‘and work their way to the toes, inch by agonising inch.’
I almost choked when Madame Duvall fell back, her eyes as round as two full moons. She shuddered before lifting her goblet for the hundredth time.
When Armand fell silent, I yawned and stretched. ‘That was wonderful, but I think you have kept us from our beds long enough. Do you not think so, Madame?’
She nodded dubiously and rose unsteadily to her feet.
My cousin shot me a look of uncertainty. ‘Mayhap we should assist her?’
After struggling up the stairs with Madame Duvall, Armand left me to help her undress. Once her shoes were removed and her gown loosened, I placed her jar of face cream in her hand. It had been this nightly ritual, which I had discovered in Compiègne, that had given birth to my idea. It was her much celebrated mixture of Saint John’s wort, reputed with healing properties to the skin, but also known for the balsamic scent alleged to drive evil spirits away.
‘You might wish to put on a double helping tonight,’ I whispered into her ear. Disoriented, she nodded obediently and began to lather it over her cheeks and forehead in a wine-filled stupor.
Gillet had said he would be back by midnight and I knew, after his return, Étienne would lock Danette and Desirée inside before retiring. After their nightly sport of chasing mice in the pantry, the two cats would seek my room. Tonight, though, I had closed my door and left my chaperon’s open.
During the many sleepless nights at the monastery, I had learned to gauge the small hours of the morning by the length of my candle. One glance told me it was about two hours past matins when the inn was roused to wakefulness by piercing screams. Footsteps and muffled voices sounded as the wails continued unabated and did justice to the banshee herself. Smothering my face into my pillow, I hid my howls of laughter. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and my sides ached as my conscience fled beneath the covers. What Madame Duvall had not known was that, tonight, Saint John had been replaced with ‘Sprite Cécile.’ Her jar contained only salted butter from the kitchen, a delicacy that I knew Tom’s cats loved.
A sudden gust sent one of the casement shutters flying open. As naked as Eve, I crept across and kneeled on the cushioned window seat to reach it. Hampered by my giggles, it took me three attempts. Just as I secured the latch, a different casement flew open and there was another cold blast against my exposed nether region. Gillet strode into my chamber but stopped dead, his mouth agape, at the sight before him.
‘Good God, woman!’
Crowned in the mess of my windswept hair, I clung to the shutter, not daring to turn. It was one of those moments that seemed to last forever. Gillet’s voice, when it finally came, was hoarse. ‘Put yourself under the covers, Mademoiselle. Now.’ He spun around.
Diving for my bed with a yelp, I pulled the blanket to my chin. Only then did I note that Gillet was barely better attired. Driven from his bed in a panic, he had donned only his braies. I found myself staring at his wide shoulders, a broad sun-bronzed back and well-shaped buttocks.
‘Where is your chemise, girl?’
‘It required laundering.’ I felt it wiser to omit that the offending stain needing removal was salted butter. ‘I am covered, Gillet. You may turn around.’
‘I prefer to remain as I am. Might I inquire as to what purpose your little escapade tonight hoped to gain?’
The thought of Thomas’s two cats licking Madame’s face was too much and I had an unbridled desire to laugh again. It resulted in a splutter.
‘I was hoping she thought the Adh Seidh had come for her and would turn tail and flee.’
Gillet was furious. ‘I should deliver the spanking which the child in you so richly deserves.’
I practically purred, ‘So, what is stopping you, Milord?’
He inhaled sharply but remained steadfast, except for the clenching of his fists and buttocks. My eyes were irresistibly drawn to the latter. ‘Mon Dieu! Can you not turn around, Sir?’
‘NO!’ His lion’s roar made me jump. ‘Desist this bitter bleating! I think we will do better to discuss this in the morning. Blow out your candle so that I may retire.’
‘What? Blow out my candle? Why?’
‘Never mind why. Just do it.’
‘You know very well that I sleep with a candle burning.’
‘You can relight it once I have gone.’
‘Relight it? But that makes no sense.’
‘Very well, Mademoiselle, have it your way. Good night.’
He turned and strode to the door, his face rigid. My breath caught suddenly and my cheeks flamed with the fury of Hell’s own fire. For once in my life, I should have done as I was told.
22 July
Clarissa, the inn’s maid and daughter to Thomas, brought a tray to my room this morning. I stared in dismay as she bobbed a curtsey.
‘Monsieur de Bellegarde said you were to break your fast in your chamber and that he would come soon to see you.
Groaning at the impending confrontation, I ignored the food and rummaged through my pannier. Choosing the suitably sombre, rust-coloured gown with elegant button-back sleeves, I sat demurely beneath the window, nervously twisting my tapestry. Had Mary of Magdala presented such a pious picture before facing her accusers? How soon would Gillet cast the first stone?
I did not have long to wait before the anticipated knock rapped at my door. He strode in, his black, unadorned doublet as austere as his temper. A faint blush of pink rose to my cheeks as I recalled the muscular body beneath those quilted chausses.
His face, by comparison, betrayed nothing but a simmering anger. ‘Where is your purse?’
He may well have asked ‘Where did the moon hide during the day?’ so unexpected was his question.
I pointed to the table where the food tray sat. He briefly examined my untouched meal as he took up the leather pouch, now bereft of more than half of its contents. Gillet tipped the remaining coinage into his palm with disbelief. ‘Despite your cheap and childish trick, Madame Duvall has decided to remain in her post. So, do you consider your money well spent?’
It was rhetorical but I obligingly shook my head beneath the sober gaze.
‘I gave you a measure of independence and with it responsibility, but as with all feather-headed females, put a coin into your keeping and you lose your wits! Do you have any idea what terror you placed upon that poor woman last night?’ He returned the contents and tucked the draw-string bag inside his doublet. ‘Since you cannot be trusted, from now on you will come to me for any principals you require.’
‘Perhaps you would care to purchase a leash to keep me tethered?’
‘Yes, maybe I should. And I know exactly how I would use it.’
‘You would not dare!’
‘Just try me, Lady.’
‘You insidious beast!’
I launched at him but he grabbed my wrists. My breasts rose and fell, heaving beneath the layers of silk and I immediately regretted my choice of gown as Gillet’s gaze insolently slid down to the plunging neckline. He dropped my hands as though they were hot coals.
‘You spoiled bitch! I should have left you in the River Seine!’
‘Get out! Get out!’ I screamed. ‘Go back to your filthy whores! Leave me in Arras and race back to London, but do not deceive yourself, Gillet de Bellegarde. It is not Anaïs to whom you run. ’Tis my “holier than thou” sister you covet!’ He recoiled as if I had struck him, but I was beyond rational thought. ‘You should have left me in Paris. Yes, Edward stole my innocence but at least he wanted me!’ I swept the food tray from the table and it crashed to the floor. ‘At least Edward wanted me.’
Gillet slumped onto my bed, raking his fingers through his hair, and drew long, deep breaths as he stared at the broken shards splattered across the floor. ‘When Madame Duvall proposed to take you in, I thought my prayers had been answered. It was a Godsend. Your father commissioned me to bring you to Artois but he offered not a word as to where I was to stow you. He left it to me to fi
nd suitable housing – safe lodging. Madame Duvall has a manor, the Maison de les Fleurs, on the outskirts of Arras. It sounded perfect.’ He raised his head. ‘I had to know that you would be out of harm’s way when I left for England. I had to be sure, not only for your father’s sake but for mine also. Answer me honestly, Cécile. What are your feelings for Edward?’
My throat tightened and I felt the bile rising. Words were impossible. With a prayer that the courier would leave and I could locate my privy pot in time, I closed my eyes and swallowed hard several times. This whole business did not agree with me.
Gillet sighed wearily. ‘You are not the only one who desires to return to the life they knew. Grow up, Cécile. The world is not going to fall at your knees just because you wish it so.’ He walked to the door and glanced back over his shoulder. ‘And you could not be more wrong about Catherine.’
Before the next hour was struck, a soft knocking sounded and my cousin let himself in. My face was swollen by many repentant tears and Armand eased me into his embrace. ‘Sweetheart.’ He held me tight as I buried my face against him and sobbed brokenheartedly.
‘I should be furious with you,’ he said, gently stroking my hair, ‘but looking at you now I cannot be so. What were you thinking?’
‘Madame Duvall, uh, uh, told me that you and, uh, Gillet planned to leave me in Arras. I was frightened and I thought if I could scare her, uh, uh, she would leave.’
‘Then what? We would not go? Chérie, when the time comes, both Gillet and I must depart and you cannot accompany either of us.’ He blotted the rivulets running down my cheeks with his kerchief. ‘We first needed to know that your safety was assured but now Gillet has some crazed idea that you want to go back to Edward.’
‘Oh, Armand. I’m afraid that I lost all reason. My world has become so distorted and turned upside-down. Nothing is as it was. Gillet and I had a terrible fight and some dreadful things were said.’
‘I know,’ he exhaled with resignation. ‘He mentioned it but he really did have the best of intentions. Madame Duvall is not so terrible once you get past her chaperon’s cloak. Beneath it is a very kind and wise woman and Gillet took that into consideration. Would you rather he had hired a young, pretty maid who would spend all her time fawning after him?’
‘No,’ I giggled. ‘I never thought of that.’
‘No,’ he replied with a grin. ‘You never stop to think. That always was your problem. Madame Duvall is really quite nice. Her husband was a soldier in Bertrand du Guesclin’s army and she lost her own family in one stroke.’
‘Oh! But Gillet told us she was childless.’
‘She is now but she had three children, two boys and a girl. Her daughter was about your age. She lost them all, her husband included, to a contagion about a year ago. Since then she has been trying to make her way to her sister’s home in Arras.’ His eyes filled with sympathy. ‘You share that much with her – a long separation from a sibling.’
‘Why did Gillet not say?’ I whispered.
‘Discretion, sweetheart. Madame Duvall’s wounds have barely healed and she has encountered her own problems in coping. Gillet did not wish to undermine her in your eyes.’
‘Oh, mercy me! I have made such a mess of things.’
‘Oh, oui, and what is new?’ he chuckled. ‘But I know my Cécile and you will find a way to put things right. You always do. Now come, freshen up that pretty face of yours or you will look as wrinkled as the good Dame and you’re far too vain for that.’
I slumped onto my bed. ‘Am I really so shallow? Why do you love me, Armand?’
He sat down and slid his arm around me and my head sank to his shoulder. ‘It could be said that if one wanted to know the height of Cécile d’Armagnac, one would measure from her feet to the tip of her nose, for that would be the highest point in the air. You buckle on pride as I do armour. But I have seen the ones you defend, the helpless, the weak and the deformed. I remember the little girl who faced boys twice her size because they called her brother “a heinous hunchback.” You possess a courage ill-suited to a woman. Faith be, if we could attire you in chainmail I swear you would lead a lance into battle and curse amply at the troops for lack of enthusiasm!’ He smiled, thoughtful. ‘I also know the tenderness beneath. The caring young woman who dedicated herself, day and night without sleep, to nurse me back to health. Not only me, but your father, mother, brothers and sisters. At the very core of you is a fervour that radiates life and vitality. It shines like the brightest star to light the darkest night and it gives the sick strength to heal. You live with such passion and you love with your whole heart. You but need to learn the wisdom of accepting what can be changed and what cannot.’
The potency of his words struck a virulent chord. ‘Thank you, Armand,’ I sighed. ‘I suppose I should apologise to Gillet and Madame Duvall.’
‘May I suggest that you leave it until tomorrow?’
‘Why?’
‘Well, for one thing Gillet is not here.’
‘Oh.’ I peeped up at him. ‘Where is he?’
‘Hmm, where a man will always go when a woman gets under his skin.’ My cousin’s mouth slid sideways. ‘To drink himself into a stupor, or pick a fight.’ His eyes rolled to the ceiling and he shrugged. ‘Mayhap both.’
When Gillet did not return for the evening meal, Armand decided to ride into the village. Madame Duvall had not left her chamber all day, so with this turn of events I found myself unchaperoned. It was the perfect opportunity for me to make amends. Donning my cloak, I made my way to the stables, hoping to catch the last of the day’s traders and put my replenished purse to a much worthier cause. Clarissa had unwittingly given me the idea and had assisted with my new, ill-gotten gains. Chatting while she cleaned my room, I discovered that she helped her father with the trading of goods, their plentiful vegetable patch was the main source, but I also learned a new side of commerce. For a fee, she could supply me money from her father’s coffer, to be replaced when an item of equivalent value was sold. I had little to barter but my need for redemption was great. It was time I thought of others afore myself. Even so, it was with enormous regret that I handed over my blue velvet gown in return for coin. Bearing the name of an honest vendor, I saddled Ruby, eager to purchase my peace offerings and be back before either Armand or Gillet returned.
Following Clarissa’s directions and sending a prayer for her excellent knowledge of such things, one hour later saw the conclusion of my business. The vendor had been more than helpful and with satisfaction I tied a small sack to my saddle. I had been forced to haggle mercilessly and had parted with every ducat in my keeping but I thrilled at the gift I had purchased Gillet.
Turning Ruby’s nose in the general direction of the inn, I rode the muddy streets, immersed in my thoughts but when several routes had not led me to the ivy-covered dwelling, I realised that I was lost. Glumly, I dismounted and stared at the sign just ahead. It swung from a pair of iron talons and was painted in bright red, The Mews.
Wild carousing sounded from within as a dark form stumbled out, to wobble its way precariously into the lengthening shadows. It would be folly to risk losing myself further, especially if Armand and Gillet were only a few feet away, but the decision of whether or not to menace a certain temper was quickly made when two hands grabbed my waist.
‘How about a kiss, darlin’?’
‘Get off me, you knave!’ Wheeling Ruby around, I broke free of his drunken fumbling. Hurrying towards the tavern, I left the disgruntled scoundrel to reel his way into the gloom, his oaths worthy of my blush. Securing Ruby to a hitching post, I promised the urchin slouching nearby that I would not be long.
‘Take as long as y’need,’ he snuffled his nose up his sleeve. ‘I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Can stable ’er ’roun’ the back if you wanna stay the night.’ His face screwed in a freckled grin, explanations would be a waste of breath. Uttering a quick prayer to whichever Saint would serve my needs, I ventured inside. I had seen taverns before, but no
thing prepared me for what I encountered.
The crushed lavender on the ale-sodden rushes did little to mask the rank odour of mingling bodies, ripe with sweat. It was as though a brewer’s shop and a smithy were housed under one roof. The heat was stifling. Light from a hundred tapers poured over the tables, and the hubbub was deafening. Many were occupied at dice but it was the unsavoury games that caught my attention. A burst of raucous laughter erupted nearby as a woman pulled down her bodice to expose her plump breasts. Her partner, clearly fuddled with drink, buried his head between them. A rowdy cheer exploded as he heaved her into his arms and wove his way to the rear of the building.
‘Move on, missy. The stairs are that way.’ A serving wench, struggling to carry full tankards, blew hair from her face and nodded to the far corner.
‘No, you do not understand. I’ve made a terrible mistake coming in here.’ Anxious to escape this Sodom and Gomorrah I turned for the door but hands fastened upon my bodice. In the space of a heartbeat I was hoisted onto a table and my cloak whipped away.
‘Not so fast, little one. You must be one of the new girls Henri promised.’
‘Let me go!’ My captor laughed and slid his fingers beneath my hem. Terrified, I kicked out but it was amusement to his companions as he caught my ankle.
‘She’s a savage little wildcat. Like it rough, do ya? I’ll enjoy breaking this one in. Henri?’ he yelled over his shoulder. ‘How much for this golden-haired beauty?’ He tugged me into his arms and I sank my teeth into his neck. The next I knew I was rolling on the rushes.
‘Whoring bitch!’ The man’s fingers flew to his throat to wipe the blood. ‘You need teaching some manners, putain.’ He jerked me to my feet but, as his hand drew back to deliver his punishment, another fist saw him sprawled upon the floor.
Gillet’s face appeared above. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
The Lily and the Lion Page 17
