by Alexa Aston
“Who are you?” Lady Ailith called out weakly.
“Lord Marcus brought Jess to help you,” Herleva said. “She’s a healer.”
“See to Mary first,” pleaded the noblewoman.
“I will help you both the best I can,” promised Jess. To the servant, she asked, “Has the babe been feeding?”
“Nay. Lady Ailith’s milk dried up. Lady Mary has had nothing for a day. Mayhap longer.”
“What is your name?” Jessimond asked.
“Bea.”
“All right, Bea. I will have Herleva find a nursing mother to express a small amount of milk into a bowl. You will take a small square of linen and dip it into the bowl and then hold it to Lady Mary’s mouth. We want her to try and suck on the cloth. If she can get some nourishment that way, we’ll also have her drink some of the water I steep herbs in the same way.”
Jessimond looked to the mother in the bed. “You, my lady, also will need to drink. That will help you make milk for your babe. I will return soon with something for you to drink. It will have herbs to fight your fever and something to help you sleep. Sleep is a good tonic and will help you recover more quickly. I’ll be back shortly.”
She accompanied Herleva downstairs and told the servant, “I’ll go to the kitchen and boil some water and grind my herbs there. Please find a nursing mother so we have some milk that we can try to give Lady Mary.”
Half an hour later, Jessimond returned to the sickroom with two bowls. She set them on the floor and had Bea retrieve them.
“Lady Ailith is probably too weak to hold the bowl. You’ll need to do that for her. Have her drink all but a small bit of the contents before you try to feed the babe.”
She watched as the noblewoman drank the herbs steeped in water and then collapsed against the pillows again. Bea did as instructed and dipped the square into the milk before brushing it against Lady Mary’s lips. She tried numerous times but the babe never attempted to suck on the cloth.
“What should I do?” wailed Bea.
“Remain calm,” Jessimond said. “Try again every few minutes. Either she will or she won’t. You cannot force her. I’ll return after Lady Ailith has slept and see if what I gave her is working to break her fever.”
“I’ll try,” Bea said, a dubious look on her face.
She returned to the sleeping Livia and climbed into bed next to her. The child nestled against Jessimond and gave a contented sigh. She closed her own eyes, sending a prayer to the Virgin Mary to guide her efforts to restore both of her patients to good health.
Hours later, Jessimond awakened. She slipped from the bed carefully so as not to wake Livia and returned to Lady Ailith’s bedchamber. Opening the door, she heard soft weeping. The noblewoman slept so Jessimond knew the tears came from Bea.
The servant cradled Lady Mary in her arms. “I have tried, Jess. Many times. She cannot drink. She is barely breathing now.” Bea stood. “Would you bring Father Pious? He should be here.”
“You’ve done your best, Bea,” Jessimond reassured the servant. “I knew there was but a slim chance that the babe would suck. I’ll return with the priest.”
She hurried downstairs and left the keep. They had passed a small chapel on their way in last night. She entered it now and saw a man kneeling near the altar, his head bowed. She went to him and touched his shoulder gently. He glanced up, looking perturbed at the interruption.
“I am sorry to disturb your prayers, Father, but Lady Mary may not be long for this world. Would you please come?”
Rising, he said, “Of course. Who are you?”
As they returned to the keep, Jessimond introduced herself and explained why she’d come to Hartefield.
“Lady Mary never had a chance,” the priest said mournfully. “I only pray that Lady Ailith can recover.”
They started down the long hallway. Jessimond saw Marcus emerge from what she thought would be the solar. He made his way toward them. She quickly explained the situation and he accompanied them to the sickroom. Both Marcus and Father Pious entered, leaving Jessimond hovering in the doorway.
Bea still shed tears and Jessimond saw that Lady Ailith was awake and also wept as she held her daughter in her arms.
“Do something,” she said as the men approached her. “Please. Husband. Do something. Save her. Save my babe.”
Jessimond shook her head. Poor Lady Ailith was delirious. Jessimond guessed that Marcus must favor his father and, in her feverish state, Lady Ailith confused the two. The noblewoman might not have been informed of her husband’s death yesterday, due to her illness. Sorrow filled her, knowing that the woman had lost her husband and now her child.
The priest took the babe from her mother and began prayers for her. Marcus stood beside the bed and held his stepmother’s hand. Jessimond thought how incongruous it was for a stepmother to be even younger than her stepson. From what little Marcus had said, his mother had only died a few years ago. The baron must have remarried very quickly in order to have fathered two daughters in such a short time.
“She is gone,” Father Pious said softly. “Lady Mary is with her earthly father and her Heavenly Father.”
Lady Ailith wailed mournfully. Marcus put his arms around her as she sobbed. Bea looked utterly lost.
“I’ll will take Lady Mary to the chapel,” the priest said. “Bea, come along and help me prepare her for burial.”
Jessimond stepped aside as the two left the room, the bundled infant in Father Pious’ arms, and closed the door behind them. Hopefully, Marcus could offer some comfort to Lady Ailith. Jessimond would see to choosing some new herbs that might help break the fever raging through the noblewoman’s body.
First, though, she decided to check on Livia. Entering their shared bedchamber, she saw the child sitting up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Who are you?” the tiny voice asked.
“I’m Jess,” she said as she sat on the bed. “I’m going to help take care of you.”
“I want Mother,” the girl said stubbornly and then thrust her thumb into her mouth. A loud sucking noise followed.
Jessimond pulled Livia into her lap and smoothed her curls. “Your mother is very sick. But she’s going to get better.”
Livia removed her thumb, her eyes wide and hopeful. “Soon?”
“Aye. Very soon, my little lady.”
If it were the last thing she did, Jessimond would nurse Ailith de Harte back to full health.
Chapter 21
Why hadn’t he stayed with Jess at the mummers’ camp?
Marcus cursed again, knowing he was backed into a corner. Time had run out. Within an hour or two, Rand would arrive with Peter and Agatha in tow.
And Ailith de Harte would live. He was trapped. For life.
“God’s Blood and Bones!” he cried out, frustration seeping into every pore.
He sat alone in the records room at Harte Castle, ledgers scattered haphazardly across the desk in front of him. For the past week, some of his time had been spent here while the rest had been out on horseback checking on the estate or working with his soldiers in the training yard. Very little of it had been with Jess.
Why hadn’t he left her with the Vawdrys? It would only have been for a handful of days.
Marcus was angry with himself for heeding Rand’s urgent words and traveling to Hartefield in the first place. If he’d stayed with the troupe and finished out his last week in the Vawdrys’ employ before they disbanded, he would have arrived to the news that his father was gone. A dead Charles de Harte wouldn’t have been able to tell Marcus of his betrayal—much less share that his son was betrothed to Lady Ailith. Marcus would have assumed his role as the new Baron of Harteley and wed Jess.
Ailith, too, would certainly have been dead by today without Jess nursing her back to health. Though the baroness was still as weak as a newborn, Jess had beamed with pride when she told Marcus that his stepmother would make a full recovery. He could still hear Jess’ words, telling him how relieve
d she was to have saved Lady Ailith’s life since Marcus had already undergone so much loss recently.
The biggest loss would now be Jess.
If only he’d left her with the mummers and had Rand escort her when he returned to Hartefield today. Marcus could have spent the last waning days comforting his dying new wife and then buried her with no one other than Father Pious and two witnesses the wiser that the marriage had occurred. Instead, he’d been selfish and wanted the woman he loved nearby. Jess, being the good soul she was, had toiled day and night, concocting new brews for Ailith to drink until her high fever subsided and her cough was brought under control. She also created scented, soothing mixtures to bathe Ailith with to help ease the terrible itching from the rash that covered her entire body.
Ailith would live, thanks to Jess. The woman who meant everything to him had unwittingly chained him to a stranger and dashed any hopes of them ever joining together as man and wife.
Now, Marcus would have to tell Jess the truth—and watch the light go out of her eyes.
He rose, knowing what lay ahead was more difficult than any battle he’d ever fought. Dread coursed through him. Marcus didn’t know how he would be able to survive without Jess in his life.
And what if his babe grew within her?
Reluctantly, he mounted the stairs, knowing he would find her sitting in the doorway of Ailith’s bedchamber. Jess had spent countless hours there watching over her patient and many others keeping Livia entertained. He ventured down the corridor and saw the empty chair at the chamber’s entrance. He wondered where Jess might be and decided to ask Ailith.
As Marcus came to the doorway, he glanced inside and saw Jess sitting next to Ailith’s bed. Anger filled him. He had cautioned her not to enter the sickroom. Jess probably had decided Ailith was no longer contagious at this point but she shouldn’t have made that choice without speaking to him.
He marched to the bed and heard Ailith say, “Nay, Jess, I know my first husband is dead. Marcus is my new husband.”
Jess jumped to her feet, her body stiff as a board. She wheeled around and saw him. Those beautiful amethyst eyes were wide in horror as her jaw hung open.
“Jess, let me explain.”
She pushed past him and fled the room. Marcus turned to follow.
From the bed, Ailith rasped, “What’s wrong?”
He ignored his wife and ran after the love of his life.
Marcus caught up with her and grabbed her elbow. Jess spun and faced him, her eyes now dark and filled with tears that began to spill down her cheeks. He latched on to her other elbow, holding her in place, not knowing how to begin. She stared at him in silence.
“Jess, I was coming to tell you.”
Her mouth trembled. “Now. You were coming to tell me now. That you are wed. To Lady Ailith.”
“Aye,” he said softly, dropping his head in shame.
“You knew you were wed to another and yet you dallied with me.”
He raised his head as she squeezed her eyes shut, as if she couldn’t stand the sight of him.
“All those times we talked. Laughed. Flirted. The times you kissed me. When you told me you cared for me.” Her head fell. “When I gave you my virginity.”
Her voice was so low he strained to hear those last words. As he did, it was like a knife to his heart.
“Jess. Look at me.”
She shook her head.
“Please.” His voice broke.
Slowly, she lifted her head. Her eyes streamed tears of anger and shame and sorrow.
“What I feel for you is real. Every moment spent in your company was an honest one. I didn’t know I was betrothed to Ailith. Not even when I returned from two years of combat.” He swallowed. “I arrived and found her in my father’s bed. I called her his whore, not knowing that my mother had died. He told me Mother was gone. I realized, seeing the two little girls, just how fast he had remarried. I left Hartefield before I killed him.”
Marcus paused and gathered his thoughts. “When I returned a week ago and found him dying, Father told me Ailith had been my intended bride. A surprise for me when I returned from battle. He’d served as my proxy and signed the betrothal contracts in my name. When Mother passed suddenly, his lust overcame his good sense. He told Ailith I’d been killed in combat and then pretended to wed her. Ailith has no idea they were never truly married. Livia and Mary are Father’s bastards.”
Jess’ eyes grew wide.
“Father’s dying request—no, demand—was for me to marry Ailith and take those girls under my protection. Ailith’s fever raged out of control. Everyone told me she would be dead within days, if not hours. So I did the noble thing and wed her. She was already my wife by law. And I pitied her, for everything she had gone through. ’Tis why I brought you here, to help ease her suffering before she passed.”
Dully, Jess said, “And I saved her instead.”
“You did. Every day, I hated myself for I wished her to die. Every day, you worked another miracle and helped Ailith to grow stronger. Now, she will live.”
“My actions have torn us apart,” Jess said softly. Her tears flowed freely now. “I have become my mother. She loved a man betrothed to another.” She paused. “I must leave. At once. Nay, Peter is on his way. I will wait for him and Agatha.”
Marcus gripped her tightly. “I forbid it. You cannot leave me, Jess. I will wither and die without your touch.”
Shock crossed her face. “You are married, Marcus. Married! I cannot stay at Hartefield another day.” Her lips trembled. “I cannot watch you with your wife. See the children you two share play at your feet. Have my heart shattered into a thousand pieces every minute of the day. Nay, I will leave as soon as Peter comes.”
“Jess,” he pleaded. “Don’t go.” His own tears blinded him. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I don’t know why I couldn’t say the words before but know they are true.”
She recoiled as if scalded. “You cannot say them now,” she hissed. “You can never say them to me again.” Jess stiffened. “Release me, Marcus.”
Reluctantly, he loosened his fingers and let his hands drop to his sides.
Jess gave him a wistful smile. “I suppose I should find comfort in knowing you truly loved me, but for your sake and Lady Ailith’s, you must now let me go. You need to lead your life here—with your wife.”
She turned and hurried down the corridor.
His heart rent in two as he watched each step take her further away from him.
Marcus had to say it once more. “I love you, Jess.”
She glanced over her shoulder as she reached her bedchamber’s door. “I know.”
*
Jessimond fell across the bed and wept. Sobs racked her entire body. Nausea overtook her and she stumbled to a basin and vomited. Too weak to walk, she leaned against the wall and slid down it until she hit the ground.
Marcus was married. To Lady Ailith. Bitterness filled Jessimond. She had prayed for hours to the Virgin Mary to intervene and save the noblewoman’s life, especially after Ailith lost little Mary. She’d tried everything she knew to break the raging fever and calm the deep cough. She’d sat watching, instructing Bea to bathe Ailith’s limbs over and over. And all the while, Jessimond worked to heal the wife of the man who held her heart and soul.
She dragged her feet closer and dropped her head against her knees. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she cried until no more tears came. Spent, she pushed herself to her feet and bathed her face in water before gathering her few possessions. The minute Peter arrived, they would leave. She didn’t want to see or speak to Marcus or Ailith or Herleva or Livia or anyone she’d come to know during her stay at Hartefield. More than anything, she needed her family now. Thankfully, Ancel and Margery were not far away. They would have to cross Hartefield and then go the length of Sir Simeon de Grey’s property, but after leaving Glenmore, they would be on Bexley lands.
Jessimond realized they would be walking so that their journey wo
uld take longer. It didn’t matter, though. Nothing mattered anymore. She’d left Kinwick an innocent girl and would return a woman, somewhat wiser for having been foolish enough to fall in love with the wrong man. Her head told her that her heart would mend one day but, at this point, Jessimond thought she would be an old woman and still burn for Marcus de Harte’s touch.
A knock sounded at the door. She threw back her shoulders and held her head high as she answered. Herleva stood there.
“I’m to tell you that Peter and Agatha are here,” the servant said, looking at Jessimond with questioning eyes but wisely saying no more.
“Thank you.”
She picked up the satchel and her herb case and followed Herleva downstairs. Peter and Agatha stood close together, both their brows knitted together in confusion. Rand came into view, his face betraying his knowledge of the impossible situation.
Suddenly, Livia toddled in from the great hall as Jessimond reached the bottom of the stairs. The girl threw her arms around Jessimond’s legs and buried her head against Jessimond’s knee.
Peter reached and took her things so that she could lift the child in her arms.
“You leave?” Livia asked, her mouth turning down in a frown.
“I am. Your mother is all better now. I told you she would be.” Jessimond swallowed, blinking back tears.
Livia smiled. “I love you, Jess.”
“I love you, too.”
She kissed Livia’s brow and set her on the ground. The girl ran off, giggling.
Rand stepped forward. Quietly, he said, “Marcus knows you do not wish to see him. He’s asked that I lead a guard to escort you safely back to Kinwick.”
Jessimond shook her head. “I want to see no one from Hartefield.” She placed a hand on his forearm. “I need a clean break, Rand.”
“He won’t be happy,” the knight said.
“Neither will I,” she replied. “Just let us leave quietly.”
“You don’t even have horses, Jess. Can I at least provide you with a better horse and wagon than the one I bought from Elias? It barely got Peter and Agatha here. I’m afraid it will fall apart on the road to Kinwick.”
