and brown eyes. He was a charmer, that one. Could make Lady Marian laugh like no one else. He was a great comfort to her after her mother passed.”
A prickling teased Ancel’s neck. Certainly, this knight was the man who had fathered Margery. Living here, being seen with her. Familiar enough with her to tease and make her laugh.
“And you don’t recall his name?” Ancel asked.
“Nay, my lord. I do remember that he came from Kent because that was where Lady Marian headed in marriage to Lord Joseph.” The steward brightened. “See, I do recall a few names every now and then.”
“Thank you for your time. You have been most helpful.” Ancel left the man and collected his horse from the stables.
